I Fucking Love This Game - Tumblr Posts

THAT’S THE POINT OF THE STORY, HOMESLICE!!!!!!  I’m glad the show exists so more people could experience this amazing story, but I find it strange that there’s a huge amount of Youtube videos called “Where’s all the zombies in The Last of Us”? The zombies are amazing! Don’t get me wrong. The designs have been peak since the game first released, but that is not what the story is focused on. Unlike the Walking Dead or World War Z, the story isn’t centered about survival or finding a cure. It’s about a journey of a man learning to open up again while set in a zombie apocalypse. Yes, the point of the journey is to find a cure but that takes more of a backseat compared to the Joel’s personal journey.

The zombies are the setting so to speak to show us a beautiful story centered around individual characters. The zombies give an reason why the obstacles (people) Joel face act the way they do. They did their (basic) purpose so we can focus on the real bad guys.

it’s pretty clear that humanity’s worst enemy in the last of us are people themselves. the infected are scary, and dangerous, but they are manageable. they can be killed. detected. prevented. but they brought out the worst, and the worst survive. right from day 1, the worldwide militaries first decision was to bomb the cities. to kill people healthy people leaving the cities. to make quarantine zones run by power hungry militias, and to round up and kill everyone who lived in small towns (who could have lived peacefully and successfully if left alone). to act like dictators. even the rebel fireflies. if kathleen had dealt w the crumbling infrastructure in kansas city (the fact that the infected were going to escape from underground) instead of obsessing over henry & sam and in turn condemning all the lives she worked so hard to free. david & his men turning to cannibalism and assault instead of gardening, fishing, hunting, scouting the area. even the person joel was before he met ellie and learned how to love again. the real monsters in the last of us aren’t the infected.

No Man’s Sky

or: You Can’t Save The World, And That’s Fine

i fucking love this game. i love how unique its story and theme is relative to almost all other major games. its fundamental purpose is to gently instill in the player the impermanence and insignificance of everything.

let's talk about the ATLAS.

[SPOILERS AHEAD]

it is so easy to misconstrue the ATLAS as malevolent. after all, its Sentinels are hostile to those who transgress upon the sanctity and purity of creation - by necessity, the player. but later we learn that this is a self defense mechanism. the universe is the ATLAS, and the ATLAS is dying. and like any of us would be… the ATLAS is terrified. its internal hostility is a desperate bid to save itself from being terminated. to fix itself.

so what is the player meant to do?

you cannot fight the ATLAS. nobody can. the ATLAS is literally God in every theological sense. you can’t fight AI-God – just ask TELAMON, they tried. the ATLAS cannot be harmed by any action of the player.

but there is also nothing you can do to help the ATLAS. not even all the Travellers in the game can fix the ATLAS; its composition is far beyond your comprehension. the ATLAS cannot be saved by any action of the player.

the moral of the Atlas Path is acceptance: of mortality, of impermanence, of insignificance. everything ends, and that’s okay. enjoy it while it lasts. you cannot save the universe, but you can experience it for as long as you live.

most other games carry the central theme of “you can save the world!” and yet, NMS presents you with a universe where the reply to that typical attitude is an unequivocal “no, you can’t.”

it's not your burden. it's not your duty. it's not your purpose. you can't save the world. all you can do is enjoy it while it lasts, and understand that this is enough.

stars above it really fucking is. my additions:

so no man’s sky is ridiculously pretty

The Face of a Traveller

It was a dismal day on Alathil Prime. The amber sky was obfuscated by dark and furious clouds, and a steep hillside was all that protected a lone trading post from the searing wind and rain.

The circular door to the landing pad whirred open to let in the howl of the forest moon’s infamous jade winds, as well as something else. Trader Alss glanced up from cleaning the counter as the door snapped shut behind the newcomer, sharply muting the wailing storm down to a dull roar of boiling rain against ceramic alloy.

The new arrival was a rather imposing humanoid figure, steam rising from their black and red exosuit as they wiped rain droplets from their heavily tinted visor. The iconic helmet was familiar to the residents of this trading post.

“Traveller Kynon,” Alss called pleasantly. “So nice of you to stop by!”

Kynon chuckled under their helmet. “Good to see you, Alss.” They brushed water from their shoulder. “How is it that every time I come to this dreary little moon, it’s storming?”

Alss gave a sly shrug. “Why is it that you only visit when it rains?”

“An excellent counter-question, my friend. Alas, I don’t have much time for debate, I’m afraid. Making a rather hefty freight run between Ereb and Ingdiaw.”

“Ah, I thought I heard the Apostle’s turbofans,” quipped the amphibian trader. “What are you hauling, friend?”

“Sixty tonnes of dirt!”

The two of them laughed together for a few moments.

“Listen,” Kynon began, their voice taking on a more serious tone. “I’m working on a project, now, and I do need something while I’m here.”

Alss quirked an eyebrow, studying the featureless helmet visor. “What might that be, friend?”

“As much glass as you have in stock.”

The trader frowned in confusion, clicking their beak ponderously. “Glass, you say? Hrrmm... I have about twenty-five thermal crates of raw molten glass in the back,” they divulged, guarded, “but that is it. The glass is not cheap, either. Aeron Sanctum regulations heavily restrict terrestrial mining in this system, and there are no quartzflower farms within two photon-fathoms of Alathil Major. This glass is imported, at some expense.”

The Traveller scoffed in good humor. “Come on, Alss, you know I can pay you well. The Argo Fleet operations have been quite lucrative. In fact, I’ll pay you double what it’s worth, so you can get a new shipment as soon as it’s available. How does that sound?”

Alss squinted, trying in vain to discern any hint of a facial feature behind Kynon’s visor. “This project of yours must be important,” they leveled.

Kynon paused, considering their next words carefully. “I would say so.”

“And I sense that twenty-five cubic units of glass is not enough to fulfill your needs.”

“Most likely not.”

“I will offer a deal for you.”

“That’s quite gracious of you, Alss.”

“You may not like it, but the choice is yours.”

The Traveller snorted. “Whatever your price, trader, I can pay it.”

“You can, of course. But you may not want to.”

“What, my ship? I’m reluctant to sell the Apostle of the Sky, but this... project of mine is of great importance. I have other ships.”

“No, not your ship. A tantalizing offer, but no. Something considerably more personal.”

Kynon said nothing, leaving the silence open for the wily merchant to continue.

“My proposition is this: I will tell you the identity and location of my supplier. You can get as much as you need, right from the source. But...” Alss leaned forward over the counter, inches from the shining, dark glass of Kynon’s helmet visor. “In return, you will show me the ever-hidden face of a Traveller.”

Traveller Kynon was silent.

“You are welcome to refuse,” said Alss, receding back to a comfortable stance outside their client’s personal space. “But I know you, and I know your options. Naturally, you could simply continue to pay me for the glass as a geographically convenient but costly middle-merchant. You could try to find a supplier on your own, but it would be far out of your way. Atlas knows I would not stop you from simply defying the Sanctum laws and mining the silica yourself from anywhere you wish. But your cheapest, most convenient, and least time-consuming option is to sate my curiosity.”

Kynon stood motionless in contemplation for many moments, letting the silence be filled by the drumming of rain on the habitat’s exterior. At last, they stirred, and spoke. “You, my amphibious friend, make a number of compelling points. Why, you ought to be up there, haggling in the Rigel Alpha Hub!”

“Flattery will not alter the deal,” Alss bluntly stated. “Your face, and the selling price, for my supplier, or double price for every shipment.”

The Traveller’s head fell slightly. “How can I trust you with this secret?”

It was Alss’ turn to scoff. “We have engaged in the sacred tradition of barter for five solar cycles, Traveller Kynon. I have not been dishonest even once. But I wish to see the face of a Traveller. Your kind are anomalies, rarities, survivors of a dying kind, legacies of a civilization lost to the sands of time. Your face, your identity, is sacred to you, as trade is sacred to me. Faith for faith, custom for custom. You desire glass, and you can get glass elsewhere, but I have it. I desire knowledge, and I can get it elsewhere, but you have it.” They stared levelly at the Traveller, unblinking. “A barter.”

After mulling over Alss’ words, Kynon sighed. “You confuse the terms. I am a Traveller, but that is not my kind. Travellers are of many kinds, but I am alone even among Travellers. I am the only one of my kind I have ever met, and perhaps the only one at all.”

They placed a hand on their helmet, causing Alss to raise their eyebrows in anticipation. “My kind have no name, not anymore. But we are -were- reflections. Facsimiles of the world beneath. Please, Alss, be warned that what you see in my face... it may not make sense, or it may make too much sense.”

“I am ready, Kynon.”

Without another word, the Traveller raised their visor.

Alss gasped, taking in the shape of the weathered face they saw; the scars, the folds, the depth of their eyes, and the truth within.

Kynon lowered their visor once more, but the trader continued to stare, wide-eyed and vacant.

“Are you alright, Alss?” the Traveller asked, with genuine concern. “What did you see?”

A tear ran down Alss’ face as they spoke, their voice barely a whisper. “I saw a world of glass.”

found on reddit:

The Bong Brothers

the face of a man who knows no fear

OP I am so sorry for continually hijacking your post but,,,

we did it boys. we found him.

the face of a man who knows no fear

No Man’s Sky

or: You Can’t Save The World, And That’s Fine

i fucking love this game. i love how unique its story and theme is relative to almost all other major games. its fundamental purpose is to gently instill in the player the impermanence and insignificance of everything.

let’s talk about the ATLAS.

[SPOILERS AHEAD]

it is so easy to misconstrue the ATLAS as malevolent. after all, its Sentinels are hostile to those who transgress upon the sanctity and purity of creation - by necessity, the player. but later we learn that this is a self defense mechanism. the universe is the ATLAS, and the ATLAS is dying. and like any of us would be… the ATLAS is terrified. its internal hostility is a desperate bid to save itself from being terminated. to fix itself.

so what is the player meant to do?

you cannot fight the ATLAS. nobody can. the ATLAS is literally God in every theological sense. you can’t fight AI-God – just ask TELAMON, they tried. the ATLAS cannot be harmed by any action of the player.

but there is also nothing you can do to help the ATLAS. not even all the Travellers in the game can fix the ATLAS; its composition is far beyond your comprehension. the ATLAS cannot be saved by any action of the player.

the moral of the Atlas Path is acceptance: of mortality, of impermanence, of insignificance. everything ends, and that’s okay. enjoy it while it lasts. you cannot save the universe, but you can experience it for as long as you live.

most other games carry the central theme of “you can save the world!” and yet, NMS presents you with a universe where the reply to that typical attitude is an unequivocal “no, you can’t.”

it’s not your burden. it’s not your duty. it’s not your purpose. you can’t save the world. all you can do is enjoy it while it lasts, and understand that this is enough.

which fictional death has affected you the most emotionally? like had you straight up crying your eyes out or similar responses

No Man’s Sky ↳ Scenery [1/∞]

life is not a question.

there does not need to be an answer.