tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-91850965850709949112024-03-13T07:39:03.668-07:00Dymo PalaceWriting, Blender, TF2, Blender with TF2, Writing about TF2, Writing about Blender, Blending about Ben, and Basically All That JazzHesterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12035591534598165333noreply@blogger.comBlogger66125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9185096585070994911.post-89826200541583366262012-10-16T21:36:00.000-07:002012-10-16T21:37:12.000-07:00The shower smiles in a politician. Ha, ha, ha!<br />
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The shower smiles in a politician. Hesterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12035591534598165333noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9185096585070994911.post-51263106316171394972012-08-11T22:51:00.000-07:002012-08-11T22:51:00.055-07:00Existence, Sales, and the SSSDSSSSTSI'm sorry I haven't said much over the last few months. I guess I was a little busy with this and that. <br />Anyway, I've decided that every 11th of a month, I'm going to start writing something. Then on the 12th, I'll put it here. <br />Today, it's recognition. <br />Ask yourself, do dragons exist? Do they? Of course not. If there were giant green scaly things that breathe fire was out and about, then don't you think we'd be a bit worried. Don't be silly Mr. Hester, dragons don't exist. Now keep on going like that, and we'll put you into an asylum. <br />Ah, but don't they? I mean, look at time. You can't feel it, you can't smell, and you certainly can't affect it. We're not sure that it even exists. But still, we have little round things on our wrists that actually measures this non-existent time. <br />Likewise, dragons exist. Not as actual manifested flesh, but at least as ideas. There is this definite idea of dragons that we all know, and it exists. <br />But obviously, there's a problem. When Lewis Carroll wrote The Jabberwocky, did he make lots of things suddenly exist at once? Did all the Bandersnatches, and the Borogroves started to jump up from their ethereal non-existence, into this wonderful new world of existence? Everytime I roll a dice 5 times to choose 5 random letters, hkldn, and I call it one of the legendary monsters that live in the ocean, has 3 wings, and shows no remorse, does it suddenly exist. <br />I say yes. Yes, they all exist. They exist now. Disagree? Then you might as well time doesn't exist, and turn up 2 hours late to a meeting. I mean, it doesn't exist.<br />Then dragons. Say we have 10 people gathered round. We all have slightly different interpretation of a dragon. Does that mean 10 different dragons exist? Or do 10 different things exist that happens to have the same name? <br />Let me also put this in another way. The Western view of the dragon is something scaly, fat, with big wings, breathes fire, and acts like a bully. Say that to the Chinese. Their dragon is long, thin, short limbs, flies with little to no wings, and is generally nice. <br />So if different cultures have different dragons, then different people would also have different dragons right?<br />So what if we export this idea from dragons into sales. Say someone gives you a some paper telling you about the Super Sucka Sucky Ducky Slooper Sucker Sackless Sackle Tackle Sucker (SSSDSSSSTS). The bit of paper tells you that it will suck up 99% of all aldehyde on the floor with ease for either a one off payment of $399.99 or a monthly payment of $23.99 over 2 years. <br />Now, you being clever, say to yourself, instead of paying long term, it's very much cheaper if I buy on the spot. I'll take it!<br />Of course, you being not clever, find that aldehyde aren't very plentiful on the floor, at least in remotely lethal quantities. It also happens to be awful at sucking up anything else on the floor. <br />And then there is one interesting thing here. "Ease". Does this thing called "ease" exist? Not physically. But we would recognise it right?<br />The problem with the SSSDSSSSTS was that every time you would run over a patch of aldehyde, it would suck up 99% of it on the floor, but only 99%. So once you had the first 99% off, you had to go over it again to get 99% off the resulting 1%, and then get the rest off whatever was left again.<br />Even worse, there was absolutely no "ease" involved. It was big, heavy, luggy, awkward, unethical, and most certainly uneasy. It was hard to operate, it stuck to the floor and went on munching it if you didn't move it quickly. (Well, now you have a good excuse for why it looks like gophers have been going around your home.) It was definitely something you would call "ease".<br />So obviously, you would go ring up the company selling the SSSDSSSSTS and complain about it. They want to contest that you're probably not using it right. They would send over a professional to show you how it's used.<br />And what a professional it was. Professional assassin it looked like. He was so big, so menacing, so strong, that you would have expected him to be winning gold for the weight lifting world wide, if he was a little less strong. Consequently, due to his immense strength, he obviously operates in the shadier places of town. <br />And when you see him operate the SSSDSSSSTS, you can't help but feel you're using it wrong. He swept up most of the aldehyde in your home very quickly, and he carried the thing like it was made of feathers. <br />"Dat was easy." the scary man said.<br />Of course, when you actually got hold of your SSSDSSSSTS again, it was back to being that clump of concrete again. That's not easy at all. <br />So you phone the company again, complaining that the machine is not easy to use at all. You could almost here the lady on the phone (I mean, I'm not being misogynistic. It's just that whenever you phone a company to complain about something, it's always a woman, because as a man, you would feel horrible about yelling at ladies.) shrugging and saying "Well, it's really subjective I guess." <br />Is it? Is ease for me different to ease for you? <br />Well back to dragons. Sure, my dragon might be better than your dragon, and my dad is probably better than your dad, but really? If you drew what you thought a dragon was, I would probably recognise it, and if I drew mine, (provided I'm a good enough artist) you would recognise it as well. <br />So although we all have different views of dragons, we can to a certain degree, recognise dragons.<br />Likewise, we can recognise ease.<br />If you were shown a photo of a beach resort with happy surfers on the sea, with sunning bodies on the sand, and dads cooking (burning) sausages on the barbie, you can recognise that as ease right? (Well, apart from that act of arson I guess.)<br />Likewise, if I showed you a photo of a slave market with young children being made to work day and night, old people being subjected to abuse, and young ladies doing who-knows-what, then that's obviously not ease is it? (I apologise for the graphic display I'm showing here, but at least it's easy to visualise?)<br />So here, we can probably assume that we would not recognise using the SSSDSSSSTS as ease, and so would we not be entitled to sue this evil company for their false advertisement? <br />But again, it's probably subjective. <br />If you want to go poking holes in my logic, go ahead. Humour me.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Hesterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12035591534598165333noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9185096585070994911.post-35575552998608997422012-06-25T22:03:00.002-07:002012-06-25T22:03:47.117-07:00Watch this SpaceMy friend and I are starting a project, and I'm helping out from a distance. It's going to be big, it's going to be awesome, and it's going to be gargantuan.<br />
<br />
And it's going to be a film.<br />
<br />
And I'm not sure if we'll even take off.<br />
<br />
But anyway, I'm not supposed to say much about this project, except that it's going to have robots, aliens, and beautiful actors in it.<br />
<br />
That is all.Hesterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12035591534598165333noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9185096585070994911.post-47668637350372517782012-05-30T01:42:00.002-07:002012-05-30T01:42:18.471-07:00The SackingI'm an awful person. But that's all right. I just forgot my update last week. But here's this week's!<br />
<br />
<h2>
Sack of Essentials</h2>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-JcF5uMHBk2g/T8Xc_FAINRI/AAAAAAAAAG0/doOzi52-4Fs/s1600/Sack_Cover.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="179" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-JcF5uMHBk2g/T8Xc_FAINRI/AAAAAAAAAG0/doOzi52-4Fs/s320/Sack_Cover.png" width="320" /></a></div>
It's a bag! Hurrah! Now I just realised that if you American lot, (100% of my follower(s)) don't know what cricket is, then it's all right. I don't play cricket either. Too busy doing Blender. But none of my stuff is interesting unless you do know what it is, so go to Waikaipaydia and go check Cricket.<br />
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I love you all, now have fun.Hesterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12035591534598165333noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9185096585070994911.post-8502849022880952242012-05-12T13:28:00.001-07:002012-05-12T13:28:30.547-07:00The Small Bail OutYes! It's Sunday! That means I actually have time! So here:<br />
<br />
<h3>
Ready To Play</h3>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-7or0dRFi_eI/T67F0xX-ZPI/AAAAAAAAAGo/I79LFcsXLiI/s1600/Bail_Cover.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="179" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-7or0dRFi_eI/T67F0xX-ZPI/AAAAAAAAAGo/I79LFcsXLiI/s320/Bail_Cover.png" width="320" /></a></div>
It's a... Um... A pair of cricket bails that gets stuck on your chest. Hm... I say.<br />
Anyway, as underwhelming as this might be, I hope you'll enjoy the next few ones that continue this cricket motif, because I like them better.<br />
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<a href="http://steamcommunity.com/sharedfiles/filedetails/?id=71643271" target="_blank">http://steamcommunity.com/sharedfiles/filedetails/?id=71643271</a><br />
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On another note, some of my other stuff got fixed. First, my cricket cap is (I hope) no longer a blob of green, and the Gummy Bear is now paintable. So I haven't been lazing around.Hesterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12035591534598165333noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9185096585070994911.post-20534211810958227652012-05-05T12:52:00.001-07:002012-05-05T12:52:45.552-07:00Aussie PrideHi! If you're reading this, then you are cool. Everybody else, eh.<br />
<br />
Anyway, here's my first proper update:<br />
<br />
<h2>
Aussie Pride</h2>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-aAIpRfvdmck/T6WEuLoBeCI/AAAAAAAAAGc/GeGAWi5uXAc/s1600/Cap+Cover.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="179" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-aAIpRfvdmck/T6WEuLoBeCI/AAAAAAAAAGc/GeGAWi5uXAc/s320/Cap+Cover.png" width="320" /></a></div>
Is it a bird, is it a plane? No, the reality is much less exciting. It's a hat. Your ordinary garden hat. I'm almost uncertain why I even posted this thing, but I did. So there.<br />
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Anyway, have fun!<br />
<br />
<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: #2d2d2b; color: #898989; display: inline !important; float: none; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">http://steamcommunity.com/sharedfiles/filedetails/?id=66893610<br /></span><br />
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<br />Hesterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12035591534598165333noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9185096585070994911.post-71170759583643209612012-05-04T23:46:00.000-07:002012-05-04T23:46:39.529-07:00Something Sour, Something SweetBeing bored, I decided that enough is enough:<br />
<br />
Luke and Emily sat tied to a chair alone in a similiarly fashioned room as the one Luke was held in before, only the television was larger, and there was a door and a window painted black so you couldn't see outside. Luke was pretty happy, because it was not playing Grey's Anatomy, but was switched off.<br />Meanwhile, Emily was making an attempt to break out of her ropes by doing some very elaborate wiggling. <br />"Don't bother." Luke told her. "There's no use, you'll just tire out."<br />The rope neatly fell around her.<br />Luke frowned. "I hate it when you do that."<br />"Now I'll get you out." Emily whispered. She pulled a pen knife from her pocket andproceeded to cut Luke's bonds. But when he was finally free, the two heard footsteps coming from outside.<br />When the four guards came in, the first thing they saw was metal glinting in Luke's hand.<br />"I have a revolver and I'm not afraid to use it!" Luke yelled somewhat shakily. Although his voice lacked any conviction at alll, the guards all took cover and raised their weapons. <br />"That's not a revolver, it's a fountain pen." Emily said, at which the guards all relaxed and giggled shyly as if it was all a bad dream. <br />"I have a model revolver back home, and if I had it here, I wouldn't be afraid to whack people on the head with it. But seeing that all I have here is a fountain pen, I have to improvise. So technically, it's not a lie." Luke continued to point his pen at the men, while they pointed a minigun at him in return. <br />"Put that down." she told Luke. "You look daft."<br />"Rather be daft than dead." Luke sniffed indignantly. "Anyway, see here. If I..." Luke squeezed, and the green ink flew into the face of the largest guard.<br /><br />Three guards and a Grinch led Luke and Emily, with their hands tied again, in to a room with one large window looking out at what might be a foundry, or maybe even a chocolate factory. Either way, molten metal was involved. <br />There were two seats prepared, and Emily sat in one with pride. Luke sat in one with a black eye. <br />"Welcome back comrades!" the speaker blared out from the corner of the room. "It is always nice to be reacqquainted with old friends."<br />Emily spat at the speaker, which was an amazing feat as it was a good few meters away.<br />"Today, we would like to threaten you." he continued as if it was something old friends would do to each other. "Ready the tools."<br />A cauldron full of bubbling metal was brought before them. A mechanical hand descended from above clutching the familiar grey...<br />"Gyro?" Luke said. "What are you doing here?" <br />The voice groaned. "You would think it was obvious. He would be submerged into that puddle of metal, and then cooled, and trapped in an eternal prison. Unless..."<br />"Unless?" Luke asked suspiciously. "There's always a catch, and it's usually fatal."<br />"Unless you bring us the time machine." he said. <br />Luke looked relieved. "Wow! Is that all?"<br />"What?"<br />Luke explained, "Because I literally cannot do that, therefore Gyro is doomed, and I have no moral qualms and free of guilt."<br />Although they could not see the man frowning, they were certain he was. <br />"Very well." he said. "Drop it."<br />The mechanical hand opened, and Gyro dropped in with a dull splash. The caudron bubbled ominously for a moment, and then was wheeled off out of sight. A few seconds later, it came back with its content solid. <br />The mechanical arm tipped the dome shaped bit of metal out, and rolled on the floor with a sort of oonga oonga oonga oonga wawawawawa.<br />Emily stared at the clump shocked, and even more shocked at the fact that Luke was now whistling to the tune of Bonnie Dundee with no moral derailment at all. <br />"And you are not affected at all?" the voice asked curiously. <br />"Not at all." Luke answered lightly. "Emily, I suggest you close your eyes, and face away from the window. Oh, you guys can do so too." The last remark was made to the four guards standing behind him. Out of stubbornness, they didn't move at all.<br />"What?" she asked unbelievingly.<br />"I wouldn't want to see your pretty face get splintered." he said simply. Luke somehow turned his seat around, and so did Emily.<br />There was an almighty bang, and bits of splintered glass flew all around them. The two suddenly found the three guards and the Grinch knocked out on the floor with a very large and solid but hot bit of aluminium beside each head. Luke looked back, and saw Gyro quite out of his prison, and very much angry. <br />"What? Impossible..." the voice started, but was cut off when Gyro angrily smashed the speaker in the corner. <br />Emily looked surprised. "Oh, so this..." Something in her pocket flashed wildly, and she stopped it. "Time to get out..." she continued, and pulled out her trusty make-a-hole-in-the-wall pistol.<br />"No need." Luke said, as Gyro rammed in to the nearest wall and and collapsed all four through the shock. "Ha. We don't need to make any decisions. We can just go anywhere we want."<br />"Oh come on." Emily pulled Luke by the cuffs and ran. Gyro simply rolled around very quickly. <br />"Ah, back again!" Emily laughed as she darted around the labyrinth. Luke laughed awkwardly with her because it felt appropriate. "Which way should we go?" she asked. <br />"What about no where?" the voice boomed in the corridor. <br />"What about forward?" another voice boomed. <br />A garage fell in front of them from the ceiling, nearly crushing Gyro. (What am I saying? Gyro can't be crushed.) The door rised slowly.<br />After three seconds, the door was still rising and a pair of skinny legs were seen. A multitude of guards has by now caught up to them, and were priming their guns. One guard fired.<br />"Luke! Emily! Quick!" Trevor said from behind the corrugated iron.<br />After another three seconds, the door had stopped. It seemed that the guard had wrecked the motor. All the other guards were ready to pull the trigger. <br />Emily yelled, "Don't bother waiting for the door! Just crawl in!"<br />She expertly lunged and rolled under the door with a hail of bullets and electron fragments peppering the floor behind her. Luke expertly lunged, and threw himself at the door like no one else could. Unfortunately, that was not appropriate for the occasion, and he crumpled unconscious on the floor. He was quickly dragged into the garage, and it disappeared into a quantum dimension of quasi-space-time.<br />"Take us to Rome." Emily ordered, Trevor did so, while she started wrapping a bandage around Luke's head. "Tomorrow, we fight."<br />Trevor and Emily stared ahead solemnly, while Luke stayed unconscious. <br />"Stop sounding so serious." Trevor told her. <br />
<br />Hesterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12035591534598165333noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9185096585070994911.post-10082034471190060492012-04-28T13:10:00.002-07:002012-04-28T13:10:50.980-07:00The Disastrousness of My FalourIf anybody notices, I spelled failure wrong. I don't know why either.<br />
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Anyway, from now on, two things are going to happen. I'm going to actually say stuff to this place, and hope that someone would be listening.<br />
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Next, I'll be updating this place with all my TF2 stuff. Because I can.<br />
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And next, (one, five, two) I'm going to go philosophical occasionally. If I have time. Hopefully.<br />
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<br />
So without further a dew, here's my first TF2 WorkShop Update<br />
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<h2>
The Gummibaerchen</h2>
To all who do not realise, this project is floundering, so I decided to help it out.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-3VSefy83nUk/T5xOXXY8lAI/AAAAAAAAAGQ/BpjGYX6wqjc/s1600/Gummy+1.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="180" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-3VSefy83nUk/T5xOXXY8lAI/AAAAAAAAAGQ/BpjGYX6wqjc/s320/Gummy+1.PNG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We're all happy too.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
It's essentially a little team coloured teddy that sits on the medic's shoulders. I should make this paintable too. Someday.<br />
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So there you go: http://steamcommunity.com/sharedfiles/filedetails/?id=8679556<br />
Hope you have fun.Hesterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12035591534598165333noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9185096585070994911.post-88006576967902546272012-04-02T13:07:00.000-07:002012-04-03T22:22:06.934-07:00I'm here! And so is the Academical Assassin!With a web page:<br />
http://steamcommunity.com/sharedfiles/filedetails/?id=20407&searchtext=<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Ro_mg-9HQos/T3vaZ8aPSaI/AAAAAAAAAGE/Oq2YP0YAfk0/s1600/Academic+Dance.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="295" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Ro_mg-9HQos/T3vaZ8aPSaI/AAAAAAAAAGE/Oq2YP0YAfk0/s320/Academic+Dance.PNG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
I've submitted a work on the Steam Workshop! If you like it, please rate it!<br />
I know TF2's a violent and unwholesome game, but I kind of fell in love with it after seeing the sort of art that oges on, and so I've decided I might add something to it.Hesterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12035591534598165333noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9185096585070994911.post-50909371582728466572012-03-20T23:18:00.000-07:002012-03-20T23:18:11.218-07:00Wat I've been doing, what I have done, what will be done.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></div><br />
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People! (One) I have not said anything in a long time. But there is no reason for this, except pure laziness, so I won't try to excuse it.<br />
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So what's happened in my life? Well now that work begun, I got busy, and lost almost all time for Blender. Boo yah.<br />
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But I recently, <i>finally</i>, managed to have a go at Bmesh. It is great. It is wonderful. It is marvellous. Yee haw!<br />
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<br />
I've also newly installed Windows 8 <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I know it's not open source, but it is great! After let down by Ubuntu for copy-catting Macs, (Which I vehemently hate) I thought I couldn't expect more out of OSs. Well maybe not. The image up there might not look a lot, but the start menu and such like are so charming!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">This is just marvellous. Pure marvelousness.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Oh, and I've been wasting time watching <i>Quit Blender or Die!</i>, over and over again. : <cite>www.blendernation.com/2012/03/09/quit-blender-or-die/</cite> </div>Hesterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12035591534598165333noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9185096585070994911.post-56111227018363357292012-02-23T20:27:00.000-08:002012-02-23T20:27:41.978-08:00History, Philosophy, and the Great Leader HitlerNow before anyone beats me up and labels me for the title, I want you to read the rest of this post, or I'll start labeling you.<br />
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First, I believe that teaching justice in school history is wrong. We are taught that the Righteous Americans beat the evil Japanese and Germans, or that The British Empire was the pinnacle of civilisation. Now I don't like that. History should just tell the story, and keep any opinions out of it.<br />
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Next, philosophy should be taught in school. Although history shouldn't teach these things, philosophy should. See, history should teach people to throw away judgmentalism, and take a completely subjective look at what happened. Philosophy, on the other hand, is all about judgement, and although teachers shouldn't explicitly tell students what is write or wrong, they should teach them to make their own decisions.<br />
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Finally, Hitler is not Evil. Misguided? Probably. Didn't-make-good-choices? Well, you judge that for yourself. Hitler might have been a terrible person, but he was a great leader like nobody else was. He was able to band great number of people together, to unite for a common purpose, as wrong as that purpose may be. I think lots of people can learn from Hitler, although what we learn from him is important.<br />
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So that's me for today. I felt judgmental today, so I had a go at writing this.Hesterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12035591534598165333noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9185096585070994911.post-38183295816283470142012-02-06T12:29:00.000-08:002012-02-06T15:44:25.951-08:00p3d.in is GREATI think so anyway. I haven't really had a go at it, but seeing 3D on the web seems wonderful! See this:<br />
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<iframe allowtransparency="true" frameborder="0" height="300" src="http://p3d.in/e/1hd6d" width="400"></iframe><br />
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I happened to be on the move, so I didn't have a decent model to work with, or a graphics card that runs webGL, so I have no idea what it looks like. Better have a look at it at home.<br />
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EDIT: I got the Matador on! Only the normals are weird.Hesterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12035591534598165333noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9185096585070994911.post-38566897448476830542012-02-03T14:22:00.000-08:002012-02-03T14:22:53.693-08:00Lil' PicsLet me tell you that I believe I'm a pacifist. Or queasy. Which ever you like. I do not like weapons, at least in real life. I especially do not like guns or other projectiles, and would prefer if the world returned to swords and shields. However, I do not like swords and knives, because there's too much blood involved. I <i>did</i> say I was queasy.<br />
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What I find nice, however, is visual weapon design. It looks like any 3D artist worth their salt is doing it, and it has a sort of romance to it. (Remember, romance has many definitions, and I'm not using the 'Love' definition.)<br />
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You may remember me putting <a href="http://dymopalace.blogspot.co.nz/2011/09/because-im-bored-i-thoughts-ill-update.html" target="_blank">this</a> a long time ago. As you can see, I've finally finished Ben, and I've also (with some hurry and lack of care) finished the rocket launcher. I love designing rocket launchers because you can go crazy, and nobody minds.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6CRtfAXOvmQ/TyxcxQ-5keI/AAAAAAAAAFg/PWeQdCT-kjI/s1600/Ranger+Run.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="180" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6CRtfAXOvmQ/TyxcxQ-5keI/AAAAAAAAAFg/PWeQdCT-kjI/s320/Ranger+Run.png" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Who is this mysterious ranger of the outback?</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/--Ja2EPg0omU/TyxdV37JwkI/AAAAAAAAAFo/7-Uo7FUN-Z8/s1600/Matador+7000.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="180" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/--Ja2EPg0omU/TyxdV37JwkI/AAAAAAAAAFo/7-Uo7FUN-Z8/s320/Matador+7000.png" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">He's not mysterious, he's not a ranger, and he doesn't live in the outback. So what use does he have of a elaborately designed rocket launcher?</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Of course, the one thing this rocket launcher does not do is launch rockets. Maybe a project for next time.Hesterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12035591534598165333noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9185096585070994911.post-86555364288446061562012-01-28T09:13:00.000-08:002012-01-28T09:13:49.433-08:00Ben is BIABy the way, BIA stands for Back In Action. I don't know if it's an official acronym, but I don't care either.<br />
So what I've done, is completely remade Ben after his cranial injury, and patched him up again. I also gave him some clothes...<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-AYljj-gHoAI/TyQqJpdXx5I/AAAAAAAAAFA/sA25LN0NJAA/s1600/Test+Render.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-AYljj-gHoAI/TyQqJpdXx5I/AAAAAAAAAFA/sA25LN0NJAA/s320/Test+Render.png" width="179" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A sort of generic and simple pose I had at the start.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ht2SXaXT4ZU/TyQqStX7mUI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/Hd2AiZrW_S8/s1600/Test+Render+2.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ht2SXaXT4ZU/TyQqStX7mUI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/Hd2AiZrW_S8/s320/Test+Render+2.png" width="285" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Then I tried some extreme poses.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wM428Q9yLsA/TyQqQvLeR_I/AAAAAAAAAFI/nwB3d5nhOWQ/s1600/Test+Compos.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="180" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wM428Q9yLsA/TyQqQvLeR_I/AAAAAAAAAFI/nwB3d5nhOWQ/s320/Test+Compos.png" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I went for a different mood this time, only I don't think it worked.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-SdMigLEHt04/TyQqX-ym3eI/AAAAAAAAAFY/lNCi8MU4U2o/s1600/ThinkTest2.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="180" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-SdMigLEHt04/TyQqX-ym3eI/AAAAAAAAAFY/lNCi8MU4U2o/s320/ThinkTest2.png" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ssh! He's thinking.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
So for those people who were wondering about my brain, it exists.Hesterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12035591534598165333noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9185096585070994911.post-41589057703250919922012-01-21T09:56:00.001-08:002012-01-21T09:56:10.826-08:00An episode. Here ye go.I found it! It was on my desktop all along! <br />
<br />
Emily gasped, as she beheld the should-be-dead person approach her. Luke found this strangely satisfying, both because it feels good to know something Einstein doesn't, but also because her hair bobbed up and down in such an amusing way. <br />
Trevor frowned lightly. "Well? Is anyone going to greet me?"<br />
Luke raised his right hand. "Hi." he said with little spirit. <br />
"How did you get here?" Emily asked. <br />
A hole opened up in the ceiling behind him, and a red motorbike came down. <br />
Emily continued. "But you're dead."<br />
Trevor grinned. "Death is no obstacle for me."<br />
She raised her eyebrows. "Yeah?"<br />
"Yeah." he said, nodding gently. They stood in silence, while Luke stared at the floor.<br />
Finally, Luke said, "Well, seeing that Trevor doesn't seem inclined to explain, I think I should."<br />
"Right!" Trevor said. "Seeing as I'm the only one with the bike, I say we walk."<br />
So the three walked together with the bike slowly following on its own. On the way, Luke explained how there was a set date at which Trevor was to die. However, he was free to do anything until that date, so with the time machine, he could travel so that he would, in total, live to a good age of whatever he deemed appropriate. <br />
"Well," Luke said after a while. "Miss Emily Byron..."<br />
"Stop it..." she growled, and Luke nearly saluted and accompanied it with "Yes, ma'am"<br />
"Um, where are we?" Luke asked. <br />
Emily rolled her eyes. "We all want the time machine."<br />
"I figured that." Luke said. Trevor raised his eye brows. <br />
"There are... certain objectives we would both like to achieve."<br />
He frowned. "You're not going to tell me that are you?"<br />
"Nope." Emily said. <br />
It felt like they have walked on for a very long time, and it was excruciating for Luke because it felt like this underground floor had no end, and he didn't exactly know where the goal was. <br />
Trevor decided to speak. "You wanted the time machine?"<br />
"Were you listening?" she asked jokingly. <br />
Trevor grinned in that triumphant/goofy way people usually do when people realise something. "There's a time machine here."<br />
The three turned around at the time machine/motorbike that rolled to a stop. <br />
"Wait..." she whispered. She went to the seat and gazed quickly at the controls, hoping to understand the myriad of switches and lights that fitted in what small space there was. But she turned away in dismay to Trevor. <br />
"Trevor, I don't understand this. In fact, there are only three people that do. But..." Her eyes sparkled, and Luke stepped back. <br />
"What is it?" he asked. <br />
Emily breathed in proudly. "Well, Trevor would use the time machine to get to the past, and to HQ, while we stay here. They would manufacture a larger scale machine, we would eventually get the time machine they needed while we stay here until Trevor comes back, and we get back in a huff!"<br />
Luke shrugged. "I don't know much about timing, but it sounds like a good idea to me."<br />
"Right!" Trevor said, and grasped the helmet that hung on the handlebar. Then he paused.<br />
"Well? How will I know where HQ is?" he asked.<br />
"All roads lead to Rome." she answered.<br />
"Where in..."<br />
Emily answered exasperated, "We have a time machine for goodness sake! We can sort this out in the future. Well, our future."<br />
Trevor frowned, but proceeded to get on the motorbike anyway. With the loud purring of the Harley, Trevor drove 3 meters before he disappeared unceremoniously. <br />
The two stood around, quite unsure of what to expect. Luke whistled German national anthem. Or at least what he thought was the German national anthem. Emily, who knew better, glared at him to stop. <br />
When Luke got bored of awkwardly staring at his foot, he asked, "What do we do now?"<br />
Emily took a look at her watch. "It's already been three minutes. Trevor should be back by now."<br />
"Nah. Don't worry about it. He's always tardy."<br />
Just then, a small round object rolled at Luke's feet. While his head said "Grenade!" his inner boy said "Stomp on it! Stomp on it or throw it back at 'em!". Fortunately, Emily was a bit more clever, and she kicked it as quick and far away as possible. She threw herself and Luke down on the ground, and covered her own ears in expectation of an explosion.<br />
Quite unfortunately for her, it didn't happen. All that she could here was that grating laughter of the mysterious voice. <br />
"Really," he said, chuckling along the way. "You should have a look at yourself and see how ridiculous you look."<br />
Three large men literary armed to the teeth (artificial fangs) approached the two with ropes. Lots and lots of ropes. <br />
Luke smiled weakly. "Don't worry. I know how ridiculous I look."Hesterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12035591534598165333noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9185096585070994911.post-16890845052478604822012-01-04T07:59:00.000-08:002012-01-04T07:59:24.624-08:00I just want to tell people something.I'm not dead! Yes. Quite true. That's very hard to believe. Anyway, I lost my sticky that I had all my future Dymo/Luke Newton episodes in, so I'll have to go a-hunting for them. Oh, well.<br />
Anyway, happy new years!Hesterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12035591534598165333noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9185096585070994911.post-59822972379499974662011-12-31T09:13:00.001-08:002011-12-31T09:13:14.165-08:00Hey! Happy New Year!I wonder, what is the date over somewhere else It's January here and I wanted to see what was it else where.Hesterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12035591534598165333noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9185096585070994911.post-58905442385158728962011-12-29T10:05:00.000-08:002011-12-29T10:05:26.565-08:00What!>? Who are you bronies?Very recently, (a coupl'a weeks ago, maybe a month) my very good 'friends' have showed an alarming change. They were swept away by what was commonly known as, 'My Little Ponies'. Ugh. If there was any more a tasteless thing to get into, it would be this. I have no idea where this came from, but apparently, the effect is global, and affects male and female alike. I have compared symptoms between my companions, and they seem to show a sort of confounded misunderstanding that this 'garbage' is actually good.<br />
So what I set out to do was to prove to them that this show was the garbage it is, not disdaining the guys and gals who made this show. One man's trash is another man's treasure, and this is my trash. Anyway, so I told them it was garbage. They told me to check out an episode. So I did.<br />
I went home, and I saw one half of an episode. Needless to say, I didn't like it. <br />
Seriously, the pacing was slow and it took a long time to get on it, it was very simple, and I could absolutely see nothing good in it. Except maybe as mild entertainment for my children. (Dagnabbit, I don't have any children.)<br />
<br />
So, what is to be said? Bronies! Snap out of it! Just because everybody else likes it (or seem to) doesn't mean you have to! See the show for what it really is, which is... Um... I have little idea what it is, but it's not normal.<br />
Anyway, as Pythagoras or Einstein said, 'Nothing unreal exists'.Hesterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12035591534598165333noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9185096585070994911.post-40747785519359340822011-12-03T11:56:00.000-08:002011-12-03T11:59:05.151-08:00Music in my EARSRecently (a couple of months ago) I installed Ubuntu alongside my sluggish Vista. Recently (a couple of months ago) the Venerable Jan Morgenstern released the score for Sintel's "I Move On" to the public. Recently (a couple of months ago) I found these weird sticky bits, and I found out that they were not for stirring earwax mixtures as I have been told by a very reliable source. It is a coincidence that these events happened in a very close time frame (maybe a few weeks separating each event) and this caused me to take action.<br />
<br />
I banged my fists on the old clav.<br />
<br />
And this is the product: <a href="http://www.mediafire.com/?5ywzky9rjmsi3y8" target="_blank">http://www.mediafire.com/?5ywzky9rjmsi3y8</a><br />
<br />
It's not as good as the original, it's all crackly, there's too much noise, and the damper didn't work. And worst of all, who's playing the piano? He's darn handsome, but he can't play it at all.<br />
<br />
Anyway, hope you enjoy it. Even if you didn't, please keep me at peace.<br />
<br />
P.S. If media fire doesn't work, somehow or other, tell me, and I'll find something else.Hesterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12035591534598165333noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9185096585070994911.post-53342312665166153472011-11-26T18:15:00.000-08:002011-11-26T18:15:53.758-08:00Luke Newton has a name changeWell, as I said much earlier, Dymo gets a name change because Dymo doesn't cut it. So he gets a new name.<br />
Also, I had feedback that there were not enough female characters (none) and even some male readers said a little bit of romance actually helps (I always found meaningless romance in stories that don't advance the plot to be quite distasteful) so I decided to take their advice. Oh, and the violence has been amped up (I'll still keep with the no blood, no dismemberment, and absolutely no obscenity rule. I hope.) because everyone loves a little bit of action.<br />
<br />
Anyway:<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Luke Newton felt the cold hard chair pressing against his back. Although he thought of himself as quite dim-witted, he was pretty sure that chairs weren't supposed to do that. On their own anyway. Then a flood of memories gushed into his head, like a giant dam that suddenly collapsed, and now that the water is free to wreck havoc, it started damaging the surrounding hillside. Or Luke could also say that it hurt. <br />
Snippets of thoughts wafted in and out of his focus. Time machine, Scribbins, mahogany furniture, big burly men with semi-automatic rifles and rainbow coloured Afros, an interrogation, Gyro, sweet Miss Muffet, "Goodbye", fireworks. He had hardly any idea how they could all be strung into one coherent line of thought, but he did remember something, which was a great start.<br />
"I see Mr Newton has come back." said a lucrative sounding voice of a man. He could have done voice overs for movie trailers, only he probably decided to do something quite different instead. Like shooting people.<br />
"Wh-Who'reya'ndwh'd'yawant?" Luke groaned. Luke opened his eyes to look around. He was in a small gray room. He was tied down on a chair in front of a desk, which explained the willful chair. On it was a couple of blank pieces of paper, couple of not-very blank pieces of paper with messy hand writing on, a black and red HB pencil, and a mug that said 'Best <strike>Mum</strike> Field Ops in the World'. He could see that the voice was coming through a speaker that hung on a corner of the room.<br />
The same smooth voice intoned, "I am quite sure you know what we want." There was an expectant, awkward silence afterwards of which Luke did not bother to fill. The voice coughed. He waited some more. <br />
After about twenty seconds, the man on the speaker decided he can take it no longer. "The time machine, Mr Newton. We want it, and we want it now."<br />
Luke brightened up a little. "Oh that!" He smiled weakly for a few seconds, creating another period of awkward silence.<br />
Before the silence could take over again, the man behind the speaker decided he'd fill it himself.<br />
"Yes. Where is it, and if you do this swiftly, we would not involve pain in this."<br />
Luke started chewing his lips. "Well... I don't have it."<br />
This time, it was the man who manufactured the silence, and only white noise from the speakers could be heard. <br />
Luke went on. "Well see here, after the four of us came back from that wonderfully frivolous field trip, I accidently tripped on a mug, pushed Gyro over, who knocked down a vase, and.."<br />
"You cannot be joking." The man intoned very slowly.<br />
"Na, ah." Luke said happily. <br />
Again, silence dominated the room, and stayed so for half a minute. Luke started humming the Harry Potter theme.<br />
At last, the man said, "We will involve pain in this."<br />
<br />
"Ahh! Help! I don't deserve this!"<br />
Luke groaned, "Ahh! Help! I don't deserve this!"<br />
The lady in the television continued screaming this at a poor man who was getting a variety of miscellaneous household items thrown at him.<br />
"This is terrible!" Luke continued, as Grey's Anatomy continued playing on the TV which was recently set up in the room. Luke tried to turn away, but tipped the chair instead, and was left in the most uncomfortable position of being tied to a chair on its side. <br />
"Ssh!" the speaker toned. "This is a good part. Lorrita admits that she..."<br />
The show stopped playing, and instead showed Luke's house surrounded by many helicopters armed with menacing looking rocket launchers. The view was panning around the house, so it as probably taken from a helicopter as well. Luke slid on the floor so he was facing the television lying down. <br />
"Ooh! Home, sweet home." Luke toned nonchalantly.<br />
The faceless man snickered. "You wouldn't think so soon. See that? In the house?"<br />
Luke squinted, then started back. "Oi! Gyro! Get out of the computer. When you mess up the government, it's me that gets arrested!"<br />
The man continued to laugh. "Don't worry. Him and your house would be splintered very shortly..."<br />
"I never consented to that!" Luke yelled.<br />
"Unless..." Here, he paused for dramatic effect. It ended up being a silence that started conquering the atmosphere. He coughed. <br />
"Unless you can hand over the machine."<br />
Luke frowned. "You think they accept damage from firearms for insurance?"<br />
The man behind the speaker breathed through his nose. "Very well. Fire away boys."<br />
The multitude of helicopters fired their armed weapons at the little house, and the whole area exploded into a shower of lights. When the smoke cleared away, only some fake Indian carpet 'Made in China' and a grand piano was left. <br />
The speaker blared out a maniacal laughter. "There you go!" the voice bawled. "And mind you, we'll find other things to destroy, like your wife."<br />
Luke growled. "I think you've done enough. It took me three years to collect the whole Mario Bros. series. Anyway, I don't have a wife. Everyone hates me."<br />
"No worries," said the man lightly. "We'll arrange a marriage just for the occasion."<br />
Just then, a few of the hovering helicopters on screen collapsed, and started plummeting to the ground.<br />
"What the... Air base! What the frickin' heck is happening out there."<br />
Luke watched on and saw a gray blur hurtling towards the camera.<br />
After the voice was done grumbling at some people, he said to Luke, "Well, it looks like Gyro was a bit hardier than we initial perceived."<br />
"Ha. I don't need you to tell me. He's been on my back for as long as I can remember."<br />
"Yes. We will punish you for the damage."<br />
The speaker turned off, and the television played Coronation Street.<br />
<br />
"Oh Jamie, I had to tell father about it."<br />
"What!? No you couldn't've! I told you to keep it away from him at all cost!"<br />
"Yes, but he was clever, and he tricked me... You do still love me?"<br />
"Of course not. How could you? You not only betrayed me, but you've betrayed yourself."<br />
Bang.<br />
"Oh no! I've shot her! I shot my only love Miranda! Oh, oh. How painful this is!"<br />
Bang.<br />
The second bang was much louder, and was not accompanied with tasteless music. Jamie probably shot himself, which would explain the lack of dialogue.<br />
Luke tried to move around, tied in his chair which was tipped awkwardly. At least the crime scene would be interesting.<br />
As he turned towards the telly, he saw a leather boot, firmly standing on the ground. <br />
Luke blinked.<br />
The television too, was firmly on the ground in three detachable but barely attachable pieces, and there was a great big hole in the wall where it used to be.<br />
Luke blinked again. <br />
Yes, the hole was still there, and Luke wondered if that was actually a good thing. He decided that whatever terrible monstrosity that ble that hole must have left, so he tried to escape. Unfortunately, he was still tied to the chair.<br />
"Aren't you going to ask for help?" a voice called out from no where. Luke tried to turn his head to where he though the voice came from, but, quite unfortunately, couldn't.<br />
He felt the restraint around his shoulder, wrists, and legs loosen all at once, got up to stretch for a bit, yawned, and then turned around to see who had just released him.<br />
A lady dressed in what could only be desribed as a "wha'd'ya'call that?" was flicking a knife in her carefully tended hands. Of course, if Luke did try to describe it, he would have called it something of a smart robe that doesn't get in your way. Her straight hair was done up neatly in a pony tail that reached down her back. Her face did not look like it had any make up on, but did not compromise its attractiveness. However, you always felt you were inferior to her, because she didn't look like she ever smiled, and had a semi-permanent disapporving look on her face. <br />
She walked up to Luke. "Well, aren't you going to do something?" She was almost as tall as him, and Luke never liked woman like that because they never liked him. People always looked down at him, and if females started doing that, then he'd have no one to look down at except Gyro, who managed to stare back up with the sort of impertinence you could never manage with eyes. <br />
After some silence, of which seemed to dominate his whole experience, Luke decided he was going to do something. He grabbed her knife and threw it at the speaker. The knife bounced back on to the floor. The speaker crackled a little bit, and it blared out, "Threat detected. Dispatch exterminators immediately." An alarm ent off near by.<br />
The lady looked disapprovingly. Luke sheepishly retrieved the knife and handed it back to her.<br />
"I think we should get going." she said, as if it was pretty obvious. Actually, it was. <br />
Luke slowly made his way towards the hole in the wall.<br />
"Where are you going?" the lady asked. <br />
"Outside." Luke answered.<br />
She grabbed him by his shoulders. "Not that way dummy! That's exactly where they would expect you to come out from."<br />
Luke looked around the room. "Well? Where else are we getting out from?" Luke could see no passage, not even a small air vent that he could break. There wasn't even a door. Even worse, he could hear heavy footsteps from the hole.<br />
However, the lady was already pointing a small gun with an unusually thick barrel at another wall. It was making an ominous whirring noise, and it was vibrating in her hands.<br />
"I think you should cower behind that desk!" she called as the noise grew louder.<br />
But too late. After a flash, bang, and some sort of crumbling, there was another hole in the room. Luke got hit in the head by a 'Best <strike>Mum</strike> Field Ops in the World' world mug that flew off the desk. <br />
"This way!" she yelled, as she hopped outside of the room. <br />
Luke shrugged, and followed her. <br />
The two walked through a long and dank corridor that branched off multiple times. Occasionally, the ceiling had a few speakers hanging down. While she glided through the air gracefully, Luke was basically bouncing on the ground, huffing all the way. <br />
"Uh..." Luke said, as his head lolled around while his legs had an argument with his heart and lungs. "Miss... Do you... actually... know where we're going?"<br />
She replied just as swiftly as her legs. "No." She thought again, and said. "Don't call me 'Miss'. I'm not much older than you."<br />
Luke looked up and down her, and decided she was not older than him at all. But he kept quiet for fear of disagreeing with her. <br />
The familiar voice called out, "You can't escape. You will be punished."<br />
The lady spat at the closest speaker. Luke winced. He felt woman shouldn't do anything as vulgar. He certainly didn't. <br />
Just then, three very large men came out from one of the path from the side. Luke had to admit, they were one of the most frightening things he had ever seen, although he was always too skirmish to watch anything over R13. They were probably made to look frightening on purpose, what with the variety of armament they had on them, the very needlessly large mini-gun they carried, and their cold black shades.<br />
While Luke imagined the worst of them, the lady threw some black powder at them. The men slumped on the floor. <br />
"Argh! You killed them!" Luke was a pacifist. Actually, he was just a wimp, and he wished everyone else was a pacifist. <br />
"No I didn't." she said calmly, and Luke decided that was enough, because now they were writhing on the floor in pain. <br />
They ran further and further, while the voice chased after them, saying "That's a bad place to run to!". <br />
Finally, the two came to a dead end. The happy voice said, "I told you so!" and the sound of approaching footsteps could be heard. The man started laughing wildly. <br />
"Stay close." she said, and Luke was not a stupid man. She pointed her wall-breaking gun, at the floor and pulled the trigger. <br />
Luke felt a moment of weightlessness, and that wild ecstasy that results when you think you're going to die, and your subconscious is unwilling to make your last moment a miserable one. Then he was taken out of his dreamland and realised he was going to die. Then came that thudding feeling like your thighs are going to pop out of your pelvis, after a thrilling escalator ride downwards. <br />
After a while, he saw that he has descended about ten metres from where he was just a fraction of a second ago. The girl beside him was inhaling deeply. <br />
"I'm alive!" Luke exclaimed in joyous jubilation. <br />
"Ssh! Dummy!" she whispered. Sure enough, three small heads came round to peep in at the deep hole. Then they pulled out their portable mini-gun.<br />
"Were stuck!" Luke panicked. <br />
Then the ground beneath them failed, and they fell another two metres onto the concrete floor below. <br />
As the hail of bullet rained on them, they scrambled to get out of the way. <br />
Luke looked around. It was a very large room they were in, if it was a room. It was so large in fact, that he would have doubted there were any walls, had there was no ceiling. All the feature that were visible were some pipes that ran along the ceiling, occasionally some pillars that kept the gargantuan ceiling up, and a hole in the ceiling that continuously dropped bullets. <br />
"I think we can walk slowly for now." the lady said calmly. It's going to take a while untill they manage to come down here, Luke."<br />
He frowned. "How the heck do you know my name? I don't know yours."<br />
She smiled gently. "We'll have to keep moving. We'll talk on the way."<br />
She took out a compass without needles, determined a direction, and started walking that way. Luke followed slowly. <br />
"So, who are you?" Luke asked. <br />
"My name is Emily Byron," she replied. "I was sent to protect you."<br />
Luke laughed. "You've done a great job so far. Why now?"<br />
She smiled again. Luke noted that it was a nice thing to see, and it wasn't because she looked so pretty, but because it meant she didn't disapprove of you. "You have something that we want."<br />
"I don't have it!" Luke protested. " I accidentally tripped on a mug, pushed Gyro over, who knocked down a vase, and..."<br />
"Yes, yes. I heard that. But you are the one of only three people who actually know how the time machine worked." <br />
"What about Archie? Or Trevor? They'd do well." A pipe fell on Luke's head and spilled its content on him.<br />
"Yes, but Archie is too young to involve in our work, and Trevor, as you know, is very dead. He died quite long ago."<br />
They walked in silence for a few minutes. Then Luke laughed hollowly.<br />
"Death is no obstacle for Trevor." he said. "In fact, if I'm any judge..."<br />
"I haven't seen you in a long time." said a voice behind a nearby pillar. The two turned towards it, and Emily pointed a much more menacing gun at it. Luke motioned for her to put it down. She didn't.<br />
Luke said, "What took you so long?"<br />
Trevor walked out from behind the pillar. And he was very much alive.Hesterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12035591534598165333noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9185096585070994911.post-47315561971454911092011-11-15T21:19:00.000-08:002011-11-15T21:19:11.696-08:00Being popularI found out how to be popular! Call them 'good sirs', and they start liking you. Unless they are female, as I found out at my cost.Hesterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12035591534598165333noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9185096585070994911.post-34723177193719075852011-09-14T17:37:00.000-07:002011-09-14T17:37:41.890-07:00Ah ha ha.I am embarassed to say that Ben had gone through a minor cranial injury. He has a hole in his head, which is what I really want to say.<br />
So it's probably going to be a long time until Ben is back into action. Hesterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12035591534598165333noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9185096585070994911.post-11059986403683761502011-09-13T16:20:00.000-07:002011-09-13T16:21:29.643-07:00Some BlendingBecause I'm bored, I thought's I'll update you people watching (none) of what I was up to.<br />
First, Ben got some trousers, so he's decent enough to be shown in public:<br />
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-g1Td70OjSi4/Tm_kNcNjGYI/AAAAAAAAAD4/s8Glb9nrA7c/s1600/DecentBen.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="303" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-g1Td70OjSi4/Tm_kNcNjGYI/AAAAAAAAAD4/s8Glb9nrA7c/s320/DecentBen.png" width="320" /></a></div>
And I've also been working on a weapon which is completely unrelated to Ben. I like to call it the Impromptu, but I don't know about everyone else.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-KH6ZnfjqNFE/Tm_lDJirYCI/AAAAAAAAAD8/iGJwS3-TINA/s1600/TheImpromptu.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="260" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-KH6ZnfjqNFE/Tm_lDJirYCI/AAAAAAAAAD8/iGJwS3-TINA/s320/TheImpromptu.png" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
I intend to put the Impromptu to a certain purpose, which will be shown later... Much later. Probably after a year.<br />
Well, I hope I hear from someone.<br />
<br />
<br />Hesterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12035591534598165333noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9185096585070994911.post-6841274102682543302011-09-02T22:27:00.000-07:002011-09-02T22:27:09.002-07:00HonestyI don't know if I've said this, but Jack Hester is not my real name. Neither is Dominique for some of you out there. I'm serious. Jack isn't my real name, but I'd appreciate it if you would call me that here, or anywhere else you see me online.<br />
Also, I'm going to change Dymo's name. Dymo doesn't cut it. He was going to be something much different, but he's developed a character of his own. I'm calling him Frederick Newton from now on. If you are against that, then come speak to me off line.<br />
<br />
Thanks for staying here this long!Hesterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12035591534598165333noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9185096585070994911.post-9348372147985372412011-08-06T00:44:00.001-07:002011-08-06T00:49:29.207-07:00I am a Commercial IdiotI never liked sites that are clogged with ads. Turns out my site is turning into one.<br />
So I'm going to slowly add some ads to my site, and if ever they get into the way of your enjoyment of browsing, then just alert me, and I'll just get to it.<br />
<br />
P.S. I actually individually source my ads, so they can be trusted. I think.<br />
<br />
P.P.S. Because I don't want my ads in the way of my precious viewers, I've put them way at the bottom. Hope that helps.<br />
<br />
P.P.P.S. I don't get paid for clicks, so you don't have to go click 'em out of your way. I only get paid when I get people joining these sites.Hesterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12035591534598165333noreply@blogger.com0