The last thing you pasted
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Dr. Whiggs said:
Apparently that.Jaker the Baker said:Of course, there's also the Chief's being trained since he was like 6, the surviving of hardcore chemical augmentations that only have a 50% success, the clever combat tactics, superhuman strength and speed, and winning of numerous medals BEFORE he ever donned battle armor
1. "All We Know" 3:13
2. "Pressure" 3:05
3. "Emergency" (Williams, Josh Farro) 4:00
4. "Brighter" (Williams, Farro) 3:43
5. "Here We Go Again" 3:46
6. "Never Let This Go" 3:40
7. "Whoa" (Williams, Farro) 3:21
8. "Conspiracy" 3:42
9. "Franklin" 3:18
10 "My Heart" (Williams, Farro) 3:59
It appears to be the song list for the album "All We Know Is Falling" by Paramore for a review I'm planning to write up. We'll see how well this one does.
2. "Pressure" 3:05
3. "Emergency" (Williams, Josh Farro) 4:00
4. "Brighter" (Williams, Farro) 3:43
5. "Here We Go Again" 3:46
6. "Never Let This Go" 3:40
7. "Whoa" (Williams, Farro) 3:21
8. "Conspiracy" 3:42
9. "Franklin" 3:18
10 "My Heart" (Williams, Farro) 3:59
It appears to be the song list for the album "All We Know Is Falling" by Paramore for a review I'm planning to write up. We'll see how well this one does.
Drops of seawater patter relentlessly against the stubborn tiles below as a hairline crack in a skylight window secretes tiny volumes of the sea beyond. The flow is rhythmic, a steady drip every few seconds. Light from a blinking neon sign catches each drop as it falls on by, words painted in light reading ?Gatherer's Garden?. Beneath this sign is a machine, coloured a soft pink to mask its dark history and attract the eye of the common citizen: one of whom spots it now.
?Adam...? He grunts to himself and, relinquishing a corpse he had been scouring, drifts dreamily towards the inviting machine. A few of his desired genetic cocktails are displayed in the panels of the machine. The man scratches his last remaining tuft of hair and rests the section of brass pipe he carries over one shoulder as he inspects the problem at hand. The man is dressed in contemporary wear for the time ? a light brown sweater-vest with grime and blood stained into the fabric; a white work shirt that seems to have taken on a grey hue from years of mistreatment; a pair of plain grey trousers with damp hems around the ankles, mould creeping up the side of each leg. On his face he wears a mask, as he always has since his decline into animalistic insanity. Many believe it is to cover his shame. He insists that ?it's the latest fashion? in Rapture.
The man settles on a plan of action and, raising his trusty brass pipe, begins to beat the machine brutally. Dents appear in the frame but the machine does not give way, only continuing to sing its taunting song to him. The man wears himself out and, collapsing before his iron mistress, begins to weep.
Beyond the cracked skylight high above him ? which continues to drip water onto the man's shoulders as he cries ? the sea is abundant with life. Shoals of silver fish dart past the windows, oblivious to the carnage and chaos within the walls as a solitary whale moans its solitary cry, moving slowly through the 'streets' of the dystopia.
Meanwhile, a heated battle is taking place.
?Daddy, get her!? Cries a little girl, no older than seven as she darts into safety behind a crate. A woman approaches her, her face horrifically warped and mutilated. Her hair is dank and oily, falling over her hollow eyes and resting on a tumour protruding from her cheek. A little trickle of blood oozes from the corner of her mouth, and she wipes it away on her sleeve, pausing to inspect the stain before continuing towards the panicking child.
?Filthy girl!? Shrieks the woman, swinging a hand at the child's face. The girl cries out as she is slapped, tears rolling down her mud-encrusted cheeks. Her eyes, yellow and pale, stare up in fear at her attacker as she quivers behind her crate. The woman towers over her, raising a crowbar in preparation for a blow.
?Help me, Daddy!? Pleads the child to an unseen guardian, begging for a timely salvation from her death by her all-powerful father.
?No-one's coming to save you, urchin. It's just you, and me,? sneers the woman, her last words a cruel taunt.
The girl screams sharply, and the sound is answered by a loud roar from the shadows. Eight red lights appear mere metres to the left of the woman, and immediately charge at her. The sound of a whirring drill cuts the air and slams with devastating force into the mutant's scarred face, demolishing her skull completely. She falls to the ground with what could have been a whimper, and the red lights gaze down at her in hate, before a gargantuan boot crushes what remains of her head into the tiles.
The girl squeals in delight, and immediately clambers onto the steel shoulders of her protector ? with some assistance. They survey the room, and the hulking creature begins to march away, his beloved daughter by his side.
Outside, a single squid darts by. A shark seizes a fish in its powerful jaws and tears as it swims. Crabs scuttle along the seafloor, plant life dances in the winds of the undersea current, and the failed dream of Rapture goes unnoticed for another day by the rest of the world.
Whoah, my clipboard contains my Bioshock descriptive writing piece? That's handy, that
?Adam...? He grunts to himself and, relinquishing a corpse he had been scouring, drifts dreamily towards the inviting machine. A few of his desired genetic cocktails are displayed in the panels of the machine. The man scratches his last remaining tuft of hair and rests the section of brass pipe he carries over one shoulder as he inspects the problem at hand. The man is dressed in contemporary wear for the time ? a light brown sweater-vest with grime and blood stained into the fabric; a white work shirt that seems to have taken on a grey hue from years of mistreatment; a pair of plain grey trousers with damp hems around the ankles, mould creeping up the side of each leg. On his face he wears a mask, as he always has since his decline into animalistic insanity. Many believe it is to cover his shame. He insists that ?it's the latest fashion? in Rapture.
The man settles on a plan of action and, raising his trusty brass pipe, begins to beat the machine brutally. Dents appear in the frame but the machine does not give way, only continuing to sing its taunting song to him. The man wears himself out and, collapsing before his iron mistress, begins to weep.
Beyond the cracked skylight high above him ? which continues to drip water onto the man's shoulders as he cries ? the sea is abundant with life. Shoals of silver fish dart past the windows, oblivious to the carnage and chaos within the walls as a solitary whale moans its solitary cry, moving slowly through the 'streets' of the dystopia.
Meanwhile, a heated battle is taking place.
?Daddy, get her!? Cries a little girl, no older than seven as she darts into safety behind a crate. A woman approaches her, her face horrifically warped and mutilated. Her hair is dank and oily, falling over her hollow eyes and resting on a tumour protruding from her cheek. A little trickle of blood oozes from the corner of her mouth, and she wipes it away on her sleeve, pausing to inspect the stain before continuing towards the panicking child.
?Filthy girl!? Shrieks the woman, swinging a hand at the child's face. The girl cries out as she is slapped, tears rolling down her mud-encrusted cheeks. Her eyes, yellow and pale, stare up in fear at her attacker as she quivers behind her crate. The woman towers over her, raising a crowbar in preparation for a blow.
?Help me, Daddy!? Pleads the child to an unseen guardian, begging for a timely salvation from her death by her all-powerful father.
?No-one's coming to save you, urchin. It's just you, and me,? sneers the woman, her last words a cruel taunt.
The girl screams sharply, and the sound is answered by a loud roar from the shadows. Eight red lights appear mere metres to the left of the woman, and immediately charge at her. The sound of a whirring drill cuts the air and slams with devastating force into the mutant's scarred face, demolishing her skull completely. She falls to the ground with what could have been a whimper, and the red lights gaze down at her in hate, before a gargantuan boot crushes what remains of her head into the tiles.
The girl squeals in delight, and immediately clambers onto the steel shoulders of her protector ? with some assistance. They survey the room, and the hulking creature begins to march away, his beloved daughter by his side.
Outside, a single squid darts by. A shark seizes a fish in its powerful jaws and tears as it swims. Crabs scuttle along the seafloor, plant life dances in the winds of the undersea current, and the failed dream of Rapture goes unnoticed for another day by the rest of the world.
Whoah, my clipboard contains my Bioshock descriptive writing piece? That's handy, that
I wish I had the attention span to read all this, but from the first paragraph it's freakin awesome.Cheesus333 said:Drops of seawater patter relentlessly against the stubborn tiles below as a hairline crack in a skylight window secretes tiny volumes of the sea beyond. The flow is rhythmic, a steady drip every few seconds. Light from a blinking neon sign catches each drop as it falls on by, words painted in light reading ?Gatherer's Garden?. Beneath this sign is a machine, coloured a soft pink to mask its dark history and attract the eye of the common citizen: one of whom spots it now.
?Adam...? He grunts to himself and, relinquishing a corpse he had been scouring, drifts dreamily towards the inviting machine. A few of his desired genetic cocktails are displayed in the panels of the machine. The man scratches his last remaining tuft of hair and rests the section of brass pipe he carries over one shoulder as he inspects the problem at hand. The man is dressed in contemporary wear for the time ? a light brown sweater-vest with grime and blood stained into the fabric; a white work shirt that seems to have taken on a grey hue from years of mistreatment; a pair of plain grey trousers with damp hems around the ankles, mould creeping up the side of each leg. On his face he wears a mask, as he always has since his decline into animalistic insanity. Many believe it is to cover his shame. He insists that ?it's the latest fashion? in Rapture.
The man settles on a plan of action and, raising his trusty brass pipe, begins to beat the machine brutally. Dents appear in the frame but the machine does not give way, only continuing to sing its taunting song to him. The man wears himself out and, collapsing before his iron mistress, begins to weep.
Beyond the cracked skylight high above him ? which continues to drip water onto the man's shoulders as he cries ? the sea is abundant with life. Shoals of silver fish dart past the windows, oblivious to the carnage and chaos within the walls as a solitary whale moans its solitary cry, moving slowly through the 'streets' of the dystopia.
Meanwhile, a heated battle is taking place.
?Daddy, get her!? Cries a little girl, no older than seven as she darts into safety behind a crate. A woman approaches her, her face horrifically warped and mutilated. Her hair is dank and oily, falling over her hollow eyes and resting on a tumour protruding from her cheek. A little trickle of blood oozes from the corner of her mouth, and she wipes it away on her sleeve, pausing to inspect the stain before continuing towards the panicking child.
?Filthy girl!? Shrieks the woman, swinging a hand at the child's face. The girl cries out as she is slapped, tears rolling down her mud-encrusted cheeks. Her eyes, yellow and pale, stare up in fear at her attacker as she quivers behind her crate. The woman towers over her, raising a crowbar in preparation for a blow.
?Help me, Daddy!? Pleads the child to an unseen guardian, begging for a timely salvation from her death by her all-powerful father.
?No-one's coming to save you, urchin. It's just you, and me,? sneers the woman, her last words a cruel taunt.
The girl screams sharply, and the sound is answered by a loud roar from the shadows. Eight red lights appear mere metres to the left of the woman, and immediately charge at her. The sound of a whirring drill cuts the air and slams with devastating force into the mutant's scarred face, demolishing her skull completely. She falls to the ground with what could have been a whimper, and the red lights gaze down at her in hate, before a gargantuan boot crushes what remains of her head into the tiles.
The girl squeals in delight, and immediately clambers onto the steel shoulders of her protector ? with some assistance. They survey the room, and the hulking creature begins to march away, his beloved daughter by his side.
Outside, a single squid darts by. A shark seizes a fish in its powerful jaws and tears as it swims. Crabs scuttle along the seafloor, plant life dances in the winds of the undersea current, and the failed dream of Rapture goes unnoticed for another day by the rest of the world.
Whoah, my clipboard contains my Bioshock descriptive writing piece? That's handy, that
Join us! [http://probertson.livejournal.com/33796.html]
Jooiiinn ussss! [http://probertson.livejournal.com/34209.html]
Something I was going to post to someone who mentioned they like the various Scott Pilgrim avatars kicking about. Didn't post it because... not sure why I didn't actually.
Why I've got the whole thing copied, I can't remember.
Jooiiinn ussss! [http://probertson.livejournal.com/34209.html]
Something I was going to post to someone who mentioned they like the various Scott Pilgrim avatars kicking about. Didn't post it because... not sure why I didn't actually.
Why I've got the whole thing copied, I can't remember.
a group of vision-competencies a human being can develop by seeing and at the same time having and integrating other sensory experiences.
The development of these competencies is fundamental to normal human learning. When developed, they enable a visually literate person to discriminate and interpret the visible actions, objects, symbols, natural or man-made, that he encounters in his environment.
Through the creative use of these competencies, he is able to communicate with others.
Through the appreciative use of these competencies, he is able to comprehend and enjoy the masterworks of visual communication.
Apparently still that from yesterday.
The development of these competencies is fundamental to normal human learning. When developed, they enable a visually literate person to discriminate and interpret the visible actions, objects, symbols, natural or man-made, that he encounters in his environment.
Through the creative use of these competencies, he is able to communicate with others.
Through the appreciative use of these competencies, he is able to comprehend and enjoy the masterworks of visual communication.
Apparently still that from yesterday.
Okay, so it's the code fore a YouTube video.Serenegoose said:
You had the Drowning Music from Sonic 2.
Nice.
bencelot
Uhhhhhhhh...
I was posting my referral on Subvein. Gotta try it...
If you do my IGN is WOCKone.
Uhhhhhhhh...
I was posting my referral on Subvein. Gotta try it...
If you do my IGN is WOCKone.