I kept trying to find a thing and ended up somewhere really weird. Drink the water and ignor the fossils but make sure you don't drink the and water in ththe wrong way. Also there's a nice view.
I actually had to make myself insane because the woman I was tracking was locked in the insane asylum so I went mad and then had an insane convo with her
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ElldrenIs a woman dammitceterum censeoRegistered Userregular
…The educated francophone population is no longer so afraid of losing its children to an English-speaking world…. And yet nationalism in Quebec is a very real thing, drawing on past grievances that, as Ignatieff writes, “do not cease to be actual, just because they are in the past.” Everywhere he goes, at least within the nationalist orbit, people tell him the same thing: “We just want to be at home, with ourselves… a majority in our own place.” If that is what nationalism means in a French-speaking province of federal Canada, one of the world’s more fortunate places and with little to fear, then the prospects for nonterritorial, state-sharing, overlapping cultural nationalisms of a liberal (or any other) kind seem slim indeed. If the electors of the Italian Northern League don’t feel “at home in their own place” with Sicilians, what hope is there for Greeks and Macedonians, Slovaks and Hungarians, Estonians and Russians, Armenians and Azerbaijanis, Israelis and Palestinians?
Ok just sent you a calling card let me know if you got it
How did you send the calling card? I still can only figure out how to invite people to the flophouse to beat them up (or play chess, I suppose, but...why would anyone do that)
I am so charmed by this game. I will have to buy Sunless Sea tomorrow and see whether I enjoy it. The style and design of Fallen London is definitely activating my imagination/creativity in a way that is really pleasing.
Steam, LoL: credeiki
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OnTheLastCastlelet's keep it haimish for the peripateticRegistered Userregular
Elldren sent me a calling card saying I am a dear so she may call upon me at any time or place for assistance.
I am so charmed by this game. I will have to buy Sunless Sea tomorrow and see whether I enjoy it. The style and design of Fallen London is definitely activating my imagination/creativity in a way that is really pleasing.
I am so charmed by this game. I will have to buy Sunless Sea tomorrow and see whether I enjoy it. The style and design of Fallen London is definitely activating my imagination/creativity in a way that is really pleasing.
okay so sunless sea is fun and relaxing. here is my ultimate tip that is in no way a spoiler, if you sail around to ports you get port reports. be sure to collect those. go back to london and turn them in for money and fuel with the admiral. you can do this EVERY TIME you visit the port if you don't have the port report already. this is a constant source of money and fuel, and you will be able to sail around and level up and get skills/do quests.
if you keep your lights off terror goes up faster but you use 1/2 the fuel. i keep my lights off 95% of the time. just enjoy it and sail around and have fun. if in doubt, go back to london. meet someone nice, buy a house.
i've seen a lot of people not realize the admiral existed to keep you getting money and fuel so this will help.
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BethrynUnhappiness is MandatoryRegistered Userregular
The book falls into two distinct passages. The first quarter is devoted to growing up in Manchester (where he was born in 1959) and his schooling. This is laughably overwrought and overwritten, a litany of retrospective hurt and score-settling that reads like a cross between Madonna and Catherine Cookson. No teacher is too insignificant not to be humiliated from the heights of success, no slight is too small not to be rehashed with a final, killing esprit d’escalier. There are pages of lists of television programmes he watched (with plot analysis and character criticism). He could go on Mastermind with the specialist subject of Coronation Street or the works of Peter Wyngarde. There is the food he ate, the groups that appeared on Top of the Pops (with critical comments) and the poetry he liked (with quotes).
All of this takes quite a lot of time due to the amount of curlicues, falderals and bibelots he insists on dragging along as authorial decoration. Instead of adding colour or depth, they simply result in a cacophony of jangling, misheard and misused words. After 100 pages, he’s still at the school gate kicking dead teachers.
But then he sets off on the grown-up musical bit and the writing calms down and becomes more diary-like, bloggish, though with an incontinent use of italics that are a sort of stage direction or aside to the audience. He changes tenses in ways that are supposed to be elegant but just sound camp. There is one passage that stands out — this is the first time he sings. “Against the command of everyone I had ever known, I sing. My mouth meets the microphone and the tremolo quaver eats the room with acceptable pitch and I am removed from the lifelong definition of others and their opinions matter no more. I am singing the truth by myself which will also be the truth of others and give me a whole life. Let the voice speak up for once and for all.” That has the sense of being both revelatory and touching, but it stands out like the reflection of the moon in a sea of Stygian self-justification and stilted self-conscious prose.
The hurt recrimination is sometimes risible but mostly dull, like listening to neighbours bicker through a partition wall, and occasionally startlingly unpleasant, such as the reference to the Moors murderers and the unfound grave of their victim Keith Bennett. “Of course, had Keith been a child of privilege or moneyed background, the search would never have been called off. But he was a poor, gawky boy from Manchester’s forgotten side streets and minus the blond fantasy fetish of a cutesy Madeleine McCann.”
It’s what’s left out of this book rather than what’s put in that is strangest. There is an absence of music, not just in its tone, but the content. There are emetic pools of limpid prose about the music business, the ingratitude of fellow musicians and band members and the lack of talent in other performers, but there is nothing about the making of music itself, the composing of lyrics, the process of singing or the emotion of creation. He seems to assume we will already know his back catalogue and can hum along to his recorded life. This is 450 pages of what makes Morrissey, but nothing of what Morrissey makes.
There is the peevishness at managers, record labels and bouncers, a list of opaque court cases, all of which he manages to lose unfairly, due to the inherited stupidity of judges. Even his relation with the audience is equivocal. Morrissey likes them when they’re worshipping from a distance, but he is not so keen when they’re up close. As an adolescent he approaches Marc Bolan for an autograph. Bolan refuses and Morrissey, still awkwardly humiliated after all these years, has the last word. But then later in the book and life, he does exactly the same thing to his own fans without apparent irony.
There is little about his private life. A boyfriend slips in and out with barely a namecheck. This is him on his early sexual awakening: “Unfathomably I had several cupcake grapples in this year of 1973… Plunge or no plunge, girls remain mysteriously attracted to me.” There is precious little plunging after that.
There are many pop autobiographies that shouldn’t be written. Some to protect the unwary reader, and some to protect the author. In Morrissey’s case, he has managed both. This is a book that cries out like one of his maudlin ditties to be edited. But were an editor to start, there would be no stopping. It is a heavy tome, utterly devoid of insight, warmth, wisdom or likeability. It is a potential firelighter of vanity, self-pity and logorrhoeic dullness. Putting it in Penguin Classics doesn’t diminish Aristotle or Homer or Tolstoy; it just roundly mocks Morrissey, and this is a humiliation constructed by the self-regard of its victim.
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OnTheLastCastlelet's keep it haimish for the peripateticRegistered Userregular
Morrissey has always been an asshole if you hear him speak. Not shocked his writing is similarly tonedeaf and turgid.
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OnTheLastCastlelet's keep it haimish for the peripateticRegistered Userregular
Posts
Goodbye cruel London
I got it and sent you a loitering request
I see you've joined the Cult of Poppy. Welcome.
I kept trying to find a thing and ended up somewhere really weird. Drink the water and ignor the fossils but make sure you don't drink the and water in ththe wrong way. Also there's a nice view.
the place you go is kinda fun
/waves hand in a thankful motion, feebly
I haven't gotten any Christmas cards
but friend onthelastcastle
abolish the nation system
How did you send the calling card? I still can only figure out how to invite people to the flophouse to beat them up (or play chess, I suppose, but...why would anyone do that)
cas eddy and elldren plz listen to my fears qq
I was hoping they would influence each other a bit more. maybe they do later on in fallen london
That is the one thing I don't need reduced actually
Edit: but I mean to send out
I did have one action where it was like "give this to a zailor (hint hint if you connect your accounts you get this item )"
It was some sort of treasure chest that I ended up selling.
Sorry love, but the good doctors at the Royal Bethlehem Hotel have instructed me against frightening thoughts until such time as I've coalesced
This game is just making me wish I could dive deeper into individual ports.
I need to sail the zee tomorrow, friend. I'm so close to helping a man create the perfect cigar and another to discharge his guilt via letters.
It's..
It's only sorrow spiders
In my dreams, you see...
Yeah that's the only one I've seen so far
I loved sunless sea. Poured many hours into it.
Sunless sky sounds like this! There will be 5 or so home/major ports
Keep having to restart (and having to update every. time) because the built in browser breaks
okay so sunless sea is fun and relaxing. here is my ultimate tip that is in no way a spoiler, if you sail around to ports you get port reports. be sure to collect those. go back to london and turn them in for money and fuel with the admiral. you can do this EVERY TIME you visit the port if you don't have the port report already. this is a constant source of money and fuel, and you will be able to sail around and level up and get skills/do quests.
if you keep your lights off terror goes up faster but you use 1/2 the fuel. i keep my lights off 95% of the time. just enjoy it and sail around and have fun. if in doubt, go back to london. meet someone nice, buy a house.
i've seen a lot of people not realize the admiral existed to keep you getting money and fuel so this will help.
https://www.failbettergames.com/7-facts-about-our-next-game/
how's hawaii i saw some nice pics, you two cute lovebirds
In Fallen London, that ability to coalesce is a valuable talent.
do not do Mr Sacks right away
DO NOT AGREE. you can do it later
i know the spirit might move you, but Mr Sacks ain't gonna be fucked with
that's what, some santa shit? It certainly wouldn't attract me.