@allgebrah I recommend to google-images what that is http://twitter.com/allgebrah/status/744991210960470017/photo/1
The theorbo is basically the double-barrelled sniper rifle of lutes. Impractical but sometimes used to banish especially tenacious ghosts.
Should you visit one of those old stone circles, take care not to wake it up. The maw these teeth belong to has claimed many a fool.
a lone sunbeam, scattered by dust, presents an austere beauty, but one only attainable at great pain to the beam - need it suffer for us?
An architectural teratoma grows in our orbit, a corrupt beauty dedicated to no god, jealously protected against pilgrims by its gargoyles.
Gargoyles contort in search for a city to look down onto, or a sense of where down is. A bell tries to chime but the vacuum does not carry.
hunt down a tornado, wrangle it to the ground, mount it to ride the skies, conquer heaven
Someoneâs taken a hammer to this day and shattered it. Despite cleanup efforts, second-long shards of night interrupt the afternoon.
The Venus city is built as a giant floating rotor, always ready to slow down to sink further into the clouds, or speed up to escape a storm.
after itâs burned out, youâre among the first to log in and play in the ashes, not dust but devoid of color and reduced to random low polys
alternative ending:â”the road to well is paved with strict abstention
the road to yell is paved with loud contentionâ”the road to cell is paved with drunk detentionâ”and that to smell is simply bladder distention
a world in which seeing someoneâs aura is mainstream and we use text colors and fonts to convey emotion
Sleep dervishes shorten their diurnal cycle to mere minutes. In their dreams, their planetâs rapid rotation makes them weightless.
He plucks notes from light rays pulled taut between the stars and your eyes. Your soul wants to leave with the song but you wonât let it
That one time Mercury stole Jupiterâs shadow and pretended to be him in front of the sun, she kissed him and there went his atmosphere.
The palace is a maze of pipes and strings upon which the winds play an endless lullaby, to keep asleep what is trapped within.
The candle freezes, but the shadows begin to dance to an unheard tune and your teeth vibrateâ”The mad piper is near
After the apocalypse, the four horsemen had to downsize and switch to cockroaches as mounts. Maybe they shouldâve been less thorough.
To craft a storm golem, hunt down a tornado and feed it a Name of God. Youâll later find it floating in the center of a toroidal cloud.
The sea has become impatient, doesnât wait for its level to rise but makes bold raids inland, packs of waves have been spotted hunting deer
âAnd what is this?ââ”âThe Criticâs key, a skeleton key to lay open all stories. You probably wonât like its results, best not to use itâ
It is a running gag among the civilizations of Earth to leave behind a pristine planet after each singularity, complete with fossils.
Convert io.ReadCloser to a String â Read moreâŠ
An anonymous writersâ club where to be let in, you have to come up with a story the bouncers like (theyâre unusually bookish for bouncers)
A golden tree throwing a reverse shadow, amplifying the moonâs pale light to daylight as it passes through the leaves
â: another lost letterâ”It originally contained all possible letters but was banned after lazy writers used it to write whole novels
human shaped nebula maids sing to lonely miners over their suitsâ commsâ”oh handsome, why not shed that suit and become one with the cosmos
Lesser materials will crumble mid-spell and ruin the page, while wandwood will often apply the spell being written to the page under it.
biomimetic snail shell architecture that caters to introverts through ever smaller and quieter rooms
Your mission: truck the disk containing the alien transmission to the forgotten supercomputer, found in an incomplete copy of archiveâ€org
You have one especially secret name: The people of a village you visit only in your dreams have given it to you. It means âtravellerâ.
sever the umbilical cord connecting you to realityâ”emerge from its womb into what is outsideâ”behold what youâve only known as muffled sounds
In the war, he stepped on a semantic mine that shredded his connection to reality. Whoever his family were before, nobody knows anymore.
To get data in and out of fairyland, find some pixies and make them listen to a modemâs chirps. They have a perfect memory for bird sounds.
Forest, fortress, itâs all the same to us. Every tree is a watchtower, our keep the heart. Weâve withstood sieges longer than your history.
When it dies to mark the end of this age, around it, the ground will spawn a ring of new ones. We will build cities and fortresses on them.
The first age ends with the last human to be uploaded.â”The second ends with the last upload to forget that meatspace ever existed.
Mythologos:â”(n) appeal to narrativeâ”(n) appeal of narrativeâ”(n) the Word as toldâ”(n) narrative principle underlying history and future
Mythodology (n): the study of the structure of myths, their applications and shortcomings, how to craft, de- and employ them
dance on his grave / to wake him up (chorus: we need him [stomp])â”should morning come / we will not stop (chorus: we need him [stomp])
Just consider: as long as whoever is rubberhosing you doesnât figure out how to trigger it, you can honestly say you donât know the password
Get yourself an alternate personality to store your passwords in, triggered by the view of your login screen or your sigil hidden therein
We mastered time travel, mapped the possible routes and found them to correspond to an origami pattern. It seems we live on a paper ship.
Nobody will ever know the artifactâs powers: It gets itself stolen every time someone tries to use it and sometimes just because itâs bored.
âPillar of creation, wall of creation really. Hitch a ride on its winds, sail down right to the core. Only hard part is getting up again.â
Heâs sailed the layered seas of Jupiter, yes, all seven of them. From the top of the clouds down to the hailstorms of the hydrogen ocean.
How to Install Go on Ubuntu 18.04/20.04 â Read moreâŠ
Unimpressed by mere physical impossibility, the spiders built their hive to spec and gave it octagonal honeycombs. Rather disturbed the bees
The tower has been collapsing, but really slowly: one floor per day, debris flying only a little faster, slow enough to hold picnics on it.
They play music to the cityâs traffic jams during day and redistribute its wealth at night, integral to the vital balance of law and chaos.
Next to the police, the unlaw enforcement has its seat, a building that seems to overgrow its neighbours like ivy. Officers fly in and out.
Speak into this little box here to start the engine. If your idea is any good, its spark should ignite the fuel-soul mixture and off you go.
Quake for Oculus Rift
My Oculus Rift CV1 finally arrived last week, so of course I had to update my fork of the excellent Quakespasm engine for the new Oculus 1.4 API.
While I was at it, I also fixed a number of bugs, included support for the Riftâs headphones and the XBox One controller â Iâd still recommend you play with mouse & keyboard, though. Controls are set up with reasonable defaults, but you can of course change everything in the options menu. Thereâs also ⊠â Read more
An influential Latin dictionary once published a revised edition and broke 30% of spells. This led to wizardsâ adoption of versioned Latin.
The reason you use dead languages for magic is that they donât move. Spells in living languages spoil within years due to semantic drift.
Words fall to the ground behind you as you speak, every night the sidewalks are full of words and every morning, street sweepers clean up
Your pet flame runs up to you enthusiastically as you return home, along your arms, under your clothes [you smell hot breath and burnt hair]
Shadows are hunted for their pelts and sold to tailors. He, the greatest hunter of all, once caught a mountainâs shadow. Crashed the market.
The tree of oblivion is wrought of glass from roots to leaves. It does not seem to move, but is never twice the same when you look at it.
Clouds have been reproducing asexually since angels died out. Meteorologists currently race to preserve the remaining breeds in a cloudbank.
You hear tales of spirits in the untamed parts of the net, data nixes that sing to you and pull you into virtuality when you come too close
Breadboards for example are known to become literal bread. If your room suddenly smells of bakery, you know youâve just burned your circuit.
Youâll need to use specially hardened processors, strong magical fields will often transmute your boards into something semantically close.
Getting magic into a computer is a challenge though: It took a few breakthroughs in psionics and information theory to add a meta level.
There are now fences in the skyâ”Clouds bump against them, confusedâ”They are not quite used to being cattle yet
Reverse time domains crystallize and spread. The few civilizations yet around have to adapt, some make a killing trading between domains.
Prequel: a huge computer says âthgil eb ereht telâ to nobody in particular, thinking that perhaps in another timeline, it had a purpose.
When you play humanity backwards, itâs about a huge ball of grey goo clay extruding paradise, then birthing a civilization to destroy it.
A timetraveller has arrived but got the direction wrong. We watch his corpse reassemble itself, prepare to pull out the knife to unkill him.
Essentially, even though the surface is a mirror, bad luck is proportional to total mirror edge length and drops of water have no edges.
Your brain makes an awful slurping, then grinding/ticking sound. It seems to have reconfigured itself into gears. Think about an oil change.
âyou do not pascal-mug your predecessorsâ as ethical principle preventing basilisks because your successors may do the same to you
In our greatest heist, we stole Mars. It was too heavy to tow away, so we just left it in its orbit. Itâs ours now though!
You can try to recover such journals the next night, but theyâre quickly either forgotten or sold by dreamrobbers to the dreamless ones.
It is hard to pollinate skyscrapers, but nature found a way. Now their stalks bend under the weight of seeds and we avoid the streets.
The sea turns to blood, we desalinate it. Locusts come, we eat them. Gabriel, led off in handcuffs after reports about a dude with a sword.
Someone pulled the plug on the sky, soil is floating up, a whole river spirals into an invisible sink, trees are doing their best to clog it
We who have found the Between are an exclusive club. Oh, new blood! Want to watch the Big Bang? There, stand just next to the walls of time.
It is not hard to escape the Reaper by feigning death, but to interact with a universe that thinks youâre dead is. Eternal glitch state.
You can explore dreamtime in a bathysphere, dreamproof and designed to withstand great pressure. Or go native, grow gills, breathe ideas.
A parasitic word jumps from sentence to sentence, disguising as other words and taking ïœïœïœ ïœïœ place, feeding off meaning meant for others.
Soil samples taken disappear over night, digging sites close over. Sonar shows a chamber in its heart, but all attempts to breach it fail.
She plays an unexpected, unexpectable rhythm, each beat startles you, an arrhythmical battering reducing your musical knowledge to rubble.
she shows you how to tickle the stormâs belly with radio waves, its purr thunders over you, nearly throws you off your feetâ”âhe likes you!â
The researchers do not dare kill their failed sentient AIs, instead retire them to a dedicated datacenter: The endless superhuman tea party.
Split the morpheme to uncover forbidden meaning. Forge alien thoughts into a linguistic strangelet bomb and with it raze the noosphere.
âthank you for listening to meâ, he spoke to the empty chair
The mountains hear the challenge and prepare for battle, to meet civilizations worth of architecture, led by the renegade demimountain
The pyramid bellows a command in a voice of shifting rocksâ”It reverberates over the plainâ”Cities dwindle as houses wake up and march to war
The crystal eagleâs nest is perched under the base of the mountain. A small number of geodes lie in it, still dreaming, waiting to evert.
Stones, worn smooth from bumping into other stones constantly.â”Minds, creased and crinkled instead, with lots of things hanging on to them.
The stroke stole all his words but the stories still burn in his mind. He now cooks them, talks in spices to people his subtlety is lost on.
your cat molts, steps out of her skin, emerges just a bit tallerâ”not long until she spins a fluffy cocoon to end her caterpillar stage
Long abandoned, a local desert wind often moves in to overwinter. Its snore fills the palace with dust and the towers once again stand tall.
These peopleâs superstitions are rich and varied: where the shadows mix, new qualities emerge, certain ones are not to be stepped in
a creature of the city, small, formless, it collects discarded memories to eat them, grows into something people expect but never remember
Reality did not crack as it fell to the floor. It did, however, make one hell of a noise.â”BANG-ANG-Ang-aanng-aaaannnng-a a a annn an a a
An essential tool in spell analysis is to diffract it through a wrought iron grid to split it into its semantic constituents.
Every page of my earth orbit book opens a portal to space. Found an NSA satellite in it once, glued a fly to its camera to mess with them.