There's a Reason for Quirky Casino Carpet Design

Why do a lot of casinos have trippy carpet designs?

submitted by madman8000 to NoStupidQuestions [link] [comments]

TIL Casinos in Las Vegas have specifically designed ugly carpets to encourage gamblers to look at slot machines and tables instead of the ground.

TIL Casinos in Las Vegas have specifically designed ugly carpets to encourage gamblers to look at slot machines and tables instead of the ground. submitted by ROFLKing to todayilearned [link] [comments]

This Las Vegas carpet is designed to keep you awake on the casino floor. It's also an eyesore.

This Las Vegas carpet is designed to keep you awake on the casino floor. It's also an eyesore. submitted by louie_kc to CarpetGore [link] [comments]

Casino Carpets in Vegas are Deliberately Designed to Obscure and Camouflage Gambling Chips that Have Fallen onto the Floor

submitted by jas254 to reddit.com [link] [comments]

MGM’s new carpet...

MGM’s new carpet... submitted by jbae1600 to LasVegas [link] [comments]

The 13th floor: The Back-room Break-room Birthday Party.

I've been navigating the seemingly endless collection of mostly empty offices and hallways for what seems like ages now. My watch had stopped working sometime shortly after I awoke here, wherever here is, and my phone had zero reception everywhere I went, so I had turned it off to save battery life what seemed like forever ago. The only sound here breaking the ominous silence is the constant buzz of the lights overhead. It is almost maddening. It gets to you in a dark way, an ever constant droning sound that works it's way into your mind like a splinter, driving you mad. The walls are a sickly mono-yellow color that makes me nauseous the more I look at them, so I try not to. A seemingly impossible tasks because they are everywhere you look, all painted or wallpapered that same uniformly ugly pattern. Even the carpet pattern is hard to stomach. This entire place is deeply unsettling to look at. The interior designer was obviously a sadist who had no sense of good taste.
I type this now, with what little battery life I have left, partly so some record exists of the events I've seen, maybe someone will find this phone, and partly because I do not know how much longer I'll be able to hold on to the memories myself. I'll power my phone on once a day and record what I can before turning it back off again. If I try hard enough, I can sometimes remember moments of my life from before "this" place, and then the buzzing sound seems to intensify and washes those thoughts away again. I vaguely remember sitting in a chair, across from a man dressed in a black business suit, asking me about my previous work history. I was being interviewed for a job opening in security, that he explained needed to be filled because the previous new hire had apparently quit and walked off-site without a word to anyone, having never returned to the security office after taking lunch.
He said the previous new hires name was Logan, and Logan had apparently vanished. We had a brief conversation concerning Logan's girlfriend who had come by the building several times, and distraught over his disappearance, had caused a scene in the lobby. I remember reading about his disappearance in the papers, and seeing a clip about him on the news a week or two prior. The police were actively investigating his disappearance, and had already came through and combed the building, questioning employee's and looking over the security footage. Logan's girlfriend Sarah was now on the banned list, and the man sitting across from me was adamant she wasn't permitted on the property. We were to call the police immediately if she arrived on the premises, and that her picture was posted on the wall in the security office for easy reference.
If I close my eyes and plug my ears to drone out the buzzing, I can almost recall the mans face. Almost. I can barely make out the basic features of a nose, ears, and glasses, but the more I try to focus on any one detail, the more his face blurs and becomes almost like tv channel static. Then the memory fades and the buzzing intensifies. The next thing I can remember, I'm being issued a badge, keys, a radio, a flashlight, a night-stick, and an employee handbook. An elderly man in a security uniform, whose name-tag reads "Michael", is giving me a tour of the building, explaining my various duties before leaving me to my own devices for my first shift. I remember I sat for hours in the security office, precariously flipping the pages of the employee handbook while periodically glancing at the security cameras. I wrote the hourly annotations in my log, ate a snack, and checked the messages on my phone. Pretty dull work day, which in the security field is ideal.
I stuffed the book in my back pocket and looked at the clock. It was late, 9:56PM. It would be just me now, until the following morning at 6am. 6PM-6AM shifts are pretty drab. The last employee had left hours ago, and I could see the janitors leaving the front lobby now. It was time to lock-up behind them and do my first rounds. I left the office and made my way through the building checking doors, and turning off lights, and computer monitors employee's had left running. I made my way to the lobby, locked the front doors, and then made fresh coffee in the break room.
I filled my thermos and took the stairs down into the basement, to the boiler rooms and went from riser to riser, checking the pressure gauges and writing my initials on the safety clipboard sheets hanging nearby. The boiler rooms were dimly lit, smelled awful, and there was a heaviness in the air, probably due to electro-magnetism given off by all the electrical boxes on the walls. I jokingly said to myself "This is what Freddy Kruegers bedroom must look like." It gave me the creeps, and I didn't want to spend any more time down there then I had to, so I quickly finished the riser checks and decided to take the elevator back up to the security offices, instead of climbing the stairs.
I climbed in, and noticed that in typical western superstitious fashion, the architect had omitted the 13th floor entirely. It went from 12 to 14 and then proceeded to count normally. This is standard in most high rise office buildings, hotels and casino's. I punched the button for floor 6, where our security office is located, and the doors glided shut. The elevator began to climb. That is when it happened. As the light dinged for floor 5 the elevator stopped. I was confused and thumbed the button for 6 again. The doors opened, closed, and then the elevator started moving again. It took me back down to the basement labelled B1. The doors opened. I again hit the button for 6, the doors closed and started to ascend. I calmed myself and swore I'd skip the elevator and just take the stairs next time, however long the climb might be.
The elevator went to 6 and the doors opened. I sighed in relief, but it was short lived. When the doors parted it was the basement level again! I panicked and began hitting the Emergency button, all the while knowing no one was inside the building to help me. I thought to myself I should sprint out the doors, through the boiler rooms and into the stairwell but before I could act on the thought, the doors shut and the elevator began moving again. It rose and rose, 10th floor dinged past. 11. 12. Then it stopped on 14 (the actual 13th floor of the building). The lights flickered momentarily, the air seemed to crackle and made my hair stand on end. There was an intense buzzing sound that was almost deafening. The doors opened and I darted out. The doors closed, and I turned around to discover a solid yellow wall where they had been! The doors were just gone, and the wall seemed to momentarily shimmer before becoming solid and blending in to the surrounding walls.
I reached out and ran my hand over where the doors had been, felt a static shock, and fell crumpled to the floor. I awoke some time later, dazed and confused. I looked at my watch and it had stopped. It read 10:36PM, but it felt much later than that and I was hungry again. My stomach rumbled. I spent what must have been the first day exploring empty rooms, looking for another elevator, a stairwell, or a window. I found nothing and no one. There is no way to keep track of time here, except for when I sleep. So I explore for as long as I can, then sleep. That is a day. Rinse, repeat. This place is impossible huge. It cannot be this big. There has to be an exit somewhere. I keep thinking about the elevator doors disappearing and cannot wrap my mind around it.
All the rooms are universally mostly the same, with little to no distinguishing features. Most are unfurnished. Day 2 I found a desk with a sharpie in it. So I started marking off tally marks in the employee handbook to keep track of my days. Day 3 I found a bottle of almond water on a filing cabinet, which is good because my coffee thermos was nearing empty. I've now taking to relieving myself in the corners of rooms partly because I have to, partly to mark rooms I've already explored, and partly as a screw you to whoever designed this place.
Day 5, my head hurts. The continuous buzzing from the florescent lights is giving me a migraine. Caffeine withdraws aren't helping either. Day 7 I found a patch of mushrooms growing on top of the moldy carpet in an empty office. I rubbed them on my arm and there was no allergic reaction so I assume they are safe to eat. I ate some and they had no ill effects, so I began rationing them. Day 9 and I've smoked my last cigarette, the pack is empty. Day 10 and nicotine withdraws hit. Day 12 and a thought occurred to me: I have a lighter. I don't know why I didn't think of this sooner! I used the empty cigarette pack and a few pages from the handbook to start a fire. I thought maybe if I set the wallpaper on fire, I can catch the building on fire, and then finally someone will rescue me. If they don't, then at least I'll die and finally be free of this place and the fire will take this hellish place with it.
The wallpaper crackled slightly but wouldn't take to the flame. Flame retardant wallpaper? Does such a thing exist or is this place limbo? Am I dead? Is this the waiting room of the afterlife? If so, where is everyone else? I tried the carpet too but it's damp, wet and moldy everywhere. Later that day I found another filing cabinet and climbed on it to reach the ceiling. The ceiling is solid. I could reach a sprinkler head, so I made another fire, and held the flame close. It came to life and soon every nearby room was down-pouring water, but no fire alarm sounded. I pulled out the empty filing cabinet drawers and used them as buckets to collect the water. At least now I won't die of dehydration. I cleaned myself up, and washed my hair and face. After about 20 minutes, the sprinklers drizzled up and stopped producing water.
Day 15 and I swear I've passed through this room before. The pile of shit in the corner is unmistakably mine from days ago. With a grouping of mushrooms sprouting from the top of it. Great. I'm now eating mushrooms grown from my own shit. Day 19, I found a metal chair in the corner of a big office, and began using it to attempt to break through the wall. After about 30 minutes, I managed to punch a decent sized hole, only to peer through and discover it goes to another identical empty office. I managed to squeeze through, only to discover it's leads to an almost identical maze of empty rooms and hallways just like the ones I had just come from!
The air is stale here. I found a desk with some felt tipped pens in it, so I'm now using those for tally marks and the sharpie to write X's on walls and doors of rooms and areas I've explored. This area seems darker, and less illuminated. Some days I have to backtrack back through the hole to fill my thermos from the filing cabinet drawers. Day 22, I found a message written on the wall in black marker that reads "Sarah, I love you!". My heart sank. Is Logan down here? Had the same thing happened to him? Had he returned from lunch, and rode the same elevator, just to be deposited here like I had? That meant the elevator entrance wasn't localized, as he was deposited on the other side of the hole I had punched in the wall. What in the hell is this place? Is this Hell?
Day 25, I'm out of water again, so I've taken to ripping up the moldy carpet and wringing it out into my thermos for what little water I can. I've found many mushrooms, and what I can only surmise is piles of Logan's shit in the corner of many rooms.
Day 29... I found Logan. Or rather, what is left of him. I rounded a corner and forced open a door peppered with holes, that was blocked by a toppled filing cabinet, into what appeared to be an office break room, complete with a table, chairs, a water cooler, a half-eaten yet stale birthday cake, and Logan seated in front of it. The smell was horrible. Written on the wall behind him was the words "I'm sorry Sarah!". Logan had apparently holed up in this room, and finally, taken his own life by slitting his wrists with the knife used to cut and serve the birthday cake. I looted him, found a 9mm pistol with no ammo on his belt, though the floor was littered with spent casings, and moved him to the hallway and let the room air out. I secured the door the same way he had, found a fire-extinguisher in the corner, ate the cake, counted my supplies and rations, and slept hard under the table to escape the lights overhead.
I awoke a few hours later to rustling in the hallway. I sprang to my feet thinking someone had found me. I peered through one of the many holes in the door and to my horror I saw two black human like creatures on all-fours feasting on Logan in the hallway. I began shouting and pounding on the door hoping to scare them away, but though frightened at first, they returned and simply dragged him out of sight. I laid awake the rest of the night, listening to low pitched inhuman growling, the sound of bones snapping, and the wet slap of meat as they devoured him.
Day 30, starring at the door, I realized the holes I'd peered through were Logan's attempt to shoot the creatures who had boxed him in here. Realizing he had fired his last shot, and had nothing but the cake and water cooler left, he chose to slit his wrists instead of starving to death, or being eaten alive. I waited until I thought the creatures were gone, before I peered out the hole again, but immediately I saw movement and heard growling again. I had inadvertently fed them Logan, they had just eaten and time was on their side. They were going to simply wait me out.
Day 31, I peeked out and they are still there! So I devised a plan. I armed myself with the knife, I have a night-stick and a fire-extinguisher. I was going to make a run for it, or die trying. I slide the filing cabinet aside, readied myself, and threw the door open. I bolted into the hallway, unclipped the ring on the extinguisher and hosed the first creature that lunged at me. It howled and scurried off down the hall, rounding a corner and disappeared from sight. The second creature crouched down and growled but didn't move. I sprayed the extinguisher at it, and it cowered back a few feet and continued to growl. I locked eyes with it, and sprayed it again. It darted off bouncing down the hallway and disappeared around the same corner as the first. I dragged Logan back into the room, closed the door, and sprinted back to the hole in the wall. I climbed through and barricaded it with a desk. What the bloody hell were those things?
Day 32, I mustered up the courage to return through the hole, to the break room to fill my thermos with water from the water cooler only to find Logan propped back up in the seat, this time surrounded by mannequins wearing birthday hats posed in odd fashion like they are having a party. I freaked out and ran back to the hole and climbed through. I re-secured the hole with the desk, and filing cabinets I dragged from several rooms. I spent the night half crying, half sleeping on the floor. When I finally slept, I awoke because I thought I heard a phone ringing somewhere in the distance, but I can't be sure where, or even if it was real.
Day 33, I've got plenty of water both in my thermos and in two of the remaining file cabinet drawers, a lot of mushrooms, a knife, an empty gun, my flashlight, and night-stick. Those "things" and the mannequins don't seem to be on THIS side. My phone is at 17% and I've run out of ideas. I can't imagine what I've done to end up in this place. I'm going to explore more of this side, the safe half, and see if I can't find the phone.
Day 34, my phone is at 4% and...
submitted by Vitralis to TheBackrooms [link] [comments]

My experience running a semi vanilla SMP

I've made countless servers over the years for my friends and I with wacky and "fun" features that all seemed to die after a week or two. Then for my last server, I went back to basics, and here we are still going strong over 6 months later.
I launched a stock copy of paper with heavily watered down essentialsX (pretty much just color codes and /nick available) and off we end. A few days in I added a couple data packs from Vanilla Tweaks for single player sleep, playemob head drops, and a couple other smaller ones. All was going good, and we were finally enjoying a server for an extended period of time.
About a month in and I was starting to get annoyed with command permissions so I attempted to get permissionsEX, but discovered luck perms and went with that instead (luck perms made everything so much easier compared to permissionsEX it's literally a godsend). Finally everything seemed set in place for us to continue smoothly.
All that came crashing down when I tried to make a casino. I designed a redstone machine in my creative world, but when I built it on the server, it was super inconsistent and barely worked at all. I managed to finick with it enough to get it to work, but I was put off by the fact that happened at all. I did some research and found that a lot of paper's optimizations weren't vanilla-consistent, they changed gameplay. The specific optimization that broke my machine was if redstone updates couldn't get processed in time for their tick, they'd get pushed to the next tick. This change completely wrecks most large scale redstone builds.
When it came to fixing that, I believe that I could have just configured paper to not do that specific redstone optimization, but I was afraid of paper causing anything else bad, so I looked to the more vanilla side of things. I switched the server over to fabric with carpet mod. I did not configure carpet correctly which led to one of our players crashing the server multiple times, but that was solved. It took some getting used to not having our old QoL features, but everything was fine. I found a mod that added colored text that worked everywhere, and I set up vanilla teams to give everyone a colored name. Eventually I came across lithium, which is an optimization mod that does not affect gameplay whatsoever. We were lag free once again!
One day some random user logs on, swims to our shopping district, and starts griefing. I was luckily around to ban him before any serious harm was done, but our shopping district was left a mess. Very very luckily I made a backup the previous day, and I used litematica to merge the backed up shopping district into our main world. I turned on the whitelist then, which I hadn't done earlier because I wanted to let my friends invite other people on without going through me, the fact that I didn't think anyone could find our IP (they found it through namemc), and laziness. Whitelist your private servers!
I discovered dynmap through another smp, got it set up, and decided to make a website to go along with it. That was fun. Dynmap is cool.
I eventually enabled carpet's fake players command to let everyone "have an alt" for afking and whatnot. (DO NOT do this unless you trust every one of your players 100%!) This turned out to be controversial for many reasons, so we came up with a few rules based on the trust system to make having access to /player being almost equivalent to just having 1 alt. This seemed to work with everyone, but debates/discussions still pop up about them every now and then.
Carpet's scarpet feature turned out to be a perfect replacement for many features lost from our paper days. It allowed me to write little apps/commands to add to our experience. When I wrote these I followed my own set of guidelines to not do anything that's too far from vanilla as that's what I believe killed my old servers. This granted us /cam (written by gnembon, super survival friendly spectator game mode switch), /lock (lets you lock containers using the vanilla lock system), a mock /rules, /hat, /link (to link things in chat), and /hack.
We personally had problems with people losing all their gear on death, so we experimented to try to find a good balanced fix. Straight up keepInventory was a no as we felt it was too easy and would make nobody care if they died. We tried out the vanilla tweaks graves datapack, but there were issues with how it worked based on the fact that it was a datapack. We tried a VanillaDeathCheats, but we discovered that the fact it places a block on death is not optimal. Eventually we decided just having a mod that makes totems save you from the void, Totem Plus.
Once again I got annoyed with command permissions, and found Player Roles. It's just your standard permissions mod, and a pretty solid one at that.
That brings us to around today, and our world has lasted to the point of retirement. To make the world download, I used MCA selector to find and delete all chunks that hadn't been occupied for more than an hour, with exceptions made at my discretion. I'm thinking of switching from dynmap to bluemap, but I'll have to experiment with both first. We're starting our next world in a couple days, and we're going to spice it up to just slightly less vanilla. Spending over half a year on one server has been quite the ride
submitted by duna405 to syscraft [link] [comments]

I'm gonna pop off for a second. ZERO of these cucks care ANYTHING for you or your grandma, how do I know? Because they never complained about the gambling industry.

That's JUST the suicides. Not the drugs, prostitution, organized crime, alcohol, cigarettes, job problems, domestic problems, credit card interest, or whatever else people could be doing with their lives. It's just the suicides.
Gambling was illegal in 48 states for over 100 years, but in the last ten years has risen almost perpendicularly. Ask anyone who works at a gas station or convenience store, daily lottery drawings and scratch-off tickets are almost a $100B industry - with some states legalizing lotteries as recently as January of 2020. Sports betting is almost as large, formally estimated at $85B.
Casinos, together with strip clubs and the other forms of gambling listed above, are open and operating right now in states that continue to (illegally) force churches and businesses to shut down. By the way.
submitted by JIVEprinting to CoronavirusCirclejerk [link] [comments]

At the Holy Grail Casino, you gamble with a lot more than money

"King-high diamond flush," I said boldly as I laid my cards out on the table.
Despite my strong hand, my heart still thumped in my chest as I waited for the only other player in the hand to reveal his cards. Although my odds of winning were good, I was nervous. If my opponent had the ace...
"Ace-high diamond flush," my train of thought was disrupted and heart my sank. My opponent had the goddamn ace.
Unlike any other time I had played Texas Hold 'Em at a casino, I had no idea what to expect. See, I wasn't at a normal casino. I was at the Holy Grail Casino, where one does not gamble with money.
My opponent had wagered a finger, and I thought that that had been some colloquial way of making a small bet. Just as we frequently say "an arm and a leg" figuratively for an exorbitant cost, I thought that 'finger' was being used in the same context. I was proven brutally wrong when the dealer, without a hint of emotion, pulled a large knife out from some concealed location and chopped my pinky finger off.
I screamed, both in pain and disbelief. I had been expecting the most intense gambling experience of a life time, but I hadn't imagined anything of this magnitude.
I had finally found a form of gambling even I balked at.
I'll come clean and say it, I'm a compulsive gambler. I've had an enduring fixation on Lady Luck as early as I can remember. As a child, I loved making bets - even small and petty ones - with my peers.
When I was eighteen, and had my first job, I squandered a bigger portion of my very first paycheck than I care to admit on scratch-off lottery tickets.
With my addictive proclivities, I ignored the glaring net financial loss that this incurred, instead gravitating to the mere twenty dollars I did win with those tickets.
Now you can tell me that my gambling winnings are heavily outweighed by my losses over the years, and you'd be right. It's a stubborn fact that cannot be truthfully denied.
But it didn't matter to me. I was addicted to gambling. I was always convinced that the big, life-changing win I needed was right around the corner. It is this lifelong habit that has not only brought about a life of financial strain, but which, I fear, has brought about my imminent appointment with my own mortality.
You see, my gambling problem reached its zenith last year after I cajoled one of my poker friends, Dallas, into taking me to a secretive and high-stakes casino that he frequently spoke of, and this is as good a place as any to begin telling what happened.
"So, is this the night you're finally going to accede and tell me more about the mythical 'high stakes venue' you claim to frequent, Mr. Big Shot?" I asked my friend Dallas.
Dallas was a pro at gambling. At least, he swept the floor with the competition nine times out of ten and the backroom card games we frequented.
Dallas groaned loudly in the passager seat.
"Come on bro," I said doggedly, "you can't just set something up on a pedestal like this and not expect someone to persist."
"I don't know man. This isn't kitty shit. This is the big leagues." Dallas answered.
"I'm not a lightweight." I objected.
"No...but this is way more than anything we'd ever bet back there," he said, referring to our backroom games, one of which we had just left.
"This is the real shit. Hard-fucking-core. This is the most hardcore gambling around." Dallas continued.
"Like what, Russian Roulette?" I joked.
"Nah man." Dallas said cryptically.
"Look man, I give you rides to these games every week. You owe me." I was getting seriously annoyed at his reticence.
"Fine," Dallas groaned, exasperated.
I couldn't believe it. I had actually worn him down!
"But I'm warning you. This is serious shit." Dallas said sternly.
"I want to go." I said firmly.
Dallas reached into his wallet and handed me a medallion.
Upon inspection, I saw one side was affixed with the design of an ornate, bejeweled chalice with the words 'Holy Grail Casino' written above it. On the other side, written in elegant calligraphy was the phrase 'omnem marmora' - "all the marbles" in Latin.
This certainly bore the look of a ritzy and exclusionary place. I had a feeling I'd either win the jackpot of jackpots or end up homeless on the street. The reality would prove much worse than the latter.
Dallas was looking at me oddly, almost as if he was worried. But he could tell he wasn't going to be able to talk me out of it. I still hate him for his acquiescence to my pestering.
"When can we go?" I asked excitedly.
"I was planning to go tomorrow-," Dallas started.
"When I should I pick you up?" I interrupted.
"That's...not how we get there." Dallas answered.
"What-," I started, but it was Dallas' turn to interrupt.
"When you go to bed tomorrow night, write your full name on a piece of paper, then put it and the medallion in your pocket when you go to sleep."
I looked at him incredulously. Had he been fucking with me this whole time?
"Look...just trust me. Either do it or don't, but that's how you get there." Dallas said matter-of-factly.
I looked silently at the road as we neared the place where Dallas lived. Dallas seemed to be pensively looking out the window, as if he was debating whether or not he should have give me the medallion.
I dropped Dallas off without a word and raced home. I don't know why I was such a hurry - I guess I wanted to start waiting for tomorrow night as soon as possible.
After a torturous day of waiting, the next night finally came. Remembering Dallas' instructions, I wrote my full name on a slip of paper and placed it, along with the medallion, in the pockets of my sweatpants that I was wearing to bed for that purpose.
I could have sworn that I had heard my name being chanted as I drifted off to sleep, but the authenticity of those sounds is still ambiguous. What is not ambiguous is the fact that, shortly after falling asleep, I found myself in an opulent red-carpeted casino.
I was in a lobby of sorts, at least I think that's what it was. I was in a large, marble room with Greco-Roman style columns flanking a plush red carpet that led to two magnificent ebony doors, which boasted intricately carved ivory handles.
As I was soaking in the amazing luxurious sight, a man in a suit briskly approached me.
"You can't go to the floor dressed like that!" He admonished me, pointing to my sweatpants and white t-shirt.
"I'm sorry-," I began sluggishly, a bit confused by everything. Was I honestly expected to go to bed in a suit in order to gamble here?
"No worries sir," the man had a rather upper class accent, "we will get you outfitted here free of charge."
A short while later I was sporting a fine burgundy suit, a white dress shirt, and black loafers, and being led by the casino worker back to those grandiose doors. He stopped in front of them, held one of the doors open, and ushered me in.
"Enjoy your stay sir," he said as he closed the door behind me.
I took in the even more impressive sight that was the gambling floor. I stood at the top of a red-carpeted staircase with gilded railing, looking down at a large room. On the far end, the words 'Holy Grail Casino' were displayed prominently on the wall, illuminated by spotlights.
Like the lobby, a red carpet ran through the center, bisecting the impressive layout of games and tables. Interestingly, there didn't appear to be any slot machines- there seemed to be exclusively traditional games. Poker tables, blackjack tables, roulette wheels, and craps tables I all recognized.
Finally, I descended the stairs. The patrons and staff paid me little attention as I set foot on the floor. I briefly scanned the floor for Dallas but saw no saw no sign of him.
I shrugged and decided to jump into the games. All around me, finely dressed patrons were engrossed in their games, and others stood to the side, nursing cocktail glasses or puffing on cigars.
I had never had much of an affinity for roulette or craps, and I avoided blackjack like the plague (it's definitely rigged for the house). Accordingly, I quickly settled on poker.
After eyeing several tables I settled on a table occupied by just one patron - an uninterested old man in a black suit.
"Can I join here?" I asked.
The dealer replied affirmatively.
I sat down and noticed there were no chips in sight. I thought it had been odd that I hadn't received any, but I had just figured they would be given at the table. Curious, I asked.
"First time?" The dealer raised an eyebrow.
"Yes."
The old man sighed, annoyed. What the hell? Shouldn't a patron at such a purportedly high-stakes venue be eager to have fresh meat?
"Well, the rules state that one's first game is one round of betting only." The dealer said in a monotone voice. No wonder old man was annoyed.
I nodded and sat down.
"But the chips-," I began to inquire.
"We don't use 'em here." The old man spoke for the first time.
Before I ask what we did use, the old man placed what would apparently be the sole bet of this hand: a finger.
Had I heard him right? He couldn't actually mean-
"Bet is one finger." The dealer said, interrupting my thoughts.
As I stated in the beginning, I assumed that 'a finger' was being used in the same figurative context that one often uses the term 'an arm and a leg.' I called the bet.
The cards were dealt, and I felt confident as I laid out the King-high flush I spoke of in the beginning. But then came the old man's ace-high flush, and then came the chop.
I screamed. To my shock, none of the other patrons even looked up from their games at the sound of my screams and the chop. Was this an ordinary occurrence?
Before I could get up from the table, the dealer also procured some sort of ointment and quickly dabbed some on the nub where my finger had been. The bleeding instantly stopped, and the pain eased, but I was having none of it. I got up from the table and began to run back to the doors. This was too much. I had to get out of here.
I heard a despaired howl coming from the direction of the roulette wheels as I made it back to the center of the floor, but didn't dare look back at the source. I stepped onto the carpet and set for the stairs when I nearly collided with Dallas.
"Hey you made it!" He said. "Oooh tough break with the finger," he indicated my hand.
"How have you never lost anything?!" I asked pointedly, barely resisting the urge to shake his shoulders.
"Well I have," Dallas smirked.
"You-you have all your digits." I sputtered.
"Well that's cause I won them back." He said.
"You can win them back?!" I was in disbelief.
"Of course, they'll reattach it if you win one."
I should have just cut my losses. I shouldn't have been swayed by temptation. But if you know the rabbit hole that is gambling, you'll know how much people put themselves in the hole vainly trying to win back a negligible loss, all the while turning that negligible loss into something substantial.
I was still weighing my options (stay or quit while still ahead) when a booming voice disrupted my deliberation.
"Attention floor! We have a class ten loser! Death!"
He couldn't actually mean-
Before I could make any kind of move, the patrons become a mob, and the wave people pushed Dallas and I to the center with them.
A man, who I noticed was already missing an arm, was on his knees sobbing. An emotionless casino dealer stood before him, holding a sword.
"Everyone c-cut y-your loss-losses," the man stuttered through sobs.
Before he could say anything else, the sobs were cut off by the slice of the sword, and the poor man's head hit the floor and tumbled, landing at my feet.
submitted by Clarkinator69 to nosleep [link] [comments]

I Smoked PCP With A Demon

My day was already off to a bad start at 4pm when I ran out of heroin. Dan, my dealer, wasn’t answering texts or calls which was actually pretty unusual for him as opposed to many heroin dealers. He was a single dad with 2 kids and was always hustling to take care of them. Also he wasn’t addicted to heroin. That probably helped. Usually when he didn’t answer it meant his younger one had pooped his pants or stuck a bead up his nose. He always got back to me before I got *really* sick.
Today was different. I was getting *really* sick and I hadn’t even got a “yo sorry shane stuck a bead up his nose im at the hospital” text. I needed to get down to Mike D on the corner by the laundromat before I vomited. It was only a 5 minute walk.
I vomited after 2 ½ minutes, into a storm drain, next to a cat that was clearly unimpressed. As soon as my stomach was empty I was stumbling forward shakily again. When I got to the corner and I didn’t see Mike D I almost vomited again but there was someone standing in his spot and based on his jacket and posture I figured that this wasn’t a hostile takeover and Mike D had just gotten arrested. I was probably safe.
I walked over. Before I could say anything he gave me a wide smile with a slightly below average number of teeth and chortled a jovial “You look like shit. Need to get well?”
“Yeah,” I shivered. It was 25ºC (77ºF) and I was freezing. I was sweating profusely and yet freezing cold. My nose was running. I was clutching my flannel to my breasts to keep warm. I realized I did look like shit. Most women would probably be offended if someone said that to them but in my case it was true and I’d rather someone tell me the truth than lie and say I look fine with vomit on my shirt. Equality cuts both ways. Besides he was going to sell me heroin.
I pulled out a crinkled 20 and handed it to him and he handed me two bags. “You wanna try something special too?” I just blinked, nonplussed. “It’s brand new; called demon dust, like angel dust but even crazier.” I’ve smoked dust before. It’s fucking weird and awesome but right now I just needed to get back to my house and get well. I didn’t care to traverse the frontier of brand new research chemicals. Then he said the magic words: “First one’s free.” His voice went up and octave and pulled the word “free” out like taffy.
“Sure dude. Just lemme go before—” I vomited up the small amount of bile left in my stomach.
“Of course!” In an instant he whipped out a 1010 baggie filled generously with a flaky black powder and politely dropped it into my breast pocket without touching my breast. I rushed home as fast as I could.
The corner boys usually sold trash tar but these days trash tar was more likely to be cut with fentanyl and far too potent instead of the watered down trash I used to get in the mid 00s so no matter how sick I was I always did a half shot when I got new gear to test it out. That’s the weirdest part about being an addict, the push and pull of the death wish and survival instinct.
I cooked the first bag in my designated drug cooking spoon. I liked it because it had months worth of residue of all sorts of drugs so I would get a little blast of meth and K with every shot of H and a little H with every shot of K or meth. I was shivering violently as I drew the syringe but I was good at this part. I held my breath like a sniper and registered and shot in one clean motion.
Fuck that was good gear. Super clean. No fent. No trash. They say it’s never like the first time but that’s not true. There I was again in that perfectly self contained, perfect circle of self satisfaction. That’s heroin. Perfection that leads nowhere but back to itself.
When the initial nod was wearing off Dan still hadn’t messaged me back so I figured I’d try the demon dust while the dope still had legs. Now for anyone who isn’t a degenerate drug addict, PCP is frequently dissolved in liquid then soaked into mint leaves and dried. The result is something that looks like black tea leaves and smells like Sharpies. This looked no different.
I rolled it up with some tobacco, because I didn’t have the money for weed, and sparked it. After a few hits I felt a familiar space expanding in my head as the world began to slow down. My television began to sparkle around the edges as pixels forming Randy Marsh’s face drifted away on their own like stardust.
About halfway through the thing I heard a voice start talking to me. It sounded really far away and at first I couldn’t hear it but it got closer and closer, and one of the specs of light coming off the TV started getting bigger and bigger until both the voice and the spec popped into full view as a 6 legged goat with black hair and red eyes and the voice of an exasperated Jewish dentist. In fact he sounded a lot like my uncle Yoni who was in fact an exasperated Jewish dentist.
“...bullshit y’know? Third time this week I’ve been called in… I don’t care what the records say! This is the third time. Tell Caorthannach if she doesn’t sign off my overtime I’m going back to Satan Inc… It’s not just the hours! They have dental!... Yeah fuck you too. Buh bye.” I didn’t see him holding a phone but his eyes snapped up to me the way anyone’s would when they end a shitty phone call. “I’m sorry about that. It has nothing to do with you. We’ll do this right. No. Don’t let anyone say I don’t do my job! Which is why I should get paid! Sorry. Where were we?”
“I have no fucking idea,” I said honestly.
“Right. So you summoned me when you broke into the mausoleum and stole the rubies. Now I own your soul for eternity and can return at any time to seize your body to act upon the world as I wish.”
“Rubies? The fuck?”
“The rubies from the mausoleum! The mausoleum of the coming antichrist labeled “Jeff” in the cemetery down by the river! If I’m here you must have stolen them.”
“Man, I have no idea what you’re talking about. I didn’t rob any graves. I just smoked a lot of PCP.”
“What?” It was his turn to be confused.
“I’ve never been to whatever fucking cemetary you’re talking about. I bought some dope. The dude threw in some demon dust for free—”
“Demon dust? Oh those motherfuckers! Hold on.”
The goat turned away and stared off into space, presumably on his demon phone. “Get me Caorthannach right now!... No you may not take a message… Caorthannach! You released the demon dust and I’m not getting overtime! Give me one reason not to… Uh huh... Yeah... Well of course I’ll do it for points on the backend! Why didn’t you say so?... No, I understand why I can’t have the title. It’s safer to have it in the books not on the plaque… Thank you so much Caorthannach. I’m sorry for yelling. And tell Jennifer I’m sorry too... Yeah. Buh bye.”
The goat turned back to me. “They gave me points! I thought they’d never! Great. What’s your name again?”
“Alice,” I said calmly. I was high enough that I could not take the goat seriously even if I believed him to be real.
“Perfect. I’m Xaphan. Let’s see. I set fire to Heaven. I’m going to possess you. We’re going to burn stuff down on Earth— That’s about all you need to know. Let’s do this.” And with that my body became the host for a demon from hell. The first thing I did was finish smoking that PCP.
“Great,” I heard Xaphan say from inside my head. “Let’s start with your sister’s house.” It was a horrible feeling being transported to my sister’s house through a 2 wormholes and the bowels of hell but it was an even worse feeling rising from an unmarked grave in the dead of night, going to the nearest gas station, breaking the clerk’s neck, walking out with one of those red containers full of gasoline and a Zippo lighter, and walking to my sister’s door, all completely powerless to stop myself. I was watching a movie from the perspective of a body that was no longer mine. I knew everything Xaphan planned on doing and I would be forced to watch it happen.
Katy had this lovely wrap around porch with old wicker chairs, incandescent bulbs in cast iron lanterns, and a faded paisley carpet in the back that simultaneously didn’t belong and also tied the place together in a very inviting way. I poured gasoline on the whole damn thing.
My brain screamed inwards. “Please don’t. She’s in there with her fucking kid man.”
“And a very cute puppy that the kid wants to name Sparkles or Sprinkles but can’t decide. I’m aware. They’re all assholes. Fuck ‘em.”
“They didn’t do anything to you man!”
“I don’t give a fuck! I’m a demon! I set fire to fucking Heaven! I even destroyed Holy Insurance HQ so God couldn’t get reimbursed for damages! Let’s torch this bitch!” And we did. Xaphan hid me in the hedgerow across the street and made me watch Katy’s house burn and burn until the fire department showed up just a little bit too late. I could already hear the screaming coming from Bailey’s room.
Next was the homeless shelter, then a nursing home, then a car dealership, an Urban Outfitters, two houses of people I had never met, a Motel 6 that I happened to know ran an illegal casino in the basement on Tuesday nights that didn’t have liquor but would serve you GHB in Pepsi if you greased the right palms, and then a fucking children’s hospital.
I’ve never heard a noise like a 6 story building full of children all screaming and crying for help as their skin and flesh were scorched, charred, caramelized, and broiled. I could hear sirens roaring in the distance but it seemed like they could never arrive fast enough. Every building we burned they arrived as the first poor fools were jumping from windows hoping that broken legs would save them from the inferno.
—————
I woke up on my bathroom floor, in a puddle of vomit even though I was right next to the toilet. Damn that demon dust was some wild shit. I had a text message from Dan, “yo i got stuck in an elevator with no service i can be there in an hour.”
I flipped on the TV while I waited. It was tuned to the news which was weird because I never watched the fucking news. It was local news. The reporter had that special tone that comes from trying to report horrible news with poise and good diction. “A series of arsons terrorized the town last night, affecting dozens of homes, several businesses, and Lady Mercy Children’s Hospital. Many escaped the blazes but 15 have been confirmed dead across town, and at least 73 more were injured.”
I couldn’t understand. It couldn’t be. My phone was ringing. It was my mom. She was crying. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t hear anything past the cacophony of surreality. I didn’t need to. I hung up.
submitted by FiendandEzria to nosleep [link] [comments]

SKRIBBL WORD LIST

Pac-Man
bow
Apple
chest
six pack
nail
tornado
Mickey Mouse
Youtube
lightning
traffic light
waterfall
McDonalds
Donald Trump
Patrick
stop sign
Superman
tooth
sunflower
keyboard
island
Pikachu
Harry Potter
Nintendo Switch
Facebook
eyebrow
Peppa Pig
SpongeBob
Creeper
octopus
church
Eiffel tower
tongue
snowflake
fish
Twitter
pan
Jesus Christ
butt cheeks
jail
Pepsi
hospital
pregnant
thunderstorm
smile
skull
flower
palm tree
Angry Birds
America
lips
cloud
compass
mustache
Captain America
pimple
Easter Bunny
chicken
Elmo
watch
prison
skeleton
arrow
volcano
Minion
school
tie
lighthouse
fountain
Cookie Monster
Iron Man
Santa
blood
river
bar
Mount Everest
chest hair
Gumball
north
water
cactus
treehouse
bridge
short
thumb
beach
mountain
Nike
flag
Paris
eyelash
Shrek
brain
iceberg
fingernail
playground
ice cream
Google
dead
knife
spoon
unibrow
Spiderman
black
graveyard
elbow
golden egg
yellow
Germany
Adidas
nose hair
Deadpool
Homer Simpson
Bart Simpson
rainbow
ruler
building
raindrop
storm
coffee shop
windmill
fidget spinner
yo-yo
ice
legs
tent
mouth
ocean
Fanta
homeless
tablet
muscle
Pinocchio
tear
nose
snow
nostrils
Olaf
belly button
Lion King
car wash
Egypt
Statue of Liberty
Hello Kitty
pinky
Winnie the Pooh
guitar
Hulk
Grinch
Nutella
cold
flagpole
Canada
rainforest
blue
rose
tree
hot
mailbox
Nemo
crab
knee
doghouse
Chrome
cotton candy
Barack Obama
hot chocolate
Michael Jackson
map
Samsung
shoulder
Microsoft
parking
forest
full moon
cherry blossom
apple seed
Donald Duck
leaf
bat
earwax
Italy
finger
seed
lilypad
brush
record
wrist
thunder
gummy
Kirby
fire hydrant
overweight
hot dog
house
fork
pink
Sonic
street
Nasa
arm
fast
tunnel
full
library
pet shop
Yoshi
Russia
drum kit
Android
Finn and Jake
price tag
Tooth Fairy
bus stop
rain
heart
face
tower
bank
cheeks
Batman
speaker
Thor
skinny
electric guitar
belly
cute
ice cream truck
bubble gum
top hat
Pink Panther
hand
bald
freckles
clover
armpit
Japan
thin
traffic
spaghetti
Phineas and Ferb
broken heart
fingertip
funny
poisonous
Wonder Woman
Squidward
Mark Zuckerberg
twig
red
China
dream
Dora
daisy
France
Discord
toenail
positive
forehead
earthquake
iron
Zeus
Mercedes
Big Ben
supermarket
Bugs Bunny
Yin and Yang
drink
rock
drum
piano
white
bench
fall
royal
seashell
Audi
stomach
aquarium
Bitcoin
volleyball
marshmallow
Cat Woman
underground
Green Lantern
bottle flip
toothbrush
globe
sand
zoo
west
puddle
lobster
North Korea
Luigi
bamboo
Great Wall
Kim Jong-un
bad
credit card
swimming pool
Wolverine
head
hair
Yoda
Elsa
turkey
heel
maracas
clean
droplet
cinema
poor
stamp
Africa
whistle
Teletubby
wind
Aladdin
tissue box
fire truck
Usain Bolt
water gun
farm
iPad
well
warm
booger
WhatsApp
Skype
landscape
pine cone
Mexico
slow
organ
fish bowl
teddy bear
John Cena
Frankenstein
tennis racket
gummy bear
Mount Rushmore
swing
Mario
lake
point
vein
cave
smell
chin
desert
scary
Dracula
airport
kiwi
seaweed
incognito
Pluto
statue
hairy
strawberry
low
invisible
blindfold
tuna
controller
Paypal
King Kong
neck
lung
weather
Xbox
tiny
icicle
flashlight
scissors
emoji
strong
saliva
firefighter
salmon
basketball
spring
Tarzan
red carpet
drain
coral reef
nose ring
caterpillar
Wall-e
seat belt
polar bear
Scooby Doo
wave
sea
grass
pancake
park
lipstick
pickaxe
east
grenade
village
Flash
throat
dizzy
Asia
petal
Gru
country
spaceship
restaurant
copy
skin
glue stick
Garfield
equator
blizzard
golden apple
Robin Hood
fast food
barbed wire
Bill Gates
Tower of Pisa
neighborhood
lightsaber
video game
high heels
dirty
flamethrower
pencil sharpener
hill
old
flute
cheek
violin
fireball
spine
bathtub
cell phone
breath
open
Australia
toothpaste
Tails
skyscraper
cowbell
rib
ceiling fan
Eminem
Jimmy Neutron
photo frame
barn
sandstorm
Jackie Chan
Abraham Lincoln
T-rex
pot of gold
KFC
shell
poison
acne
avocado
study
bandana
England
Medusa
scar
Skittles
Pokemon
branch
Dumbo
factory
Hollywood
deep
knuckle
popular
piggy bank
Las Vegas
microphone
Tower Bridge
butterfly
slide
hut
shovel
hamburger
shop
fort
Ikea
planet
border
panda
highway
swamp
tropical
lightbulb
Kermit
headphones
jungle
Reddit
young
trumpet
cheeseburger
gas mask
apartment
manhole
nutcracker
Antarctica
mansion
bunk bed
sunglasses
spray paint
Jack-o-lantern
saltwater
tank
cliff
campfire
palm
pumpkin
elephant
banjo
nature
alley
fireproof
earbuds
crossbow
Elon Musk
quicksand
Playstation
Hawaii
good
corn dog
Gandalf
dock
magic wand
field
Solar System
photograph
ukulele
James Bond
The Beatles
Katy Perry
pirate ship
Poseidon
Netherlands
photographer
Lego
hourglass
glass
path
hotel
ramp
dandelion
Brazil
coral
cigarette
messy
Dexter
valley
parachute
wine glass
matchbox
Morgan Freeman
black hole
midnight
astronaut
paper bag
sand castle
forest fire
hot sauce
social media
William Shakespeare
trash can
fire alarm
lawn mower
nail polish
Band-Aid
Star Wars
clothes hanger
toe
mud
coconut
jaw
bomb
south
firework
sailboat
loading
iPhone
toothpick
BMW
ketchup
fossil
explosion
Finn
Einstein
infinite
dictionary
Photoshop
trombone
clarinet
rubber
saxophone
helicopter
temperature
bus driver
cello
London
newspaper
blackberry
shopping cart
Florida
Daffy Duck
mayonnaise
gummy worm
flying pig
underweight
Crash Bandicoot
bungee jumping
kindergarten
umbrella
hammer
night
laser
glove
square
Morty
firehouse
dynamite
chainsaw
melon
waist
Chewbacca
kidney
stoned
Rick
ticket
skateboard
microwave
television
soil
exam
cocktail
India
Colosseum
missile
hilarious
Popeye
nuke
silo
chemical
museum
Vault boy
adorable
fast forward
firecracker
grandmother
Porky Pig
roadblock
continent
wrinkle
shaving cream
Northern Lights
tug
London Eye
Israel
shipwreck
xylophone
motorcycle
diamond
root
coffee
princess
Oreo
goldfish
wizard
chocolate
garbage
ladybug
shotgun
kazoo
Minecraft
video
message
lily
fisherman
cucumber
password
western
ambulance
doorknob
glowstick
makeup
barbecue
jazz
hedgehog
bark
tombstone
coast
pitchfork
Christmas
opera
office
insect
hunger
download
hairbrush
blueberry
cookie jar
canyon
Happy Meal
high five
fern
quarter
peninsula
imagination
microscope
table tennis
whisper
fly swatter
pencil case
harmonica
Family Guy
New Zealand
apple pie
warehouse
cookie
USB
jellyfish
bubble
battery
fireman
pizza
angry
taco
harp
alcohol
pound
bedtime
megaphone
husband
oval
rail
stab
dwarf
milkshake
witch
bakery
president
weak
second
sushi
mall
complete
hip hop
slippery
horizon
prawn
plumber
blowfish
Madagascar
Europe
bazooka
pogo stick
Terminator
Hercules
notification
snowball fight
high score
Kung Fu
Lady Gaga
geography
sledgehammer
bear trap
sky
cheese
vine
clown
catfish
snowman
bowl
waffle
vegetable
hook
shadow
dinosaur
lane
dance
scarf
cabin
Tweety
bookshelf
swordfish
skyline
base
straw
biscuit
Greece
bleach
pepper
reflection
universe
skateboarder
triplets
gold chain
electric car
policeman
electricity
mother
Bambi
croissant
Ireland
sandbox
stadium
depressed
Johnny Bravo
silverware
raspberry
dandruff
Scotland
comic book
cylinder
Milky Way
taxi driver
magic trick
sunrise
popcorn
eat
cola
cake
pond
mushroom
rocket
surfboard
baby
cape
glasses
sunburn
chef
gate
charger
crack
mohawk
triangle
carpet
dessert
taser
afro
cobra
ringtone
cockroach
levitate
mailman
rockstar
lyrics
grumpy
stand
Norway
binoculars
nightclub
puppet
novel
injection
thief
pray
chandelier
exercise
lava lamp
lap
massage
thermometer
golf cart
postcard
bell pepper
bed bug
paintball
Notch
yogurt
graffiti
burglar
butler
seafood
Sydney Opera House
Susan Wojcicki
parents
bed sheet
Leonardo da Vinci
intersection
palace
shrub
lumberjack
relationship
observatory
junk food
eye
log
dice
bicycle
pineapple
camera
circle
lemonade
soda
comb
cube
Doritos
love
table
honey
lighter
broccoli
fireplace
drive
Titanic
backpack
emerald
giraffe
world
internet
kitten
volume
Spain
daughter
armor
noob
rectangle
driver
raccoon
bacon
lady
bull
camping
poppy
snowball
farmer
lasso
breakfast
oxygen
milkman
caveman
laboratory
bandage
neighbor
Cupid
Sudoku
wedding
seagull
spatula
atom
dew
fortress
vegetarian
ivy
snowboard
conversation
treasure
chopsticks
garlic
vacuum
swimsuit
divorce
advertisement
vuvuzela
Mr Bean
Fred Flintstone
pet food
upgrade
voodoo
punishment
Charlie Chaplin
Rome
graduation
beatbox
communism
yeti
ear
dots
octagon
kite
lion
winner
muffin
cupcake
unicorn
smoke
lime
monster
Mars
moss
summer
lollipop
coffin
paint
lottery
wife
pirate
sandwich
lantern
seahorse
Cuba
archer
sweat
deodorant
plank
Steam
birthday
submarine
zombie
casino
gas
stove
helmet
mosquito
ponytail
corpse
subway
spy
jump rope
baguette
grin
centipede
gorilla
website
text
workplace
bookmark
anglerfish
wireless
Zorro
sports
abstract
detective
Amsterdam
elevator
chimney
reindeer
Singapore
perfume
soldier
bodyguard
magnifier
freezer
radiation
assassin
yawn
backbone
disaster
giant
pillow fight
grasshopper
Vin Diesel
geyser
burrito
celebrity
Lasagna
Pumba
karaoke
hypnotize
platypus
Leonardo DiCaprio
bird bath
battleship
back pain
rapper
werewolf
Black Friday
cathedral
Sherlock Holmes
ABBA
hard hat
sword
mirror
toilet
eggplant
jelly
hero
starfish
bread
snail
person
plunger
computer
nosebleed
goat
joker
sponge
mop
owl
beef
portal
genie
crocodile
murderer
magic
pine
winter
robber
pepperoni
shoebox
fog
screen
son
folder
mask
Goofy
Mercury
zipline
wall
dragonfly
zipper
meatball
slingshot
Pringles
circus
mammoth
nugget
mousetrap
recycling
revolver
champion
zigzag
meat
drought
vodka
notepad
porcupine
tuba
hacker
broomstick
kitchen
cheesecake
satellite
JayZ
squirrel
leprechaun
jello
gangster
raincoat
eyeshadow
shopping
gardener
scythe
portrait
jackhammer
allergy
honeycomb
headache
Miniclip
Mona Lisa
cheetah
virtual reality
virus
Argentina
blanket
military
headband
superpower
language
handshake
reptile
thirst
fake teeth
duct tape
macaroni
color-blind
comfortable
Robbie Rotten
coast guard
cab driver
pistachio
Angelina Jolie
autograph
sea lion
Morse code
clickbait
star
girl
lemon
alarm
shoe
soap
button
kiss
grave
telephone
fridge
katana
switch
eraser
signature
pasta
flamingo
crayon
puzzle
hard
juice
socks
crystal
telescope
galaxy
squid
tattoo
bowling
lamb
silver
lid
taxi
basket
step
stapler
pigeon
zoom
teacher
holiday
score
Tetris
frame
garden
stage
unicycle
cream
sombrero
error
battle
starfruit
hamster
chalk
spiral
bounce
hairspray
lizard
victory
balance
hexagon
Ferrari
MTV
network
weapon
fist fight
vault
mattress
viola
birch
stereo
Jenga
plug
chihuahua
plow
pavement
wart
ribbon
otter
magazine
Bomberman
vaccine
elder
Romania
champagne
semicircle
Suez Canal
Mr Meeseeks
villain
inside
spade
gravedigger
Bruce Lee
gentle
stingray
can opener
funeral
jet ski
wheelbarrow
thug
undo
fabulous
space suit
cappuccino
Minotaur
skydiving
cheerleader
Stone Age
Chinatown
razorblade
crawl space
cauldron
trick shot
Steve Jobs
audience
time machine
sewing machine
face paint
truck driver
x-ray
fly
salt
spider
boy
dollar
turtle
book
chain
dolphin
sing
milk
wing
pencil
snake
scream
toast
vomit
salad
radio
potion
dominoes
balloon
monkey
trophy
feather
leash
loser
bite
notebook
happy
Mummy
sneeze
koala
tired
sick
pipe
jalapeno
diaper
deer
priest
youtuber
boomerang
pro
ruby
hop
hopscotch
barcode
vote
wrench
tissue
doll
clownfish
halo
Monday
tentacle
grid
Uranus
oil
scarecrow
tarantula
germ
glow
haircut
Vatican
tape
judge
cell
diagonal
science
mustard
fur
janitor
ballerina
pike
nun
chime
tuxedo
Cerberus
panpipes
surface
coal
knot
willow
pajamas
fizz
student
eclipse
asteroid
Portugal
pigsty
brand
crowbar
chimpanzee
Chuck Norris
raft
carnival
treadmill
professor
tricycle
apocalypse
vitamin
orchestra
groom
cringe
knight
litter box
macho
brownie
hummingbird
Hula Hoop
motorbike
type
catapult
take off
wake up
concert
floppy disk
BMX
bulldozer
manicure
brainwash
William Wallace
guinea pig
motherboard
wheel
brick
egg
lava
queen
gold
God
ladder
coin
laptop
toaster
butter
bag
doctor
sit
tennis
half
Bible
noodle
golf
eagle
cash
vampire
sweater
father
remote
safe
jeans
darts
graph
nothing
dagger
stone
wig
cupboard
minute
match
slime
garage
tomb
soup
bathroom
llama
shampoo
swan
frown
toolbox
jacket
adult
crate
quill
spin
waiter
mint
kangaroo
captain
loot
maid
shoelace
luggage
cage
bagpipes
loaf
aircraft
shelf
safari
afterlife
napkin
steam
coach
slope
marigold
Mozart
bumper
Asterix
vanilla
papaya
ostrich
failure
scoop
tangerine
firefly
centaur
harbor
uniform
Beethoven
Intel
moth
Spartacus
fluid
acid
sparkles
talent show
ski jump
polo
ravioli
delivery
woodpecker
logo
Stegosaurus
diss track
Darwin Watterson
filmmaker
silence
dashboard
echo
windshield
Home Alone
tablecloth
backflip
headboard
licorice
sunshade
Picasso
airbag
water cycle
meatloaf
insomnia
broom
whale
pie
demon
bed
braces
fence
orange
sleep
gift
Popsicle
spear
zebra
Saturn
maze
chess
wire
angel
skates
pyramid
shower
claw
hell
goal
bottle
dress
walk
AC/DC
tampon
goatee
prince
flask
cut
cord
roof
movie
ash
tiger
player
magician
wool
saddle
cowboy
derp
suitcase
sugar
nest
anchor
onion
magma
limbo
collar
mole
bingo
walnut
wealth
security
leader
melt
Gandhi
arch
toy
turd
scientist
hippo
glue
kneel
orbit
below
totem
health
towel
diet
crow
addiction
minigolf
clay
boar
navy
butcher
trigger
referee
bruise
translate
yearbook
confused
engine
poke
wreath
omelet
gravity
bride
godfather
flu
accordion
engineer
cocoon
minivan
bean bag
antivirus
billiards
rake
cement
cauliflower
espresso
violence
blender
chew
bartender
witness
hobbit
corkscrew
chameleon
cymbal
Excalibur
grapefruit
action
outside
guillotine
timpani
frostbite
leave
Mont Blanc
palette
electrician
fitness trainer
journalist
fashion designer
bucket
penguin
sheep
torch
robot
peanut
UFO
belt
Earth
magnet
dragon
soccer
desk
search
seal
scribble
gender
food
anvil
crust
bean
hockey
pot
pretzel
needle
blimp
plate
drool
frog
basement
idea
bracelet
cork
sauce
gang
sprinkler
shout
morning
poodle
karate
bagel
wolf
sausage
heat
wasp
calendar
tadpole
religion
hose
sleeve
acorn
sting
market
marble
comet
pain
cloth
drawer
orca
hurdle
pinball
narwhal
pollution
metal
race
end
razor
dollhouse
distance
prism
pub
lotion
vanish
vulture
beanie
burp
periscope
cousin
customer
label
mold
kebab
beaver
spark
meme
pudding
almond
mafia
gasp
nightmare
mermaid
season
gasoline
evening
eel
cast
hive
beetle
diploma
jeep
bulge
wrestler
Anubis
mascot
spinach
hieroglyph
anaconda
handicap
walrus
blacksmith
robin
reception
invasion
fencing
sphinx
evolution
brunette
traveler
jaguar
diagram
hovercraft
parade
dome
credit
tow truck
shallow
vlogger
veterinarian
furniture
commercial
cyborg
scent
defense
accident
marathon
demonstration
NASCAR
Velociraptor
pharmacist
Xerox
gentleman
dough
rhinoceros
air conditioner
poop
clock
carrot
cherry
candle
boots
target
wine
die
moon
airplane
think
pause
pill
pocket
Easter
horse
child
lamp
pillow
yolk
potato
pickle
nurse
ham
ninja
screw
board
pin
lettuce
console
climb
goose
bill
tortoise
sink
ski
glitter
miner
parrot
clap
spit
wiggle
peacock
roll
ballet
ceiling
celebrate
blind
yacht
addition
flock
powder
paddle
harpoon
kraken
baboon
antenna
classroom
bronze
writer
Obelix
touch
sensei
rest
puma
dent
shake
goblin
laundry
cloak
detonate
Neptune
cotton
generator
canary
horsewhip
racecar
Croatia
tip
cardboard
commander
seasick
anthill
vinegar
hippie
dentist
animation
Slinky
wallpaper
pendulum
vertical
chestplate
anime
beanstalk
survivor
florist
faucet
spore
risk
wonderland
wrestling
hazelnut
cushion
W-LAN
mayor
community
raisin
udder
oyster
sew
hazard
curry
pastry
mime
victim
mechanic
hibernate
bouncer
Iron Giant
floodlight
pear
sad
paw
space
bullet
skribbl.io
shirt
cow
worm
king
tea
truck
pants
hashtag
DNA
bird
Monster
beer
curtain
tire
nachos
bear
cricket
teapot
nerd
deaf
fruit
meteorite
rice
sniper
sale
gnome
shock
shape
alligator
meal
nickel
party
hurt
Segway
Mr. Bean
banker
cartoon
double
hammock
juggle
pope
leak
room
throne
hoof
radar
wound
luck
swag
panther
flush
Venus
disease
fortune
porch
machine
pilot
copper
mantis
keg
biology
wax
gloss
leech
sculpture
pelican
trapdoor
plague
quilt
yardstick
lounge
teaspoon
broadcast
uncle
comedian
mannequin
peasant
streamer
oar
drama
cornfield
carnivore
wingnut
vent
cabinet
vacation
applause
vision
radish
picnic
Skrillex
jester
preach
armadillo
hyena
librarian
interview
sauna
surgeon
dishrag
manatee
symphony
queue
industry
Atlantis
excavator
canister
model
flight attendant
ghost
pig
key
banana
tomato
axe
line
present
duck
alien
peas
gem
web
grapes
corn
can
fairy
camel
paper
beak
corner
penny
dig
link
donkey
fox
rug
drip
hunter
horn
purse
gumball
pony
musket
flea
kettle
rooster
balcony
seesaw
stork
dinner
greed
bait
duel
trap
heist
origami
skunk
coaster
leather
socket
fireside
cannon
ram
filter
alpaca
Zelda
condiment
server
antelope
emu
chestnut
dalmatian
swarm
sloth
reality
Darwin
torpedo
toucan
pedal
tabletop
frosting
bellow
vortex
bayonet
margarine
orchid
beet
journey
slam
marmalade
employer
stylus
spoiler
repeat
tiramisu
cuckoo
collapse
eskimo
assault
orangutan
wrapping
albatross
mothball
evaporate
turnip
puffin
reeds
receptionist
impact
dispenser
nutshell
procrastination
architect
programmer
bricklayer
boat
bell
ring
fries
money
chair
door
bee
tail
ball
mouse
rat
window
peace
nut
blush
page
toad
hug
ace
tractor
peach
whisk
hen
day
shy
lawyer
rewind
tripod
trailer
hermit
welder
festival
punk
handle
protest
lens
attic
foil
promotion
work
limousine
patriot
badger
studio
athlete
quokka
trend
pinwheel
gravel
fabric
lemur
provoke
rune
display
nail file
embers
asymmetry
actor
carpenter
aristocrat
Zuma
chinchilla
archaeologist
apple
hat
sun
box
cat
cup
train
bunny
sound
run
barrel
barber
grill
read
family
moose
boil
printer
poster
sledge
nutmeg
heading
cruise
pillar
retail
monk
spool
catalog
scuba
anteater
pensioner
coyote
vise
bobsled
purity
tailor
meerkat
weasel
invention
lynx
kendama
zeppelin
patient
gladiator
slump
Capricorn
baklava
prune
stress
crucible
hitchhiker
election
caviar
marmot
hair roller
pistol
cone
ant
lock
hanger
cap
Mr. Meeseeks
comedy
coat
tourist
tickle
facade
shrew
diva
patio
apricot
spelunker
parakeet
barbarian
tumor
figurine
desperate
landlord
bus
mug
dog
shark
abyss
betray HUH SO HARD
submitted by Temporary_Scratch_14 to skribbl [link] [comments]

My experience running a semi vanilla SMP

I've made countless servers over the years for my friends and I with wacky and "fun" features that all seemed to die after a week or two. Then for my last server, I went back to basics, and here we are still going strong over 6 months later.
I launched a stock copy of paper with heavily watered down essentialsX (pretty much just color codes and /nick available) and off we end. A few days in I added a couple data packs from Vanilla Tweaks for single player sleep, playemob head drops, and a couple other smaller ones. All was going good, and we were finally enjoying a server for an extended period of time.
About a month in and I was starting to get annoyed with command permissions so I attempted to get permissionsEX, but discovered luck perms and went with that instead (luck perms made everything so much easier compared to permissionsEX it's literally a godsend). Finally everything seemed set in place for us to continue smoothly.
All that came crashing down when I tried to make a casino. I designed a redstone machine in my creative world, but when I built it on the server, it was super inconsistent and barely worked at all. I managed to finick with it enough to get it to work, but I was put off by the fact that happened at all. I did some research and found that a lot of paper's optimizations weren't vanilla-consistent, they changed gameplay. The specific optimization that broke my machine was if redstone updates couldn't get processed in time for their tick, they'd get pushed to the next tick. This change completely wrecks most large scale redstone builds.
When it came to fixing that, I believe that I could have just configured paper to not do that specific redstone optimization, but I was afraid of paper causing anything else bad, so I looked to the more vanilla side of things. I switched the server over to fabric with carpet mod. I did not configure carpet correctly which led to one of our players crashing the server multiple times, but that was solved. It took some getting used to not having our old QoL features, but everything was fine. I found a mod that added colored text that worked everywhere, and I set up vanilla teams to give everyone a colored name. Eventually I came across lithium, which is an optimization mod that does not affect gameplay whatsoever. We were lag free once again!
One day some random user logs on, swims to our shopping district, and starts griefing. I was luckily around to ban him before any serious harm was done, but our shopping district was left a mess. Very very luckily I made a backup the previous day, and I used litematica to merge the backed up shopping district into our main world. I turned on the whitelist then, which I hadn't done earlier because I wanted to let my friends invite other people on without going through me, the fact that I didn't think anyone could find our IP (they found it through namemc), and laziness. Whitelist your private servers!
I discovered dynmap through another smp, got it set up, and decided to make a website to go along with it. That was fun. Dynmap is cool.
I eventually enabled carpet's fake players command to let everyone "have an alt" for afking and whatnot. (DO NOT do this unless you trust every one of your players 100%!) This turned out to be controversial for many reasons, so we came up with a few rules based on the trust system to make having access to /player being almost equivalent to just having 1 alt. This seemed to work with everyone, but debates/discussions still pop up about them every now and then.
Carpet's scarpet feature turned out to be a perfect replacement for many features lost from our paper days. It allowed me to write little apps/commands to add to our experience. When I wrote these I followed my own set of guidelines to not do anything that's too far from vanilla as that's what I believe killed my old servers. This granted us /cam (written by gnembon, super survival friendly spectator game mode switch), /lock (lets you lock containers using the vanilla lock system), a mock /rules, /hat, /link (to link things in chat), and /hack.
We personally had problems with people losing all their gear on death, so we experimented to try to find a good balanced fix. Straight up keepInventory was a no as we felt it was too easy and would make nobody care if they died. We tried out the vanilla tweaks graves datapack, but there were issues with how it worked based on the fact that it was a datapack. We tried a VanillaDeathCheats, but we discovered that the fact it places a block on death is not optimal. Eventually we decided just having a mod that makes totems save you from the void, Totem Plus.
Once again I got annoyed with command permissions, and found Player Roles. It's just your standard permissions mod, and a pretty solid one at that.
That brings us to around today, and our world has lasted to the point of retirement. To make the world download, I used MCA selector to find and delete all chunks that hadn't been occupied for more than an hour, with exceptions made at my discretion. I'm thinking of switching from dynmap to bluemap, but I'll have to experiment with both first. We're starting our next world in a couple days, and we're going to spice it up to just slightly less vanilla. Spending over half a year on one server has been quite the ride
submitted by duna405 to admincraft [link] [comments]

Gravity's Rainbow Group Read | Sections 22-25 | Week 7

Slothrop's Hawaiian Shirt by Zak Smith (2006).
I just want to begin by thanking u/Bloomsdayclock for coordinating this endeavor, for all of the previous posts thus far, and for the enthusiastic interaction and scholarship that’s been happening in the comments for each post. This group read has rekindled my love for this book and is helping me understand it in so many different ways and in such greater depth that it's honestly like I’m reading a different book at this point. Also, kudos to each previous poster for creating a coherent post! The book is complex enough on its own but once you start going down the rabbit hole, sussing out the references, reading through some of the scholarship, etc., I almost found myself paralyzed by information overload (kinda feeling a bit like Charlie Kelly trying to figure out who “Pepe Silvia” is :) ). When this reading group started, I was like, “damn, I’m trying to read this insanely complex novel and the group posts are just as long, dense, and complex” and now I’ve gone and written some super long and dense post, too. To paraphrase either Blaise Pascal or Mark Twain (or Woodrow Wilson or apparently a rather large number of dead white guys from history): I would have written a shorter post if I’d had the time! Apologies in advance!
Anyways, this post will (attempt to) cover the start of the second section of the novel, Un Perm’ au Casino Hermann Goering. The events that transpire are zany and sinister, titillating and deeply sad. There is a mix of images both gorgeous and disgusting and much of the planning and plotting that took place at “The White Visitation” during the first section are starting to come to fruition in part deux. For each “Episode”, I will provide a general summary of the “action” and then some commentary and we’ll finish this post up with a few discussion questions. Let’s begin!
Episode 22
Summary
Slothrop is on furlough/leave at a casino in Monaco (from what I’ve read...I thought it was France before, still not completely sure) that’s been renamed in honor of the big fat slob that led Hitler’s air force during the war. He’s in paradise but wakes up “...[waiting] for a sudden noise to begin his day, a first rocket” (p. 181). His friend Tantivy Mucker-Maffick and a somewhat suspicious friend of his, Teddy Bloat (“[there’s] something about the way he talks to Slothrop, patronizing? Maybe nervous…” (p. 182)), are staying down the hall. They’re talking about meeting some girls but, as the first song of the section reminds us, Englishmen can be very shy. Slothrop is happy to help his “buddies” out, but tells them not to “expect [him] to put it in for [them]” (p. 183). Classic Slothrop!
Slothrop decides to wear a hideous (or amazing, depending on your sensibilities) genuine Hawaiian shirt that he received from his brother Hogan in the Pacific. The shirt seems to emit a glow (once he steps into the sun, it “blazes into a refulgent life of its own” (!) (p. 184), so Tantivy, “friend” that he is, tries to convince Slothrop to cover it up with scratchy Savile Row coat.
The trio hit the beach and the ladies are on them already. They’ve got food and booze and are ready for a nice day on the beach. The morning seems too good even for a bit of the “early paranoia”. And then Bloat ruins everything by drawing Slothrop’s attention to the woman down the beach being attacked by “the biggest fucking octopus Slothrop has ever seen outside of the movies”. Slothrop rushes off to intervene and, left without recourse, starts trying to bash the cephalopod on the head with a wine bottle to no avail. Thankfully, Bloat just happens to have a big, tasty crab on his person, which he tosses to Slothrop with the advice, “It’s hungry, it’ll go for the crab. Don’t kill it, Slothrop.” Slothrop uses the crab to bait away the animal from its current prey, noticing that it does not seem to be in good mental health. He eventually tosses the crab, like a discus, into the sea, and the octopus follows. The damsel has been saved, Slothrop is championed as a brave hero and his first thought is where in the fuck did that crab come from.
The exchange:
“Tantivy smiles and flips a small salute. “Good show!” cheers Teddy Bloat. “I wouldn’t have wanted to try that myself!”
“Why not? You had that crab. Saaay-where’d you get that crab?”
“Found it,” replies Bloat with a straight face. Slothrop stares at this bird but can’t get eye contact. What th’ fuck is going on?” (p. 187).
The damsel thanks Slothrop. Her ID bracelet identifies her as Katje Borgesius. Slothrop feels like he knows her and “...voices begin to take on a touch of metal, each word a hard-edged clap, and the light, though as bright as before, is less able to illuminate….it’s a Puritan reflex of seeking other orders behind the visible, also known as paranoia, filtering in…” (p. 188). How does Slothrop deal with this? By dividing up his present company into a dichotomy: the increasingly drunk Tantivy, “a messenger from Slothrop’s innocent, pre-octopus past” flirting with the girls and Bloat, “perfectly sober, mustache unruffled, regulation uniform [on the fucking beach!], watching [him] closely” (p. 188). And then there’s Katje, who, with her glance, makes Slothrop think she knows something (what?), asking him “Did you know all the time about the octopus? I thought so because it was so like a dance-all of you” (p. 188). Well, fuck me! Katje then tells “Little Tyrone” to be “very careful” and that “Perhaps, after all, we were meant to meet…” (p. 189). Now that’s a “meet cute” for ya!
Commentary/Questions
  1. Is the casino fully owned and controlled by Them at this point (is César Flebótomo (Spanish for “sandfly”) a(n) (un)willing patsy in Their employ?). Is it the “lab” for this “phase” of the Slothrop experiment. Or is it just secured enough to ensure the results of the experiment aren’t tainted by some unforeseen variable/interference?
  2. Teddy Bloat seems like a purposeful pun in reference to the bureaucracy of government/intel agencies
  3. Tantivy Mucker-Maffick’s name is also filled with meaning
  4. Songs are one way that Pynchon fills his book with “the language of the preterite”, a term from Weisenburger used to describe the “slang, underworld cant, songs, games, folk-genres, and material culture” used by Pynchon to pit “open, unsanctioned, and “low” languages” against the “closed, orthodox, privileged language of a culture”. This idea is expanded on by literary critic/philosopher Mikhail Bakhtin who notes that the “heteroglossic” aspect of novels allows them to be radical, open-ended artworks filled with a variety of voices that each embody a particular time and place (his term for this idea is a “chronotope”).
  5. The whole episode is just soaked in paranoia, from beginning to end. Whatever Slothrop thought he thought he was feeling in Section 1 has been taken up a notch. He senses a plot but keeps playing along.
  6. Is “Borgesius” a tribute to J.L. Borges?
  7. “Little Tyrone” echoes “Baby Tyrone” from Jamf’s experiments and maybe is supposed to make us realize that while the antics in this episode could possibly be construed as a “loss” of Slothrop’s “innocence” that was actually taken from him as a baby.
Episode 23
Summary
Dr. Porkyevitch (“Porky the pig”?) and “Grisha” (“[frisking] happily in his special enclosure”) stare back at the “blazing bijou” of the Casino from their ship, contemplating their future now that they may no longer be of use to Pointsman, yearning for traces of the Russia they’ve been exiled from.
To the casino: Katje is a vision in shades of green and is escorted by a two-star general and a brigadier. Is it Pudding? RHIP :) Slothrop and Tantivy in the dining room. Slothrop raises the “The Ballad of Tantivy Mucker-Maffic” to get the room singing of his friend’s drunken exploits so that he can speak to Katje who uses the cacophony to invite him to her room after midnight!
Slothrop then probes his buddy to see if he notices anything funny going on. Tantivy brushes him off a bit (“there’s always, you know, an element of Slothropian paranoia to contend with…”(p. 192)) but then concedes that the bastard Bloat is receiving coded messages. Ha! And it turns out Bloat has become a bit of a different man over the last few years, something more than being “Blitz rattled”. He’s also warned Tantivy away from Katje (“I’d stay clear of that one if I were you” (p. 193)) and Tantivy feels used by Bloat (“being tolerated for as long as he can use me” (p. 193)). The encounter ends with Tantivy telling Slothrop to be careful and, should he need help, he’ll be there for him.
At midnight, Slothrop leaves for his rendezvous with Ms. Borgesius, “ascending flights of red-carpeted stairway (Welcome Mister Slothrop Welcome To Our Structure We Hope You Will Enjoy Your Visit Here)” (p. 194). Arriving, he teases her about her date at dinner and then about their slightly sinister “meet cute” while examining her closet which is absolutely filled to the brim with a variety of outfits. The “Too Soon To Know (Fox-Trot)” before they get down to it. As he is undressing her, he notices “...the moonlight only whitens her back, and there is a still a dark side, her ventral side, her face, than he can no longer see, a terrible beastlike change coming over muzzle and lower jaw, black pupils growing to cover the entire eye space till whites are gone and there’s only the red animal reflection when the light comes to strike no telling when the light-” (p. 196). Yikes! As they fuck, she wonders if his “careful technique” is for her or “wired into the Slothropian Run-together they briefed her on”. Either way, “she will move him, she will not be mounted by a plastic shell” (p. 196-197).
Then, a slapstick fight with a seltzer bottle (planted by Them?) that has Slothrop looking for a banana cream pie to toss (classic!) after which they fall asleep, lying like two Ss. In the morning, their post-coital bliss is interrupted as Little Tyrone is rudely awakened by the sound of someone robbing his pants in the room next door. He chases after the thief, first naked, then dressed in a purple satin bedsheet. As he’s chasing, from way down the hallway, “a tiny head appears around a corner, a tiny hand comes out and gives Slothrop the tiny finger” (p. 199). Haha! He chases the thief up a tree only to have the tree cut down while he’s in it. The thief escapes and Bloat and some general find Slothrop a mess.
Bloat takes Slothrop to his room where, “every stitch of clothing he owns is gone, including his Hawaiian shirt. What the fuck. Groaning, he rummages in the desk. Empty. Closets empty. Leave papers, ID, everything, taken… Hogan’s shirt bothers him most of all” (p. 201). Nobody knows where Tantivy’s gone off to. Bloat gives Slothrop a uniform (“a piece of Whitehall on the Riviera” (p. 201)) which doesn’t fit but the book advises, “Live wi’ the way it feels mate, you’ll be in it for a while” (p. 201). Slothrop ponders the meaning of the architecture and design of his surrounds, but “shortly, unpleasantly so, it will come to him that everything in this room [The Himmer-Spielsaal, no less] is being used from something different. Meaning things to Them it has never meant to us. Never. Two orders of being, looking identical….but, but….” (p. 202). THE WORLD OVER THERE. Against this realization Slothrop issues the only spell he knows, a defiant “Fuck You”. Walking, rainstorm, entertainment at the casino, no one has seen the dancing girls from the drunken breakfast, Slothrop is “finding only strangers where he looks” before freaking out in the casino, then getting wet in the rain, then returning to Katje, the only place he knew to come.
Commentary
  1. I love “The Ballad of Tantivy Mucker-Maffic” and would like to write a similar tune about the inebriated shenanigans committed by my best friend and I during college.
  2. The bit about Oxford and Harvard not really existing to educate was a nice touch (p. 193)
  3. “Snazzy” is an “Americanism” in the 40s! (p. 195).
  4. Slothrop ponders an impending loss of innocence (but, again, it seems like that has already happened). He has nothing and no one in a foreign country and the sensation that his life is being purposefully, possibly nefariously influenced by forces he can vaguely perceive. “It’s here that saturation hits him, it’s all this playing games, too much of it, too many games: the nasal, obsessive voice of a croupier he can’t see...is suddenly speaking out of the Forbidden Wing directly to him, and about what Slothrop has been playing against the invisible House, perhaps after all for his soul, all day - terrified, he turns, turns out into the rain again where the electric lights of the Casino, in full holocaust, are glaring off the glazed cobbles.” And then, “How did this all turn against him so fast? His friends old and new, every last bit of paper and clothing connecting him to what he’s been, have just, fucking, vanished. How can he meet this with any kind of grace?” (p. 205)
  5. The word “holocaust” is used quite a bit in this story
  6. Setting this all in the casino is a nice touch: there is the illusion of chance and luck in a casino but the house always wins.
  7. The juxtaposition of the comic (seltzer fight) with the tragic (Slothrop alone, trying to understand what’s happening) heightens both effects.
Episode 24
Summary
They wake up with Katje calling slothrop a pig, which responds to by oinking. At breakfast, he is taking a refresher course in technical German and learning about The Rocket. His tutor, Sir Stephen Dodson-Truck (who speaks 33 languages!) aiding his understanding of German circuit schematics by way of ancient German runes. Slothrop understands immediately that Dodson-Truck is in on the plot but not sure how (“There are times when Slothrop can actually find a clutch mechanism between him and Their iron-cased engine far away up a power train whose shape and design he has to guess at, a clutch he can disengage, feeling then all his inertia of motion, his real helplessness… it is not exactly unpleasant, either. Odd thing. He is almost sure that whatever They want, it won’t mean risking his life, or even too much of his comfort. But he can’t fit any of it into a pattern, there’s no way to connect somebody like Dodson-Truck with somebody like Katje…. The real enemy’s somewhere back in that London anyways” (p. 207).
Back in the Himmler-Spielsaal: “in the twisted gilt playing-room his secret motions clarify for him, some. The odds They played here belonged to the past, the past only. Their odds were never probabilities, but frequencies already observed. It’s the past that makes demands here. It whispers, and reaches after, and sneering disagreeably, gooses its victims.
When they choose numbers, red, black, odd, even, what did They mean it? What Wheel did They set in motion?
Back in a room, early in Slothrop’s life, a room forbidden to him now, is something very bad. Something was done to him and it may be that Katje knows what. Hasn’t he, in her “futureless look,” found some link to his own past, something that connects them closely as lovers?” (p. 208-209). “It is a curve each of them feels, unmistakably. It is the parabola.”
No more news from London or Achtung. Bloat is gone now, too. Sir Stephen and Katje with their identical Corporate Smiles to dazzle him while they rob his identity. But! “He lets it happen” (p. 210).
Slothrop is getting hardons after his rocket study sessions and then goes looking for relief with Katje. Sir Stephen appears to be timing these erections! So, Slothrop gets the smart idea to get him drunk via a drinking game and many, many people end up getting sloshed on some high class bubbly. Half the room is singing the “Vulgar Song”. Slothrop and Sir Steve get pretty hammered and start walking through a nice sunset, where Slothrop sees robed figures, hundreds of miles tall, on the horizon. Sir Stephen informs Slothrop that he’s got “potency issues” (which makes him the perfect observer for Slothrop’s sexual misadventures… “no nasty jissom getting all over their reports, you know” (p. 216)). He’s about to tell Slothrop the secret of “The Penis He Thought Was His Own”...
...but then starts waxing nostalgic about Sir Stephen’s son and his wife, Nora and her “Ideology of the Zero”. An interlude with Eventyr, Sachsa, Leni… “but where will Leni be now? Either we didn’t mean to lose her - either it was an ellipsis in our care, in what some of us even swear is our love, or someone has taken her, deliberately, for reasons being kept secret, and Sachsa’s death is part of it too” (p. 218). More on Sachsa’s death.
Then, Sir Stephen vanishes (“but not before telling Slothrop that his erections of high interest to Fitzmaurice House”). Katje is pissed that Slothy got Sir Steve drunk enough to dish on the plot. They fight and then fuck. More rocket study sessions. The rocket taking off looks like a peacock, def pfau. Slothrop pressing for more information, Katje rebuffing, warning/advising“Oh, Slothrop… You don’t want me. What they’re after may, but you don’t. No more than A4 wants London. But I don’t think they know...about other selves...yours or the Rocket’s. No more than you do. If you can’t understand it now, at least remember. That’s all I can do for you” (p. 224).
Then, “They go back up to her room again: cock, cunt, the Monday rain at the windows” (p. 224) (Oh, Tom, you romantic!). And finally, a bit of kazoo music, a final night together, and Katje disappears, too.
Commentary
  1. Slothrop makes an important connection to his childhood and wonders if Katje knows about it/whether she’s with him because of it (ol’ Pynch even manages to work in the rocket, too!): “You were in London while they were coming down. I was in ‘s Gravenhage while they were going up. Between you and me is not only a rocket trajectory but also a life. You will come to understand that between the two points, in the five minutes, it lives an entire life. You haven’t even learned the data on our side of the flight profile, the visible or trackable. Beyond them there’s so much more, so much none of us know” (p. 209).
  2. More on the import of setting the action in the Casino: “The Forbidden Wing. Oh, the hand of a terrible croupier is that touch on the sleeves of his dreams: all his life of what has looked free or random, is discovered to’ve been under some Control, all the time, the same as a fixed roulette wheel-where only destinations are important, attention is to long-term statistics, not individuals: and where the House does, of course, keep turning a profit…” (p. 209).
  3. A beautiful passage: “‘Holy shit.” This is the kind of sunset you hardly see any more, a 19th-century wilderness sunset...this anachronism in primal red, in yellow purer than can be found anywhere today, a purity begging to be polluted...of course Empire took its way westward, what other way was there but into those virgin sunsets to penetrate and to foul” (p. 214). Always dualities in this book.
  4. “A pornography of blueprints” (p. 224). is a nice turn of phrase.
  5. Foreshadowing: “She has her hair combed high today in a pompadour, her fair eyebrows, plucked to wings, darkened, eyes rimmed in black, only the outboard few lashes missed and left blond.
  6. Connection to Nabokov: I really do think “Signs and Symbols” influenced this novel. Lines like this, “Here it is again, that identical-looking Other World - is he gonna have this to worry about, now? What th’ - lookit these trees - each long frond hanging, stuny, dizzying, in laborious dry point against the sky, each so perfectly placed…” (p. 225) remind me so much of the atmosphere in the story (itself about paranoia (“referential mania”)). This is a key excerpt from the Nabokov ditty: “In these very rare cases the patient imagines that everything happening around him is a veiled reference to his personality and existence. He excludes real people from the conspiracy - because he considers himself to be so much more intelligent than other men. Phenomenal nature shadows him wherever he goes. Clouds in the staring sky transmit to one another, by means of slow signs, incredibly detailed information regarding him. His inmost thoughts are discussed at nightfall, in manual alphabet, by darkly gesticulating trees. Pebbles or stains or sun flecks form patterns representing in some awful way messages which he must intercept. Everything is a cipher and of everything he is the theme.” Obviously this guy is, uh, slightly more clinical, but I still think the atmosphere/tone is similar between the two.
Episode 25
Summary
We begin this episode with a Pavlov lecture about the physiological symptoms of hysteria and one of Pointsman’s poems (which he never shows to anyone). Then to the “White Visitation” chaps (Pointsman, Grunton, Throwster, Groast) rumor-mongering about their future. Things are looking bleak. Pudding might cut off funding, “Slothrop’s knocked out Dodson-Truck and the girl in one day” (p. 227), and Sir Steven’s got the P.M.’s son-in-law making embarrassing inquiries. But Pointsman is calm. Very calm. In fact, “[b]y facing squarely the extinction of his program, he has gained a great bit of Wisdom: that if there is a life force operating in Nature, still there is nothing so analogous in bureaucracy. Nothing so mystical. It all comes down, as it must, to the desires of individual men. Oh, and women too, of course, bless their empty little heads. But survival depends on having strong enough desires - on knowing the System better than the other chap, and how to use it. It’s work, that’s all it is, and there’s no room for any extrahuman activities - they only weaken, effeminize the will: a man either indulges them, or fights to win, und so weiter” (p. 230). And then we find out that Pointman’s figured out how to play Pudding to keep his support (more on that in a bit…) as he’s figured out Treacle, Groast, and Throwster, how to use them and manipulate them to get what he wants. What a fucking devious guy!
Webley Silvernail sticks around after the meeting and imagines the lab animals putting on a beguine performance of a song called “Pavlovia” (right after this realization by Silvernail: “From overhead, from a German camera-angle, it occurs to Webley Silvernail, this lab here is also a maze...but who watches from above, who notes their reponses?” (p. 229)). And it’s all song and dance for a bit but since it’s Pynchon, it’s followed by an incredible poignant/tragic moment of clarity: “They have had their moment of freedom. Webley has only been a guest start. Now it’s back to the cages and the rationalized forms of death-death in the service of the one species cursed with the knowledge that it will die…. “I would set you free, if I knew how. But it isn’t free out here. All the animals, the plants, the minerals, even other kinds of men, are being broken and reassembled every day, to preserve an elite few, who are the loudest to theorize on freedom, but the least free of all. I can’t even give you hope that it will be different someday - that They’ll come out, and forget death, and lose Their technology’s elaborate terror, and stop using every other form of life without mercy to keep what haunts men down to a tolerable level - and be like you instead, simply here, simply alive….” The guest star retires down the corridors” (p. 230). What a soliloquy. [Tangent: almost 50 years later, how prescient is this passage?! This little monologue filled me with so many conflicting emotions: hope (because humans like Pynchon exist to dream this stuff up) and also dread because this paragraph describes a fundamental aspect and egregious flaw (or flaws) in human nature. Reading and re-reading this passage depresses me a little (hence my question about mental health below).
Now Pudding is sneaking about the bowels of “The White Visitation”. He heads past the cells of loonies on his way to a secret rendezvous. It seems like Pointsman may have drugged him at some point to get at hidden desires. We watch as our dear old Brigadier putters from room-to-room, finding items left for him by Pointsman that mock him and describe his descent into a personal hell (for info on the symbolism, the Weisenburger book is quite helpful).
In the final room, Pudding drops to his knees at the feet of his Domina Nocturna (with “her blond hair...tucked and pinned beneath a thick black wig”... “naked except for a long sable cape and black boots with court heels” (p. 233)). Pudding is thinking of the night they first met. He saw “her” “...through the periscope, underneath a star shell that hung in the sky, he saw her….and though he was hidden, she saw Pudding. Her face was pale, she was dressed all in black, she stood in No-man’s Land, the machine guns raked their patterns all around her, but she needed no protection. “They knew you, Mistress. They were your own.
And so were you” (p. 233).
And then he offers her a “nice” memory of a legion of Franco’s troops killing and getting killed at a massacre at Badajoz for which he is “rewarded” with her beating and then pissing and shitting in his mouth… … … …
However off-putting this may be for some (most), it does something for Pudding. He needs pain. “They have stuffed paper illusions and military euphemisms between him and this truth, this rare decency, this moment at her scrupulous feet….no it’s not guilt here, not so much as amazement - that he could have listened to so many years of ministers, scientists, doctors each with his specialized lies to tell, when she was here all the time, sure in her ownership of his failing body, his true body: undisguised by uniform, uncluttered by drugs to keep from him her communiqués of vertigo, nausea and pain. Above all, pain. The clearest poetry, the endearment of greatest worth…” (p. 234-235).
Munching down on a hot turd makes Pudding think of the horrible smells of his service during WWI: putrid mud, rot, death, “...the sovereign smell of their first meeting, and her emblem” (p. 235). After eating her shit, he jerks off (his release), in a style that Domina Nocturna has learned from watching Captain Blicero and Gottfriend (at this point, it is safe to say, Domina Nocturna is Katje. Will we ever be able to look at her the same?).
Pudding is then dismissed to “...a late-night cup of broth, routine papers to sign, a dose of penicillin that Pointsman has ordered him to take, to combat the effects of E. Coli” (p. 236). So thoughtful, that Pointsman...
Commentary
  1. The Silvernail hallucination/phantasmagoria seems like something straight out of “The Big Lebowski” had Jodorowsky had a bit of influence over the Coen Bros. art direction. Many of the songs in this section feel “Lebowski-esque” but this one especially so to me. Maybe its the detailed choreographic notes: “They dance in flowing skeins. The rats and mice form circles, curl their tails in and out to make chrysanthemum and sunburst patterns, eventually all form into the shape of a single giant mouse, at whole eye Silvernail poses with a smile” (p. 230).
  2. The Franco bit is a nice way of linking facism and death worship
  3. Pudding eating Domina Nocturna’s shit really, to quote an earlier passage, gave “de wrinkles in mah brain a process!”. There is so much symbolism there! Instead of ascending to heaven, Pudding heads down to hell. We have so many dualities linked in the act: between young and old, sacred and profane, pleasure and pain, pleasure through pain, WWI and WW2, man and woman, life and death, the general as a slave, even the food transformed through Katje into waste, all linked through the act of eating shit. For a moment they are linked so intimately, so delicately. No parabolas, a circle. And, of course, there’s also the diabolical Pointsman in the background, pulling the strings and manipulating to keep Pudding in line. I remember reading this for the first time and just being shocked and confused and now reading it again and finding so much meaning. That ol’ Pynchon is a devious bastard, hiding such loaded symbolism in such an obscene encounter. The Pulitzer committee had no idea what was coming for them!
So, if you’ve reached this point, congratulations and I am sorry! Here are my discussion questions. Looking forward to future posts!
Discussion Questions Both On Topic and Tangential
  1. Why is paranoia described as a “Puritan reflex” in Episode 22?
  2. In Episode 23, as Slothrop peruses Katje’s extensive wardrobe, what is the significance of the line, “Aha! wait a minute, the operational scent in here is carbon tet, Jackson, and this wardrobe here’s mostly props” (p. 195)?
  3. In Episode 24, what’s the significance of “the watchmen of world’s edge”? Is this an intrusion of the spirit world? Is Slothrop just hallucinating?
  4. In Episode 24, when Peter Sachsa gets the blow to the temple from Schutzmann Jöche, why is his last thought, “How beautiful!” (p. 220)
  5. In Episode 25, there’s a line in the part where Pudding is sneaking around: “A voice from some cell too distant for us to locate intones:...” (p. 231). Why us here? Why the change in perspective?
  6. How’s this book affecting everyone’s mental health (you know, given that we’re in the end times right now)? Seriously, though, there are times when this book makes me so happy to be alive and proud of humanity and also times where it depresses the everloving shit out of me and makes me think that, as a species, we’re doomed to continue making the same mistakes, over and over again, until we end up destroying ourselves.
  7. In a similar vein, do you think people as prodigiously talented and brilliant as Pynchon have any responsibility to counter the evil they see in the world? Is writing books enough or should they do more (lead, teach, etc.) to fight against the awful things they are able to see before the rest of us do?
Resources
submitted by grigoritheoctopus to ThomasPynchon [link] [comments]

A Night in MTA - Part 1

https://youtu.be/PEI2zet48Uc
I woke up. 7pm. Head ringing. The events of last night cast over my mind like a fog at night. God… Another terrible night at the Boris casinos. Those payouts were worse than ever before. I rolled over and look at the bedside table. A cask of Alexandrian vodka greeted me. “Hello mama…” I whispered to myself, and took a swig. Ah, the sweet taste of liquor.
I pulled myself out of bed, stumbling. I wandered over to my closet. “Fire prot or normal prot today?” I mumbled to myself, looking at the array of suits. “Prot it is.” I thought. I got dressed, and wandered out to the balcony, and lit myself a cigarette.
This city is a dump, I thought to myself. I looked out at MTA below. It was a city of scum and villainy. A home for every crook, criminal and degenerate in ‘Realms. And I was tasked with tracking the craziest of them all - Robokaiser. Olympia HQ had sent me to the city to take down the Kaiser Mafia, and I’d been hard at work infiltrating his bootlegging ring. The chief, Vanax, believed he’d been smuggling chocaine all the way from Tchad.
I stubbed out the cigarette, and went back inside. I spread out the list of files in front of me. It was a folder of the biggest scum in MTA… Robokaiser the Mayor at the top, but Vespasian, a major political figure, Ladez, owned of Rokkomart, Aimauri, Robo’s top goon and more covered the papers. These were the men I was tasked to take down. All on my own.
Tonight would be like any other night, or so I thought. As I stepped outside into the dark streets of MTA from my small apartment, the stench hit me immediately. You see, MTA was situated right on a major river, downstream from some serious urban settlements. They dumped sewage, probably illegally, but who cares, into the river - and it floated right down to the city. 24/7, the stink of shit. What a dump. SaikiKusuoh, a local hooker, greeted me. “Hey baby, looking for a good time?”. “Get outta here, whore.” I replied.
The stakeout today would be Rokkomart. Ya see, Rokkomart had this new deal going on - free blast furnace on the weekends. But this real wiz in our tech department, GDAN, had an idea - maybe it was all a coverup. A little sweeten-the-deal for the local business owners to help them move chocaine. So I’d been tasked today with checking out the joint. I walked down the promenade. Flashing signs advertising the ATC, lap dances and pornography greeted me. Fuck this city.
Rokkomart was busy today - no surprise, the blast furnace was open. A few regulars greeted me - Nekowo, Jonpachi were their names. They were hooked on chocaine, that was for sure. Whether they were involved in the smuggling, I don’t know. Rokkomart was a real nice joint. They had electric lighting and central heating, and the waitresses were the nicest in town. I didn’t have time to stop for a drink, though. Nonchalantly, I strolled to the furnace. Aimauri was nowhere to be seen, but Ladez was talking to a figure I hadn’t seen before. I quietly moved towards them, preparing to eavesdrop. That’s when I recognised him. It was someone I’d heard about on the radio before - it was the fuckin’ mayor of Cantina! Posey!
I immediately hid beyond a column, lit a cigarette, and pretended to read a nearby newspaper. I couldn’t hear much over the noise from the bar, but some of what they were saying was coming through. “shipment.... straight from… Chungus.... zoomers working…”. Whatever exactly they were saying wasn’t clear to me, but one thing was: this shit went straight to the top. These chocaine smugglers weren’t small time, there was big money at play.
After a few minutes, they stopped talking. I looked round - nowhere to be seen. But this was my chance. I slipped into the blast furnace, and the room was empty. Just what I needed. I took out my tobacco pouch, and deftly took out the little swab. “Thanks Tomo.” I thought to myself. The wetback was a real quick one, straight from El Paso, who’d designed some of our best equipment. I took some fingerprints, and stepped outside. And that’s when I saw them.
Azdekar and Vendetta, walking straight my way. “Shit!” I realised. Calmly and with composure, I turned on my heels and began walking away from them. I could hear them up pace. So did I. Seconds, later, I broke out into a sprint. “GET HIM!” one of them shouted, I’m not sure which. You see, Rokkomart was an old place. Towering roofs, stern columns, carpets, the whole shebang. When the place wasn’t packed to the brim with customers, it was packed to the brim with cleaners. And that was my out. After I turned round the corner, I saw it - a laundry chute. It was gonna be a tight fit, but my only way out. I ducked into the vent.
“Where da fuck’d he go?” shouted one of the goons. “I dunno, but Ladez is gunna be pissed.” replied the other. Was Ladez onto my trail? Did he see my listening in on him and Posey? This wasn’t good. But I didn’t have time to think about that while I tumbled down into the cleaner’s room. Still, it was good that I’d cased the joint a few days ago. I let myself out by the back of Rokkomart, into a dirty back alley filled with junkies and hobos. “Jeez, you look like shit!” shouted one of the bums - citylion was his name.
I sighed, and pulled my tie up. This night wasn't going my way.
TBC
submitted by TheFallenHero to CivRealms [link] [comments]

My first Psilocybin experience (sclerotia)

My first Psilocybin experience (sclerotia)
First post! This night has been so special to me, it really returned the idea of wonder to me and I thought I'd share it after lurking here for a while. I tend to have very vivd recollections of my experiences when high, regardless of the substance. It’s a bit long!! Hope you enjoy.
I first tried psychedelics in Amersterdam last year, while I (F, then 19) was on a short vacation with my friend from highschool, Y, and her university mates. In total we were 7 people, with two couples in the group who were fighting each other, making the vibe, which was already awkward for me as the outsider of the group, veryyy awkward. Now, I've always been the kind of girl who's down to clown, but just don't have many opportunities. And while this friendgroup did a lot of weed at their university, I had found it difficult to score in my own and so was lowkey a newbie in the world of recreational substances. We only stayed for 3 nights, and as typical uni students we would spend our days going into coffee shops and getting blazed before exploring the city (highly recommend the Van Gogh museum!). On our last day, the one couple, D and O, said they wanted to get truffles. So pretty much the whole group got except one boy, T. We went to this store and the sales assistant recommended us Dolphins Delight as first timers. There's 15g in a box, and she said we should probably take 8g for our first time. One person in our group, E, wanted to go to the red light district while we were tripping, but I really discouraged that idea; I have struggled with anxiety for a long time and I felt that being in public and outside during my trip would be very stressful. So it was decided we would go back to the hostel (which was actually very luxurious and had a lot of facilities) we were staying at and relax there. At around 8pm, as we were fading out of our weed highs from earlier in the day and having had late lunches in place of dinner, we sat in our room and ate the truffles. Well, tried to. They were so disgusting! I had to layer mine on top of stroopwafel cookies just to stomach them. But I got through it, though I have to say I'm a competitive person and like testing the extremes, so I ended up eating 10g instead. Part of me was really worried that I would have a bad trip, due to my anxiety and depression, but YOLO.
While waiting to come up, we all went down to the hostel’s cinema (told you it was nice). It felt like it took ages to agree on a movie, I think I wanted to watch Avatar, but we ended up watching Paul instead. I have a fast metabolism because I’m quite short and slight, so by about 20 minutes into the movie my mood started changing. The movie—which is funny if you like raunchy bro comedies, as I do sometimes—began to disgust me. I found it too crude, too violent. I also became very nauseous, and sitting in that dark room staring at a huge projector became too much for my visual senses. Me and Y walked out together after about 35 minutes and the rest of our group soon followed after. I needed to go outside otherwise I felt as though I would be sick, so we all migrated to the communal deck area. We sat down at a table and I took the chance to breathe and reground myself. I don’t remember much of this period, just that I was not engaging in conversation and was zoning out a lot. Someone handed me a blunt at one point, as something to bring me down a little, but I only managed two weak drags before handing it back as I hate tobacco. Sometime during this, T and one couple, E and W, and Y went back to the room because, well, T was bored and sober and E started feeling extremely ill, so W and Y went to look after her. So it was just me, D and O left at outside.
A bachelor party of Russians started talking to my friends, but I didn’t interact as I was fully feeling it now, not yet peaking but my consciousness had definitely shifted. When I finally snapped back into myself, it was like remembering that I am an actual human that is existing in the world around her. I looked up and I saw all these strangers, and instead of feeling anxious like I normally do around people I don’t know, I just felt… uninterested. Like I didn’t care for their opinion of me. I was sitting with my face to the wind, and I realized I was feeling cold, so swapped to the other side of the table, and faced this wall of fairy curtain lights attached to a garden trellis. I would like to add that I’m moderately myopic and astigmatic, so basically my vision is shit. Lights, when I look at them, have this lens flare kind of effect when I’m not tripping, but staring at these fairy lights…. On top of the normal yellow was a glowy rainbow. It was magic. It was like there were two ways I was seeing—the “real” world and then this in-between world, where I could see the “could be”. I started crying then and there at this table. Not sobbing, but tears just fell down my cheeks soundlessly. Now, I’m part of LGBTQ, and I’m out to most people in my life but it mostly feels like their acceptance is “we’ll believe it when we see it.” I’ve never gone to any pride events before either just due to accessibility, so seeing this neon pride flag… It really moved me. I remember saying “Gay rights!”, which made my friends laugh as this was the only thing I had said in about an hour. I think this might’ve upset the Russians, because they moved away.
Inside the hostel, they were playing music and people were dancing. So D said we should join them. I was glad because I was really cold actually, but I wasn’t in the mood to dance; I was more sluggish and slow, but O was very giggly and bouncy, almost flirty. We migrated inside, where 90s hiphop (Biggie, DMX, Tupac etc) was blaring from speakers. It was so loud it weighed on me, like the sound was taking up so much space that there wasn’t enough for me to dance even a little bit—which, in my distant sober brain, was disappointing because I love dancing. D went to sit by the bar while O dragged me over to a circle of people. She began skipping around and gyrating but I really couldn’t process the idea of DANCING to this very big music. I just either stared at my feet, watching them shuffle sadly from side to side, or staring at the speakers on the ceiling and feeling like I could see each sound wave pulsing from the black. I couldn’t make myself look straight at the other people—it would’ve been too overwhelming to look at these people all staring back in my general direction. It was like in those teen movies when there’s a large crowd of people around one camera while it spins in place.
I don’t really remember when or why we stopped “dancing” but next thing I remember is following them back to our room. D and O mentioned they wanted to walk around the neighborhood, and I guess I just became their permanent third wheel at this point. We weren’t in the main building, but in the newly constructed extra rooms. This building was quite, and it was shocking to go from all the sensation to a creepy sterile-ness. It had been an hour and a half, I guess, since first eating the truffles. I wasn’t peaking yet even there, but I was very close. We rode the glass elevator up to our floor and when the doors slid open, the hallway, which was dark walls and carpet with a white ceiling, dim lights and a couple of support columns, had a sort of double image, as I mentioned earlier. The visual on top was like something out of a comic book, with the Ben Day kind of dots. The hallway was also distorting to look longer and more jagged, and in my head I related it to Spider-Verse’s style. That’s when I began to detach from reality and fall more into the in-between. We got to our room and find out that E had actually been sick, some sort of allergic reaction, and had vomited up all her truffles. Her girlfriend, W, was holding a plastic bag for her as they sat on their bunk, but she was laughing uncontrollably, not because she found it funny but because she was peaking, which was really pissing off E. I wanted to see Y in that moment, but in her bunk was a white cocoon. I knocked gently on it, and Y’s eyes peaked out from under her sheets. They were starry like a galaxy, and her face had taken on a rose-tinge. Actually, everything had. I was literally looking at life through rose-colored lenses. I thought she looked so beautiful. But the reason why her eyes were so fractualised was because she had been crying too. And laughing. I invited her to come on the walk with us, but she refused.
I asked her what was wrong. Her grin twisted almost unnaturally large. Her hands gripped the sheets close around her body and she whispered that it was too much to see. She was overstimulated and it frightened her. She was upsetting to look at, her beauty suddenly terrible. I didn’t know what I could’ve done to ease this for her, so I just walked away to prepare for the walk. I picked up my phone, my water bottle, and slid on my jacket, because D said that I need a jacket or some sort of outerwear to keep my grounded. I ended up taking that to heart, clutching my jacket tight around me and constantly fisting my hands in my pockets. I also took more of the truffles, like 3g (so 13g total). I shouldn’t have, but I felt bad about wasting what was left, and I thought it wouldn’t that big of a deal. It was so awful trying to chew them that as D, O, and I exited the building, with me trailing behind them, that I stood over a bush and vomited into it. Gross, I know. I’m not proud of it either. But it didn’t effect my trip.
I should say that I realize now how stupid and reckless it was to have done all this without a trip sitter and also separating the group. Walking around at night in a foreign country while completely mentally vulnerable like that was not a responsible thing to do and I’m so grateful that we managed to stay clear of trouble. When I do psychedelics next I will make sure to take step to ensure the safety and comfort of my group.
So, it was on this walk that I finally peaked. Lads, it was fucking glorious. I don’t know if this is normal but I completely detached from reality and my perception of it. So, the neighborhood of the hostel is quite outside the city, it’s white rectangular apartment buildings and cobbled roads and there was a canal running down the middle of it, with bridges going across. It was more like a suburb, no businesses and I don’t remember seeing anyone else the whole time, always behind the couple. I think what affected my trip was the readings I did the previous semester, where I did a course on surrealism and Freud. We studied Andre Breton’s poems and manifesto and watched stuff like Un Chien Andalou. This holiday was right as I finished the semester and handed in my final essay, I think it was still sitting heavy on my mind. But who I was, who I am, didn’t exist. Instead, I saw the world as a video-game. Something like Fallout, with a desolate, post apocalyptic wasteland vibe, but it was in Beta, and we were walking along the edge of the map and so it would reset as we walked along (this was probably an affect of the identical apartment buildings, clean-cut symmetry of the streets, and the lack of other living souls). In this video game, I felt like the main character, or at least the player’s character, but my backstory didn’t feel complete. And the couple, who I had known all of 3 days, felt like they were the only people I knew ever. It felt like they were designed to be my best friends and that we were all programmed to journey together.
It’s funny looking back on it, because I would try to explain this feeling to them but they would be like “Yeah, dude. We’re all connected. Our spirits have known each other forever.” And stuff in that vein. Like, they were in a very chill, nirvanic, lovey-dovey state while I was fully dissociating from reality.
It was fully nighttime, this was maybe 10:15 already, so the sky was dark as night skies are. But I was seeing a sort of radioactive-colored sunset/dusk, with the majority of the heavens being a deep, luscious purple and the horizon being a burnt orange. The streetlights, which were consistently placed along the roads, where alternating in pale green to lilac. The colour-scheme doesn’t work but for me it was intoxicating. I’m a person who loves bright colourful shiny things so this was my jam. We walked for what seemed like HOURS. And normally I have low stamina and I was also wearing some new sneakers that I normally wouldn’t want to get dirty but I was so gone and above that stuff at that point. I did not notice myself walking at all. It was more like the camera from which I saw the world was gliding forward—like a video game POV. I started talking aloud about what surreality was and its complexities, but the other two couldn’t engage with me. The couple—being you know, a couple—were very much enjoying each other’s company. I was left to my own devices in terms of my thoughts and feelings, so I got out my phone and opened my notes apps to write things down as we walked. I had been actually doing that the whole time, albeit previously for weed-thoughts (I call it my dHIGHary). I’ll attach a screenshot at the end.
We eventually came across this grand, sweeping willow tree overlooking the canal. Its canopy was so magnificent I don’t know if it was real or a visual. But we went underneath and I fully had a Grandma Willow moment. The bark of the tree started swirling around like cream being poured into a coffee. I think at some point I saw a face. I put my hand on it and I could’ve sworn I could feel it breathing and twisting. The other two did the same and we had a real special moment of appreciating this willow. And then they started making out against the tree so I was like “Uhhhh” and instead focused on the tall grass we were standing in. I don’t know how long they were kissing because I was hyper focusing on this grass, but O tapped my shoulder, bringing my attention back to the now. She was holding a snail in her hand and was saying “We’ve made a friend!”. I have to be honest, I hateeed bugs and insects and slimy creatures. But in that moment I did not hesitate before grabbing that snail and putting it on my arm. And then it fell off into the grass because I was off my fucking rocker.
We started walking again and at the point I got stuck in two thought-loops, where I would just say the same things over and over again. One was “We’re in a video game” and the other was “Did I wet myself?”. I don’t know where the latter came from; I think I might’ve needed to pee and the warm of the friction of my jeans might’ve had me thinking I just pissed my pants. I would walk a few meters then swipe at my butt, trying to feel for wetness, and ask them again if I wet myself. I said these things so often that I think I ruined their euphoric mood LOL they got super snippy at me.
So we continue walking nowhere, I’m still seeing the sky and believing I’m in a video game and doubting my bladder’s strength but I think I’m starting to come down, slowly but surely. Then we come across this… I wouldn’t say it was a cliff but like the road we were on had a sudden sharp incline to the side and then we’re overlooking this building. Even now, I can’t say what it was. In my addled state, it was this massive black building that radiated gold from the openings. It was beautiful, but foreboding. Something divine. Because it had been so long since we’d seen any signs of other people that I started crying again. But it was a nice feeling, it felt like I was clearing out my tear ducts and detoxing. It was such an easy, smooth cry if that makes sense.
“This is the promised land!" I said. At that point I think the other two knew not to entertain my ramblings because they said nothing. I managed to get a blurry pic of the building, which I checked out the next day. In retrospect its nothing so mighty, but looking at it arouses an echo of its power over me. I still can’t think if it was a hotel or a casino? It seems really out of place even now.

I was actually really shocked at how full the parking lot is.

I think we started to head back in the direction of the hostel, then. I was nearing the end of my trip so no more incredible visions—I was still checking if I’d peed though. We took a different route back, and found an underpass with murals on the walls. O wanted to take photos against them with D, which I took, and then they started kissing again. I got kinda nervous for a second that they were going to ask me to join them, which is a weird habit of mine when I hang out with couples, but nothing of the sort happened.
We continued walking and I finally snapped out of my hallucination of the video game and in doing so I started to reflect on the world and my place. I came to the realization that I am not the main character, but I am my main character. I won’t star in anyone else’s story, but merely existing at the perimeter for a moment before advancing on my own path, and vice versa. And because it’s my story, I make my villains. I decide who or what gets to be my big boss and who is just a side quest. I’m not playing to have the fastest speed run, or have the most XP and collectibles. I’m here to enjoy the game. A lot of my previous grudges and grievances melted away. I mean, there’s still people I dislike and don’t want to interact with ever, but I get to choose my response. They can’t make me not enjoy my life as much as I can because it’s my choice to let them influence me or not. And in a holistic sense, I let go of a lot of my fear of rejection and judgment. I won’t say I’m cured of my anxiety disorder but I’m so much better at socialization and being outgoing now. I think that experience also restored a lot of empathy in me for the world and its creatures that had slowly dissipated as I grew up. I can’t think of a way to phrase this well, but I feel like after this night I don’t do good things for others because it makes me look good but because it just feels like the right thing to do, simply uncomplicated. I still struggle with my ego and my confidence and my compassion sometimes, and I wouldn’t say I’m a completely changed person, but I do think something slid into place and I’m more whole as a person. Unfortunately, some of the progress I made that night got reset due to a deeply emotionally traumatic event that happened a month after and I’m still recovering from. Funny how a thing that feeds on the dead can teach you so much about life.
I’m not yet done! The next part’s just fun sensations, no epiphanies. We get back to the hostel, I’m not sure at what time. Between 11:45 and 1:30, surely. My double reality vision is all but gone, but I still see things with a pink hue. We enter our room and the lights are on but everyone’s else pretty much asleep. I get my sleep things and go to the bathroom to take a shower. YALL I cannot recommend a post-trip shower enough. It looked like the water was falling really slowly, and the way the light bounced off it was like those crystal prisms. Standing underneath the showerhead didn’t feel like getting wet, but more like soft diamonds bouncing off my skin. I couldn't stop giggling in the shower. Touching my bare skin felt amazing too, like I had shed an old outer layer and what I had underneath was satin-smooth and plushy. By the time I got out and everybody was in bed/sleeping. I climbed into my bunk, and when I tell you those sheets felt like luxury defined. They were so soft and silky and feathery. It’s embarrassing to say but I couldn’t stop sighing and moaning. They were just so comfortable that it elicited a physical response from me. I couldn’t shut up, even though I tried really hard. Someone yelled be quiet and that seemed to be enough for me to stop. And finally, I saw visuals like kaleidoscopic bismuth formations when I closed my eyes as I was falling asleep.
So, thats the story of what happened the first time I did psychedelics. I hope it wasn’t too much text! Can’t wait to do real shrooms next time.

The dHIGHary entry (anyone else find that typing is difficult?):

https://preview.redd.it/nlraaneqcdl51.jpg?width=749&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=237ff1f2691ac9d72ab55876b57dfa93cbc556dc
https://preview.redd.it/wvgkmqeqcdl51.png?width=750&format=png&auto=webp&s=b02b9681921ed5aaaecd8b875f43c811cacbfdbf
https://preview.redd.it/yb7i31fqcdl51.png?width=750&format=png&auto=webp&s=d2ce52074b75a8bd36d4a9248faa66d215e59867
https://preview.redd.it/fls5eqhqcdl51.png?width=750&format=png&auto=webp&s=04a335bbd1f5a4b73a90ef89e2e5106bfc28500e
submitted by w0rms4brains to shrooms [link] [comments]

Just my guitar hero idea here

So I had this idea for a guitar hero game (though we might not ever see one again, but a man can dream). I call it, Guitar Hero: Reawakened. The quest mode for this picks up, let us say, a year or 2 after the events of Warriors of Rock. The Demi-god witnesses terrible events as EVERY warrior (some that did not get warrior forms in WoR will receive one as well as 2 characters debuting in this game), except for 3 (Axel Steel, Johnny Napalm, and Judy Nails), are under the spell of an unknown entity (revealed to be Lou later on) The demi-god, realizing the 3 that are unaffected will not be able to handle the threat without a fourth member, seeks out Izzy Sparks (also unaffected) to recruit him and join the three in free the others from the spell and saving the world through rock and roll. Izzy's warrior form could be a humanoid tiger. Guitar battles would happen in every venue starting with the second one before the encore. The battles would have the format from guitar hero 3. The only voice acting would be the narrations from the Demi-god.
For songlists, these are songs I feel would fit in the game and are just ideas.
For the venues, the names you see from venue 2 onwards are not the characters you play, but who you will have to face in a guitar battle in that venue. The character in bracket is who would face that rocker if you do one-player mode.
Venue 1: Izzy Sparks and his transformation into a warrior (he is with his band in this before joining the other 3 main characters of this game) His basic doubles the active star power duration, while his effect+ makes it quadruple the duration. Location is Tiger Alley.
Songlist:
2: New character with warrior form of an ogre. [Johnny]
Songlist:
3: another new character (This one's warrior power can be this: basic would double the multiplier [that is without star power at all, so max multiplier would be x8 without star power without other powers combining with it] while the effect+ makes it triple the current multiplier. Warrior form is that of a humanoid polar bear) Location is Polar Dome where outside is snowing and cold. [Izzy]
Songlist:
4: Eddie Knox (His basic power in quickplay could be that a missed note reduces rock meter by half of how much it would usually go down. Warrior power would make it only a quarter of it. His warrior form is the appearance of a zombie gambler) Location would be the Knox Casino. [Johnny]
Songlist:
5: Echo Tesla (Metallic Factory) [Izzy]
Songlist:
Halfway Point: Soundgarden telephantasm experience (if they are willing to sell the license to use 5 or 6 of their songs from the telephantasm album in order to retrieve the artifact of the same name). For the story for these songs, I would imagine this being narrated by guitarist Kim A. Thayil.
Songlist (All by Soundgarden)
6: Lars Umlaut (Razorback Castle) [Axel]
7: Pandora (Roman Colosseum) [Judy]
Songlist:
8: Austin Tejas (Paramourn Theater) [Axel]
Songlist:
9: Casey Lynch (Las Vegas: Allegiant Stadium) [Judy]
Songlist:
10: Lou at the Rock Underworld (this would be a full battle of the bands instead of a regular guitar battle, but normal guitar battle rules still apply). Lou's band consists of himself on guitar, the grim reaper on vocals, the minotaur on drums, and an unknown fourth member on bass.
Songlist:
Final Boss battle with ALL 12 rockers freed (will split into three groups of 4, can be arranged for which group, but the final group is locked with Axel, Izzy, Johnny, and Judy, though you will have ALL 12 warrior powers for the final song (I feel 7empest by Tool would fit well).
Songlist:
For this, when it is a guitar battle, encore, the telephantasm experience, or the FINAL boss, they will be in warrior forms. Otherwise, in regular songs (except for venue 10), they will be in human form.
Bonus: God of Rock. (The Demi God has his own band as he heads for his homeland (Mt. Rocklympus) for a rock concert. After ALL songs in the quest mode have reached max stars, the god of rock [demi's father] appears and says he enjoyed the concert and challenges the demi-god to a guitar battle, the latter immediately accepting. After Demi-god defeats his father, the latter joins him in his band for the final encore of the game.)
Songlist:
For some post-launch DLC, I would definitely have both parts of Dream Theater's Metropolis, both part 1: The Miracle and the Sleeper the song and part 2: Scenes from a Memory the album. There would be a dream-like venue for this one. The characters playing this will likely be the four main characters from quest mode in warrior or even spirit form.
Due to Axel, Johnny, and Judy not having their own venues in quest mode, Stage of Kings, CBGB, and Infernal Hall, their respective venues from WoR, will return as Quickplay+ venues.
My band lineup in this one would be Johnny Napalm on vocals, Axel Steel on drums, Judy Nails on guitar, and Izzy Sparks on bass. I feel arranging the lineup at will should be an option as well.
Also every other guitar hero fictional character that has appeared in any of the guitar hero games will be in this, including those that did not appear in quest mode in this game. However, they will be unlockable through quickplay+. That includes Clive Winston, Xavier Stone, Midori, the four that debuted in world tour, etc. Also including some guest characters like Illidan Stormrage from Warcraft [includes his venue either The Dark Portal on the Outland side or Black Temple or Argus and maybe Reinhardt from Overwatch. Character designs will be based off the designs from Warriors of Rock.
For the visual effects for when star power is active, I have Axel's instrument surrounded by a mini-sandstorm or earth shaking around him (I don't know), Johnny's emitting green smoke (like when he transformed into a warrior in WoR), Izzy's emits sparks of electricity, and (my personal favorite visual effect) Judy's lights up on fire.
To compensate for the lack of punk rock on here, I have the idea for a punk rock pack as dlc which includes, but not limited to: Ten in 2010 by Bad Religion, Come out and Play by The Offspring, Dave's Possessed Hair Medley by Sum 41, etc.
submitted by GHFan93 to GuitarHero [link] [comments]

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