I am spam.

When I see the content that is popular, I am just ashamed of the world for seeking the most saccharine entertainment rather than actually attempting to exist as anything more than a brain dead idiot lobotomized by feigned wholesomeness, forced enthusiasm, and sociopathic feigned interest in their own well being by the people who entertain  them. Its shameless that people delude themselves into thinking that sort of drivel is anything more than their own weakness, insecurity, loneliness, intellectual shortcoming and emotional frailty being exploited and abused by the people who make main stream content designed to addict people in the same destructive and mind crippling manner as crack cocaine.

I write this because Google+ told me I was spam. I'm sorry I don't devote my life to sociopathically manipulating fragile and weak people that are addicted to the internet so that I might be seen as a "legitimate person. I was an awful drug dealer in my youth, as I always got high on my own supply rather than selling it, and the same holds true for being an e-peddler, in that i'm not out peddling like I should be, and instead actually enjoy my product, which is myself. I

An Apology from Mr. Dangler (Short Story)

          They took me from the nest. The bright gray walls and sea of friends replaced by darkness, the darkness replaced by school, a small empty room of wood. Stripped naked, cold and scared, a man speaks words I cannot understand, gesturing the V with his fingers between our eyes, the crop strikes behind my knees, I collapse, the back of my neck twists with the tingles, shouting, I cry, I crawl away, the tingling becomes burning, the crop strikes the small red dot on the floor, I crawl back, the burning stops. The crop under my chin, lifting me to my feet, the tingle stops, gestures the V, the crop at my knees again, I flinch, collapse, the tingles, the crop beneath my chin, lifting me, “Stand. Good.”, a warm smile, tears streaming down my face, shaking, I smile.

 I stand, soon stoop, the crop against my neck, “Stand.” says the man. I do so, for eternities, my body aches of weakness, but I stand. The man looks at the glowing box in his hand, nods, points with the crop to the door, I stand still, shouting, the crop against my ass, I flinch, stand, the crop slaps the floor between the door and I, I stand, I am pushed forward by the burning, I stumble, stand where ordered, tingling, he points to the door, crops me, points again, I walk to the door, the tingling stops. He crops the door handle, grabs with his hand, points at it, I do so, tingling, he crops my arm, I let go. He grabs the handle, turns it, opens the door, closes it, points the crop at the handle, I open the door, he walks through, crops the floor in front of him, I walk to him, he points at the handle, I close the door. “Good.” He says.

 I am given a robe, warm, soft, unimaginable. “Come.” Says the man, I know this word now, cropping the whip behind him, I obey. A bowl of food, real food, on a table, he crops the bench, “Sit.” I stand, he crops my knees. He sits on the bench, “Sit.” I do so. “Eat.” He says, pointing at the food, I stare at him, he grabs my hands, places them around the bowl, and brings it to my face “Eat.” He says, I drink the food, desperate, starving, so incredibly hungry, real food, the one and only, I feel guilt, shame for eating, but the pleasure in the neck, rushes into my head and takes over my mind. “Good.” He says, I smile, crying tears of joy. He stands, walks to the dish hole, stares at me, I take my bowl to the hole, instinct, the comfort tingles as always. “Drink.” He points to the fluid dispenser on the wall, thirsty, desperate, I drink, instinct, the good tingles. “Come” he says, I follow him out of the door, down the hall, we stop in front of a nest in the wall, one nest, not hundreds, “Dress” he points at the sleeping robe, I stand, scared, he takes my robe, hangs it on the wall. I put on the sleeping robe, instinct, he crops the nest, I climb in, “Good.” he says. Now I am surrounded by warmth, comfort, softness, like every day of my life, the electric pulses in the neck sooth me to sleep. Good.

The morning bell rings. Early, I climb out of the nest, remove my robe, instinct, naked again, now afraid of being naked instead of happy. The man is there. “Come.”, the same room, the same thing, I do not make mistakes, no burning, bad tingles when I am weak, but I am strong. I am fed, I drink, I sleep, “Good.” He says.

The next morning, the man brings a jumpsuit. I wear it. I follow him to the room, “Stand”, he crops the center, the large black screen lights up, he gestures the V from his eyes to the screen. I look at it. “Boy” says the screen, four pictures show up, my eyes dart from one picture to the next, hot tingles, relief; “Girl” says the screen, tingles and again relief. Hundreds of words, when the words are repeated, the tingles grow stronger. “Good.” Says the man, “Drink”, he says. I do, classic pastoral scenes play on the screen. Instinctively I watch, electric relaxation, only for a brief respite, before the words appear again. “Speak.” Says the man, “Boy” says the screen, I look at the boy, tingling, my eyes dart, burning, back on the boy, tingles again, “Boy” the screen says again calmly warmly, the man slaps my cheek lightly, “Boy” he says, I repeat, softly, poorly articulated, half-annunciated, lesser tingles, “Boy” says the screen again, “Boy” I repeat, louder, knowing I am right. “Good.” Says the man, hundreds of words, repeating, as best I can, my mouth tires, exhaustion does not prevent me from speaking. I am fed, I drink, I sleep. The next day, sometimes words instead of pictures, I learn, new pictures, new words.

 The next day simple math, grammar, soon the math without points to count, just listening to what the screen says, looking at a picture. I learn quickly. The 6^th day, the man says “You know what to do.” I do know, and I do it, every morning. I do what the screen says, learning, exercise, anything and everything. The man does not need to crop me when the screen can burn me, and knows that I understand why it burns me. The screen does not burn me, the screen pleasures me. My days are good; hard, but simple. A desk appears in the room, a holographic keyboard projected upon it; typing, numbers, spreadsheets, the lessons no longer simple grammar but morality, decency, manners. The screen talks to me; rather than saying and showing, simple learning, the screen becomes a person, two people, ten people, hundreds of people calling and asking questions. I have my own tablet, like the one the man had, the screen tells me “Good” every day; my only respite becomes the brief time spent on the excretorium. My quarters are only the room with the table and dish hole, my office, and the nest in the wall in the hallway between the two. The memories of the first day in the office drowned by endless happy memories of time spent with the screen. I am fed, I drink, I sleep.

The man arrives again on the 28^th. “You are ready.” He says. He turns a key into a locked door at the end of my hallway, leads me down a long hallway, down stairs, down another hallway. He takes me outside, seen only in pictures. I am amazed by the reality: woods, the sun, clouds, the blue sky, the brisk air, the sounds of birds. Behind me a large complex: windowless, gray, concrete. A half mile wide and 2 stories tall, stretching into the depths. He opens the trunk of a sedan and hands me formal attire. “Dress.” He says. I do so. He puts my jumpsuit in the trunk. I open the rear passenger side door for him, he enters; I close the door. I enter the front passenger side. The driver silent, begins to drive out of the complex, to the gate, the gateman opens the large metal gate for him, he heads down the road; we pass another identical black sedan which stops at the gate behind us. I don’t ask questions, I have always been told what I need to know, I understand that I will be told if I need to know something.

We arrive at a house, a mansion in the countryside. We enter the gate; the gate knows us without a gateman. Idyllic, gardeners in the yard, beauty everywhere, we stop in front of the house; I get out of the car, close my door, let the man out, and close the door behind him. “Come.”  He says; I follow him to the door, a man, dressed in the same clothes as me, opens the door. “He is ready.” Says the Man. “Wonderful.” Says the other, delightfully charming, delightfully delighted in the most modest of pleasures. The man goes back to his car; the other shows me into the house, majestic, breathtaking, every corner of the house a work of artistic beauty, I remain expressionless save for a polite smile and comfortingly empty eyes. “My name is Richard, yours?” Asks the man, I look at him blankly. He takes his handheld, quickly thumbs at it for a second then wave it over the back of my neck. It beeps. “Peter. That look was to be expected, force of habit, I apologize. Your name is Peter.” Says Richard

“Peter.” I say

“Right then. I will give you a tour of the house.” Says Richard, he does so, leading me around the expansive house, showing me every room, familiarizing me with the tastes of the house. I instinctively insert these constants into the variable nature of my education. We go upstairs, pass empty bedrooms, he introduces me to the housekeepers as we meet them, they smile and nod, too polite to speak. “If you don’t remember their names, Miss will always suffice.” Jokes Richard, “The Master and Mistress are out right now, but you will meet them in due time. You may be ready, but know you can always be better.” He says, leading me down the stairs, then down another set of stairs. “These are our quarters, quite spartan, but we only come here to sleep; a large number of familiar nests in the wall. “This one is yours, but more importantly, this is also the education room. A small room, the size of my previous office, the same set up, desk, screen, holographic keyboard; “You know the simple things, I’m sure, but our Master is no simple man, he has fine tastes, and while you are not a chef, thank goodness, you are a butler, and you must familiarize yourself with the vast selection of wines in the cellar. Every flavor, note, aroma, and pairing imaginable. I can perform this for now, but even if you do not need the knowledge today, one day, you will very much so need this knowledge to serve the master, should I die, but certainly for his daughter when both the Master and I are dead.” Says Richard, I nod “The cellar is across the hall over there. I must get back to my duties, but be prudent and learn what you must. The books and phones are calm until Easter, and that is a month away. Until then, I expect you to perfect yourself when given the time. Here is a radio; I will call you when the Master arrives to introduce you.” Says Richard, handing me an earpiece and a pocket transceiver.

I return to my habits, learning, more painful than usual. My baseline knowledge reviewed, I handedly accomplish this task. The screen shows me boxes “Work”, “Class”, “People”, “Education”, “Wine”… My eyes quickly dart to wine. Suddenly the task before me is a foreign language, everything a complete unknown, the tingles, speaking far more difficult, reiterating foreign words, reliable phonetics no longer reliable. The flavors mean nothing to me, unknown, unknowable, only known as imaginary concepts, yet this concept of every facet of the flavor of wine so thoroughly imagined. Eyes straining, stressed, sweating, countless different types of wine, the flood of information far too broad and deep to be mastered as the simple recollection I was accustomed to. An hour or two pass. Richard enters the room.

“I hope I didn’t scare you about the wine. No need to sweat like that. What I mean to say is that wine is your job, and your job alone, meaning it is entirely your responsibility, or it will be, one day. As true as that is, the other three are still your job, as much as they are every other servant’s job as well. I wouldn’t worry too much about the wine until you see me coughing and limping. I’m old, but I’m not going to keel over tomorrow. You will be in a much better position mastering the basics of people, and then working on class. I presume you are proficiently fluent in your work, and education is not terribly important, but it can teach you topics of conversation, the garnish upon your service so to speak. It would be a shame if the Master came home and you didn’t even know his name, not that you need to of course, we just refer to him as ‘Master’ or ‘Sir’, but it’s still good to know who exactly you are serving.” Says Richard

“Thank you for the advice.” I say; “Of course, I’m back to work, be good.” Says Richard, warmly, leaving again; I begin to study. The pace of the basic ‘People’ category was slow, dreadfully easy; many opportunities to reinforce the simple knowledge, so few people yet so many wines. Master was Sir George Bell, socio-industrial strategist and population manager, Mistress was either his wife or daughter, Violet or Anna, unemployed. The servants were servants, my neck rather indifferent to my knowledge of their names, but more so concerned with my knowledge of what their personal duties were. The neighbors respected to varying degrees, the hard money men of industry far more respected by the neck than those of soft money, of psycho-homeostasis or contentification. Taught to politely belittle such soft money people, per the tastes of our Master I presume. The ‘People’ section closed itself after the short lesson, and I oblige its suggestion and move onto ‘Class’. Refining my articulation and speaking, manners, and subservience, all of which I had learned handedly in school, now being polished thoroughly, emphasizing presentation as much as the service itself; the conditioning in the neck was fierce, but I was quick to overpower any lack of caliber in my communication. The screen, thus my neck, had no tolerance for poor posture or muddled articulation, and I quickly developed a strong distaste if not disdain for these things myself. “Excellent.” Says the screen, I review people once more, easily, advancing the lessons into those of the subtle facets of the people once the screen had gauged my knowledge of the subject. Richard calls me on the radio. I leave the room, the screen turns off, and I head upstairs. The master is standing in the doorway with his wife and daughter.

“So, boy. I see they’ve finally sent me a new Richard. It’s about time; he’s getting old you know. What might your name be?” Jokes George

“My name is Peter, Master.” I say

“Well, Peter, it’s a pleasure to have you here. You’re in good hands, know that.” Says George

“Thank you, Master.” I say, making eye contact, smiling warmly, being sure to holster my arm across my belly, bow my head fully and my back slightly

“The boy’s a natural. I’ll be in my office, Richard. No rest for the weary, so they say. You girls run along now.” Says George, heading upstairs, the women smile, and walk silently into the lower study, the Mistress begins to read to her daughter

“Well, boy. It’s time for work.” Says Richard, he leads me through the motions of preparing the dining facilities, we eat our food in the galley, our bowls pre-prepared, Richard discusses the meal with the chef, Richard takes me to the expansive cellar and leads me to the wine he decided upon, myself having no understanding of the process; we return, Richard pours the wine, the Master and his family are served an odd collection of archaic food, smelling well, but unappealing in look and texture, jarringly abstract and wildly colored, nothing like the warm smooth thick and uniform texture and color of food. Richard refills the two wine glasses.

“Delicious. Send my compliments to the chef, Richard.” Says George

“Of course, sir.” Says Richard, I help him clear the table, we bring plates back to the kitchen

“Excellent as always, Sergei.” Says Richard

“Good.” Says Sergei, we place the dishes in the sink

“The food was excellent too.” I say, politely

“I don’t make the food. I wouldn’t even know where to start. I make the nonsense. I’m glad the plating was up to snuff.” Jokes Sergei

“Wine?” asks Richard

“Take your fill, I’ll kill it.” Says Sergei, Richard puts the bottle to his mouth, drinks one of the two remaining glasses, Sergei drinks the other.

“You’re lucky kid. Best job in the house.” Says Sergei

“One day, until then he’s just my boy.” Says Richard

“Still, I’d hate to be doing field work. It’s hard work, nonsense work, but at least you get a glass of wine most days.” Says Sergei

“I take it the wine is good.” I say

“The wine taste like shit, but you feel a bit better. So it’s far more tit than tat.” Says Sergei

“Ok.” I say, a bit confused

Richard takes me to his office, he shows me through the books he keeps, teaches me to use an independent budgetary calculator, a majestic tool if there ever was one, far sleeker, more efficient and refined than the computer. He has me double check a few pending expenses, just to pass the time I presume; we go to our quarters, cramped with the other staff, the few working nightshift having already prepared, we undress, our clothes into the large wheeled basket, we dress in sleep robes and climb into our nests.

The morning bell rings, we dress, each from our pre-stocked cubby-closet, we go through the daily motions; Richard always finds time for me to study. We work hard, company comes on weekends; we work harder. I master the art of small talk, Master and his guests are always right, I listen and nod intently, but should I know a fact to affirm this rightness, I should say it, warmly, and it is well received. A month passes, and Richard goes with Violet to her mother’s house, they take Anna with them, George stays behind. I am entrusted with the duties, with which I am both familiar with and confident in my capacity to perform them, save for the wine. The day is smooth, easy; suppertime comes: Filet.

“Will a vintage Barolo suit your fancy, Sir?” I ask

“What? I just drink it. I know you’re a kid, I don’t expect much. If the wine tastes like shit I’ll just drink more of it.” Says George

“Very well then, Sir.” I say

“You can drop the pomp, at least while the wife is away. I mean, I want my girl to be civilized and all, but I don’t need that shit personally.” Says George

“I don’t really know how else to act.” I say

“Good point. Go fetch the wine.” Says George, scoffing weakly through the nose; I do so and return, pour him a glass

“Just talk to me like you would to Richard or something, I don’t know. I feel like I’m putting on a show for nobody, understand? Why am I going to be classy if I’m not actively impressing people and letting them know I’m legit?” says George

“Very well. I shall try to do so. Habits can be hard to break.” I say

“Tell me about it.” Says George, drinking the entire glass at once, “Fill her up.” He says

“Of course.” I say

“You don’t have any questions? That screen taught you everything you need to know?” Asks George

“I believe so.” I say

“Bullshit. There’s got to be something you want to know that the screen didn’t tell you. Ask me that, I know shit, all kinds of shit, way more than that damn screen.” Says George

“Ok, well. I do have one question, a rather confusing one to be honest, and the screen does not venture into detail upon this topic.” I say

“Hell yeah. Shoot, my boy.” Says George

“Forgive me if this is silly, but I was only instructed about this topic briefly as a child, with pictures. You see, well, you call your daughter your girl, and you call me boy. As far as I am aware, a daughter is a girl with a man or a woman, and I am curious as to if I would be called your son, because I am a boy, and I am with you right now, a man. ” Says Peter, George laughs

“Haha, fuck no. You’re just my boy. You’re not my son or anything. You really don’t know what that is? Fucking hilarious.” asks George

 “I’m sorry, I knew it was silly.” I say, embarrassed

“No, don’t be sorry that’s great. I can see why they didn’t explain it though.  This probably seems like nonsense, because it really is, at least nowadays, but it still happens. So my daughter, I made her, see? If I had a son I would have made him. How that works is, you know that dangler between your legs? Basically, when your old enough, you stick it in the hole between the girls legs, and then you pump some man juice inside of her, that’s called fucking, and then after a baby starts to grow inside of her belly, that’s called pregnant. Then 9 months later, that baby is born, and that is the man and woman’s son or daughter. People still fuck, but most of the girls who fuck won’t get pregnant, we don’t want working people to be burdened with kids, but my wife see, unemployed, just a housewife, so she can get pregnant if she wants, and that’s where my daughter came from. So no, you’re not my son. That’s rich though.” Says George

“I see. So some other man and woman created me by fucking.” I say

“Something like that. Not fucking, but pretty close.” Says George

“So this means that I have a mother and father somewhere in the world?” I ask

“Shit, maybe. That would be something. Hand me that tablet. I’ll check.” Says George, I do so, he thumbs at the tablet, then runs it over my neck

“Let’s see here; father, died 150 years ago, S+ archivist, upper-extreme level genius, photographic memory, excellent longevity, no medical susceptibilities. Mother, died 80 years ago, S+ small engine mechanic and engineer with numerous accolades for advancement in the field. So yeah, those are your parents, damn nice genes you got there, fucking hell.” Says George

“What are genes?” I ask

“Well, that’s like what you’re made of. Your genes are like the recipe that turns you from a drop of man juice and an egg inside of a woman into a person.” Says George

“So how is it that my parents died long before they got pregnant and created me?” I ask

“Well, that’s not how it usually works. Let’s see. Broodmother, Fanny Jenkins, Sector 84 Center C. That is who gave birth to you. Basically we had collected your mom and dad’s juices a long time ago and fucked them together long after they were dead, then we put them in your broodmother and she gave birth to you.” Says George

“So I am the son of that broodmother?” I ask

“That’s kind of gross to think about, but sure? I wouldn’t think of it like that. Your parents were classy people, your broodmother is well, just a broodmother. Respectable, I suppose, but not particularly classy.” Says George

“What is a broodmother, exactly?” I ask

“Well, like I said, it’s basically somebody to act in place of a mother when we need to fuck out some babies whose parents are dead. We put the babies inside of the broodmother and then she gives eventually birth to the baby. It’s not natural, like fucking, but broodmothers are built to pop out babies like no tomorrow, so it’s better than nature, hell, they can even make babies of long dead people. We just fuck the juices together in a lab; then put them inside of the broodmother. I told you it’s weird as shit, so I can see why they wouldn’t get into that. It doesn’t matter, I’m the closest thing to a father you will ever have, and I’d say that’s pretty damn good, most people just have society as their family. Everyone is brother and sister with each other, aunts and uncles with everybody. Nobody tends to question that, not that anyone would really tell them otherwise.” Says George, casually eating his steak

“I understand. I just see the relationship you have with your daughter, and often think it would be nice to have a father and mother.” I say

“Nah, it’s usually awful, 99% of the time, hell on earth, that’s why we went to the current system a long time ago. Think about how many servants I have to take care of us, then think of a single man and single woman trying to do all of these things for themselves and their children, all of that on top of working full time. It’s fucking impossible. Barbaric. People got abused, fucked up, starved, and all sorts of tortured by that business; the only reason we even got to keep the child is because we have a functional analogue of a child rearing center in our house. Besides, that woman, that’s not your mother. That’s like saying every time Sergei cooks me a steak, that’s his son. It’s not his son, that’s his job, and sure, he’s good at it, but a parent is somebody who raises the child from birth to maturity, usually with the same blood but not always, and even if most of your life so far was spent in the pen, a few weeks at the development center, for the most part I’m as much of a parent as you will get. Violet can be cold and distant, she’s sheltered you know, shy, modest, but even still she’s more of a mother to you than your broodmother. We’re family, my boy, just know that; the closest thing there is. Fill her up.” Says George,  patting me on the back after drinking the entire glass then finishing his steak

“Certianly.” I say

“You know what. That is the local birthing center, well, closest one anyways, there is no local one, and I’ll take you there. Show you what the real world is like. This ain’t it. This is the gentryland. It’ll sour those thoughts of yours real quick. I know I’m at fault for subjecting you to the concept of archaic birthing, but still, I think some perspective would do you well, make you one of us, so they say. I can just show up saying I’m checking up on the place, as I’m technically responsible for that center, among many other. Thankfully things run like clockwork in most centers to the point where I don’t need to do anything.” Says George, finishing the fourth glass

“If you insist, I will attend. I take your word for it.” I say, curiosity having been squashed, content with the mechanical explanation, I clean up after George

“Damn Skippy I’m intent on it. You need something to turn your nose up at you know. You’re low-gentry, but that’s still classy compared to commoners. You’re still gentry after all.” Says George

“Very well, then.” I say, returning to retrieve the wine bottle and bringing it into the kitchen

“Wine?” asks Sergei

“I don’t know.” I say

“I’m fucking with you. You’re like 7, don’t drink until you’re 16. I think it’s bad for you, I don’t know, but Master doesn’t let his girl drink, and you’re close to that age. He knows better than I do.” Says Sergei

“Thank you for the information.” I say

“Maybe I just want your swigs, eh? I’m serious though, you know the girl doesn’t drink.” Says Sergei

“I don’t want to drink either. I must return to the Master.” I say

“Tally ho.” Says Sergio, delighted with his fill of twice the usual wine, I return to the Master

“Let’s go. I’m feeling it. I’m feeling good. We’ll get in my chopper. I don’t fly as much as I should.” Says George

“Very well.” I say

“I’m a little wet, but don’t worry; the damn thing flies itself for the most part, unless you want to fuck around, but I know better.” Says George, leading me out of the back door, down into the back of his estate, his helicopter parked on the near helipad; we enter. He handedly takes off, the loud chopping of the blades drowns out any other noise, he puts a headset on himself, staring with semi-glazed eyes and a loose grin over the dashboard, the controls responding vaguely to his vague motions, he grabs the second headset and slams it into my belly, I put it on.

“I’ma teach you to fly this one day. It’s a blast.” He says through the microphone

“Yes, sir.” I say

“Fly me around and shit, that’ll be fun. Hold on.” Says George, pressing a button

“Breaker, this is Golf Papa Bravo inbound to Sector 84 Birthing Center C.” he says, releasing the button

“Roger that. Flight path assigned, courses adjusted. Feeding your bird now.” Says the radio

“Right-o, smooth sailing now. You like to fly?” Asks George

“I have never been so high.” I say

“Enjoy the view while you still can.” Says George, flying over the sparsely populated countryside full of scattered manors and a few social facilities, a large city quickly climbs into view as they gain altitude

“That’s Sector 84.” Says George

“It’s massive.” I say

“That’s for damn sure. 20 million people inside of those walls. Common dregs. The dogs of people, if dogs were damn good at doing every possible job instead of just bringing you whiskey and finding the drugs you lost.” Says George, the helicopter increasing to military speed

“Yeeee-haw!” Shouts George, “The bird’s quick, ain’t she?” he says

“Very much so.” I say, politely, warmly, fear suppressed to the point where my voice does not falter, too scared of flying to make any sort of small talk, we approach the city limits, a few blocks from the near wall, George taps on the digital screen, selecting from a list of presumed options, the helicopter lands gracefully atop a modest size tower. The uniform architecture of the buildings is striking, only as there is nothing to catch your eye, slipping all around the skyline without a thing to latch onto. We exit the helicopter; George pulls a keycard out of his wallet and opens the door leading to a stairwell. We descend.

We enter a hallway, tan walls, tan speckled white tile, white industrial lamps overhead in boxes, pure white and sterile light fills the corridor, offices named only by number 1832, each the same, each with a suited person, nearly identical in look to the building itself, and to each other, all men. We reach the end of the corridor and see a desk, a receptionist, wavy medium length brown hair, tan skin, brown eyes, brown and white business formal.

“Good evening, sir. We have been expecting you. I hope everything is in order.” Says the woman

“Spiffy. Just showing my boy here what the real world is like. Looking for a specific mother, for novelty’s sake. Hold on.” Says George, pulling out his tablet, scanning my neck again

“Fanny Jenkins.” He says

“One moment… 715.” She says, after typing into her keyboard

“Thank you.” He says

“I am glad I could be of service.” She says, grimacing, slightly disturbed as she looks at the boy, George leads me into an elevator, we exit on the 7^th floor, we pass female doctors, female nurses, dressed in white, all looking the same as the receptionist.

“These people all look the same.” I say

“Of course they do. Everyone looks the same here.” Says George, he opens the door to 715

A very large woman, easily over six foot tall, sitting in a chair, looking identical to everyone else in the building save for her size, roughly 25% larger and wider than the common women, her belly large and round, her large exposed breasts sagging slightly one baby in her lap, covered loosely by a gown, the other suckling, her face aged but not old, tired, wrinkled with happiness, but at the moment concerned, confused, startled

“Hu-hullo… sir.” Says the woman in a drawl of stupidity

“Fanny Jenkins?” Asks George

“Yes sir. Is everything ok?” Asks the woman, mildly frightened

“Perfect. This boy here wanted to meet his broodmother.” Says George

“This is my boy? Your boy? My only gentry boy come to see me? I’m so happy. Ain’t nobody come to see me. I remember you, my baby, so pretty. I love my regular kids, but that different one just makes you feel special, like you did something special. I was sad when they took you away, but I knew you would be a big important person one day, and I was so happy.” Says Fanny

“Hello.” I say timidly, unsure of what to say, feeling nothing, feeling nothing like the feeling when I see Violet and Anna, the connection between them, this woman, nothing like me, far uglier than the common nondescript working people, little more than a massive beast, even more insipid than the commoners flavored at the very least with their productivity, a piece of meat, a machine that makes babies. Disgusted with her, disgusted with myself, this monster, this beast as hard on the eyes as she is on the soul; this is what gave birth to me. Humble, hardly human, hardly respectable, I see this, my mother, little more than a beast of burden, like I was fucked out of a farm animal, and that’s where I came from. The thoughts of motherhood, of love, of compassion all lie sickly on the floor of my mind. I am disgusted with my own delusions, appalled with my fantasy of whom or what I might be, of the dreams of my fictitious family. This woman meaning nothing to me, I look her in the eyes and know I have no family, nothing save for the Master. I have no desire to see or interact with this woman, I have nothing but complete aversion, disgust for that which has created me, that which brought me into this world. Stomach turning, revolted, sickened by the entire process of creating humans such as me, such as the commoners, such as her.

“It was a pleasure to meet you.” I say timidly

“Happy?” scoffs George

“Yes…” I say politely, distantly

“I am happy to see you too. I don’t want to hold you from your suit and tie big time business. I know you is real busy. They don’t tell me what you do, but I know it’s important. I just know how to take care of babies and that’s enough for me, I’m happy. I’m happy now that I know you have a good life, that one of my babies is doing good, real good for his self.” Says fanny

“Thank you, I am glad you are doing well. We were just in the neighborhood and thought we could stop by to say hello. Shall we depart?” I ask

“Time is of the essence.” Says George, smirking

“Bye bye, busy boy.” Says Fanny, lovingly

We exit the room.  I think back as to my long dead parents, my real parents, the thought comforts me. My parents were respectable, legitimate, intelligent, skilled, beautiful people; real people; not some godforsaken beast. That creature is not my mother, my family; that is just an animal, an animal slaughtered every day of her life for the meat of live children. My parents are dead.

ColorFriends by Marzipan Maddox (Video Game)

I made this game over  a year ago, and I had some free time so I spent the weekend fixing some bugs. I made it through a game without any fatal errors, so that's good. Hopefully the picture works. It is even more confusing and difficult to play than it looks!

It is a 100% skill based F2P card battle game. Pokemon style strengths weaknesses with not just 1 chart, but 4 charts: 16x16,9x9,5x5, and 3x3. True E-Sport, extremely high skill celling; but also tiny font, ugly and easily too clunky and confusing to be enjoyable. It is free though. I'll post the manual below.

Link
https://drive.google.com/file/d/1YNxIGfQGe25-XOcRH13OOJfSd6LDJcSK/view?usp=sharing

v v Manual v v

Colorfriends Manual
by Marzipan Maddox

I made this game over a year ago (mid 2017), then gave up when I realized I would have to recode the entire thing to include online multiplayer. I have done no programming save for a couple of minor edits in the game over the course of a day. I wrote a book instead because i'm lazy and programming is hard. The game is clunky and ugly, but it is what it is. I'm putting it out there because I'm bored and there's a tiny chance somebody might like it and send me an email. (Marzipanmaddox@gmail.com)

It is a hotseat card game. There is no RNG. It has a color system like pokemon, but there are four sets of colors (color, element, genus, corporeality) instead of just one like in pokemon (type)

*** means important***

Controls - Mouse only

Right Click - Most things; select

Left Click- Deselect; Player 2 End Turn

Middle Click- Attack;

~ ~ ~

Class Types- This is your hero. There is a bonus for each one.

Fighter +25% Card Attack Damage

Wizard +25% Spell Attack Damage

Colorfriend +25% Color Multiplier (Best but hardest to maximize)

Elementalist +25% Element Multiplier

Captain +25% Genus Multiplier

Mayor +12.5% Labor (+12.5% Attack and +12.5% Defense)


~ ~

How to Play

Starting Turn, Player One
Left Click the leftmost Labor box, and then select a labor color, then click ADD. You get labor points based upon what the element roll of that labor color is. Ex: Fire is 2x bonus against water, so Having 1 fire laborer means you can get 2 points of water labor when you spend it, the same applies to 0.5 bonus, etc.

Once you are spending a laborer, your available Labor appears next to the word 'Labor' above your laborers.

 'Up' next to the type of labor point plus signs shows you how much labor points your laborer's labor can give you in that field, if you spend all of your labor. So If you have two labor points, and there is 0.5 up for exchange, that means you spend 2 spendable labors points to gain 0.5 units of playable labor.

To Spend a labor, left click the spend button, then left click the + button next to the labor points you want, they go up by 0.5 to facilitate adding two 1.5 rolls into 3 labor points.


You can get one new laborer each turn. If you want to change your laborer, you can middle click an established laborer to cause it to become empty (bone fish). You can only change a laborer if you have more than one labor.

To Spend a labor, left click the spend button, then left click the + button next to the labor points you want, they go up by 0.5 to facilitate adding two 1.5 rolls into 3 labor points.

To spend multiple labor, this must be done one at a time. After 1st is spent, Right click the BLACK 'spending' button. Once you right click this, you cannot spend that labor again, even if you did not use all of your spendable labor points.

Right click the spent labor (indicated by small green circle in right corner) that is still selected; then you can left click the labor you want to spend, then spend it. Only one labor can be spent at a time, so if multiple are selected (green outline) you cannot spend until only one is selected.

The 1-4 laborers you have determines the color of your hero, so when enemy cards attack your hero, this is what determines the color multiplier. Changing labor colors is beneficial because you can counter the labor colors your opponent has been exploiting you with.

Mayoring Laborers- When you spend 8 Labor points a a Mayor, you can Mayor one Labor and use it again after it has been spent.
(Select a spent labor; left click the RED mayor button to be able to spend it again)

~ ~ ~

Drawing a Card

You can draw two cards per turn. There is no way to look at the board during your draw phase, so try to think of what you want to play before hand or just take a shot in the dark. You can however see available playable labor points that you have acquired next to the colors, correlating with their position on the 4x4 grid.

Click the Red Draw Button. Click 'Card 1' on the right side. **** Click the 'Reset' button next to the 'Card Preview' because otherwise it won't work ****; Left click your desired element, then add it, one click adds one element to a card. Each card can have up to 8 color points total, and 4 different colors. Select your Element; Corporeality; and Genus, then click the add button.

(You cannot create a card without adding at least one color, and selecting the other 3 types)


~ ~ ~ ~

Changing Attack/Defense. You can add attack at the cost of defense and vice versa with the dock menu. This does not change the cost of the card. You must add bonus stats before docking the other to balance it. For card to be valid, it must have '0' next to the word Dock.Then click the small blue ADD button in the dock box to finalize.


Effects - Unit effects add bonus effects to your card. These effects have a dock penalty, meaning you must sacrifice stats to gain these effects. You can only have on effect at a time. Click on the desired effect, click the big red ADD button, then get your dock correct, then click the small blue ADD button in the dock box to finalize

Blitz- (Charge/Storm) Can attack on the turn it is played.

Staunch - This is a taunt/ward; enemy cards cannot attack your hero or your other fighter if you have one of these in play.

Suave- This is known as divine shield in hearthstone. The first source of damage dealt to this fighter will be negated.

Spell Damage - This increases the attack of your spells. This is applied before the spell damage multiplier. (1.5x for direct damage, -1.25x for heal, and 0.5x for Damage all enemies)

Camo - This unit cannot be targeted until it is out of camo, it can be hit by area of effect spells.

Double Strike- This unit can attack twice in the same turn.

Draw- You can draw an extra card. (When you make a card with draw. The draw marker will be consumed once you reach the correct amount of labor spent, if you already have enough labor spent to play the card, then it will disappear when you draw it, but your number of draws (listed next to the draw button) will not have gone down.


Silence- This removes the effects on an enemy's card. To play a silence, you draw your card as normal. You enter 'rally phase', and if you have enough spent playable labor points to play the card, then you cast the silence as if it were a spell by middle-clicking your target.

~ ~ ~

Spells- These do damage or heal.


Spells - Spells are cards played from your hand after you draw them. They have the same requirements to be created and played as fighters do.

To make a spell, create it as if it were a normal unit.
(Click card 1 -> Hit reset button -> add components)

To make a card into a spell, click the Red 'spell' button at the top, it will become yellow, then click the type of spell you want, then click the *SMALL BLUE ADD BUTTON* next to the 'spell' button. The dock and multipliers are applied automatically. (Damage all has a flat -0.5 damage dock, Direct Damage has 1.5x multiplier, heal -1.25x multiplier, and Damage All Enemies has a 0.5x multiplier.

To Cast a Spell in your hand, select the spell with left click, then middle click the target you want to attack

You cannot target heroes with spells.

Tip: Spells don't have any reason to reduce the damage they intake, because they die when they are played regardless of anything. You can take the default points out of fortitude and place them in another category for no loss.


~ ~ ~ ~

Stats - This give bonuses to your multipliers.

Strength- This gives a 1% bonus to raw attack damage per point

Fortitude- This gives a 0.8% reduction to damage intake per point

Luck - This gives a 0.264% bonus to color roll per point

Constitution - This gives a 0.46% bonus to element roll per point

(These % were an attempt to balance. Raw Damage puts out a 1:1 on average, Color rolls put out around 4 on average, and element rolls put out a bit above 2 on average. The damage is reduced after it has been multiplied by color, element, genus, and corp rolls, so that is why it is below 1% reduction. I tried my best to balance this, but it is a lot of numbers to try to balance. Meaning that each point gives roughly the same benefit, but can be applied situationally if you know you have a hot color roll or a hot element roll that you want to maximize.)


Once you have made your card, click the red draw button in the corner to draw it.
~ ~ ~

(Back to battle room.)

Once you have drawn a card. It will appear in your hand, next to your hero. If you have enough points, you can play the card and it will be on your board.

 If you want to cancel that card and draw another one, your draw will be used, but you can cancel by left clicking the Red X, then right clicking to confirm the cancel.


Click on the card to see the stats, and the HP it has. It will also say what effects it has. It will also tell you how much HP it has. (On the left most panel.)

****You need to set the Genus / Element / and Corp of your hero before you can end your turn. Player one cannot attack Player 2 before the end of Player 2's first turn.****

You can change one of your 3 lesser types per turn by middle clicking the one you want to change.

*****
For Player One to end the turn - Left Click
For Player Two to end the turn - right click
*****
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Attacking

Your card must wait a turn to attack because it is sleeping when you play it. (Unless it has blitz)

If your card is not sleeping and you want to attack, select it with left click, then middle click on the card you want to attack or the enemy hero.

Damage and rolls are displayed In the middle box between the two labor sections.
The Damage on the Left is from the attacking card, the damage on the right is from the defending card. (This only works with one on one card attacks, and direct damage and healing spells. It cannot display more than this.)

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

~ ~ ~ ~

Powder - Powder allows you to increase the stats of a fighter you already have, as well as add additional colors to your fighter if you have empty space. Powder deals 50 damage to your own unit. It likes to kill smaller and hurt fighters who can't handle their powder, so watch out.

Powder gives you strength, but not health. It increases your fighter's max health, but does not give you the actual health. You can heal your fighters to full after they take powder though. Powder will deal 50 damage on contact, but if your fighter survives the 50 damage, that 50 damage gets negated. I think... (Ex. Powder used on 50HP guy will kill, on 100HP guy, will leave him at 100/200 HP)


To make Powder: First you need to spend your labor as usual. When the labor is spend. End the spend phase by right clicking the 'spend' button. Then enter the powder phase by left clicking the powder button, it will turn black. In the powder phase, click the '+' button next to the pre-spent labor that you want to turn into powder.

When you have made your powder. Left click the powder, then middle click on your fighter that you want to give the powder.

***you cannot be in spend phase and powder phase at the same time*** ; if you cannot enter spend phase, check to see if your powder button is black, then right click it. Otherwise, you might have two or more laborers selected when trying to enter spend phase.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~



HELP!

"I can't end my turn" - Check to see if you have at least one labor color; check to see if you have assigned genus/element/corp to your hero (No bone fish). If you are player two, right click the 'end turn' button instead of left turn.

"I can't spend my laborer" - Check to see if you have multiple laborers selected. Only one can be selected when you enter the spend phase. If your spend button is black, this means you are in the spend phase, and you cannot enter another spend phase for another laborer until you have completed this one by right clicking it.

"What are the controls?" - The controls are only mouse buttons. Right click is select your card, middle click to attack and cast spells.

"I don't understand the game"- I also cannot understand how to even begin to formulate a strategy, I only know that these strategies do exist, but I am not very good at this sort of thing.

Tips for being better. - Memorize the Easier charts first. Corporeal is a 3x3 chart, Genus is a 5x5 chart; they both are cyclical, so it should be easier to remember. Element and Color are 9x9 and 16x16 charts with no particular order, I can't help you there, but remember that this is a skill based game, so it requires a particular set of skills to be very good at it.

"There was a fatal error"- I'm sure there are likely plenty of fatal errors to be had, and plenty of things that don't work as intended. I am just one person who taught myself programming to the small extent it takes to make this game (This is my first game and I have programmed basically nothing before this, maybe a couple copy/paste exercises to learn python which i never did.) Email me at marzipanmaddox@gmail.com and I can try to resolve the bug, I can't say that I actually can do this

"The numbers were wrong" - Well, there's a lot of numbers, and I tried my best to get them right. If that does happen, let's just write that off as "skill based" knowing the disparities between the alleged results and the results produced by the program.

"How do you play online?" - I have no idea. I looked up how to make a game online with this program (gamemaker), and I did not understand it very well, and I have no idea how i would even start to test my coding. (With the hotseat version I can test it against myself, but idk how any of the testing would work in an online mode.) Maybe try to host a virtual machine with this program installed, and then run the program, but allow two people to control the mouse. (Something like how Tech Support can take control of your computer remotely) I don't know how to do that, but that is my best guess.

"How do I run on a Mac" - I don't know. Try wineskin. That might work.

"Do you have any plans for this game?" - No, I doubt anyone will play it. If anyone tries it, I think it will be too hard and seemingly nonsensical for anyone to really enjoy. My original thought was to make it as a smug riposte to the word "e-sport" which often times involves some degree of luck, at least in regards to card games. I don't know the scale of difficulty of this game, but I'm sure it is very high, and so making a very difficult entirely skill based "e-sport" (not that anyone will play it), was my intent. I learned enough to make this game in this form, but learning a new language or online skills is not something I really have time for right now, and I tend to get frustrated easily and that doesn't help if I seek to accomplish something big and new like that.

If you have any other quesitons, email me and I can try to answer them.
Marzipanmaddox@gmail.com



~ ~ ~ ~

About the game.

Colorfriends stemmed from an insane idea. An open world RTS RPG full of a combat system like this, but no limit on the number of colors per card, every card could have a full set of armor also made of colors, all sorts of spells, buildings, everything imaginable, 3d building, different dimensions, because I liked imagining that sort of thing. Harvesting your resources with your laborers to build your things and make your units. Massive battles with hundreds and thousands of colorful fighters running at each other.

Needless to say that is insanely complex, and I was able to think of this alternative. I like online card games, but they have RNG like drawing well or not. I thought I would make a card game that didn't have any RNG using some parts of the system that I had originally designed for the Insane Game like the color, element, and that sort of thing being the major factors, similar to pokemon, but much larger in scale.

I made this game about a year and a half ago. Mid-2017, probably spring to late summer. Then I gave up when I realized I couldn't put it online. Then I wrote a book. Then after that I thought it would be fun to look at this game, I thought about creating a single player version like a final fantasy RPG, and then I realized that would be way harder than I was prepared to undertake, so instead I just went through this version of the game over a few days, fixing bugs, and trying to get things to work as intended, because most of it was already designed, there were just a few bugs. I forgot what I did exaclty, but I put in 8 or so hours on it over 2 days over the weekend. It is fun, but only because I'm sitting there polishing this something that is already done and feeling proud of myself; if I had to start over, I don't know if i have that capactiy, and I don't really have that much time, considering that more adventurous projects are likely way harder, and that means a lot more learning and practice.

~ ~ ~ ~

Credits

Sprites - Dungeon Crawl Stone Soup
Color and Element Icons - Lorc (Lorc RPG Icons) (I colored them)
Buttons - Me =)
Programming - Me; also Game Maker for making programming simpler and more organized than other languages, make fun of me if you want for using this, but I don't care, I'm lazy and I wanted to make a game far more than I wanted to learn programming.

Bugs - Me =(  --- I did what I could... feel like doing? I gave it an earnest effort, but I'm not tearing the game up and down looking for bugs.

Copyright info

I'm not a lawyer, but i did write the code and designed the battle charts for whatever that's worth. I doubt anyone wants to infringe upon an unplayably confusing system, so take some advice from me, and infringe upon copyrights that are successful and that people actually enjoy. I'm not making any money, so if you can get people to play a game like this, maybe a simpler game, that would be awesome. This is basically just a riposte of E-Sports, showing what a truly skill based card game would look like. I'm not good for being "fun and enjoyable" i'm good for being a pretentious ass, hence why my game is so convoluted, confusing, and frustrating.

Go fuck myself? Don't mind if I do.

The whole world is a circlejerk. You devote your life trying to convince countless people to let you jerk them off in the hopes that they might half-assedly return the favor or pay you. I'm just here getting myself off every day and I couldn't be happier. I'm poor, but i'm not going to devote my life to trying to climb the endless ladder of dicks that is success. Miss me with that gay shit.

Here is my epub book for free

https://drive.google.com/file/d/1MFkFtLLzndX0O5Npru_zgaDoPxo7V8mv/view?usp=sharing

I gave up on trying to sell my book. You can have it for free. I don't know how to compete with the peddlers and how to jump through the damn hoops so people will find my book, so if anyone even reads my book, or even just a part of it, that would likely be better than anything I will get on Amazon. They wanted to charge me just to give away a few copies of the damn book for free, which is ridiculous. Pay 27 dollars so 5 people can download the book for free, that's fucking ridiculous. Google will let anyone download my book for free, as many people as want to I presume. The free epub from Calibre might not be as good as the one from the amazon program, but it looked fine to me. Amazon would probably take down my book if anyone read it because their censors caught wind that somebody got offended, so grab it while you can. I don't think google is that sensitive, thankfully. I don't fuck with this capitalism shit, I do menial labor for simple money, I don't have any capacity to shill things on the internet. I had fun writing the book, I had fun editing and reading the book, it took one day of trying to publish the damn book before I got frustrated and said 'fuck it'. Oh well, I don't really give a fuck.

The Link to My Book

Here is a link to my book. Amazon suggested I charge $5.49 for the book, but I doubt anyone will buy it.

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07MBBTG53

It is very long.  2468 pages according to Amazon. I have been told that you can read the first 10% of those pages, 247 of them for free in the preview. If you still don't know if you want the book, then you can email me. Guess my email, it's my name (oneword) at gmail.com, then send me a letter and I will send you a copy for free.

The book is in 3 parts.
Part 1 -Story
Part 2- Philosophical Dialogue
Part 3- Conclusion of story

Hello

I am an author. I'm not good with computers, but this is my attempt to establish some sort of residency on the internet. I will attempt to post things relevant to the book on here shortly.