I Hraet You Xrd: Revelator

*loads up blog one day*

*stares at header*

You know, I wonder how many people know who that purple-haired guy is supposed to be.  I mean, they should if they clicked on the I Hraet You tab instead of just looking for more Final Fantasy posts.  Then again, I guess it’d help if I uploaded some more chapters.  Maybe give them a reason to read through my wares.

Speaking of which, wasn’t I supposed to upload those chapters at some point?

Speaking of which, wasn’t I supposed to write more chapters?

*stares at screen*

Oh FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU

Do Me a Solid: Tumblr Arrange

Everybody have a good Valentine’s Day?  Cool.  Then let’s completely disregard the allure and appeal of selflessly showing affection to the dearly beloved, and focus solely on helping me.

Because I’m an altruist, you see.

An I Hraet You Quasi/Anti-Update

If you’ve got a functioning pair of eyeballs, then you’ve probably noticed that things look a little different around here.  Not different enough to make you go “Yikesy mikesy!” I’d bet, but enough to at least earn a partially-raised eyebrow.  I wouldn’t call the new look a complete overhaul of the blog, because it isn’t; I just tweaked things here and there in terms of aesthetics.  Not the layout.  And even then, I’m not 100% sure I’ll stick with everything here; the color scheme looks as sickly as I did not too long ago when I learned first-hand why you should never gamble with year-old honey mustard dressing.

Consider it a lesson I’ll take to heart.

Anyway, the biggest and most important change -- one that I should have made a long time ago -- is that the post background is white, while the post text is black.  The colors are inverted.  It doesn’t look as cool as the last setup, but from what I’ve heard, it’s certainly more readable.  And that’s what I need to go for right now more than anything; the reason for that is because hopefully, I’ll have people do even more reading on this blog soon enough.  And it’d probably help my case if I wasn’t doing my best to make people go blind.  Just a hunch, though.

With a Single Step: The 500th Post

You know, I seem to recall me saying once upon a time that I was going to stop celebrating these “milestones” so blatantly.  The number of posts -- and by extension, the number of anniversaries -- doesn’t matter too much in the long run.  I’d prefer to measure success and value in terms of quality.  But I can’t judge that for myself.  That’s going to come from the people who read this blog, AKA the way it should be.

So I want to start this post by thanking those that are reading, whether you’ve been drawn in for the first time by the prospect of a milestone, or you’re a long-time reader.  I know I’m not the most popular blogger on the internet (and certainly not the smartest or best), but just knowing that I can make one person happy with what I write here means the world to me.

But I’m still not satisfied.  I want to do more.  Offer more.  Excite more.  Be more.  And that’s exactly what I’m going to do. 

And it starts with this. 

So What’s the Deal with Sexy Characters? (Part 2)

I need to watch more Seinfeld.

I’ve been thinking about doing a post on BlazBlue: Chrono Phantasma over the past couple of weeks, but given that I’ve had material gathering dust for ages, I figured I should get that stuff out there first.  So until then, I want to bring it into the discussion of sexy characters -- however briefly.  Again.

CP is the first BB installment I’ve played since the original Continuum Shift from years ago -- and the new installment offers up a chance for me to start fresh and learn to play more characters with some competence besides “easy mode” Ragna.  I’ve long since started maining Hakumen --the sickest character -- but I can’t help but think back to one night when I was on the character select screen for the trials.  I spotted Litchi’s picture nestled in the corner, and I thought to myself, “Hey, why not?”

Well, I can think of one reason: because she’s a sexy character, and if you play a sexy character, you’re clearly a terrible person who deserves to get kicked in the junk, right?  And by default she’s awful and sexist, and her creators are awful and sexist and deserve a million kicks to the junk.  At least if a subsection of the internet is to be believed.

Strawman?  Never heard of it.  Is that some kind of scarecrow superhero?

I Hraet You, Donkey Kong

How much stock do you put into the phrase “history repeats itself”?

I’ve never exactly held it up as mankind’s one and only truth, but there have been times where it’s come to mind…whether I like it or not.  Case in point: last year I had the misfortune of playing DmC, a completely-unnecessary and gutless reboot to a beloved, stylized franchise -- with said reboot missing the point of the original in exchange for layer after layer of stupidity and bad decisions.  Cut to the present day, and I find myself forced to watch RoboCop… a completely-unnecessary and gutless reboot to a beloved, stylized franchise -- with said reboot missing the point of the original in exchange for layer after layer of stupidity and bad decisions.

If history really does repeat itself (and that’s suspect, considering that one of my nightmares was a game, and the other was a movie), then that means that I’m due for an analogue to Metal Gear Rising.  I have no problems naming it as my 2013 Game of the Year -- even if The Wonderful 101 could have taken that spot if not for Rising’s presence -- and I feel like I can count on Raiden’s game to offer up plenty of good examples to create by.  But that was then, and this is now.  So is there a game that can rival last year’s winner?  There just might be; in terms of the timeframe and quality, Donkey Kong Country: Tropical Freeze makes a VERY strong argument for itself.

There are just two problems.  First?  I’ll gladly acknowledge that DK’s latest is amazing -- but I have no idea how to approach it yet.

Second?  If this post is supposed to invoke the spirit of posts past, then I should talk a bit about I Hraet You -- and a certain issue I may have dive-bombed into.

A Valentine's Special: Let’s “discuss” Infinite Stratos.

I think zombie fiction has run its course.  For now, at least.  (Because that’s a good way to start a Valentine’s post.  Mentions of the living dead.)

I’ll admit that the concept itself isn’t automatically wrong, or impossible to work with.  But with an immensely flawed game like The Last of Us going to great lengths to win the Half-Assed Award, and a show like The Walking Dead caught in an Ouroboros of people being sad and angry and sometimes killing zombies, I think that we’ve reached a stage where -- unless there’s a big variation in the formula -- then zombie fiction is a “broken model”.  Going with the basic conventions gives diminishing returns, and just exposes the problems with the model in the first place.

But zombie fiction isn’t the only broken model.  I’m about ready to say that the same applies for the standard harem in anime and manga.  I’m not the only one to say as much, and I won’t be the last; based on comments on sites and forums, harem stories have to work ten times harder for recognition (beyond the usual “best girl” declarations). And in a lot of cases -- in the case of Infinite Stratos, for example -- the stories just expose all the holes.  Granted harems probably keep popping up because people keep buying/supporting them, but at what cost?  Broken models may be enough to earn some fans and some cash, but it’s the easy way out.  A fool’s errand.

Imagine my surprise, then, when I wake up one morning and realize I’m using the same model.

MORE Notes on I Hraet You are online.

Well, we’re long overdue for an update on the Notes page.  But with the (unofficially-titled) Sheila O’Leary Arc completely wrapped up, I figured it’s about time to pull back the curtain on a few hraet-y matters. Anyone up for it?

Oh.  I guess you don’t have a choice in the matter.  Unless you close the page and never look back, but who would ever stoop so low?

…Don’t close the page.  I’ll do your laundry for you if you don’t.

So yeah, go and have a look over on this page (which I'm linking again because...reasons) whenever you’re ready.  It’s worth noting, though, that as of today I Hraet You is going to take a break.  I’ve reached a good stopping point via the kinda-sorta season finale-ish 97^th chapter, so I figure I should pause for a bit and rebuild my buffer.  (And work on some other stuff, some of which might be popping up soon.)  For the time being you can probably still expect Cross-Up posts to come on Tuesdays and Fridays, as they have been for a while.  They just won’t be sandwiched between IHY posts.

Is that it for housekeeping?  Yeah, I think that’s it for housekeeping.  In the meantime, read on.  It’s the only way you’ll have context for WRESTLING.

I Hraet You (97)

Beat 97: The Last Face You’ll Never See

The blast’s force blew Lloyd onto his back.  Clouds of dust and chunks of debris swept over him, with shards of stone and wood slashing and crashing against his body.  Yet he counted himself lucky; only a few embers from the explosion seared his skin.  He knew it could have been much worse.

He knew, because he sat up a half-minute after the blast.  He didn’t get to see the balls of fire that had destroyed the house, but columns of flame twisted in the wake.  A tower of black smoke rose from the foundation’s center, disturbed only occasionally by the night breeze.  As for the rest?  Nothing but smoking, crackling wreckage -- and even what little remained of the house crumbled and tumbled, preparing itself for the fire’s feast.

Lloyd just sat there, eyes so wide he nearly tore the muscles within.  He couldn’t feel the blaze’s heat; if anything, he felt as if he’d leapt inside a freezer.  He couldn’t get his mouth to work; he couldn’t get his body to work.  But in spite of everything, his mind remained in full working order.

He’d watched the O’Leary house explode before his eyes.

The same house that Sheila had just entered.

“Sheila…”  Lloyd squeaked.  He raised a trembling hand, as if hoping someone would come and take it -- as if someone would help him stand up.  “Sheila…!”

But nobody came.  Nobody.

And that meant just one thing.

Lloyd stumbled to his feet, and stared at the blooming blaze.  He kept his hand held out, still trembling, still expecting -- hoping -- praying that someone would come and take it.  But nobody came.  He could only expect a wisp of flame to lash at his hand.  He had lost her.  He had to accept it.

But he didn’t have to be graceful about it.

“SHEILAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!”

I Hraet You (96)

Beat 96: The Capper

With its shift on the wane, the sun began its usual commute into Porbeagle’s horizon.  The day’s heat subsided bit by bit, but the hint of salt in the air still wafted regularly past the townsfolk.  As always, the sky welcomed and displayed streaks of gold and orange, with the sun’s rays peeking through thick, slate-hued clouds.  The town might have known no shortage of frenzy -- in the past, present, or future -- but as it citizens shuffled off for their homes, a sense of tranquility pervaded throughout.

Lloyd smiled.  He was exactly where he wanted to be -- outside a supermarket holding a girl’s hair as she puked repeatedly into a trash can.

“MRFRAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!” Sheila’s body quivered and buckled for the thirty-second time that day, and the splatter of liquefied lunches echoed out of the can.  When she finished, she pushed herself up from the rim and gasped for air.  “Okay…okay…I think that’s the last of it.”

“You’re sure this time?” Lloyd asked.

Sheila stood a few inches higher and sniffled.  “…Nope.  Still more.” 

Her ear wiggled, but Deirdre didn’t get the chance to say a word; she just bent back down and fired off another sickening salvo.  “MRFRAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!”

“Is that the last of it?” Lloyd asked.

Deirdre stood up slowly.  “Yeah.  Yeah.  Yeah, I think…I think that’s it.”  She stepped away from Lloyd and patted a hand against her stomach.  “So I guess I learned something new today: I REALLY hate puking.”

I Hraet You (95)

Beat 95: A Hunting We Will Fear

“Hard to believe that my brother had the same idea as someone who’s supposed to be a genius,” said JP, shaking his head slowly.  “You are actually smart, right?  Not just relative to Lloyd?”

“I’ve got the report cards to prove it,” said Arjuna.  “Well, they’re not with me at the moment, but there should be plenty of them back at my house.”

“That’s all right.  The fact that your response actually made sense is proof enough -- for now.”  JP leaned against the car’s back seat, and stared coolly at Arjuna from the corners of his eyes.  “So let’s hear it.  What’s so special about this town?  Why is it a place someone like this masked freak wants to screw around in?”

“Can I answer that with a question?”

“I’ll allow it.”

“This masked man -- where did you first meet him?”

Mrs. Overdose looked over her shoulder, and swished her reed about.  “I met him first a while before this thing started, what with me bein’ a bounty hunter and all,” she explained.  “But JP here met him over at that old mansion.  You know the one, don’t you?”

Arjuna nodded.  “Haldane Manor.  So, it’s just as I thought…though I’m starting to think that that’s not exactly something to be happy about.”

I Hraet You (94)

Beat 94: Consider Disconnections, Consider Connections

“More than friends,” Lloyd repeated.  “Oh.  You mean lovers, right?”

Sheila pulled away from Lloyd, as if his denseness had pried them apart.  “W-well, what else is there?” she asked.  She lowered her head and pressed her fingers together, her face reddening yet again.  “I mean…you know…if you want to…I-I-I wouldn’t mind.”  But she jerked her head back up, and held her hands out in defense.  “Oh, but only when you’re ready!  I don’t mind waiting -- we really should take things slowly, shouldn’t we?  I am pretty new at this, after all.”

“You want to be my lover, huh…?”  Lloyd folded his arms and stared absentmindedly at the sky.  For once in his life he went silent, with the only noise coming from him -- and indeed, the only noise in the plaza’s alley -- being the shuffling of feet across oil-splattered concrete.  And when he’d done that a few dozen times, he glanced to the east, mouth covered and gaze airy.

“Um, Lloyd?  Do you -- are you --?”  Sheila shuffled in turn, but not nearly as long.  “We can be more than friends, can’t we?”

Lloyd turned back to her.  “Why?”

I Hraet You (93)

 Beat 93: Should’ve Thrown Her in a Rubber Room…

Lloyd trotted out of the gas station at a brisk pace, holding up a plastic bag like a stolen treasure.  In his haste, he nearly became the new hood ornament of a passing truck -- but a quick swivel of his feet put him back on track and heading across the street.  “Miss O’Lea- I mean, Sheila!  I have returned with good news, and a greater bounty!” he cheered, and stumbled toward her after tripping on the curb.  “Behold!  The fruits of my -- which is to say some factory somewhere in the depths of this continent -- labors!”

“What did you get?” Sheila asked.

“Ha ha!  Prepare yourself for a grand treat, my dear!”  He reached into the bag and pulled out his bounty: a honey bun, with its glaze and sugars sticking to the crinkled wrapping.  “If what I’ve heard is true, there’s nary a woman in this world that can resist the allure of sweets.  Therefore, I offer this, a swirly tribute, to your magnificent being!”

Sheila’s head tilted slowly.  “Do I…have to say some kind of poem before I take it?”  She scratched her temple.  “I don’t think I’ve got it in me to talk like a super-flowery dandy all day long like you do.”

She’s on-point with her offhand insults, Lloyd thought with a sigh.  In spite of that, he handed her the honey bun, and watched in silence as Sheila took a few delicate bites.  “Well?  How is it?”

“It’s good.  Really good.”

Lloyd snapped his fingers.  “Heh HA!  Excellent!  So it would seem that the words of men wiser than me have come to pass!  I’ll be sure to rely on their wisdom in the future, that I may continue to win your favor!  Mayhap some day in the future, I’ll be able to offer you a cake of the highest caliber.”  He stroked his chin.  “Perhaps one with a distinct cantaloupe flavor?  I’ve always felt as if it’s a bit underrated in the fruity pantheon, you see.”

I Hraet You (92)

Beat 92: Romance Never Dies (Except When it Does)

Deirdre took note of Lloyd’s blank stare, and sidled up to him as fast as she could (if only to save face).  “Oh?  What have we here?  You look like a boy who has excellent taste.”  She sashayed her hips, and tossed a hand through a few bangs.  “So.  Do you like what you see?”

Lloyd pointed to her face.  “Your nose is running.”

Deirdre wore her sultry smile for as long as she could -- at least until a stream of snot dribbled down her bottom lip.  She ran a forearm across her face and leapt away, turning her back on Lloyd once more.  “Damn it, Sheila!  Why isn’t that spray working the way it’s supposed to?  I can be sexy, but not when I’ve got a nose like a broken faucet!”

Her ear wiggled, and she turned her head left.  “I gave you all the good stuff already,” said Sheila.  She pumped her fists up and down.  “By the way, that good stuff wasn’t cheap, so don’t expect to see too much of it again.”

Her ear wiggled, and she turned her head right.  “THAT was the good stuff?” Deirdre yelled.  She stomped a foot against the ground.  “That crap barely lasted for an hour!  And it burned the hell out of my nose!”

“You mean our nose.”

“Whatever!  Just do something about your nose already so I can work my magic!”

“I don’t think there’s anything I can do -- unless you feel like spending a half hour in the bathroom.”

“Doing what?”

“W-well, they usually have plenty of toilet paper…”

“Oh, screw you!  I’d rather clamp my nose shut than spend a second in a germy public bathroom!”

“Might I offer a solution, ladies?”

I Hraet You (91)

Beat 91: All Hail Puppeteers (and also Makeovers)

“A date?” JP shouted.  “You want to go out on a date?”

Lloyd nodded and resumed his business.  “Well, of course.  At the moment I’m hard-pressed to think of any other way to interact with Miss O’Leary.  Not to mention that she was the one that propositioned me; it would be outright callous of me to…”  He lifted his head and stared at JP with wide eyes.  “Oh!  So this is what they call a date!  My, I’m starting to get a bit excited!”

“Lloyd, are you KIDDING ME?  Don’t go out on a date with someone that almost killed you!”

Lloyd tilted his head back down.  “It was an act of near-homicide bred of misguided adoration.  Nothing more.  Or if you prefer, a misappropriation of effort.  But as I explained to you, I’ve managed to sort out a number of Miss O’Leary’s issues.  And beyond that, my adventures with her don’t end just because she’s reached four stars; I made her a promise, and I intend to make good on it, being her comrade for as long as I’m able.  So what follows next is a matter of…of…”  He furrowed his brow.  “I can’t quite seem to figure out how this mechanism is supposed to work.”

JP covered his face.  “Over and under, Lloyd.  Over and under, then you make two loops and --”

“Ah, so that’s the key!  Yes, that makes perfect sense!”  Lloyd nodded rapidly, and finished tying his shoes.  “There we are!  Fully threaded and ready for a day of true merriment!”

“Have I ever mentioned how much of a disappointment you are?  Because I get the feeling that I don’t say that as much as I should.”

I Hraet You (90)

Beat 90: The Only Viable Response to Rejection

Lloyd sat on what remained of the den’s couch, scratching absentmindedly at his temple.  Thankfully, he’d gotten over his grogginess -- though he couldn’t deny a hidden desire to go to the hospital, or at least see a school nurse -- and at the moment had little more than a rumbling stomach.  If he wasn’t half-covered in bandages, wounds, and a forcibly-made pair of shorts, he might have looked as if he’d gained inner peace.

The same couldn’t be said for Sheila.  She might not have taken as much punishment as Lloyd, but as she sat across from Lloyd on the remnants of a coffee table, she looked about ready to pledge herself as a slave to the first person that walked past.  She kept her head hung low, and gripped her knees with the force of a vise.  Said knees wobbled and knocked together on occasion, and her uplifted shoulders trembled enough to dance out of their sockets.  The only thing she could get to come down normally were streams of snot dribbling down her nose -- and as always, she sucked them back up at perfectly-timed intervals.

Trixie leaned toward Lloyd’s ear from behind the couch.  “I got a real bad feelin’ ‘bout all this, pal.  Ya sure this is all gonna work out?”

I Hraet You (89)

Beat 89: No Victory for Old Psychologists

“Combine?” Lloyd repeated.  “Wait a moment.  So does that mean…?”

“Uh-huh.”  Sheila gestured toward Deirdre.  “It’s like she said.  She can’t beat you.  And neither can I -- so I guess you can call this your win.”  She pressed her fingers together.  “A-a-although I’m sorry you had to work so hard to get this far.  It’s -- i-i-it’s not like I wanted to cause so much trouble.  It just kind of…happened.”

“Think nothing of it.  Although…”  Lloyd’s eyes shifted to his left.  “Am I really the one you should be apologizing to?”

“But…but I…”

Lloyd flashed a smile.  “I would consider myself lucky to be in your position, Miss O’Leary.  I imagine very few people ever get a chance to have a conversation with their imaginary friends.  I’d bet there are more than a few kindergarteners that are jealous of you -- so why not take advantage of the opportunity?  You might never get one again.”

Sheila nodded -- and with an unsteady step, she turned to face Deirdre at last.  “I…s-sorry, but I…I don’t even know where to begin.  I mean, this is all so unreal, I…”  She rubbed the back of her head.  “Gosh, this is really gonna be hard…”

Deirdre just stared at Sheila, her smirk long since gone.

Go see The World's End...also, I Hraet You.

*gestures to first half of post title* 

And there you go.  The shortest Cross-Up post yet.

…

…Sigh.  Never mind.  Let’s chat for a little bit.  About The World’s End -- and I Hraet You, too.

I Hraet You (88)

Beat 88: The Greatest Euphemism

“The madam…?” Deirdre asked.  “You mean --?”

Sheila nodded slowly.  “My mom.  He’s…he’s talking about my mom.  Though I don’t really know what he’s getting at here.”

“Worry not.  Everything will become clear soon enough,” said Lloyd.  “Rest assured, she is as much the key to your transformation as the concept of dreams.  But in order to expound on either of them, there’s a topic that we have to discuss at some length.  One that’s been on my mind for quite some time, even before her entry and departure from this audition room.”

“Wh-what’s that?”

“Isn’t it obvious?  Child-rearing.”

For a second it looked as if both the girls might fall right off the stage -- and if Deirdre hadn’t been fused to said stage, she very well might have. 

“My.  That’s quite a reaction from a pair of ladies that had aims to do something so scandalous,” Lloyd said as he stroked his chin.  “Could it be that in spite of all your bluster, neither of you are quite ready to take that fateful plunge?”

“Don’t get smart with me, boy!” Deirdre snapped.

I Hraet You (87)

Beat 87: If You Say It, They Will Crack

“Sorry.  But your time’s up.”

Deirdre held up a hand, and brushed nonchalantly at a few bangs.  “Just how long have you been trying to seal the deal here?  And how many times have you come up empty-handed?”  She shook her head.  “Face it.  There isn’t a shred of proof you could offer, and not a thing you can do to change the world -- yours, mine, or hers.  You’ve just been wasting your time here -- so why don’t you just accept that and go with what comes easiest?”  She turned an eye upon Sheila -- fidgeting, and unable to look anyone in the eye, but still offering a clumsy nod. 

“So you would rather let things stay the way they are, rather than try to improve your lot in life?” Lloyd asked.  He covered his mouth.  “I know the O’Leary women can be a bit stubborn, but to go this far…I fail to see the gain from it.”

“I…th-that’s because I…”  Sheila shook her head, letting a few globs of snot slide across her face in the process.  “If things can’t change -- if I can’t change -- then that’d make all your effort pointless, right?  So maybe…I-I dunno, maybe this is as far as I can go.”  She found just enough spirit to look down at Lloyd.  “Maybe it’s better if you just give up.”

Lloyd’s brow started to tense.  “So let me see if I understand this correctly.  The real Miss O’Leary would prefer to bring this venture to an end and risk having her body commandeered by her alter ego.  Meanwhile, the unreal Miss O’Leary would prefer to have her creator suppressed -- if not erased outright -- even if that could lead to any number of catastrophes, metaphysical or not.  Do I have that right?”