Mizal, The Grandmaster Procrastinator

Member Since

5/5/2011

Last Activity

2/6/2025 11:10 AM

EXP Points

6,469

Post Count

22937

Storygame Count

10

Duel Stats

3 wins / 13 losses

Order

Lauded Sage Exemplar

Commendations

916
Behold my profile.
There's, uh, nothing here right now. Someday I should probably find a balance between the old text wall, and...this. (she drew my avatar you know!)

Trophies Earned

Earning 100 Points Earning 500 Points Earning 1,000 Points Earning 2,000 Points Earning 5,000 Points Thorough and consistent writing workshop contributions / excellent commenting. Having 1 Storygame(s) Featured Posting 22935 Forum Posts Given by BerkaZerka on 11/10/2017 - Forum and Site Contributions Not Unnoticed Given by EndMaster on 11/30/2017 - It's everything you've always wanted! Given by Gower on 03/24/2021 - "I never want to see anyone, and I never want to go anywhere or do anything.  I just want to write." - P.G. Wodehouse Given by JJJ-thebanisher on 08/14/2019 - For excellent writing, keeping the site together and generally being an excellent presence Given by Killa_Robot on 08/15/2019 - For being a net positive to the site, even while helping idiots Given by madglee on 02/16/2022 - For all your contributions to CYS Given by MadHattersDaughter on 03/11/2021 - To my BFF and our hardest working admin. Sorry about, well, you know. . . Given by mizal on 08/15/2019 - MUHAHAHAHAHA! *strokes fluffy white cat* I always knew this day would come. Given by ninjapitka on 10/22/2022 - Truly a dead site without you Given by Will11 on 01/14/2018 - For Inseperable and your other great stories

Storygames

>DEVOTION
You harvest in the Arena. Every machine needs a function, and that is yours. Written for the Tiny 'Topia challenge.

A Stack of Cats
You are a man on a mission. The cats, they must be stacked.

A puzzling math and logic game I made just to put some of the scripting practice I've been doing to use. Have fun and please let me know if you encounter any bugs.

Should be solvable by middle schoolers, or those with same basic level of intelligence as a middle schooler.

Agent of Order
Orbiting a barren planetoid in a system full of nothing just past the edge of the frontier, The Last Outpost is just another refueling station. Strategically important, true, but on a routine stop you never expected to spend longer than a couple hours there, let alone a couple of days fighting for your life...

There are five epilogues, but some may be difficult to discover. Note that actions have consequences, but not always immediate ones. (And if you just need an End Game link, go play around with the probe.)

Facts About the Planet and the Solar System
A compilation of some little known facts about the solar system, as well as the debunking of a few myths.

In addition to the scientific explanations, there's a small story dramatizing it all.

Hopefully young readers will find this fun as well as educational. :)

(Might not be the greatest story ever written, but consider this: it got me 200 points.)

Featured Story Inseparable
It doesn't matter what they say...

Jack the Bean Counter
The bean, it must be found. For MHD's Fairytales contest.

Love is for the Birds
...and the squirrels. Sort of.



Written in six hours, for no other reason than to avoid consignment to the SHAME pit after my other Romance contest entry didn't want to cooperate.

Now You Gotta Deal With This S***

A tale told in verse. A text from your sister requesting a pick up from a party leads to a night of strangeness.

Inspired by Bucky's ballad contest. Though...I wouldn't call this a ballad. I'm not sure what I'd call it, actually, other than exceedingly stupid, and fun to write.

(Don't pay any attention to the scores, they're just for me to track which endings reviewers get.)


Read My Stories or Die!

HATE.

THE PURITY AND INTENSITY OF MY HATE IS LIKE A THOUSAND MERCILESS, UNQUENCHABLE SUNS.

AND YET, I ONLY NEED ONE...


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


Silver Horn, Silver Hooves
When the weather is fine, you've been coming to this grove to drink from the pool for centuries now. Today, you meet a stranger and hear a story that changes all that...



A fairy tale adventure.



Another Damn Wolf Story
unpublished
I have no idea why I wrote this. All I can say in my defense is that it seemed like a good idea at the ti--wait no that's a lie, I said, repeatedly that this was stupid and shameful every time I mentioned working on it.

The truth is I needed to publish something before the end of the year and there is CLEARLY a burning need for wolf stories in the psyche of children using the internet. But then they write them badly, or make their wolves behave like clans of cats. So here is a simple straightfoward story of a young wolf leaving his pack in search of a better life. Maybe no one will ever feel the need to write another one now, or if nothing else maybe this will give them ideas for how to do it in slightly more minimum-standards-meeting ways.

Final conclusion however is that writing about some dumb animal with no agency is not something I'd recommend.

Character Creator
unpublished

If you don't know what this is for, then it isn't for you.


Don't Get Date Raped!
unpublished
A short, educational piece. Please remain sensitive and respectful in the comment section. (I'd hate to have to report you to an admin for bullying me.)

(DO NOT READ if you're at all easily offended or lacking in a sense of humor. There's nothing graphic at all in here, but seriously, I still cannot stress it enough, this story is not for you.)

WOWSERS! Triggers ahead!


Dedicated to the good people of COG.

Articles Written

A List of Storygames for People Who Like to Read
A list of storygames with substantial effort put in, all written in the last couple of years and sorely in need of ratings and reviews.

CYS Forum Advice and Etiquette
A modernized guide to the forums. The path to internet popularity and happiness, and a few CYS specific do's and don'ts.

Recent Posts

dead link on 2/6/2025 8:50:46 AM
Wardens lol

Writing Resource Links on 2/6/2025 8:41:53 AM
I'm going to add to the suggestions here the Obsidian app which I saw recommended elsewhere. It seems like it has a lot of features which I haven't messed with much yet, but it's meant for organizing a large project. It seems to excel at grouping together notes or other media in customizeable ways.

Of particular interest to peeps here though may be the "canvas view" which lets you create and drag items around or group them however to do the mind mapping thing, and it's essentially a free writing app besides all that.

Random example of the canvas view off their site:


Thunderdome: the gay one on 2/5/2025 10:32:59 PM
It was a prompt that was almost completely gay-proof! I'm proud of it. I have a suspicion that "ventilator" there refers to one of the other meanings of the word, but I feel like it might give something away to discuss why right now.

Thunderdome: the gay one on 2/4/2025 10:54:08 PM
Vote here: (If you're gay)

Thunderdome: the gay one on 2/4/2025 10:53:38 PM
Story B: Only the ventilator and the old grandfather clock could witness how my dear wife tore out my heart. You see, I wish I weren't the victim of love, but I wouldn't have it either way. Since it was our anniversary, I begged my boss to leave an hour earlier at my construction job. A small smile crept up my lips when I thought back to my colleagues widening their eyes with envy when my wife brought my lunch to work. A wife, a house, and in the future perhaps a child and a dog, the penultimate American dream. The sun still hung high in the sky when I marched to our house in the suburbs. I wiped the sweat off my brow while I held the gas station sunflowers in my other arm. The sparrows high up in the tree didn't even cry in the midst of the Arizona heat. My entire body ached once a wave of cooled air from the living room brushed against my skin. A low thrum throbbed in my temples which was worsened due to the rattling ventilator set on its highest setting. My fingers slid across the kitchen table. Dust, crumbs, and a slather of jam this morning. I frowned. In this fatigued haze, I stumbled onto my wife who was just lounging on the sofa sipping on a Piña Colada while scrolling on her phone. It was supposed to be cleaning day. I dropped the flowers on the table. Its cheap plastic wrapping rustled. She looked at the dried-out sunflowers and then at her phone in her hands. With one ear-deafening click the screen turned black. I raised my brows and took one long look at her. The last few times I was this early, she did the same thing. It had become quite a curious pattern. "You're early." She said. All color was drained from her face. Lines of guilt were etched on her tightly pursed lips. After five years of marriage, did she really think that she could hide anything from me? ''Could you hand me the phone, please?" I said in a playful tone. ''Honey, there's really not that much to see. It's also our anniversary, right? I was just about to prepare something special.'' I took one deep breath. A patient man, that was what all of my colleagues called me. I was the last person who would lose their cool if a client delayed their payment or if one of our suppliers was running late again. If one of them had to deal with my wife, things would have escalated a long time ago. Did she think that I possessed no eyes? I rubbed the thick coat of dust off my fingers, flicking it to the floor when it formed a tightly pressed ball. ''Just show me the phone.'' The old grandfather clock. The hands moved, always with a soft click to announce every passing second. One. She slowly shook her head. Slowly I made my way to the sofa, watching if she would for once act like an adult. It would spare us both the trouble. Two. Of course, she tried making me feel guilty by unleashing some crocodile tears. My wife did have the propensity to lie like that. Most of the time, I gave in to her wishes. I'm a patient man after all, but patience is a finite resource. Three. I stretched out my hand and held down my breath. The sputtering of the ventilator didn't soften the loud ring of the grandfather clock. Its largest hand trembled slightly but ended up on the number 5. A sigh of relief escaped my lips once I felt the warm screen pressed on the palm of my hand. I quickly typed in her password and immediately clicked on her search history. At first, it was nothing out of the ordinary. Piña Coladas, cruises, Europe. She did constantly bring up Greece for weeks on end last year even though we both agreed that it was kind of a waste of time and money that could be spent on the car and the garage. In regular circumstances, I would’ve let it go. However, that gnawing feeling in my stomach couldn't be satiated with only half-hearted measures. The heavy thrum in my temples made me want to claw out my insides and search for any way to eradicate that itch. It took one tap and another password to unlock all her messages. ''Please.'' She said while her bottom lip trembled. ''Didn't you promise me that you wouldn't look at my phone? I don't like it when you do that.'' I rolled my eyes. There she went at it again with her therapy speak. Ever since I got us to go to a relationship counselor, she had been weaponizing these kinds of words against me. ''You have nothing to hide right?'' I said. ''Aren't relationships supposed to be based upon honesty and transparency?'' As I took one glance at her messages, my fingertips tingled as if they had been doused by ice water. That one name, the name that sometimes would torture me in my dreams. ''Who's Thomas?'' ''Give it back.'' I held her phone high up in the air so that it was out of her reach. My eyes flitted through the endless stream of texts. It had been going on for at least half a year. ''You've lied so much to him that it's incredible. How often have you opened your legs for him in order for him to play along with your delusions?'' I shook my head. My blood ran cold just by this mere thought. ''Me abusing you and now you are contacting a women's shelter? Don't you realize you're clogging up space for people who actually deserve it? How would your mother think if she heard that you're a filthy liar?'' Before I knew it, she lunged at me with a ferociousness I had never seen before. She threw her entire weight into it, knocking all air out of my lungs. As I stumbled onto the old grandfather clock, her nails carved deep marks onto my arms. She clawed at me, did everything to get that phone, and even knocked my head against the glass. Just as she was about to brush her fingertips against the screen, I threw that godforsaken devil's possession on the ventilator with all my strength. One. Two. Three. The hands of the clock kept marching onwards. One. Two. Three. A long howling wail that soon morphed into a scream erupted from her throat. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to quiet that throbbing ache in my head. She knew that I loathed her when she yelled at me like that and yet she did it anyway without any consideration and yet she never stopped to make sure I wasn't hurt and yet she just ran towards the phone as if it was her child. One. Two. Three. Nine. One. One. Both sounds slammed against each other and merged to create a monstrous cacophony. They tore into my flesh, into every fiber of my being. I had to protect myself. I had to. I had to do this to escape this nightmare she put me through. She forced my hand. I put all my weight on her, holding her down. Both my hands held tight to her wrists so that she couldn't move. ''Get the fuck off me.'' She shrieked. ''Just, just shut up for once.'' I gnashed my teeth. ''It was our anniversary, but you just had to ruin it. You're so ungrateful. I even brought your favorite flowers.'' She gave me the greatest look as if my heartfelt gesture hadn't gotten through her numb skull. A scoff, then a sneer, and lastly the vilest look a woman could ever give. ''From the fucking gas station, gas station flowers.'' I punched her face. Once. I punched her just so that she would shut up for once. Twice. I punched her so hard that my knuckles ached. Thrice. Blood. I blinked. Slowly I raised my trembling hands. The sputters of a dying fan, the ticking of the hands of the clock, even the buzzing of a housefly. I could hear it again. The reddened skin of my knuckles throbbed and felt warm to the touch. Blood. It was all smeared onto the back of my hand. It wasn't mine. Then I looked down. Her perfect little whip nose was all crooked, bent into all strange shapes and turns. Blood seeped out one of her nostrils. ''Please, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I won't do it again.'' She whimpered. I gently brushed away any stray strands of hair from her face. She slightly flinched when I carefully placed both my hands on her cheeks. Her forehead and her right eye were already forming a deep bruise. ''Hush, It's okay.'' I wound my arms around her, hugging her tightly. ''This will never happen ever again, I shouldn't have done that. It was a spur-in-the-moment-thing. I'll make it up to you, okay?'' If I ever let go of her, she would disappear on me and turn into nothing more than a figment of the imagination. After all the things I’d done for love, I couldn't lose her. My wife, she was intrinsically tied to my dream and without it, I'd be no one, nothing, not even worth any consideration. Truly unfair, wasn't it? She wielded over so much power and I was a mere victim of love. ''You wanted to go to Greece, right? We can do that. I'll buy plane tickets tomorrow. I'll take some days off work and then within two weeks we'll be drinking Piña Coladas on the beach.'' ''I don't know, I honestly don't know.'' ''I can even go to that therapist you were recommending, anything you want. I know that I have like anxiety problems and depression or something, but look, I'm ready to fix them now.'' ''You said that last time too.'' Her words were so softly spoken that they were just mere whispers. Her demure demeanor reminded me of how we first met. She was in her sophomore year in high school and I had just finished college. When I asked her out, she was so shy that she could only nod back a 'yes'. ''This time I mean it. So please believe me.'' I looked straight at her, placing my hands on both her shoulders. She averted her eyes. They flitted to the floor and then at the phone with the cracked screen. A few hours later, two policemen came knocking on the door. I welcomed them in with a polite smile while my wife made some tea for them. They both looked carefully at the spotless clean furniture including the kitchen table. Then one of them studied my wife's face. She’d covered any blemishes with some makeup, just as I'd requested. ''I heard from the phone that there was some fight going on?'' One of them mumbled. Just as my wife was about to open her mouth, I jumped in to fill in for her. ''It was just a small spat. My wife just has been diagnosed with anxiety and depression with psychosis. She'd just had one of her episodes, so I had to calm her down. She even threw her phone at me.'' I gave them a nervous chuckle before showing them the scratch marks on my arms. ''Please, I know that she needs help, but I don't think that any more of all this stuff would do her mental health any good. Can we perhaps drop these charges?'' The police backed off easier than expected. They nodded, patting my back in understanding before taking their leave. Still, it was quite a hassle to think up a good story. Nevertheless, I would do anything for my wife. You see, I wish I wasn't the victim of love, but I wouldn't have it either way.

Thunderdome: the gay one on 2/4/2025 10:49:23 PM
Story A John just couldn’t take it anymore. Every day was the same bland purgatory to him. He woke up, and off he went to work where he spent eight hours punching numbers into a calculator for some snooty client while watching his younger coworkers move up the latter by schmoozing up to his boss. He then came home to subtle yet barbed comments from his wife, ate a bland dinner that he would pick at, wishing for something different. Then he would go to bed with nothing more than a terse good night. His wife, Angie, and himself hadn’t been getting along for the last few years. Everyone thought they were a happy couple because they never argued. John wished they would argue. That either of them cared enough about the other to argue. But it was always just pointed comments, followed by a pursing of the lips and silence. Until one morning that changed everything. He had the same routine before work every morning. Wake up, get the paper, pour himself a cup of coffee, eat breakfast, then go to work without even a kiss or a “Have a good day!” from Angie. He had given up trying to get her attention a long time ago. But today, when he opened the newspaper, an excerpt from the personal columns caught his eye. "To my future fellow traveler, I like piña coladas and long walks on the beach, followed by a night of cuddling together on the dunes in intellectual conversation over a bottle of champagne. While I would think of myself as being fit, I'm not very active so don't expect me to start taking up a Pilates class or a diet to "trim my figure." I want someone who sees me as an equal to travel the world with, not a trophy. If this sounds like your type of woman, write a letter to me through here, and I'd love to meet with you and plan our escape to new horizons! Love, Your Eager Petitioner The entire day, he couldn't get that letter out of his head. The idea of escaping the emotionless void his life had become, laying on a beach somewhere deep in conversation was just so foreign and unusual that it appealed to a part of him that he had thought long buried. Returning from work, he sat down for dinner, and when his wife sat at the table across from him, he asked her: "Hey, Angie?" John asked. "Hmm?" Angie asked, her face expressing disinterest as she looked up at him between bites of food, "Have you ever thought about traveling?" Her face immediately became guarded. "Traveling? To where exactly?" "I don't know. Anywhere really, just somewhere different, you know? Like a beach, or a cruise, or something..." he trailed off as her lips pursed and she looked at him with narrowed eyes. "We don't have the money to travel anywhere except the grocery store, John. Has your job given you a raise?" "Well, no," John admitted sheepishly. "It was only a thought..." Angie stood up and began clearing the plates away to signal the end of the discussion. That was fine with John. He wasn't hungry anymore. After the two of them had gone to bed with nothing more than a terse "good night" to each other, John lay awake, listening fo Angie's snores and wondering: Did he love her? Surely he did. He remembered when they had met at a bar in their early 20s, both attending the local college for different degrees. He was studying finance to get his CPA, she was in art design to become a fashion designer. He had walked up to her friend and offered to buy her a drink, only for the girl to laugh in his face and call her boyfriend over. As he left shamefaced, Angie had followed after him and tapped him on the shoulder, telling him she liked a bar down the street called O'Malley's. A few drinks later, he knew he had to see her again. With a pang, John remembered those years when the two of them looked at every second they didn't spend in each other's presence as a moment wasted. But then John remained an entry-level accountant, never getting a raise or a promotion while watching countless others pass him by. The job that he had thought would bring him financial security was now his prison. Angie had gotten her degree, but after being continually rejected due to being 'bland and unoriginal,' she now had to work part time planning and decorating special events like birthday parties and anniversary celebrations. Her best paying job had been painting a senior citizens home in a desperate bid by staff to lower the suicide rate. In time, this discontentment and frustration had bled into their personal lives, and the spark that had once been there had fizzled out. As John sifted through his memories, he realized that over the years, him and Angie had gone from being madly in love to being strangers in their own home. He missed the days where he had someone to talk to and actually enjoy life with. The strange woman's letter appeared in his mind's eye. The idea of an escape sounded like just what he needed to feel alive again. It wasn't like he was going to run away to Jamaica with this girl. He would meet with her, talk to her for a few hours, maybe make arrangements for a second meeting. That wasn't cheating, after all. He was allowed to have friends, right? With an uncomfortable pang, he realized he didn't have any friends. Between Angie and his job, he had lost contact with all his old friends years ago. Making up his mind, he got out of bed, padded down the stairs, and dug this morning's paper out of the trash. Once he had read the information as to where he could send his own personal ad, he began to write: Dear Eager Petitioner, I also enjoy piña coladas and long walks on the beach. I haven't seen the ocean in a long time, and it calls to me just like your letter did. I'm not really a big fan of healthy food myself, and I'm certainly not one to judge your body type. I do enjoy interesting conversation over a good bottle of champagne in a bucket of ice. There's a bar called O'Malley's on High and Third Street. It has a nice ambivalence, and the drinks are incredible. Would you be interested in meeting me there for dinner this Friday at half past four? I'll be sitting in the back booth, waiting with a couple of piña coladas. I hope we can have a great time, and enjoy a brief escape from the rest of the world. Sincerely, Your Fellow Traveler As John sealed the letter inside an envelope, he felt a fresh pang of guilt at the thought of meeting this woman at the bar he had taken his wife to when they first met. But that was ridiculous. Right? After all, it wasn't like that bar was sacred ground. They hadn't been there in years. And really, what was the harm in getting a couple drinks with someone? It was no different than going out with his coworkers, he reasoned. Granted, he never went out with his coworkers, or at all. But that was going to change. And if he changed his mind or didn't enjoy himself, it was only a random woman in a newspaper ad. It wasn't as though Angie would ever find out about any of this. Feeling better, he went outside and dropped the letter in the mailbox. That Friday, at 6 in the evening, John was sitting at a back booth in O'Malley's Bar, wondering why he had ever thought of such a stupid idea. The warm piña coladas sat before him, untouched since the bartender had brought them over two hours ago. Shaking his head at how stupid and impulsive he had been, he got his coat and left the bar. As he stepped outside, he bumped into a woman entering. "Sorry, miss." he mumbled. Then he took a good look at the woman. "Angie?!" Sweat began to run down his palms and the back of his neck. Angie stared at him like a doe in the headlights. "John? What... what are you doing here?" John decided right then there was no point in hiding it. He couldn't go another day without saying something. With his head lowered, and a note of shame creeping into his voice, he explained to her the letter, the fact that he was supposed to meet another woman and got stood up, and his reasons for doing so. He looked up. Angie stared at him for several long seconds, her head tilted as she gazed at him. And then, without warning, she burst into laughter, doubling over as patrons looked at her in surprise as they walked in and out of O'Malley's. "You're not mad?" John asked quizzically. "How..." Angie gasped for air, trying to compose herself. "How could I be mad at you for doing the same thing I was doing, you massive idiot?" She burst into another peal of laughter. "I was the one who put out that personal ad, trying to meet somebody. I'm your eager petitioner!" Despite himself, John felt a twinge of anger bubble up. "You were looking around? Why would you do that?" At this, Angie cocked an eyebrow. "I don't know, John? Maybe for the same reasons you did?" "Fair enough." John mumbled, slightly embarrassed. With a moment of silence, the two of them looked at each other. "So... what now?" Angie asked. John observed her for another moment, and for the first time since he could remember, she looked just like she did the day she tapped him on his shoulder and asked him to buy her a drink. John smiled. "Well, I do have a couple of piña coladas just laying around. It would be a shame to let them go to waste. Maybe we could have dinner here over a bottle of champagne?" The smile that lit up across Angie's face was radiant and playful. "Why, John! I never took you for a man of culture. You actually like piña coladas? We never tried them together before." "There's a lot of things we haven't tried together, Angie." John replied. "I'd like to change that, if you're with me." Angie offered her hand. "Always." John took it. Two years later "So how are you finding your promotion, John?" Angie asked as she snuggled up against him, the two of them lying on the warm sand as they watched the sun gleam over the horizon. "Being the head accountant of Sullivan's Travel Agency's finances has its' perks," John chuckled. "I guess I should be happy that their most successful travel agent stormed right into my boss's office and made it clear that he'd only be retaining their business if I was the one handling it." "Well, of course they did." Angie smirked playfully. "You are the best after all." John rolled his eyes good-naturedly. "The fact that the agent was my wife had nothing to do with it?" Angie pouted. "Perish the thought!" They both laughed. One thing that made Angie's new job as a travel agent worthwhile, besides John's immediate jump up the corporate ladder, was the fact that every year, the two of them got a week-long vacation package to almost anywhere in the world. As the sun set over the horizon, turning the ocean into a fiery red that matched the sky, the two of them expressed their love in a more physical way, hidden among the dunes. John had to admit that as long as the two of them were fellow travelers, he would be happy wherever he was.

Thunderdome: the gay one on 2/4/2025 10:48:27 PM
It was shameful what had occurred, and it hadn't been kept as quiet as the organizers would have liked. There sure was a crowd gathered today, but not to watch the usual match; no, due to these trying economic times, the 'Dome had been rented out to the makers of a gay porno. Two of the actors showed up in leather pants and gimp masks. They kept looking up uncomfortably at their uninvited audience, and then across at the clock. It was clear they were waiting for someone, and minutes stretched into nearly an hour before the director swore and gestured them over into a huddle with the cameramen. JUST THEN, a siren sounded, and police kicked down the door while helicoptors shone lights from overhead, one of the cops announcing through a megaphone, "STOP RIGHT THERE!" "Oh, did someone order male strippers?" an audience member asked excitedly before being tasered in the balls. "This is America, scumbags! There is no gay allowed!" Screams erupted from the crowd and they all begain mincing in panicked circles. While the director thought fast. "This isn't a gay orgy, I swear! These guys are, uh, contestants! In a writing duel!" He hurriedly waved for one of his assistants to start some...battle music? width="560" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/FXG_I_tf_i4?si=ZldcqHe-BlkGwTF_" title="YouTube video player" frameborder="0" allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture; web-share" referrerpolicy="strict-origin-when-cross-origin" allowfullscreen=""> The two masked men gazed at each other across the arena, and their eyes locked. It was time for some improv. They had never before had to pretend to be straight.

What Games are YOU Playing in 2025? on 2/4/2025 10:00:22 PM
I had this sudden urge to play Battle Brothers again but I WILL NOT until after I make this post.

Secret Santa 2024: Results, Part II on 2/4/2025 9:01:48 PM
I personally swam to the UK and rescued her from the basement she was locked in, yw. Looking back earlier in the thread, looks like you were suspecting Ben then too.

What Games are YOU Playing in 2025? on 2/4/2025 4:26:31 PM
I'd like to play, but it seems intent on steadily consuming all remaining space on my phone. I haven't uninstalled it or anything but there was another of those 3gb updates and I've just drawn the line there for awhile.