Arts + Entertainment
The central nexus for all things film, gaming, art, and music.
Dark Souls: The Ultimate Adventure Game
Dark Souls.... One of the greatest games ever to exist, in my humble opinion. Even with its treacherous difficulty, the game has become a cult classic for gamers all across the planet. With such difficulty, why would someone play a game that is overly challenging? Is the game actually THAT challenging? Is it really as much of a classic as people would have you believe? Let's take a deeper look.
By Bhavsagar Bath7 years ago in Gamers
Alone
I feel alone. Not because I am alone but because no one has my back like my spine is about to fall out. I feel alone because the ones who I personally bandaged their hearts always seem to break mine and because when I screamed a cry for help there was nothing but my echo yelling back at me. Telling me "no one is there" I feel alone because the one person who I thought was my partner in crime seems to be the one ratting me out to the cops or the one person who I thought was my Person turned out to be just another bystander. I don't want to be alone. So maybe if my existence wasn't existing, Maybe alone wouldn't be so, alone.
By Cameron Sena7 years ago in Poets
Review of Game of Thrones 7.7
An excellent season 7 finale of Game of Thrones last night, though, I have to say, not quite as exciting or decisive as last week's penultimate episode (but that's often the case these years — the next-to-last episode is often more mind-blowing or just better than the last, be it the season or series finale).
By Paul Levinson7 years ago in Geeks
I Have Just Found This Prose Beat Poem! This Is a Decade Old!
My mind is a highly inhospitable place for a soul like mine. My entire existence is just one flawed chemical imbalance. A bipolar one at that. To say I was a psychopath would be incorrect. I feel empathy, but not for myself. Not for me. The lights are on but nobody’s home, actually it changes, sometimes the lights are off but somebody is home. A crazy man running around in the darkness in his underwear with a blender, throwing random objects in, his grandma’s ashes, tampons, regular mail, all the norms of daily life being construed into a single inanimate object, the man proceeds to drink it, projectile vomiting the averageness of life all over the bathroom mirror. There’s a knock at the door, the lights turn on and the man is gone. Routines. Routines. Routines. Without routines where would be? Well routines are responsible for my trip off the mountain off sanity. The same thing every day, every second of my life. My room is bright orange. I’m not entirely sure why; I think I read in one of those ‘positive impact’ life magazines that the colour of your room can cause great mood changing vibes. Waking up to a bright colour will change your day for the better. That’s bullshit. I feel like I’m constantly being highlighted. That my 10 metre squared bedroom room is part of a government plot. Or that my whole life is just a test by some sick twisted fuck of a God to wreak havoc and enjoy the pure entertainment of a man slowly lose his mind and there’s not a single thing I could do about it. It took me a while to figure out this fact and I assure you to stick by it. Don’t take anything personal, no-one is out to get you, you’re not important enough and neither is anybody else. Bad luck is as bad luck does. The last year of my life has been without a doubt surreal. Some sort of a dream but yet I feel more alive than ever. The brittle fragility of life only has one cure; don’t step around it, just run straight into it, destroy it. Who the fuck cares about winning an egg and spoon race anyhow. Out of the blue and into the black.
By Zeno Antonius7 years ago in Poets