The Fifth: Pace of Life

In it's deluge, they who are born swim in the sea of life. It's pace ever speeding but never limitless, it prays for those who like to be absorbed in its swash. Sometimes not noticing the way of the currents, the tides go back and forth, pressing against the States and Japan as each wave turns a new sign of change in the world's progression.

Seemingly still yet with a presence of growth, these changes sneak up unawares on individuals in their time. it strikes as a venom, spreading through the body and joints in a paralysing fashion, chilling those infected to the spot. Not without the want for someone to come save them, unable to progress to the next stage.

It can't be stopped but there is joy in the madness. Albeit fleeting and sometimes hard to grasp, life's little pleasures are things we can take for ourselves. From that simple enjoyable meal or a new dress shirt to an interesting game, CD or DVD, they who find value within the simple things in life can appreciate on their unstoppable journey that which is joyful to hold.

Appreciate both sides of life. We each have only one, for all their ups and downs. Take from it what you will, it's yours.

Please kindly await The Sixth.

The Fourth: Shifting of stuff

Moving around, evocative tones. The ability to have everything and yet nothing, allowing for variety and an exchange of ideas. The want for more and yet trying to balance it with less. How does an individual make it so?

Is there ever too much or can it be too little? Ever progressing and speeding technology, allowing for more to happen quickly. Dare to keep up, or catch a Cafe Nero and chill? Aim for the stars or just get by?

Having possessions helps keep us happy. Whether by necessity or sheer promotion, the accruing of stuff is something that can be great whilst overwhelming. Will we move purely towards a digital age or are we forever going to hang among mountains of materials and physical goods?

I leave the end decision on that, to the readers...

MVC3 Impressions

Courtesy of my kind friends (thank you Zee) I managed to give the latest in the stunning crossover of two fictional worlds a spin with Marvel vs.Capcom 3: Fate of Two Worlds.

The fighter will throw off any fan of the genre to begin with. In efforts to keep matches swift, characters carry less vitality meaning they can be flawed easier from only 3-4 decent combos. Also, the in-game X-Factor (activated by pressing all four main attack buttons) allows for hefty power and speed boosts, bringing any former sense of game balance right down to zero.

The latest iteration is a heap of fun though. The roster is varied with the likes of Resident Evil's Wesker, DMC's Dante and Bionic Commando's Spencer alongside the likes of Marvel's X-23, Phoenix and Deadpool.

The game remains user-friendly enough to allow beginners to give their best whilst higher-level players can show off their combo ability and skills in the heat of battle. MvC3 doesn't hide its beauty, the music and sound effects reminiscent of previous iterations in the franchise from Ryu's trademark theme to varied tracks for new entrants.

Among the modes on offer include Arcade, Versus, Training, Mission Mode and Online for players to face off against each other as they duke it out. News of future costumes and characters (Jill Valentine and Shuma Gorath have already been announced) via DLC are also highly anticipated.

MvC3 is worth checking out after the ten year wait. Seasoned players may be initially surprised at the changes but once they become accustomed to what has been altered they will get used to most of the adjustments.

The Third: Eyes Always Open

Hodi's lack of sleep is his main driver, providing him with the means to drive on regardless of whatever comes to hit him. Dishevelled and coarse, peaking through puffy eyes that hold nothing back. Relishes the good old days when things were more exciting and happening, the people he knew were all on their way to different goals and ventures.

Waking in the morning, or is that the evening? Being alert and responsive to the world around you, wanting to participate in its ongoing flow, knowing that it paces on ahead of you as you wake with each day. The knowledge of what is held before like that written in a book, providing details on not only what is to come but what may happen.

Is it the daytime, or is it the evening? The days just seem to be a blur. Irregular hours and a shifting format present a new way of living, that of day to day, week to week. They who enter a sweet slumber are fortunate enough to capture some downtime. Everyone else just keeps on rolling to the best of their ability.

Caffeine is ever a friend as a stimulant for continued work and growth. It keeps the head alert and makes once dozy minds perk up, allowing for progress and diligence to persevere in the toughest of times. That which can stretch man beyond his recognised limitations, further than that which he accepts and recognises.

Eyes always open. Peering out and straight to the world. Know there is no end as you gaze upon that which lies out in front of you. Always with open eyes.

DANCING STYLE

The spinning of feet upon the floor. The journeying of man through the whirlwind. His feet and hands entwined in the air, creating room for changing twists. Sending himself through the motions, bringing his body down into a shape, he moves and contorts like a snake, writhing like seeking its next feed.

The music plays out like any regular ritual, always proud and present in its execution. He sees the ability to bring life to his creation, making him causeworthy and able to step forth in the crowd.It fills him with joy, hardship and somewhat sorrow as he recognises the path and makes it become something substantial. The time and ability to reocognise his purpose, it reaches out and bellows his name.

The major call of purpose and identifying that particular move. Defining it and seizing the moment. There is no wrong in its presence or captivation. It is always there, ascertainable through perseverance and hindsight. Working towards a greater goal, its realisation something that can be chewed upon.

Develop up a dancing style. Come and show it all the while. Stand by the sidelines and feel somewhat woozy. Let those who are able put forward their best moves, bringing it down and representing for the night.

Peace yo.

DRINKS AND DRAWING

A partnership not unlike Bonnie and Clyde, Rodrigo and Gabriella, Simon and Garfunkel. Malone had known the scent of many a fine spirit in his years. The material-laden workdesk, the rule across his drawing aisle used for accurate and precise strokes, bringing together the framework of what would become Bridgewater Place, south of Leeds City Station. His weathered and aged hands show workmanship, their lines and ridges signs of the years of projects he had undertaken in his career.

Wearing D & G glasses, a dress shirt, cashmere pullover and trousers with pronounced seems, Malone's dress sense reflects the organised and minimalist manner of his workplace and flat. A a crystal tumbler rests upon the desk of his latest work assignment, filled heartily with Jack Daniels rum. One of Malone's favourite tipples, signs of his profession and his addiction intertwined.

Illustrating accuracy is still present but shaky at times. Taking a sip to quell the jitters of old age, Malone feels eased as he works, bringing together the structures that create his paycheck and means to persevere. Midori to absinthe, sake, Jack Daniels and rum are all on rotation, their presence a necessity for work progress in Malone's mind.

Darkness. The slow opening of eyes and recognising the sound of ambulance sirens, Malone barely observes the area around him. He identifies the ambulance's interior, wondering why he is on the patient's bench under morphine, a medic attending to his needs, speeding to Leeds General Infirmary. He feels the weight of being rushed to a hospital bed, nurses and a doctor talking around him, then passes back into unconsciousness.

Becoming used to the comfort of a hopsital bed after three days, Malone tries to remember what took place. Working fervently at his desk with the ususal J & D to hand to aid the shakes, he had a project deadline that evening. The vaguest memory of the technical pencil slipping from his hand, falling to the left out of his designer chair, then darkness. After that it was all just a blur. Nurse Rene brings a pen and pad to his bedside, allowing his skilled hands to keep busy, practicing the basics, roughing a concept of that lost project. The oscilator acts as a metronome, letting Malone keep time in his head as he joins the lines on the sketchpad.

Returning home following discharge four months' later, the seasoned architect turns towards mentoring. Young and training architects look towards Malone for guidance, drawing upon his knowledge and experience. His fine-trimmed grey beard and heavily-weathered hands impart his age, his ever-keen eyes peering through his designer glasses, not missing a detail. Sipping a cup of jinseng tea, the days of absinthe, sake and rum belong with his past. Malone's reliance on them fading away like his age, a firm and welcoming reminder that they are not to be depended upon anymore.

Martin, one of Malone's most eager students, finds him on the floor. He checks for a response. Nothing. A pulse? Faint at best. The sounds of the ambulance are highly mute and almost unrecognisable, medic's voices mere mumbles and sound. Hearing like being submerged under water, Malone struggles to distinguish the situation around him, quickly slipping back into slumber. Dr. Khan and fellow surgeons work on the operating table for seven hours, their intricate methods not unlike Malone at his work desk. He drifts in and out of consciousness, wondering why those figures in green scrubs and facial masks are so manic, barking out orders and putting various surgical tools into his body.

And then darkness...

Saturday, July 13^th, 2012

Malone Harrow, 65 years of age. An architect by trade, winner of the Gretsch award for his design of Bridgewater Place. A dilligent worker with a shrewd mind and high attention to detail, he was commited to his cause and known for enjoying his drinks. The photo on the casket displaying his designer glasses and a reserved smile, signs of cheerful times for a designer in his prime. His favourite drinks are offered in memory; the display of rums, vodkas, gins and various other high-quality spirits aligning his resting place. Firm reminders of his two favourite things in life; drawing and drink.

Raise a glass to the memory of Malone.

YAKUZA 4 REVIEW

Yakuza. Notorious Japanese gangsters, chronicled in everything from film to classic plays. Their severity, heavy. Their dedication, unquestionable. Their presence in gaming? Here and there until one Toshihiro Nagoshi and his team decided that players should be allowed to enact their desires to be their own Japnese crime don. A new series on the PS2 and four iterations later, Yakuza 4 has fans take control of Kazuma once again in the semi-fictional local of Kamuro-cho. Only this time, he's joined by a few friends. Is the latest iteration able to draw gamers into its world all over again?

The Second: Pier Side Reunion

Swish.....sway.....swish.....sway.


The sea lapped the pier's side, small waves brushing up against the wooden beams that supported the walkway. The mid-afternoon sun was in the distance, its red hue marking the skyline with various flashes and stabs of subtle colour.


Stood at the pier's end, looking out to the sea, a tall, slender and gaunt  man of appearance wearing a brown trenchcoat, mid-40s, short greying hair and stubble; his face weathered with age, drinking and years of concerns. By his side, a younger lady, around her mid-20s, curvacious, 5"4', blond hair styled into a crop and a matching 60s-style black and white checked one piece dress to boot. She appeared melancholic, subdued by thoughts of something elsewhere.


To give him a name, well, most would call him Jonah. Swallowing a mouth full of sea breeze, he turned to his companion, emitting in a dulcid tone "Marriete, I'm glad you came. After all my requests, you finally acknowledged one of them, came to this location and well, here we are now."


Mariette looked Jonah in his weary eyes. Born with heterochromia, an incident three years ago meant this rare genetic change left the young lady peering into one green eye, the other a mixture of blue and grey, almost unlike anything she had seen before. And yet, she knew Jonah from years ago, his then charming smile illuminating this unique aspect of his person.


"It had to be done eventually. There was no way to postpone this indefinitely." Mariette spoke whilst swallowing hard.


Stepping into her near vicinity, Jonah was inches away from Marriete's still youthful and beautiful visage, his breath impacting on her cheeks. Speaking once again in dulcid and measured tones:


"Well yes.....you're quite right about that. There most certainly.....was no way to postpone this forever."


A minute passed as Marriete embraced Jonah, her grasp reviving thoughts and feelings of happier, painful and agonising times; the vibrant youth Jonah and  enjoyed through their time together. The feeling was as before, that comfort that one never wants to let go of yet secretly knows wont last forever.


Loosening her embrace, Mariette looked up towards Jonah's face, unassuming and accepting of that which had gone and what may come. Not a smile nor sadness, his expression presented 'being', a state of acceptance achieved without always knowing.


Cuffs were placed on Jonah's wrists, their hard steel shackled around his aged person. He looked down upon them and let out a little chuckle, causing Mariette to react with a slight of surprise. Jonah once again spoke in his measured manner, muttering:


"To think, I was the one who was out to lure you into my web. Lack of foresight is a dangerous and funny thing."


Mariette paused for a moment, looked into Jonah's face once more to locate his train of thought but then allowed it to be. Looking out from the pier edge to the sea once more, she then hollered over to the Boston Police Force cars that were near by.


"Jonah Tellsmith. I am arresting you on charges of fraud, embezzlement, deception and perversion of the cause of justice. You have the right to speak but anything you do say can and will be used in the courts of law as evidence."


Jonah looked at Mariette, and looked, and looked.


"O'Donagghy, take this man aw-"


Mariette was about to finish calling her fellow officer to take Jonah away in one of the BPD's vehicles.


"Love. Just love for you. Wrong or right, it won't go away. Love."


Jonah added his departing comments as O'Donagghy grabbed the collar of his trenchcoat, a firm sign this would be the last time Marriete would be seeing Jonah outside of secure walls and a prison cell.


As the vehicle door was opened, Jonah took one last look towards Mariette. This would remain unreturned, instead gazing out across the pier edge towards the red-dipped sun.


Chuckling once again, Jonah felt O'Donagghy's coarse hand push him down into the back passenger seat, adding "Good riddance to fucking scum like you. I hope the inside treats you nicely for the time you go down for, if you even make it that far you fuck." Not from happiness but a smile all the same, Jonah sat in the BPD car, waiting to be taken away, knowing what lay ahead.


Staring out towards the distance, no tears are to be shed by Marriete. A mixture of discomfort and resolution, uncertainty and anguish, she thinks briefly of Jonah's future and knows the likely path. It passes and goes to the back of her mind. She is still unsure but it doesn't show. She spends a while longer staring out as the red-tinted sun moves down the horizon to bring about the dusk.


Going through the motions as if throwing a dime into the sea, wishing for free. Mariette throws nothing though. Those times with Jonah are all she lets go of to the best of her ability.


The small waves continue to lap the pier sides.


Swish.....sway.....swish.....sway.

Review coming soon

Good day there. I will put up a review of Ryu Ga Gotoku 4 soon. However, with life going at 1,000 mph right now, don't hold your breath for the day I post it.

You'll enjoy reading it, I'm sure.

The First: Main street stroll

A subdued, rainy day. Cars swishing through the fret, droplets splashing from their wheels and dispersing upon impact of fast car windows. Unmbrellas in their hundreds, painting a picture not unlike a thousand flowers in the sky. The holders of those protectors from the elements dressed in various bussiness shades of black, beige and grey. Car lights shine as they glint over the windows of lofty skyscrapers, the grand skyline dreary and thick with the weight of many grey clouds.

Out walks a young lady in a jeans skirt, designer frilled-blouse, Calvin Klien three-quarter length woolen jacket, knee-length boots, a pretty crop of hair and a happy-go-lucky demeanour. Her presence and appearance offsetting the sea of workforce that flows behind her. She strolls seperately from the crowd, knowing she can remain independent from the norm. One day she may have to conceed. Until that time comes, she will stroll with pride and know independence and freedom in her mind.

It lasted six months. Sunny day, the source of energy high in the sky. Those in business atire are strolling along the same boardwalk, this time in dress shirts and coats carrying various shades of blue, sunset yellow, teal and white. Their demeanours still slightly sullied but optomistic. Traffic speeds by, sunbeams glinting off their windscreens and vehicle bodies like dancing energy. Our independent young female is nowhere to be seen. What is the cause? Did she fade into the crowd like so many before?

By the boardwalk is a plaque. Closer observation reads:

“In memory of Saema Mertigo, 23. A cheerful and upbeat girl who will always be in our hearts.”

No one thought this individual spark would disappear so early. Had the rain kept up, maybe she would still be here. Sadly this is not the case along the main street. It holds no sympathy even for the unique ones in the crowd. Becoming an office temp., Mertigo realised why those shades of grey, beige and black were in abundance in the rain. She will never feel the same again, or be able to. Her elegant body a grim memory of the markings from that day. The last steps taken from the roof of the building above. A faint reminder of young independence.