Author: basilisk
-
Good Gamery St. Patrick’s Day Contest Endgame
Greetings :vulcan hand greeting:. The contest is almost finished. The window for submissions is closed, and now you must do you duties as Starfleet officers and vote for the four entrants whom you think did best.
Here’s how it went down, logically:
avatarofdumb
AoD’s Kyoto Survival Guide
Basilisk
Let’s Talk About Wizard Fashion
BossHoggAtog
‘Chop idea: Yawgmoth, Father of Machines
ein
Designing While Asleep at the Wheel?
‘Chop: Kaleidostoned
‘Chop: Restore Balance
‘Chop: Christopher, Planeswalken
‘Chop execution: Yawgmoth, Father of Machines
FalseNipple
ExpertVillage.com Faces Accusasions of Extortion
GyantSpyder
A Letter from Grizzly Bears
Economic Crisis Breaks 13-Year Stasis Lock
hiryu
‘Chop: Exile
paz
PT Kyoto Round 2 Report: Destiny Unveiled
Pterrus
A Delicious New Plane Awaits
Slearch
‘Chop: Keeper of Three Fifths of Progenitus
‘Chop: Skerrious Striffle
Tristal
Gwafa Hazid Convicted on Charges of Bribery and Treason
May the Force be with you.
(Cast your votes here!) -
Let’s Talk About Wizard Fashion
Welcome to the Tolarian Academy! Today we’re going to talk about Wizards.
Here’s a good example of early Wizard fashion. The hat and vest are prominent, though the hairstyle and beard are a very rudimentary “let it grow out” style.
This old guy may look like a Sorcerer – but he’s actually an old-fashioned Wizard! Take special note of the beard. In the years after this style, you’ll see these protrusions move further up the sideburns until they rest atop the head of the average Wizard, growing all the while.
The maroon hat was an old style that faded away into obscurity, as did most other types of Wizarding hats.
One of the more distinctive early Tolarian Academy fashions, the chessboard shoulderpads are a highlight here in ash and crimson. Note the swept-out sides that are an evolution of the beard in our previous photo.
This is a popular style of Wizard glasses. The frames used to be made from brass, but more discerning modern buyers like to purchase darksteel frames.
An advancement in Wizard hairstyles, the shaved top and sculpted sides leave plenty of room for personalization – note that you can sweep the sides forward or out, and long sideburns fit in handsomly. Note the characteristic Tolarian Academy garb, including the ever-present chessboards.
Popular amongst more adventurous wizards, this armor has a multitude of transluscent cylindrical appendages.
Here is an example of a young Wizard who has Purelaced his hair. The elegant multi-colored robes bring to mind the five colors of magic. This is a popular style amongst Wizards because it implies that the wearer is adept at many types of magical spells.
Young Wizardlings (also known as younglings) grow out long braids until they become a master Wizard. At that time they clone out the braid and color their hair gray. Check out the crazy boots and purple pants. What a rebel!
This photo showcases two fashions. In the back is Urza, wearing the elevated hairstyle known as the “Windswept Heath”. Traditional Tolarian clothes are replaced by a more subdued cloak and vest, and armored pauldrons instead of shoulderpads. In the front is a Wizard displaying a chained-up style that you normally only see in specialized Wizard nightclubs.
Yikes! This is a stripped-down take on traditional Tolarian dress. Chessboard shoulderpads are now mere straps, and the male wizard is replaced by a female one.
Chessboard shoulderpads, mana-colored bookmarks, wiry glasses, and an unkempt moustache. Truly a look to be remembered!
This is a style from just a couple years ago. How embarassing.
When Tolarian Wizards are out in the field, they like to wear plain, quilted shoulder pads and brown cloaks. Prominent also are the battle goggles, which keep red spells out of the Wizard’s eyes.
During this era of Wizarding, the colors blue and red were very popular. Wizards traditionally wear very heavy vests to protect themselves from experimental disasters, and this Wizard has even taken extra safety precautions by tying together the loose beard hairs.
These students at the Tolarian Academy are wearing simpler versions of the traditional dress robes. They look like the plain brown robes of a travelling battle-wizard, because every class they take could be like a battle.
Here also is a variation of the chessboard shoulderpad – this one has triangles instead of squares. How many triangles are there? You may be suprised to find out!
This is an unusual Wizard, because he isn’t wearing any boots! What isn’t unusual is the blue vest with square patterns on the shoulders, the puffed-out blue trousers, the wild hair, and the leather abdominal armor.
Let’s take a moment to analyze some Wizards from other schools.
Oh ho ho! This mirthful robe and cowl are the hit of the party. Big, forked beards are an evolution of the swept-out, split hairstyle that was all the rage last cycle. Hot Wizard accessories this season are filigreed monocles, thick bracelets, and large red gemstones. Remember, the bigger the shoulder pads, the better!
I think I’m turning Japanese! Arcane golden symbols, bamboo shoulders, and a contrasting red-and-blue kimono are striking in the warmer months.
Big flowing robes, bigger flowing beards! Earthy colors and natural accessories like horns and ropes are simply smashing together.
So what if you can’t grow a beard? Simply put your Wizarding supplies somewhere else! The ears, the nose, and around the neck are all delightful possibilities. This practical look is held together by the yellow and black robes.
Now, let’s take a timely walk into the Post-Tolarian era of Wizard fashion.
This early Post-Tolarian piece displays a reiteration of the golden era of large metal jewelry, multi-colored shoulder pads, and wispy hair. You can trace almost everything here to earlier fashions.
The discovery of a multi-purpose knowledge draught and depilatory led to this eye-popping style. Without any hair to show, Wizards at that time attempted to cover up their baldness with hats.
Since chin-hats didn’t exist until much later, a special type of eyepiece was designed to show beards at any place the wearer desires. Multiple lenses could fold down to choose between different styles and colors.
“How tall can you make a hat?” A powerful question, and a powerful answer! This impressive item shows off a beautiful symmetry, offset by the intentional ragged look in the robes and pauldrons. Blue is the color of the day, with lush green and earthy yellow accents lending an excellent accenture to the outfit.
A dressier version of the previous ensemble, more subdued colors allow the Wizard’s magical prowess to really shine. Rather than iron armor, this Wizard wears dramatic shoulder pads that connect to the base of the hat. This is a look that cannot be touched!
This Wizard’s hat towers above all others, and the shoulderpads sprout more shoulderpads in a type of fractal transcendence.
Contrasting parallel and perpendicular lines compete with gold trim to make this the one of the snappiest dressers on this side of the planes.
We will end this article with perhaps one of the finest Wizards to ever don a Wizard hat. This throwback to classic headwear shows off an imposing blue and gold cone, with a companion cowl that reaches out in defiance of the very rules of gravity.
Enchanting around the Wizard’s face is a team of wild, bushy eyebrows and sweeping moustachio. It’s so long you wonder why he needs puppet strings in the first place.
Until next time…
CLASS DISMISSED!
-
A Letter from Grizzly Bears
Dearest Mother,
I hope this letter reaches you. I have paid the messenger the last of my cigarettes and several other things I dare not mention, in the hopes that my words might find your eyes. I fear my own may never gaze into them again.
What you suspected is true, and I am deeply sorry for doubting you — this camp is little more than a slaughterhouse. They have cast us into a pit, they battled us against each other for their amusement, and they have made it known that only half of those who remain will make it out alive.
We are so young — each of us is only 15. We have done everything they asked of us. And I have seen them, one by one or in clusters, all the others, gone, dead, drifting to the earth like cherry blossoms. They bring in fresh meat all the time, and they churn through it at a terrifying rate — I’ve seen hundreds, thousands of faces come and go — mauled and twisted, pressed into servitude, and, finally, cast aside.
A group of us had made a pact to hang together, to survive. The Evercore. We joked we would drink whiskey at the launch of 20th edition. Sixteen of us have made it this long, and we thought we were safe.
But they have made their intentions clear mother. Nothing is safe here. Not Scathe Zombies. Not Regeneration. Not even your face.
They shot Goblin King yesterday. They just dragged him — the King! — out in the street like a stray dog and put a bullet in the back of his head. They left him in the dirt with his crown over his broken nose to rot and be eaten by vermin. I’ve seen it many times, and I had even become used to it, but I feel a new dread. The dread I first felt when I saw Sedge Troll lying facedown in the mud. We had all joked about how he was invincible. When I saw him there, I thought, “This is my year — this is the year I go.”
Life has been hard since then, but there was a natural rhythm to it. I am beaten and broken (well, not broken. I was never broken. I have seen others here broken — they’d always vanish shortly after — but not me.) by the other prisoners on a daily basis. Every year I’m further outclassed and humiliated. Every two years, I’m reprinted anyway. You know I am tough. You know, no matter how bad things get, I attack for two.
The stories have helped, too. Telling all the little bears — so many bears, mother! — about when the King wore Gauntlets of Might, and he used to show us the calluses on his knuckles from it. He used to thump against the cinderblock wall of our cell and joke about playing the war drums, and I’d tell stories about Granite Gargoyle and Grey Ogre splitting up and crossing the Raging River, about the time we all climbed on the wall to dodge the Chaos Orb, or about the time Thicket Basilisk proved he was better than Cockatrice.
They’re just stories now, and when I go, they will be lost. Just like all the other bears that came before me. I guess I should be grateful. Most of those other bears didn’t get reprinted once.
I should feel glad of my long life, but I’m not. I wanted to be Evercore. I wanted these days, grim as they are, to last forever.
People tell me to trust in God, but even that seems hopeless. They’ve pulled him out of bed now, and they’re trying to shove him in a van.
You were always good to me. I am sorry I will never return to your hand again.
Love,
Grizzly Bears
-
Economic Crisis Breaks 13-Year Stasis Lock
AURORA — 26-year old Stephen Prohashkos was released from a 13-year Stasis lock today, as ongoing global economic and credit turmoil finally rendered 33-year old Walter Phillips unable to pay a blue mana during his upkeep. As a result, Prohashkos has finally untapped and, according to family and friends, is ready to move on with life.
“It’s a hard time, what with the layoffs and all, but having Stephen out of that lock is a real silver lining,” said Stephen’s father Zorba. “I know his mother is glad she won’t have to give him any more sponge baths.”
In the spring of 1995, 13-year old Prohashkos sat down with his neighbor and Miami of Ohio freshman Phillips to play the collectible card game Magic: The Gathering. Prohashkos had learned the game from playmates at school, and Phillips, who had often babysat Prohashkos as a child, seemed enthusiastic that the two shared an interest.
It is unclear what happened next, or how exactly Prohashkos was trapped by what eyewitness accounts say is a “blue two mana enchantment” and “totally cheap.” We attempted to reach Magic publisher Wizards of the Coast spokesperson Tina Gaffney for comment but could not get past the balls.
Regardless of the specific timeline, the lock proved remarkably resilient, pacifying Prohashkos and rendering him incapable of interacting with his opponent, and, it appears, the world at large, provided that Phillips made minimum payments during each of his upkeeps. After establishing the lock, Phillips returned to college, continuing to maintain the lock out of student loan funds, early wages and, later, a home equity line of credit that was recently withdrawn by Phillips’ bank due to concerns about his creditworthiness.
“Honestly, once I set the thing up to autopay, I kind of forgot about it,” said Philips. “Yeah, I probably shouldn’t have played that deck against a kid, but if you refuse to play against good decks and cards, you never learn anything. I was pretty young at the time. In retrospect, I guess I should have included a win condition. He must have been playing with a pretty big deck – I guess that makes sense, since he was prepubescent and all.”
“I never thought this day would come,” said teary older brother Thomas. “I would have done anything to bring Stephen back. There are times when I even thought about extreme measures. But Walter also had a Moat. That son of a bitch.”
“Mom says I have to finish reading Bridge to Terabithia before dinner,” said Prohashkos as he shaved off a three-foot beard. “But after that, I want to get a copy of Scrye and see what my Chromium is worth now. Snoochy Boochy!”
-
ExpertVillage.com Faces Accusations of Extortion
The following letter was slid under the editor’s office door at the thirteenth hour before going to press. Our reporters have yet to determine its veracity, and honestly hope that the implications that it makes are not accurate portrayals of the parties involved.
I don’t want to live like this anymore, but there is a gun to my head. You can call it a figurative gun if you’d like. That’s what they’d want you to think. All media men are starving hacks, key bashers, and drunks. You’ve been told that time and time again without the whole truth. We’re being held captive in a subterranean holding facility in… (text is incomprehensible).
My family may already be dead, though I am reminded of their similar predicament by my captors on a daily basis, if you can truly judge a day’s length under the inexorable glare emitting from these dangling flood lights. Part of me hopes that they are dead. Each time I collapse with exhaustion on this bed of blackened keys and melted celluloid, I murmur out a prayer for their safety or possible release from this bleak world.
What is left of my recollection of time tells me that somewhere near the end of the first decade of this godless millennium that the stock market crashed, jobs were excoriated from the market, tables folded up, and doors closed. Those of us that could afford it at the time jeered at left wing pundits who espoused Malthusian theories regarding our nation’s decline. The media at first fed upon this fear and used it rally the disenfranchised under their banner, but that only lasted so long, then they too fell under the economic pall.
Unable to pay their current staff and unwilling to let go of their sway over public opinion, salaries were cut, promissory notes written to those who had less to lose, and notices made to falsely imply that company morale was never higher. I, myself, took a pay cut and put in extra hours for the cause. This lasted a couple of months until the promissory notes started, and finally I was sent a note in regard to contest that offered a wage bonus to the employee who could generate the most media content within a given amount of time.
I stepped up to the plate. I delivered. Instead of being awarded justly for my efforts, I awoke the morning after my coronation to find my family missing and a stack of playing cards sitting on my night stand next to what I assumed at the time was a ransom note. The note informed me that my family was being held at the mercy of a party that only had its and my family’s best interest in mind, and that the pile of cards laying on the table must be reviewed, discussed, and editorialized as content for my company’s gaming video feed.
That morning at the police station the authorities seemed skeptical of the note and went as far as to imply that I had no family in the first place. Frightened and dejected I went to my workplace to question my office manager. She said she knew nothing, asked me if I could stay to proofread a piece one of my coworkers had written, and offered me a cup of coffee. I snapped. What kind of incredulous corporation did I work for? She offered no argument, but frowned and made a phone call. In a few short moments man whose face I cannot quite recall glided into her office with a box of what looked like Kleenex. My supervisor offered the package to me in order to wipe the tears and mucus that was flowing down my face. I wiped my face and fell to the floor unconscious.
I am beginning to understand how a society like ours can shrivel up with its own corruption when our own supposed impartial watchers, journalists, have been corralled into pens and forced to chronicle the trivialities of a welfare state’s hobbies for the unspeakable fiends that populate the financial, upper echelons of our nation. Juvenal warned the plebeians of Rome in the past about the danger of bread and circuses, but I struggle to imagine even a satiric mind such as his picture that same maxim evolving and mutilating one rung of society and climbing to the next, as if it were entitled to it.
My name is Michael Lopez. I am an associate and captive of the Gaming Department, Video Subdivision of Expert Village. If someone still free and with a conscience sees this letter, please warn my fellow men of letters of my imprisonment and the inherent failure of our culture. I may not be able to go on much longer.
– Michael Lopez
February 27, 2009
(Discuss this item in the forum!)
