The Asylum Game: An Open-Ended Adventure
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I'm more a FPS guy, subject Lost. But I am a big fan of the Final Fantasy games.
I got a PS2 again, just for FF X. XD And I've still gotta play Metro 2033. I've had it since launch day but haven't touched it. XP
Sorry, sorry~ XD *Fixes face* Heeeeeee~ X3
Tell me, are the white words around again? XD
Yeah, it is~ :3 XD
[sup]Ah, good. Sorry, my mind is wanderi-PONIES!!!
XD[/sup]
I got a PS2 again, just for FF X. XD And I've still gotta play Metro 2033. I've had it since launch day but haven't touched it. XP
Sorry, sorry~ XD *Fixes face* Heeeeeee~ X3
Tell me, are the white words around again? XD
Yeah, it is~ :3 XD
[sup]Ah, good. Sorry, my mind is wanderi-PONIES!!!
XD[/sup]
Subject Sass I haven't enjoyed a Final Fantasy since....V? I played XIII and hated it
I've never been one for shooters, just can't get into a game that doesn't have a good story or at least a decent semblance of one
I've never been one for shooters, just can't get into a game that doesn't have a good story or at least a decent semblance of one
Subject Ren, evening. *Atomic wedgies*
I've only played VII to X-2 and XIII myself, subject Lost. May I ask why you hated XIII?
Same here, really. But yet, I have MW2. XP
I've only played VII to X-2 and XIII myself, subject Lost. May I ask why you hated XIII?
Same here, really. But yet, I have MW2. XP
I can't wait for New Vegas myself, subject LITV~
Thank yoo~~XD! Heeeeeee~~ X3
Subject S-Sas...They're always here! Make them go away! *Hides in shoulder*
Yay!
[sub]...Where?! XD[/sub]
Thank yoo~~XD! Heeeeeee~~ X3
Subject S-Sas...They're always here! Make them go away! *Hides in shoulder*
Yay!
[sub]...Where?!
XD[/sub]
Subject Ren, how are you today, save for tired
Subject Sass too linear, it was one corridor to the next, bosses with loads of health and bull shit attacks that were simple tests of rage, I couldn't relate to any of the characters, Vanielle's voice acting gave me a headache whenever I heard it and the only thing it had going for its plot is that it was delivered in pretty cut scenes. /rant
Subject Vaudess I got mine for PC so I can download the tool set and get mods for it
Subject Sass too linear, it was one corridor to the next, bosses with loads of health and bull shit attacks that were simple tests of rage, I couldn't relate to any of the characters, Vanielle's voice acting gave me a headache whenever I heard it and the only thing it had going for its plot is that it was delivered in pretty cut scenes. /rant
Subject Vaudess I got mine for PC so I can download the tool set and get mods for it
Subject Max, fuuuu-!
Oh well.
Subjects, just for giggles take a look at this Apartments shortstory I'm writing... It's a bit of it, not the whole thing...
The Sniper
1935 hours, March 5, 2014? 10 Miles outside Skagway, Alaska
James had been sitting in the tree for the better part of forty-eight hours. It was cold, very cold. He was looking down in an old glacial valley, carved from the millennia occupation of a glacier. The tide was beginning to go down, which means his prey would be near any minute now. James looked down at the road about twenty yards in front of him, and then the valley beyond. He was in a perfect hiding spot. He pulled an ice-pick from his belt and readied it. He swung it into the bark of the tree; he gave it a good tug. It didn?t budge, perfect. He readied his other. He swung around behind the tree and sunk the pick in. He straddled the tree for the better part of an hour.
James? arms began to tire. He was sweating, trying to hold onto the picks. He heard the rumble of a diesel engine. James smiled; his target. He held his ground. He waited for the enemy convoy to pass his position. A few minutes ticked by. He swung himself back around to the large branch. He sat, eyeing the valley. Any minute now. He thought to himself. He looked down. A small tether held something. He griped the elastic rope and began pulling up. A white bag that was oval in shape, up to him. He reached out and grabbed it, it was hefty. He grabbed it with his other hand and pulled it onto his lap. He unzipped it; inside was an unused Steyr HS .50. Not meant for the kind of job that needed to be done.
He assembled the weapon, and loaded a single .50 BMG cartridge into the rifles breach. He pushed the bolt forward and locked into place. The gun was loaded. He sat there, against the tree for another hour, waiting for the target to assume its usual position. The target James was assigned was a Russian made, anti-aircraft site. He needed to hit a vital region, the gas tank, hydraulic system, computer control center. Anything to disable the beast. He waited another hour before the site appeared into view in the valley. James shouldered the rifle, peered through the scope, and waited?
The site had been set up and the target was actively watching the sky. James sighted his target. The hydraulic pump, it controlled the pitch of the missile platform. He needed to wait until the it was pointed directly forward with an angle of zero before he could take the shot. The platform pitched up and down, side-to-side. James waited patiently for the shot. Minutes passed, before the platform eased into the spot James needed it in. The platform came to a rest and James fired. The shot sailed through the frigid air. Sliced through the valve and dug itself deep into the gears. The recoil bit into his shoulder.
James quickly disassembled the rifle, stowed it back in the bag and jumped from the tree. He landed waist deep in the snow and waded to the road. Automatic fire turned the tree he was in a few seconds ago into mulch; he was peppered with three shards. Some sticking into his winter jacket. His booted feet broke free of the snow and onto the icy road. He turned into the direction of which the convoy had came from and started running. He rounded a corner and nearly skidded on the ice. He recovered and kept running, the bag on his back. His breath showed bone white even through his balaclava.
He heard trucks approaching form behind. He looked for the nearest place to hide. He found a small, snow filled impression on the side of the road. He jumped into it. The snow was freezing cold, for obvious reasons. He blindly reached into the bag and pulled another rifle from the bag. A Mossberg 500 Tactical. He pumped a rounded into the chamber and waited. The trucks came closer, and the passed him, not taking notice of the man shaped hole in the ground. Then the infantry came. Most of them passed, looking forward, chatting in their native language. Then he heard boots scrape to a stop. James slowly moved to pull his combat knife from its sheath. He waited. The boots didn?t move. He found a small hole in the snow to look through. As he suspected, a Russian troop standing in front of him, waiting for James to make a wrong move. Content that James wasn?t there, the soldier turned and looked at the valley. That?s when James pounced. He launched himself from his icy cocoon, grabbed the Russian by the scruff of his winter coat and pulled him into the snow. There was sound of a struggle and then quiet. A few minutes ticked by, and then James emerged from the hole, his knife caked with blood. He wiped the blood clean and moved on?
It was three hours before James came close to anything resembling civilization. He came to a crest of a hill and looked out to the small Alaskan town of Skagway, now nearly abandoned, save the Battalion of Russian and eastern European troops, and the occasional freedom fighter. James made his way down the hill. Watching for any enemy troop on look out.
James hopped over a fence and into some poor soul?s back yard. He looked around, not a whole lot but snow and an old swing set. James made a half crouched run to the other end of the yard. He took his combat knife and drilled a small peep hole in the fence. He saw a street intersection. Two Russian troops were on the opposite corner from him, oblivious to his presence. James thought for a second. He pulled his service pistol, a Heckler and Koch MK. 23 SOCOM. He peaked over the fence and aimed. He practiced switching between targets a few times. Then, finally holding his breath, he fired. There were two dull plinks as both bodies dropped within seconds of each other.
He hopped the fence and onto the intersection. He ran flat out across the street to avoid being seen by any snipers posted on roof tops. Now, he couldn?t walk down the street casually. He?d be spotted. James skirted a corner building before he found an ally-way. He slipped into the darkness.
He followed a series of ally-ways through out the small town until he reached Main Street. By that time, a series of snow flurries had arrived and the streets were deserted, save a few snow covered trucks. James had to find a place to hunker down in before things got worse. He could feel the nipping cold through his thick winter coat. He looked around for an abandoned building. Tavern? No. House? Maybe. He thought some more. He could feel it getting colder. He found a seemingly empty bar. He walked slowly to the main door?
James backed into a seemingly empty bar, his pistol drawn. Content that he wasn?t being followed, he holstered his fire arm and turned around. His eyes widened in horror. The bar, was not only occupied, but absolutely crowded by heavily armed Russian troops. James counted quickly. There were roughly twenty to twenty-five enemy combatants in the room. And James stood out like a sore thumb. The Russians sat there dumb founded that there was a single American troop in their midst.
James made his draw. With nearly record timing he redrew his MK. 23, pointed it at the nearest hostile and fired. The recoil kicked into James palm and there was a dull thump as the Russian fell from his bar stool.
All hell broke loose. The rest of the Russians stood up and drew there rifles and shotguns. James could only hope that they were bad shots. He kicked over a Bar table and used it for cover. A round of buck shot tore a four inch wide hole in the table next to his head. He removed the silencer. He didn?t need it now.
He unslung his shotgun. He angled it around the corner of the table and fired. His odds of hitting anything were small but he couldn?t risk leaving his cover. There was a large amount of chatter from the Russian and more gunfire. James pumped the shotgun loading another round into the chamber. He angled it around the other side of the table and fired again. There was a scream of pain and a thump. And then music flooded the room.
Who ever was hit from the round of twelve gauge must?ve slammed into the bar?s juke box. Oh, Wonderful. He thought. He popped up from the table and scanned quickly. He fired off another round. Making the entire shoulder portion of an unlucky Russian soldier disappear in a cloud of red and pink.
?Her children now belonged to the state of Massachusetts!?
James knew the tune. He didn?t think much of it before popping up again and checking the room. It was mostly clear save a few stragglers in the room. A burst of automatic gunfire zipped past James? head. He ducked again. Thought about how many more enemy combatants there were in the town and hopped over the table. There was another burst of gunfire before he hit the floor.
?Mother loved them both the same, at least that?s what she said.?
It was too close for firearms now. James slung his 500 Tactical and pulled his combat knife. He bounded over a pool table and came down right next to a Russian troop. The Russian jumped up and went for his pistol. James let him fully draw. When the enemy brought his pistol to bare James grabbed the slide pulled forward, yanking his opponent forward and he slammed his elbow hard into the enemy?s temple. The enemy troop went limp and dropped like a stone.
?I suppose you?ve been a victim, I suppose you may have lied.?
Another Russian popped up on one side of the pool table. His AK-107 drawn and ready to fire. James launched his arm out, grabbed the combatant by the scruff of his winter jacket hood and slammed his face into the green velvet. There was a loud crack as his nose broke. The Russian grabbed his nose in pain. James, using the broken bones as a distraction as a perfect ploy to neutralize his opponent. He hopped over the pool table and kicked his opponent in the chest. At least knocking him unconscious.
?You can have your children!?
James walked around the bar. It seemed clear. But usually he would be wrong. He was still itching to use his knife. He looked around the room. Another Russian popped up. James didn?t hesitate to turn and fire. The 45. ACP round zipped through the Russian?s grey matter. He dropped as well.
James holstered his pistol. And looked around. Clear. He looked around the bar for any provisions he could use. Nothing much other than a wide assortment of alcohol. He holstered his knife as well. He was just about to turn and leave when he was tackled...
Oh well.
Subjects, just for giggles take a look at this Apartments shortstory I'm writing... It's a bit of it, not the whole thing...
The Sniper
1935 hours, March 5, 2014? 10 Miles outside Skagway, Alaska
James had been sitting in the tree for the better part of forty-eight hours. It was cold, very cold. He was looking down in an old glacial valley, carved from the millennia occupation of a glacier. The tide was beginning to go down, which means his prey would be near any minute now. James looked down at the road about twenty yards in front of him, and then the valley beyond. He was in a perfect hiding spot. He pulled an ice-pick from his belt and readied it. He swung it into the bark of the tree; he gave it a good tug. It didn?t budge, perfect. He readied his other. He swung around behind the tree and sunk the pick in. He straddled the tree for the better part of an hour.
James? arms began to tire. He was sweating, trying to hold onto the picks. He heard the rumble of a diesel engine. James smiled; his target. He held his ground. He waited for the enemy convoy to pass his position. A few minutes ticked by. He swung himself back around to the large branch. He sat, eyeing the valley. Any minute now. He thought to himself. He looked down. A small tether held something. He griped the elastic rope and began pulling up. A white bag that was oval in shape, up to him. He reached out and grabbed it, it was hefty. He grabbed it with his other hand and pulled it onto his lap. He unzipped it; inside was an unused Steyr HS .50. Not meant for the kind of job that needed to be done.
He assembled the weapon, and loaded a single .50 BMG cartridge into the rifles breach. He pushed the bolt forward and locked into place. The gun was loaded. He sat there, against the tree for another hour, waiting for the target to assume its usual position. The target James was assigned was a Russian made, anti-aircraft site. He needed to hit a vital region, the gas tank, hydraulic system, computer control center. Anything to disable the beast. He waited another hour before the site appeared into view in the valley. James shouldered the rifle, peered through the scope, and waited?
The site had been set up and the target was actively watching the sky. James sighted his target. The hydraulic pump, it controlled the pitch of the missile platform. He needed to wait until the it was pointed directly forward with an angle of zero before he could take the shot. The platform pitched up and down, side-to-side. James waited patiently for the shot. Minutes passed, before the platform eased into the spot James needed it in. The platform came to a rest and James fired. The shot sailed through the frigid air. Sliced through the valve and dug itself deep into the gears. The recoil bit into his shoulder.
James quickly disassembled the rifle, stowed it back in the bag and jumped from the tree. He landed waist deep in the snow and waded to the road. Automatic fire turned the tree he was in a few seconds ago into mulch; he was peppered with three shards. Some sticking into his winter jacket. His booted feet broke free of the snow and onto the icy road. He turned into the direction of which the convoy had came from and started running. He rounded a corner and nearly skidded on the ice. He recovered and kept running, the bag on his back. His breath showed bone white even through his balaclava.
He heard trucks approaching form behind. He looked for the nearest place to hide. He found a small, snow filled impression on the side of the road. He jumped into it. The snow was freezing cold, for obvious reasons. He blindly reached into the bag and pulled another rifle from the bag. A Mossberg 500 Tactical. He pumped a rounded into the chamber and waited. The trucks came closer, and the passed him, not taking notice of the man shaped hole in the ground. Then the infantry came. Most of them passed, looking forward, chatting in their native language. Then he heard boots scrape to a stop. James slowly moved to pull his combat knife from its sheath. He waited. The boots didn?t move. He found a small hole in the snow to look through. As he suspected, a Russian troop standing in front of him, waiting for James to make a wrong move. Content that James wasn?t there, the soldier turned and looked at the valley. That?s when James pounced. He launched himself from his icy cocoon, grabbed the Russian by the scruff of his winter coat and pulled him into the snow. There was sound of a struggle and then quiet. A few minutes ticked by, and then James emerged from the hole, his knife caked with blood. He wiped the blood clean and moved on?
It was three hours before James came close to anything resembling civilization. He came to a crest of a hill and looked out to the small Alaskan town of Skagway, now nearly abandoned, save the Battalion of Russian and eastern European troops, and the occasional freedom fighter. James made his way down the hill. Watching for any enemy troop on look out.
James hopped over a fence and into some poor soul?s back yard. He looked around, not a whole lot but snow and an old swing set. James made a half crouched run to the other end of the yard. He took his combat knife and drilled a small peep hole in the fence. He saw a street intersection. Two Russian troops were on the opposite corner from him, oblivious to his presence. James thought for a second. He pulled his service pistol, a Heckler and Koch MK. 23 SOCOM. He peaked over the fence and aimed. He practiced switching between targets a few times. Then, finally holding his breath, he fired. There were two dull plinks as both bodies dropped within seconds of each other.
He hopped the fence and onto the intersection. He ran flat out across the street to avoid being seen by any snipers posted on roof tops. Now, he couldn?t walk down the street casually. He?d be spotted. James skirted a corner building before he found an ally-way. He slipped into the darkness.
He followed a series of ally-ways through out the small town until he reached Main Street. By that time, a series of snow flurries had arrived and the streets were deserted, save a few snow covered trucks. James had to find a place to hunker down in before things got worse. He could feel the nipping cold through his thick winter coat. He looked around for an abandoned building. Tavern? No. House? Maybe. He thought some more. He could feel it getting colder. He found a seemingly empty bar. He walked slowly to the main door?
James backed into a seemingly empty bar, his pistol drawn. Content that he wasn?t being followed, he holstered his fire arm and turned around. His eyes widened in horror. The bar, was not only occupied, but absolutely crowded by heavily armed Russian troops. James counted quickly. There were roughly twenty to twenty-five enemy combatants in the room. And James stood out like a sore thumb. The Russians sat there dumb founded that there was a single American troop in their midst.
James made his draw. With nearly record timing he redrew his MK. 23, pointed it at the nearest hostile and fired. The recoil kicked into James palm and there was a dull thump as the Russian fell from his bar stool.
All hell broke loose. The rest of the Russians stood up and drew there rifles and shotguns. James could only hope that they were bad shots. He kicked over a Bar table and used it for cover. A round of buck shot tore a four inch wide hole in the table next to his head. He removed the silencer. He didn?t need it now.
He unslung his shotgun. He angled it around the corner of the table and fired. His odds of hitting anything were small but he couldn?t risk leaving his cover. There was a large amount of chatter from the Russian and more gunfire. James pumped the shotgun loading another round into the chamber. He angled it around the other side of the table and fired again. There was a scream of pain and a thump. And then music flooded the room.
Who ever was hit from the round of twelve gauge must?ve slammed into the bar?s juke box. Oh, Wonderful. He thought. He popped up from the table and scanned quickly. He fired off another round. Making the entire shoulder portion of an unlucky Russian soldier disappear in a cloud of red and pink.
?Her children now belonged to the state of Massachusetts!?
James knew the tune. He didn?t think much of it before popping up again and checking the room. It was mostly clear save a few stragglers in the room. A burst of automatic gunfire zipped past James? head. He ducked again. Thought about how many more enemy combatants there were in the town and hopped over the table. There was another burst of gunfire before he hit the floor.
?Mother loved them both the same, at least that?s what she said.?
It was too close for firearms now. James slung his 500 Tactical and pulled his combat knife. He bounded over a pool table and came down right next to a Russian troop. The Russian jumped up and went for his pistol. James let him fully draw. When the enemy brought his pistol to bare James grabbed the slide pulled forward, yanking his opponent forward and he slammed his elbow hard into the enemy?s temple. The enemy troop went limp and dropped like a stone.
?I suppose you?ve been a victim, I suppose you may have lied.?
Another Russian popped up on one side of the pool table. His AK-107 drawn and ready to fire. James launched his arm out, grabbed the combatant by the scruff of his winter jacket hood and slammed his face into the green velvet. There was a loud crack as his nose broke. The Russian grabbed his nose in pain. James, using the broken bones as a distraction as a perfect ploy to neutralize his opponent. He hopped over the pool table and kicked his opponent in the chest. At least knocking him unconscious.
?You can have your children!?
James walked around the bar. It seemed clear. But usually he would be wrong. He was still itching to use his knife. He looked around the room. Another Russian popped up. James didn?t hesitate to turn and fire. The 45. ACP round zipped through the Russian?s grey matter. He dropped as well.
James holstered his pistol. And looked around. Clear. He looked around the bar for any provisions he could use. Nothing much other than a wide assortment of alcohol. He holstered his knife as well. He was just about to turn and leave when he was tackled...
Subject Max, I've played VII, VIII, IX, X and X, as well as X-2 and XIII.
No problem~ XD Heeeeeeeeeeeeheeeeeeeee~~~ X3
Subject Vee, shush, shush, it's OK~ *Pats on back* ...*Sighs* Fine, we'll go mess with someone else...
Hehe~
[sup]Over there! *Points* XD[/sup]
No problem~ XD Heeeeeeeeeeeeheeeeeeeee~~~ X3
Subject Vee, shush, shush, it's OK~ *Pats on back* ...*Sighs* Fine, we'll go mess with someone else...
Hehe~
[sup]Over there! *Points*
XD[/sup]
Subject Lost, agreed. I personally didn't like XIII because it had almost no side quests and just mainly had you go from start to finish. One of my favorite things about FF can be some of the side quests. While also like you some of the character just annoyed me to no end. And it wasn't really Hope, he kinda grew on me, but it was Lightning and Snow that I just didn't really like./rant
Subject Sass, no XII?
Subject Sass, no XII?
That's horrible to hear Subject Ren
Subject Max Lightning was the only character I liked and I think it was mostly because she was hot
Subject Max Lightning was the only character I liked and I think it was mostly because she was hot
Ah, mine for 360, subject LITV. I've considered getting it for PC.
...Do I look human, subject Sas? XD Heeeeeeeeeeeeee~~~! X3
*Cries* I think they're going...XD
Hehe~!
[sub]Quick! Chase it! XD[/sub]
...Do I look human, subject Sas? XD Heeeeeeeeeeeeee~~~! X3
*Cries* I think they're going...XD
Hehe~!
[sub]Quick! Chase it! XD[/sub]