Ei kaikki ole kultaa mikä kiiltää eikä kaikki ole hopeata mikä hohtaa
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Благодарим Тебя за то, что раскрыл слугам Твоим козни врагов наших! Озари сиянием Твоим души тех, кто отдал жизнь во исполнение воли Твоей! В бой, защитники Монолита! В бой! Отомстим за павших братьев наших, да будет благословенно вечное их единение с Монолитом! Смерть… лютая смерть тем, кто отвергает Его священную силу!
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I sexually identify as a Sturmgeshütz III. Ever since I was a boy I dreamed of roaring battlefields, firing 75x495mm armor piercing rounds on dirty Russians. People say to me that a person being a tank is impossible and I'm retarded, but I don't care, I'm beautiful. I'm having a plastic surgeon install a V-12 engine, 7,5 cm StuK 40 L/48 and a 7.92mm machine gun on my body. For now I want you to call me "StuG" and respect my right to kill from 3km and to kill needlessly. If you can't respect me you're a tankphobe and need to check your vehicle privilege. Thank you for being so understanding.
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酌無相親
舉杯邀明月
對影成三人
月既不解飲
影徒隨我身
暫伴月將影
行樂須及春
我歌月徘徊
我舞影零亂
醒時同交歡
醉後各分散
永結無情遊
相期邈雲漢
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Amidst the flowers a jug of wine,
I pour alone lacking companionship.
So raising the cup I invite the Moon,
Then turn to my shadow which makes three of us.
Because the Moon does not know how to drink,
My shadow merely follows the movement of my body.
The moon has brought the shadow to keep me company a while,
The practice of mirth should keep pace with spring.
I start a song and the moon begins to reel,
I rise and dance and the shadow moves grotesquely.
While I'm still conscious let's rejoice with one another,
After I'm drunk let each one go his way.
Let us bind ourselves for ever for passionless journeyings.
Let us swear to meet again far in the Milky Way.
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The frog in the well was happy.
It wasn't interested what was outside the well.

The frog in the well was happy.
It was recluse to anything that happened outside the well.

And you were happy.
Because you didn't know what occurred outside the well.
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Pook ap pkes, pkey yose po pkiy kpaye jket pkey ktoj pkey ate top kute. Petto uye pke keyy, tup pkey ate sete pteykayyety. Otpy I, Tot, ktoj pke ptue kojet ot pke Toip. I jay yup it kapt, peyptoyep, tup pktoujk ipy Tatuy Key, pke Toip yappep po se. Ip ttoujkp se kete atp kete I jay tetott. Je yattop tpase pkeye yteaputey, pkey ate teitj pep ty a tapye ktokkep, at iskoypot jko ktojy top pke yeytepy ot pke Toip. Tekopp pke Petto, yose po yyatetje atp peyeytape pkiy yaytep teaps. Sy ttopkety, pip I top pepp ot pkiy pay? Pip I top ktokkeyibe pkiy sosetp? Toj, I jipp ypok pkes. Toj I as ykatjep, tetott pktoujk pke etetjy ot pke Tatuy Key. Totetet toutp po pke Toip. Pep ip te ktojt, it pke Petto jatp ptue yaptapiot, pkey jipp pay pojt pkeit atsy, atp jaip tot pke takpiys ot sy Tatuy key. Ip iy pise. I jipp peayk pkeye pteykayyety pke tepeskpite kojet ot sy Tatuy key. Pkey jipp peatt ipy yiskpe ptupk. Pke Petto ate poyp, atp pkey jipp teyiyp. Tup I, Tot, jipp ypeatye pkiy kpaye ot pkeit iskutipy.
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"Have you ever hated someone so much, that this feeling alone would drive you to do horrific and impossible to grasp things? Have you ever hated someone so much, that your whole life was focused on finding that person and ripping him apart? Have you ever hated someone so much, that you would forget about your humanity, purge it all just to find enough power, for one, single fraction of a moment, one chance to get your revenge...

What would your eyes look like in that very moment...? Insane? Terrified? Passionate? Happy? Or maybe... satisfied...

Look into his eyes, and find nothing there..."
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In every time, in every place, the deeds of men remain the same
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Each night, I went to sleep wishing that this would turn out to be a nightmare.

Yet each morning I awoke to find that the world was just as horribly warped as it was the day before.

I have to live while blending in, while acting like one of them. Just as I've done these past three months, I will continue to do for the rest of my life.
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With bony hands I hold my partner,
on soulless feet we cross the floor.
The music stops as if to answer,
an empty knocking at the door.
It seems his skin was sweet as mango
when last I held him to my breast.
But now, we dance this grim fandango,
and will four years until we rest.
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I have looked upon all that the universe has to hold of horror, and even the skies of spring and the flowers of summer must ever afterward be poison to me.
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Along the shore the cloud waves break,
The twin suns sink behind the lake,
The shadows lengthen
In Carcosa.

Strange is the night where black stars rise,
And strange moons circle through the skies,
But stranger still is
Lost Carcosa.

Songs that the Hyades shall sing,
Where flap the tatters of the King,
Must die unheard in
Dim Carcosa.

Song of my soul, my voice is dead,
Die thou, unsung, as tears unshed
Shall dry and die in
Lost Carcosa.
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Vivo in somno. Solitarie putresco in inferis.

Hic dies meus obitus dies, et meus nativus dies. Te obeam.


Mea anima immortalis. Autem mea futura necata sunt.

Manes sum. Animam definire ambiguum est.

Te odi, et te amo. Conveniamus in somnio ipso.


Proximi mihi neglegentes fuerunt. Omnes nos peccantes fuimus,

et omnes nos eidem fuimus, omnes nos peccatores sumus.

Venite domum meam. Luto simile somnium,

et pulveri simile cotidianum. Cor privo.


Te iudico.


Nemo meum funus meminit, qui doluit exstinctus est.

Initio erraveramus. Dum vivimus dolores sunt.

Nemo adiuvat.


Intellectus non necessarius est. Pius quiescat.

O nostra essentia ablata fuit,

ratio fixa tantum est.

Doloris initium cerebrum fuit.
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Perhaps the human heart
is a mystery to me now.
But in my hometown,
the flowers yet smell
of the years gone by.
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Bei Nacht im Dorf der Wächter rief:
       Elfe!
Ein ganz kleines Elfchen im Walde schlief,
       Wohl um die Elfe;
Und meint, es rief ihm aus dem Thal
Bei seinem Namen die Nachtigall,
Oder Silpelit hätt' ihn gerufen.
Reibt sich der Elf' die Augen aus,
Begibt sich vor sein Schneckenhaus
Und ist als wie ein trunken Mann,
Sein Schläflein war nicht voll gethan,
Und humpelt also tippe tapp
Durch's Haselholz in's Thal hinab,
Schlupft an der Weinbergmauer hin,
Daran viel Feuerwürmchen glühn:
"Was sind das helle Fensterlein?
Da drin wird eine Hochzeit seyn;
Die Kleinen sitzen beim Mahle,
Und treiben's in dem Saale.
Da guck' ich wohl ein wenig 'nein!"
— Pfui, stößt den Kopf an harten Stein!
Elfe, gelt, du hast genug?
       Gukuk! Gukuk!
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Life is brilliant. Beautiful. It enchants us, to the point of obsession.
Some are true to their purpose, though they are but shells, flesh and mind.
One man lost his own body, but lingered on, as a head.
Others chase the charms of love, however elusive.
What is it that drives you?

Once, the Lord of Light banished Dark, and all that stemmed from humanity.
And men assumed a fleeting form.
These are the roots of our world.
Men are props on the stage of life, and no matter how tender, how exquisite…
A lie will remain a lie.
Young Hollow, knowing this, do you still desire peace?

Peace grants men the illusion of life.
Shackled by falsehoods, they yearn for love, unaware of its grand illusion.
Until, the curse touches their flesh.
We are bound by this yoke.
As true as the Dark that churns within men.

All men trust fully the illusion of life.
But is this so wrong?
A construction, a facade, and yet…
A world full of warmth and resplendence.
Young Hollow, are you intent on shattering the yoke, spoiling this wonderful falsehood?
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Sehen Sie Mich!
Sehen Sie Mich!
Das Monstrum in meinem
Selbst ist So groß geworder!

Hilfe!
Das Monstrum
in mir wird
explodieren!
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Long, long ago
in the days when gods appeared to men...

Bread fell down from heaven.
Some lamented loudly that the bread was not meat.

Meat fell down from heaven.
Some lamented loudly that they preferred the bread.

God came down from heaven.
He will make water fall down for a time
until everyone knows what will make them happy.

Rain fell down from heaven.
Everyone lamented loudly that their clothing became wet.

Flames fell from heaven.
Everyone lamented loudly that their
houses had been burned.

God came down from heaven.
He will make nothing fall from heaven
until everyone knows what will make them happy.

Nothing fell down from heaven.
Some lamented loudly that God had forsaken them.

All manner of things fell down from heaven.
Some lamented loudly that God should be more
selective in what he sent.

Boulders rained down from heaven.
Now the lamentations finally ceased.

Rain fell down from heaven.
passing travelers expressed their gratitude.

"God, we thank thee for the unexpected weather.
Now we can carry on our long journey and
enjoy the break from the monotony."

God saw them off without a word.

As it should be. Gods and dice are best when silent.
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It is the 3rd Millennium. For more than a hundred months Gaben has sat immobile on the Golden Throne of Steam. He is the Master of PC gaming by the will of the gamers, and master of a million video games by the might of his inexhaustible funds. He is a wealthy fellow writhing invisibly with money from the Dark Age of the internet. He is the Saviour Lord of the PC Master Race for whom a thousand wallets are sacrificed every day, so that he may never truly go broke.

Yet even in his rich state, Gaben continues his eternal vigilance. Mighty Moderators cross the troll infested steam forums, the only route between distant relevant threads, their way lit by the algorithm, the digital manifestation of the Gaben's will. Vast armies of community mods give battle in his name on uncounted threads. Greatest amongst his soldiers are Valve, the first party developers, bio-engineered super-programmers. Their comrades in arms are legion: the Imperial PC gamers, and countless White Knight defence forces, the ever vigilant Community Managers and the mysterious Tech-Priests of the steam store-front to name only a few. But for all their multitudes, they are barely enough to hold off the ever-present threat from competitors, trolls, hackers - and worse.

To be a gamer in such times is to be one amongst untold billions. It is to live in the most complained about, but most enjoyable business imaginable. These are the tales of those times. Forget the power of Greenlight and flash sales, for so much has been forgotten, never to be re-learned. Forget the promise of Half Life 3 and the Marketplace, for in the grim dark future of 2024 there is only war. There is no peace amongst the digital store-fronts, only an eternity of sales and fake reviews, and the laughter of thirsting shareholders.