Making Sinnoh fangames can be tough since most of the tileset is made of those weird 2.5D models that don’t really work when ripped as sprites. So today I’m having a go at fixing/revamping some furniture! Ingame bed is on the far left, then we have my redrawn version, and then some Galactic Grunts being silly XD
The constellation Sachi-fouix 2 is now underneath the Armenian rifleman’s star, which shines through small hollows in the grating covering the canopies of the largest grave machines.
And there is the highest star, which is called by Rand Paul, Sumsoun. Rand takes out an album, with Samo Mun written on its cover, and struggles to speak about it. He states the he likes that in life, it shone. He addresses thank yous to this star. It is set to die on the day of the completion of his father’s funeral city.
Rand locks his oil rigging gloves with a twist in the palm, and fits his hand around my wrist. “Your wrist is a field. My soldiers are garden genius. They play outdoor games.”–He points to 10 figures in the distance, smashing shovels and picks against a palm tree. “We learned it on the Congolaisse border when we searched for growing caverns."
His voice fails as a convoy of trucks smashes through the bush, meters from where we stand. Their beds are filled to pyramid points with shining wet stones. The drivers’ faces are impossible to make out through the ash on their windows.
Rand unfolds a survival rifle from his pack, it’s covered in yellow twisted bits of bark. His bloused boots shake out luminous black mineral shards as he moves. He aims it at me and says:
"Avoid the world’s plats, history and reflection are unavailable, my father’s teeth are the unbelievable beak . His bones grow now, and the light of the stars fills him. The Funeral City can build itself. We are only here to protect our constituents.” He glares at me through a veil and sunglasses.
And as the rocks under our feet began to sing in short bursts, naming stars now visible in the sky, I feel 15 blows. Blood calmly seeps into my eyes, and I scramble for a deeper part of the forest plateau. I hear Rand’s machine fire up and thunder away. Was there a new messenger? The rocks sang “Ron Paul Funeral City, 350000000 dead.”
Do you ever think about how someday it’ll all fall down?
Someday all the skyscrapers will collapse into heaps of rebar and rubble. Someday all the tunnels will cave in. All the cables on all the bridges will snap and dump their decks into whatever’s below. All the statues will topple and their faces will be rubbed away by wind and water. All the dams will break and all the rivers will gush back into their old beds. The pyramids will crumble and the footprints on the moon will be pulverized by meteors. The land we stand on will be swallowed up by fault lines and recycled by the earth to make new oceans and new continents.
Someday it’ll all fall down, and there probably won’t even be anyone around to watch.
lately i keep encountering the thought that everything is existing at the same time like. im in my bed and there are pyramids existing at the same time, someone is having their first kiss and someone is dying and it’s all happening every where at the same exact time and it’s impossible to wrap my head around