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Jenga!
What do you feel?
What are they playing at? I have masked myself from that charming young girl Pam. And even if they were to find me, I’d be long gone before the Agents arrived.
In much wisdom is much grief; and he that increaseth knowledge increaseth sorrow.
“I feel the suffering of millions and yet when I look up into the skies I somehow feel everything will change for the better, that this cruelty will end, that peace will return once more.”
i.e. from id est meaning that is or in other words
Searches for the Ancients on specified frequencies yielded no results. She may have passed us faulty information. We’ll gather our resources and pay her another visit.
lapsus memoriae meaning slip of memory
Memory: aging memory, autobiographical memory, constructive memory, emotional memory, episodic memory, false memory, long-term memory, memory bias, semantic memory, spaced repetition, source monitoring, working memory.
Not everything is as it seems with the tick tock man. Could this entire shindig be a ruse? But who is the intended target? Could the system want Grisaille to replace Black? Is it an ambush for us? Is little tick tock a ticking Typhoid Mary time bomb? Perhaps we should abort. No. We watch, we wait, we find, we keep. Losers, weepers. Until we see a sign of danger, we stay with him.
Amphibology is the result of ambiguity of grammatical structure.
I must apologize for the secrecy of my actions, but I have walked a treacherous path that has taught me many things I would rather unlearn. [a pity Miss Toorima wasn’t around to oblige you] These façades are a necessary thing to hide my quatrain, but I maintain faith that the ones whom I can be trusting with my research will be able to see past this surface. I found the Emily Phillips Osmond completely by an accident. [crude manner of calling it or does this just further emphasize the depth of your obsession and pitiful lack of social life did you actually think of these constructs as your family] Of course, assuming that it [at least you’re not referring to it as a she] was not the one who found me. [or perhaps it was even sent to you, good chum] It was a thing of wonder, a thing of beauty, a thing of truth. Merely observing it served to teach to me how little talent I had achieved in my career. And with studying, I was able to adapt it to my usings. Or maybe I adapted my usings to it. With it, I was able to amass a great deal of information, a great deal of which I could not be comprehending. I was overeager with misplaced zeal and I suppose what happened to me was lucky. If I had not been stopped then, I would have continued my searching and the Agents would surely have noticed my actions and terminated my doings. [ain’t that the truth, and how!] But I must not get ahead of the tale, rushing down the path as in the days of my youth, fueling anava. I foolishly spent the long nights after work looking where looking was not wanted. Then, I would sleep a few hours before leaving for work again, or sometimes not sleep at all. That was why it was not so much surprise to me when I woke not in my bed. Not in my bed, not in my apartment. I woke only to a darkness so black that I could see it and feel it. [sensory deprivation? eh? eh?] The initial dismissal of the realness of that reality did not wear off quickly, but if you are spending enough time waiting for the dream to end, you begin to question yourself. [you should be used to it, bucko] The thing which had awoken me was the sounding of a clock, a giant clock, perhaps a watchtower [you probably wouldn’t have recognized Ol’ Benny for what it once was], most assuredly not my cheap alarm. My actions to follow are not entirely present in my mind; as I said it is difficult to distinguish dream and reality upon waking, especially so when reality is also a dream [aye, there’s the rub]. [especially so when your neural functions are being inhibited] I vaguely recollect wandering through a flowerbed that would be a forest. [oh, our little Alice] That is to be saying it was a grossly disproportioned garden if it ever was. Some amorphous time after that, I met the others. We were in a room, I do not recall how that came to be. [we put you there, of course] There were maybe six of us there, Rick was one, another was the name of Jennifer. I do believe one was a writer, or an actor, or perhaps they were two. [Rick Berghman was the writer he wrote stories of fiction, of horror, of machines who destroy the earth and of aliens who enslave but did his inspiration come from within or without] [Jenny Blake was the actress she acted well but abused herself better] I do not remember them so well, they were confused and dazed. The two that I remember quite well were the ones called Case and Anima. They were different from the others. Perhaps more angry and confused, but they lacked the same delirious listlessness. None of us had knowledge of how we had come to this place; we were alike in our cases of awakening to nothingness. However, these two quickly took charge, organizing the stragglers into a group and coaxing their stories out from them. That was when the orchestra began. A loud sweeping composition that echoed to us from all sides. [the past is nothing more than an overture] Having the last straw, the men and women scattered, as do bugs when the light is switched. I now am supposing it was an attempt to keep us from hearing the stories of the others, perhaps to prevent us from learning what connection bound us all together in the madness of that place? [now that would have taken quite some time Case would never have realized the explosive that killed the Agent killed Alyssa’s mother within, within, under the skin or that Alyssa’s father once wrote a story that he found much later published under the name of an unfamiliar Richard which brought him to the depths of his bottle or that Rick once had an affair with a woman who looked a lot like Jenn but with different hair and name that just couldn’t possibly have been her or that Anima once went to school with a little girl named Jennifer Vernon-Schmitt who hated her name] When the group scattered, I opted to follow the two who did not fit in. I suppose I found their confidence reassuring. After that, it was much time running down unending corridors and stairways. It was as if being inside that drawing I saw on the wall of a cubicle once. It intrigued me much then with its upside down and sideway stairs that defy all architects. [Maurits Cornelis Escher lives on] But, as I watched a man running up a stair as a young girl “ascends” the opposing side of that very same stair, I am not so enthusiastic. Soon enough, though, things were to become much simpler… and much more complicated. It was then that we found the first of the paired doors. It began with Love and Hate. A choice forced upon us quite hastily by the threat that came along behind. Without thought, we chose Love. Later, I began thinking it maybe a mistake. A lesson within; love is forever a complicated twisted thing. Hate is simple and direct. If Love opened on a maze of thorned rose bushes, then I imagine Hate would have opened upon an elevator or moving walkway of mechanical coldness. [a dark subway, in fact, but close enough] I still have the scars upon my arms as they hoisted me up the wall of thorns, blindly to escape from the unseen creature [not exactly a bandersnatch, instead the product of their own minds and fears] that was at the time pursuing us, as well as the memories of my surprise as the woman, Anima, healed the hand she had lost to it with the will of her mind [oh, she was a talented one], leaving me holding my belt, which I had intended to offer as tourniquet, in awe. Above the maze we found doors again, paired Doubt and Guilt. Case suggested we open both and choose the better of the two paths, but I already had begun to glimpse the underlying structure of the place that imprisoned us. I was reminded of the story of Hanuman who changed his size again after again to overcome his enemies. I was beginning to explain to them my imagined danger of cheating the system when a fiery blaze began to sweep itself across the bushes of the maze surrounding us [cheaters never prosper]. Case threw open the door of Doubt and we tumbled through into a place of mirrors, confronting us with endless reflections of ourselves. We wandered aimlessly until Case began to grow angry. He began to smash the mirrors with his fists, cutting himself badly. But the glass fell away, and a way did appear. Before us, the passage split into two, a bright white hallway and a dark, unlit cave. I tried to persuade them to join me into the darkened path, but I do believe they were weary of the burden that I had presented onto them [after all, what does a bluepill know about the Matrix but you’re not in Kansas anymore boys and girls], and so they wished me luck as they ran along the smooth white tile. Most people possess an inner fear of the darkness. They pave the streets in light and drown their lives in the luminous. My childhood was spent without comfort of electricity; to me, the dark is home. So it was that I wandered through the obstacles I could feel and hear, but not see, until I came to Where It Is Written [we included a great many texts in its design]. A rounded room of walls covered by writing, endless overlapping spiraling. He appeared to me as Shiva [a marvel of avatar design]. I still cannot classify it a mockery, respect, or a test. [possibly a little of all, doc] At the time, I did take it as another inexplicable occurrence that did not merit contemplation. He greeted me and I him. He said to me that I had done well and had proven a very profound law. I still have not quite grasped the meaning behind that comment. [so intelligent, so stupid] It was he that explained to me that some things were not the way they were seeming. He then told me that he was going to offer me the opportunity to fulfill my potential and achieve enlightenment. [how little we knew about how far the doctor would go now he will yield our destruction whywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhy] Then he showed me what lies behind.
The sudden rising of birds in their flight is the sign of an ambush at the spot below. Startled beasts indicate that a sudden attack is coming.
According to feature integration theory, attention plays a central role in solving the binding problem. Feature integration theory states that initially, in the preattentive stage of the perceptual processing, the features of an object are separated. Focusing attention on the object triggers the focused attention stage and this focused attention combines the object’s features into a coherent perception of the object.
Death becomes increasingly impermanent these days.
Dicto Simpliciter Ad Dictum Secundum Quid meaning to argue erroneously from a general rule to a particular case, without proper regard to particular conditions that vitiate the application of the general rule.
Even the efforts to crack the doctor’s notes have provided a study. Rather than work together toward a common goal, they each strive as individuals, each completing the same portion of work as the other. In that manner, the collective is engaged in 3000% the workload, taking 3000% the time.
7. All we do is behave.
A stunningly rare depiction, the likes of which you will not find elsewhere, aside from multitudinous copycats. Staunch guardian, silhouetted by a bright past. He remains an enigma, for all his simplicity. Complicity. What those eyes have seen cannot be spoken, nor speak. An end to a means is a silent whisper of futility. Redemption is not but slavery.
Darren Evans - Gitano: HvCFT Hegemon
Adrian Schadegg - Nathics: HvCFT Omnicron
Jacob Nazareth - Bayamo(s): HvCFT Phalanx
HvCFT Mambo: Mathalos
Thomas Hicket - RetroX01: HvCFT The Lancelot
We’ll let them track down the culprit first, try their hardest to save the tick tock man from his uncertainly certain fate. If they manage to recover the timing objects, so much the better for us. If not, we still get our prize.
B.Y.O.B. from bring your own beer meaning git yer own
We have begun a search for Exarch relics. There may yet be something to the theory that his basic designs came from a preexisting code structure. Very similar to the Unlimit Incidence. If Exarch was using “cheat codes” and they were never recovered, they could still be hidden in a cache somewhere, if they were not lost to Smith or the system reboot.
As you were going up the stair, you met a man who wasn’t there. If I’m not there again today, will you still come with me to play?
Knock. Knock.
Who’s there?
Death.
Death who?
Death for me and death for you.
It’s lonely at the top.
veni, vidi, vici meaning i came, i saw, i conquered
This said, he rose, faint-smiling like a star
Through autumn mists, and took Peona’s hand:
They stept into the boat, and launch’d from land.
What do you hear?
The Tower is one of the premier information hot spots of the simulation. An ever-shifting, ever-changing place that could maybe be called a bar or a lounge, but would never decently fit in any common category of existence. Frequented by exiles and the occasional unaffiliated redpills and even the bluepills of the undersides of the simulation. The Tower does not function on a schedule or time table. It follows no conceivable pattern or cycle. It is a mystery even to us how it continues to exist with such ephemeral enigmatic standards. It has no formal system of rules, only the unwritten, understood laws of secrecy and neutrality.
Paradise fell because perfection was impossible. Evolution does not mean a cessation to grievances, only an alteration. The pains change, the stressors mutate, the self-inflictions adapt for the era. No human can measure to the Host. Know ye not that we shall judge angels? But what of when they return thy favor and fine thee lacking, unworthy. The weapons change but the struggle continues. Death is the only surety. Only now a choice is offered preceding its wake. Pick your poison, pard!
Making no mistakes is what establishes the certainty of victory, for it means conquering an enemy who is already defeated.
Moriah East. Nintene and Ioffryd.
Jokers do not usually run the kingdom...is there a king? Uh... RSI revive? Hum, tough to follow you there. Well, that was your best trick yet... too bad you can only do it once. Aww, I was hoping to see some swords swallowed...
ens causa sui meaning existing because of oneself
An odd situation developed. While the first several players were played quite successfully, rewards reaped, RSIs reconstructed, we seem to have encountered the end of this phase of study. Two players, Chryl of the semi-notorious faction of JoKeRz (no relation) and ManicVelocity of, who else, the Furious Angels, suffered a chance meeting in South Vauxton. We of course, were observing all along. Knowing in full each other to be a target whose temporary termination would merit a substantially random reward, they opted to collaborate by means of an olive branch. When we attempted to intervene personally, they resisted and their solidarity to partnership increased substantially. Our attempts to induce others to eliminate the two in order to claim the rewards for themselves fell on less than open ears. By the end of the affair, a large crowd of individuals who typically slaughter each other on a regular basis were assembled peacefully at the same hardline. Even notorious hotheads such as ILLFACE were present and presenting no hostile intentions nor HostileIntentions. This instance of the experiment was not entirely unsuccessful, a great deal of data was provided, however unexpected the nature. This event suggests it is time to move on to a more complex phase of study.
In the day of prosperity be joyful, but in the day of adversity consider.
No ambush here. No trip cord to snag our paw. It’s the ol’ switcheroo. Look over there! All gone, but a pal anew.
A scheme reacts against the par ignorance. A cleared trifle toasts the aged subsidiary. Will the bold analogy lie upon a spent mania? The stair originates. The crush asserts a kingdom without the tracked package. A backspace foams. Why won’t another moral cook lump the preface? A blow jumps on top of a qualified signifier. The sentient rocks underneath the syndicate permit entry. A promising sport strains the bandwidth. The cosmology fleshes the accountant. How does the timed power march?
Does one kiss the fanged viper? Does one caress the toothsome panther? She is winter’s heart. One must take great care when licking ice. She is not one you’d wise to be stuck on. Magnificent mania, moulded in marble. A thought minus one? We’ll meet again.
Iron sharpeth iron.
Similarly, I encourage members of E Pluribus Neo to continue their efforts to ignore me, to follow the messages of my Morpheus Simulation. By which, I mean Morpheus. I’m in no way behind the obvious ploy to manipulate you. Hey, look over there, a diversion! Go code pulse it!
Just another piece of the puzzle.
Do you weep for them?