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Clockwork Fox

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Freaking bots spamming my LiveJournal... [Dec. 29th, 2012|11:22 pm]
Clockwork Fox
Can't you at least be sexy bots? SHEESH.
ipad iphone work from home xxx free pager
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This is getting stupid. [Nov. 6th, 2012|09:13 am]
Clockwork Fox
[Current Location |Rocky Mount, NC]
[Current Mood |angryangry]

Nearly two hours after water started spewing onto the floor and I contacted maintenance, and almost an hour since I've contacted them, reported it has gotten WORSE, and they assured me someone would be right out... I'm starting to wonder if the local government has taken over repairs out here. I've got plenty of work I can do from here but I work for a company full of old farts that tend to not think of you as "working" if you "ain't at your desk in your seat" (though I live less than a 5-minute walk away from the office). Sparing the disgusting description, there's a lot of cleanup to do now and nobody has shown up yet, and the on-site management office (which I've been walking to almost every 15 minutes) is still locked up well into the business day.

Losing MAJOR points here, Tiffany Square...
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Hi. I'm back from a trip through time. [Oct. 16th, 2012|08:07 pm]
Clockwork Fox
[Tags|, ]
[Current Mood |In pain]
[Current Music |Flogging Molly - What's Left Of The Flag]

Just had a dream in which I was sent back in time to 1982, made a mistake working on a secret mainframe, and accidentally became the new Corporate King of Eternia. I still had to provide my own transportation but I got some anthropomorphic fox families and genuine tech enthusiasts working for me, the old king as an advisor, a new glass and metal castle of great 1980s corporate design, and I got to fight Skeleton and his daughter, whose name I believe was Lacey or Tracy or something like that. I'd hired private security forces so those two were never much of a problem. The cried a lot, particularly Lacey/Tracy. Her yellow ran. She was a while skeleton with something like egg yolk inside. Tours of Eternia's corporate home office are at 10PM and 2PM, except the penthouse apartments for the workers' quarters. Those are off limits with respect to their privacy. Well, have fun! I think Alan Bradley is working late on this program he's been making and I should see if he needs anything.
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Project Black Sun is fucking rage-inducing. (Quick semi-review) [Sep. 15th, 2012|09:20 am]
Clockwork Fox
[Tags|]
[Current Mood |annoyedannoyed]
[Current Music |Guns N' Roses - Dead Horse]

From the outset, crap is attacking you from angles you can't even defend yourself against. The weakest things in the game are as tough as you. Healing items are practically nonexistent which hardly matters since you die after two hits anyway, and you have a larger hitbox than your actual character. The worst of all is the context-sensitive attack button. At a range, the character will shoot (only perfectly straight sideways), though when something gets in close he'll (usually) use a slow-to-start knife attack. Due to the fact that everything avoids your firing angles, you're forced to resort to close combat and hoping he pulls the knife rather than shoots, or something pops up in your face and you need to kill it NOW by shooting it but instead he tries to use the molasses knife and gets killed again. For a little while I was thinking the game was worthy of being methodically executed NES-style, but the more I look at it, the more the entire point of the game seems to be to use the engine against you.

The disheartening part is how beautiful the game is visually. Excellent music really gets you into the mood for some intense action the type of which you'd never survive. It was worth the modest cost for the music alone which is .OGGs in a subfolder -- there's not much, but it's all great work! That $2 will get you the Linux, Windows, and even the Mac version of the game all at once.

If you're looking for a 2000s-era Metroid or Castlevania -ish game that HATES YOU, consider picking up Project Black Sun. As for me, I've got actual problems in my life that take less effort and cause less frustration than this game. If I loop Project Black Sun's keen music, I'll probably have the spirit to overcome them, but not this game any time soon.

Store link: http://www.desura.com/games/project-black-sun
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Sempai is leaving… [Sep. 13th, 2012|07:36 pm]
Clockwork Fox
[Current Mood |anxiousanxious]
[Current Music |Dungeon Defenders OST]

When I heard how much the snatching company offered him… well, it would be hard not to be tempted. He was already making a lot more than me, and with his wife's income too, they probably grind up hundred dollar bills and snort the powder off the naked backsides of poor children with platinum straws. Must be an addicting lifestyle.

All kidding aside, not sure whether it means potential advancement for me or merely an increase to my existing responsibilities. If I could make something close to what he was, I could afford insurance and everything. Maybe even get our car fixed. We have a lot of training in common and we already share many of the same tasks and much of the same workload anyway. I guess I can probably do the job, but he does interact with people more often and that's not a perk from my point of view.

That long-fingered karate choppin' guy is probably reading this now. Well, best of luck.

Don't be a stranger. Aaaaaasshole!

:P
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@DarkeChibi Update on your tablet [Sep. 10th, 2012|07:02 pm]
Clockwork Fox
[Current Mood |aggravatedaggravated]
[Current Music |Keiko Matsui - Secret Pond]

I was trying to pull some games and for some dumb reason the stinky Mac versions got automatically selected for download. If I delete them now they just come back, so it looks like we have to wait for all the wastes of bits to come in before we can delete them and get our perfectly useful empty space back. Sorry about that, though I had no reason to expect it.
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Analogue spoiler / delayed obserbation [Sep. 9th, 2012|09:02 am]
Clockwork Fox
[Current Mood |Sleepy]
[Current Music |Rush - Clockwork Angels]

It really just clicked with me that *Mute is a gossipy chatterbox whereas Hyun-ae was mute.
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I just had a series of dreams so disturbing it made me want to never sleep again. [Jun. 17th, 2012|07:14 am]
Clockwork Fox
[Tags|]

In an attempt to escape stagnation and oppression from the religious, myself and three others went on a journey away from a city that recurs in my dreams. We made our way for the longest way with an old white bus, stopping and playing music in the open at other towns as we would go, each conspicuously like the last but more run down, grimy, or putrid. Each town had the same general layout, no matter how far apart we found them, whether in grassland or desert or something even less hospitable. Each time, we would set up on the same corner and, dressed in 1960s-era garb like most everybody was wearing -- only a little more flamboyant -- we four would play a different combination of instruments every time, get some food, rest, temporary companionship, then move on again by ourselves.
After weeks of solid travel, moving on again though the copy-towns filled with different people in similar places... a differently named hardware or clothing store from the last town, for example, but in the same location... we were setting up to play and explosions were sounding constantly. No one payed them any mind since the people of the city had been in violent conflict with faceless police for longer than anyone could remember. When we asked if things could have ever been different, we were advised to leave and most people treated us at heretics.
Further on, our vehicle was lost as we entered a more disturbing city. As we made our way up the walkways we heard our own music playing in this place we had never been, and in the light from campfires set by the city's dwellers and the perfectly working public lighting, we realized that there was no earth. Every building, stone, road -- everything was built upon heaps of human corpses, mostly preserved. People walked around like it was normal for them, because it's all they ever knew. They did not want to hear us play our music, because they already had music that wouldn't go away. There, a group of faceless militant people attacked for the same several hours every day, mortar explosions sending the foundation-corpses tumbling to land anywhere and leaving holes for children to take their places, suffocating with stifled screams while their parents just stared on, since life had always been that way.
During the protracted battle across the city, the others were scattered and displaced and apparently had the misfortune of drawing the militants' attention -- with the help of the townspeople who were all too willing to point out the strangers to the force that was killing them too but had been there forever. I've always had a tendency to become seperated from groups. Having little choice, mind filled with images of the carnage amidst twisted versions of our songs blaring over loudspeakers and dried blood blowing across streets, buildings, happy picknickers, and everyone else who dismissed it as commonplace, I continued on to the next city.
But there wasn't one. Climbing over the field and hills of mile after mile of bodies -- most preserved still and producing remarkably little odor -- many days later I came to the edge of the world.
So far below the edge of a sheer cliff of metal so shoved full and piled with corpses -- foul-smelling and burst ones, some torn apart, some shoved through others -- was a glowing body of orange-red sea or perhaps a furnace. It was too far to see for sure. A similar, unreachable distance away stood an enormous cube, atop which were piled more bodies, and upon which was another world with its own people, its own cities, its own problems, as far as the eye could see. And others beside and beyond it, stretching in every direction as far as I could see from atop the mound, numbering greater than I could hope to estimate, fading into an impossibly distant sea of glowing orange. The stench was unpleasant but manageable. The temperature was too warm, but bearable. There was no wind -- perhaps I'd imagined wind my whole life.
Some movement across the glowing orange field. There was someone on the edge across from me, running in a blind panic to the edge. A girl about half my age, with dark skin and completely white eyes, stumbling over mounds of the dead and sending delicately but accidentally balanced corpses raining by the thousands into the sea/furnace below. A mechanical arm, immense beyond belief and built something like a wiper blade, descended upon that tower-platform and unceremoniously pushed a billion dead bodies -- and the one screaming girl -- over the side. For a brief instant, I felt her eyes meet mine. And in the instant along with the bodies, collapsed buildings, rusted out vehicles, and other debris, a huge industrial chain bearing a hook swung down and tore her right in half. The top half of her clung to the chain, crying and looking at me as if to beg all of creation in her last instant to know why *I* would do this to her, and then her insides fell out in a stream, her grip released, and she was lost amidst the rest of the junk of an entire world.
I still remember some of the songs and music. Perhaps I will try to write them down somehow.
And for a brief moment, in one city, I had seen the person I love and am with now. Safe, and walking away from me without recognition, but as safe as anyone else. There is, I thought as a thousand more cleaning arms descended onto random towers in the distance to sweep away partial or entire civilizations, at least that one comfort.
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Thanks, Windows... [Jun. 13th, 2012|09:09 am]
Clockwork Fox
[Current Mood |aggravatedaggravated]

ME: OK, you restarted in the middle of the night. Here's my password. Let me in.
WINDOWS: That ain't the right password. Fuck you!
ME: There are only two passwords I use on servers at home. Here's the other one.
WINDOWS: That ain't it either. Fuck you!
ME: Fine, here's the last-ditch, super-secret password I would never actually use here.
WINDOWS: That ain't it--
ME: I know, I know. "Fuck you!"
WINDOWS: Fuck me? No... Fuck YOU!
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Why, Mom? [Jun. 11th, 2012|09:32 pm]
Clockwork Fox
Why don't you ever ask about my music? Even comment on it neutrally, or say you don't like it? Much of it's simple, though at least a couple hundred downloads' worth of people seem to like it, and you know how long I've wanted to make something that others will enjoy. You know how I protected my old keyboard for decades. Or do you really not remember, or know me that well at all anymore? I'm not sure which of us I worry about more, but I'm thinking it's not me.
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