More photos will be up later or tomorrow on Tabitha’s blog, but I just have to share this cute photo from Max and Aiden’s Birthday party today, with all their little sweet friends. Thanks to everyone who joined !!!
Adventure game fact: The God Machine tower in Indiana Jones and the Fate of Atlantis (LucasArts, 1992) was designed to resemble Gustave Doré’s illustrations of Satan in Hell’s icy center in Dante’s Inferno.
Not only that, the architecture of the God Machine contains three distinct faces, recalling Dante’s description of Satan’s three-faced visage:
If he were then as lovely, as now foul, and yet upraised his brow against his Maker, well it may be that from him all ills flow.
O, what a wonder did it seem to me when looking on his head I saw three faces! The one in front had vermilion for hue;
the other two were each joined to this, above the center of his shoulder blades, and reunited at his forehead’s crest.
The face at right was colored white and gold; the one at left was dark to look upon, like those who come from where the Nile flows.
Beneath each face there fluttered two vast wings, Such as were fitting for a mighty bird. No ship I saw ever had sails as wide.
In other words, the Fate of Atlantis developers weren’t just depicting Atlantis here: they were also depicting the center of Dante’s Hell, AKA Cocytus.
PS: It’s not common knowledge, but both Hal Barwood and Noah Falstein at various times worked on versions of The Dig.
PPS: In the above quote, Dante alludes to the fact that the Nile’s source was then unknown to Europeans, and would remain undiscovered until the 19th century.
In the Fountain of the Four Rivers in Rome’s Piazza Navona, sculptor Gian Lorenzo Bernini made a similar allusion by draping a heavy veil over the figure personifying the Nile, hiding his facial features.
Short Bellarke wedding fic in very far future canonverse, because a Griffin-Blake wedding is my aesthetic.
Bellamy looked up from the floor, squinting in the orange light of the setting sun, glaring down on them. Selene sat beside him, the train of her coat draped over the wall.
This was the daughter Bellamy knew. Her dark hair woven into Grounder braids halfway along her scalp, before falling loose in soft waves down her back. The crescent tattoo around her left eye stood out like a rose in a patch of weeds, inky black against her golden skin. The deeper slices on her face had been stitched. The shallower ones had been left open to heal themselves. The paint was mostly gone, but Bellamy could still see the faint silhouettes of her war markings. He figured she could, too. She had showered and scrubbed a thousand times since she’d make it back home.
Bellamy raised an eyebrow as he waited for her question.
She folded her hands in her lap. “Why didn’t you and Mom ever get married?” she asked finally.