Pasted on a utility box outside my apartment building
It’s hard work looking creepier than the wax version of yourself, but Jon Hamm pulls it off.
Rue (left), my DS1 Pyromancer, and Chemin (right), my DS2 Sorcerer.
Now that I’m many, many hours into Dark Souls 2, I was curious to compare the looks of both games, as I had consciously not revisited Dark Souls before its sequel was released. Despite this distance from the first game, when I first started Dark Souls 2 I was taken aback by the lighter, more saturated colors and slightly illustrative style of design. Putting these images side by side was actually more of a shock than I expected.
(For the purposes of this comparison I equipped both characters with the Elite Knight Armor Set, the Zweihander Greatsword, and Crest & Golden Wing shields).
My sorceress Chemin in Dark Souls 2 so far. I need to take more pictures, as she’s been wearing way more gear than this as the environments and situations demand it.
I’ve heard it happen in three or four conversations in the span of two days: Someone is telling a long story of middling interest, no detail spared, and at some point they mention a particular detail about something (important or inconsequential: doesn’t matter). This detail sparks a severely tangential memory or thought in one of the listeners, like they’ve been trying to remember something or had completely spaced something but now it’s back in their head and they don’t want to lose it. They may quickly tell the thing to another listener with whom they were trying to remember it previously. They may just say they’ve been trying to remember this thing, and when the story is over anyone can tell them what that thing was so they can follow up on it in their own time. What it is is an aside that is a very slight interruption (seemingly) devoid of intention to halt the momentum of the storyteller. The storyteller politely acknowledges the person’s memory triumph because it is so apparent that it was a spontaneous thought brought on by some innocuous thing in the story being told, so really this was to be expected in the realm of things that could happen by performing to such an intimate, tailored crowd of friendlies, and can be forgiven as such (and seriously, it’s the storyteller’s STORY— a thing remembered so it may be told over and over— so it can for sure be stopped and started as necessary in order to reconcile with the genuinely modest needs of their captive audience who are struggling to combat the tendrils of desperation creeping forward from the backs of their eyeballs to give them away— alternatively, tendrils of boredom— while their bodies are held in place by the invisible barbs of the nearly illegible, serifed small print on the ‘friend’s long stories’ page of their social contracts). So with the innocent aside out of the way, the storyteller gathers his thoughts and says, “Ok, ok, long story short.” (It is irrelevant whether this actually causes the storyteller to wrap up their story any faster than they were planning on it)
I’m not saying this is a way for you to help your friends tighten up their longwinded, subpar storytelling techniques. I’m saying it’s a way to get them to say ‘Ok, ok, long story short…’
Earlier today I was logging into my work computer, and in the middle of typing my password my fingers just gave up, hitting a bunch of other keys, and I seriously thought, “Eh, good enough,” and hit Enter. Surprisingly, it did not log me in.