Saturday, February 25, 2006

Wishworld, Endings and Beginnings II

In the devastated office that had hours ago been the seat of government for the last sovereign nation on Earth, an agent of unknown purpose surveyed her mark. Intelligence had been dead on, and now the wishmaker called Dassila was out cold, along with the rest of the terrorists. The fire-controlling spy Michael and the queen bee Dexter were both buried beneath the rubble. She flipped a switch on her helmet and spoke to persons unknown.

“General, we have them. All targets acted as per simulation. Yes. No. Do I really strike you as the kind of woman who would have trouble handling a couple of teenage boys?”

Then an overturned bookcase shifted, and Dexter, totally unharmed but pissed as hell, crawled to his feet, glaring hard at the woman and making the ‘wrap it up’ sign with one hand. The woman considered him, then returned to the conversation at hand.

“Update, the queen bee is still very much alive and kicking. Do not worry, Nicholas. This is easily remedied. Send in the extraction team, this will not take long. Over and out.” Raising the barrel of her rifle slightly, she turned to face the wishmaker.

“Who sent you?” The queen bee barked it out like a command. Understandably, he had been getting his way for almost a week now. Well, time for him to learn what life was all about. She leveled her sights at him.

“Stand down, boy. I don’t have to take you by force.”

Dexter gave a sharp laugh. “By force? You can’t hurt me, pawn. Didn’t your puppet masters tell you that? Or have they broken down all independent thought to the point where you thought it would be a good idea to take me on alone?”

She nudged Dassila with a boot. “I handled your right hand pretty well, didn’t I?”

“Hmm?” He smiled. “Oh, I guess so. Portable gravity wells, strategically placed to inhibit his movement but not yours. But you’re also wrong. My right hand -” He raised the glove with the claw. “My right hand is right here.”

“Keep joking, wishmaker. You’re still coming with me.”

“Jokes? A sense of humor was never a requirement for the supreme ruler of all land and sea.”

“Neither is it a requirement for an inmate.” She took several steps towards him, her rifle never lowering in the slightest.

His eyebrows arched. “They say the amount of attention one gets in jail increases in direct proportion to the atrocity of the crimes committed. While I am slightly curious to see what the overthrow of every head of state of every nationality in the world would bring me, I have too much left do to spend my time locked away in a prison beneath the Earth. Your gravity wells - they don’t come cheap. Neither does the information you obviously had on my small band of hellraisers. This is the last time I’m going to ask you nicely. Who are you working for?”

“You know what, wishmaker?” He could see his own face staring back at him in the visor of her helmet. “You can go to hell.” Then she fired.

Dexter twisted as the first bullet hit his body, somewhere near the heart. The claws on his glove extended and the metal glowed an organic green. Two more bullets hit him between the eyes and in the chest as he lunged towards the woman. After that, he just stopped counting.

She moved like a gymnast, dodging his wild swipes easily and pouring rounds of fire into his body. But he seemed unaffected by the hail of bullets, not slowing down as he doggedly tried to cut off her angles and edge her into a corner.

They continued in such a fashion until he finally edged her. As she leapt past him to escape, his left hand found her leg and he threw her against a wall, creating clouds of dust around her. He dashed towards her, and the glove came up, stretching for her neck. She caught the claws with her own gloved hands, but his strength overcame hers, and the claws inched towards her neck slowly but surely.

“I won’t hesitate to kill you.” He said, his eyes narrowed in concentration. “But why die in service of a government now obsolete? If that is who you’re really working for, but there’s no one else on Earth who can give you more than I can, now or ever. Join me, I’ll give you power such as you can scarcely imagine. I hate to see such talent wasted.”

“You -” Their gazes locked again. As much as reflective glass can glare anyway. “You really talk too much.” Then she released a thousand volts of electricity into his glove, killing it instantly. The previously vivid color faded away. His focus slipped for a moment and she fired point blank at the claw, shattering it in several places.

Her red hair, now covered in dust sprawled across the floor as her helmet and her gun clattered to the ground beside it. The poison in her neck was now spreading to her whole body. Dexter glanced at his right hand as the color faded back to normal. It really was a little miracle of bioengineering, especially considering the fact that his skin was impenetrable. But again, no problem is a problem at all for a man who could build anything from nothing.

For Michael, Dexter reflected, the impossible had a sometimes frightening way of being merely difficult. The glove, his hand, the visor the Michael wore, the Asmodeus itself…

Just about all the technology that had assisted in Dexter’s rise to power had been assisted by the man. And that was only one of his powers. It was lucky for him, thought Dexter, that Michael was content to play second fiddle to himself. The man was possibly the most impressive wishmaker he had ever encountered.

Wishmaker…

He frowned. The term that the woman had used. It had stuck in his head, though he could only guess at its meaning. But whenever he tried to think too hard about anything these days, he always ended up…

Shaking his head clear of thoughts, he turned his attention back to the task at hand. He had to free his followers from the rubble, and deal with the ones who were unconscious or dead. Then they had to hide the woman’s body, and set a trap for this extraction team, when it came. So much to do, so little time…

He was temporarily blinded by a bright flash of white light. There was a noise like the sound of air escaping, then something moved in the room and his vision returned. He whirled around in bewilderment.

The extraction team, it seemed, had come and gone. The woman, along with her gun, her helmet and any identifying equipment, had vanished.

---

That was the second installation. Endings and Beginnings is our current storyline. About the artwork here... I'm not too happy with it on the whole, thought individual panels look better than last week's, as a page it doesn't look as good. Never mind. The writing is in one of my favorite styles though.

Those of you waiting for your characters to appear, sorry, you might have to wait awhile. I had originally intended to make the comic here an eight panel half page, and there would be the second half of the page later on in the same post. But I learned that I can't work as fast as I thought, otherwise I don't have enough time for it. Next week's might be shorter, I don't know. The reason for this is because I have exams.

Anyway, there's a very important announcement here.

Important Announcement!

After this post you should have enough clues to guess who the woman in white is. Your sole hint is that the person with the best chance of answering this question is Dexter. This does not mean that she is an acquaintance of his, it does not mean she is a wishmaker. Leave your answer in your comment, and I'll give you... something I haven't figured it out yet.

Your extra content this week is: character concepts.


Same time next week for a new Wishworld! This time, we introduce the good guy team. Now I really gotta go.

Saturday, February 18, 2006

Welcome To Wishworld

May your stay with us be long and enjoyable.

---

Wishworld

Chapter One

In the obscuring gloom of the underground room, several figures were gathered in a circle, their faces hidden in shadow. How many there were was left to imagination in the unyielding darkness. Each sat in contemplative silence, pondering a question of great personal gravity. Slowly, a pale blue fire came to life in an open space in the middle of the circle, casting dancing shadows on the walls but it was not bright enough to reveal the identities of the watchers.

A cloaked figure stepped forward, and from the confidence of his manner it was apparent that it had been him who had conjured the fire.

“So what will it be, chosen?” He spoke to all of them, but in his words there was a personal message for each. “What does your heart desire?”

A tall youth lifted his head, revealing a grin of malicious intent.

“Well,” he said, choosing his words carefully. “I wish…”

The Kremlin, Moscow. Seven days after the start of the Third World War.

The man gasped a final time, and his body went limp. The veins in his face and neck pulsed green, then faded to a dark purple. The steel claw holding him aloft released his neck and his body crumpled to the floor, a broken sack of meat and bones.

“In performing my duties as the President of the Russian Federation, I pledge to respect and protect the rights and liberties of every citizen; to observe and protect the Constitution of the Russian Federation; to protect the sovereignty and independence, security and integrity of the state and to serve the people faithfully.”

The owner of the claw mocked the fallen leader, his eyes glowing red with ill-suppressed joy. With his normal left hand he tore the Imperial Flag from its post and, ripping through it with his claw hand, let it fall to the floor atop the body of the former President of Russia. Then he drew back the fur-adorned hood of his winter cloak, revealing the face of a young man barely out of his teens. His youthful features betrayed nothing of what he was, a killer without conscience and a conqueror of nations; a ruthless mercenary who would do anything for wealth and power. He had proved as much, on countless occasion in the past seven days alone.

Turning his attention the window, he watched as a mob gathered just beyond the gates of the Kremlin despite the darkening skies. Ignoring the obvious impatience of the others in the room, he spoke in a low voice, so soft it was almost to himself.

“And so tonight, Russia joins the rest of the world in mourning. I think we can allow them a few hours to get used to the fact that the balance of power in their government has shifted; though every soul on Earth with eyes and ears would have seen, after the events of the past week that it was inevitable. The new government will be installed tomorrow at 1200 hours. Milford, Hubert, stay behind to ensure the ceremony goes as planned. The rest of you -” He turned to sweep his eyes across the cadre of bodyguards and acolytes standing around the office. “The rest of you follow me to the jet. We’re heading back to the citadel.”

Without warning, the door to the room burst open, and a man wearing a tattered and blood-soaked Russian army uniform stood in the doorway, his eyes narrowed in hatred. Leveling the barrel of his assault rifle at the man who had brought war to his homeland, he fired.

Before his finger ever hit the trigger, the room was filled with an overbearing demonic aura. One of the hooded and cloaked figures near the doorway moved with such speed he seemed to vanish. The Russian soldier certainly never had time to scream. A blinding flash of motion brought him halfway through the wall. His spine snapped loudly and he slid off the cracked depression in the wall to lie still in the rubble. A stray bullet from his gun hit the window inches above the murderer’s shoulder, only to be stopped by the bulletproof pane. The cool-eyed killer never even flinched.

The demonic aura flared then receded; gathering into increasingly smaller swirls around the dark-haired man standing over the dead soldier’s corpse until it vanished completely, leaving only a faint trace of power in the air.

The murderer’s eyes flared red once again, then faded as he glanced with appreciation at the man who had just moments ago displayed such an impressive show of power.

“Well done, Dass.”

A smile flickered on the man’s face as he looked up from his victim, revealing for the first time the full scope of his features. He was, in a word – stunning. He had perfectly sculpted features, the kind that could stop any woman in her tracks.

But in a case like his mere looks do not matter, as Wan Dassila bin Annuar was one of those special young men who crop up every now and again like Casanova or Don Juan or James Bond or Marten Reed, and who drive otherwise sensible women straight out of their wits.

In such cases it is the inner man that counts, with that certain ferrous quality, always in a state of magnetic flux, that can draw a woman with even the trace of a nail in her head into a condition of animal, mineral and vegetable collapse. When he spoke it was in alluring tones that could lead a woman straight into bed by the mere sound of it. He was, in every sense that mattered, an Adonis of a man.

“Thanks, Dexter.”

And just as all attention in the room had turned from the still form of the Russian soldier, a red light flashed in his hand as his lifeless fingers slipped on a dead man’s trigger, and the interior of the presidential office spectacularly blew up, shattering the windows and bringing down sections of the walls and roof.

The man called Dexter was struck by half the contents of a bookcase and hit the ground hard. The other members of his entourage were similarly incapacitated, caught off guard by the explosion. Only Dassila’s superhuman reflexes saved him from the blast. Before the smoke had even cleared, he saw a person standing right beneath the spot where the ceiling had caved in. The newcomer was female, suited in what appeared to be light body armor of a design Dassila couldn’t recognize. She wore a helmet that hid most of her face. The array of hardware sewn into her costume and helmet looked as though it cost about five times as much as Ethiopia’s national product. Not that there was much time for contemplation, as she was already leaping towards him, firing a similarly alien carbine.

Dassila kicked into speed, sending thrills of impulse into his brain. The speed factor in his movement worked in his brain too. Dodging bullets, he dashed around his assailant and leapt into the air, bringing her to ground. Bearing down on her, he saw her move, in his eyes almost in slow motion, defying gravity to somehow leap away to plant herself on one of the walls. No matter. He sped towards the woman, then brought down sections of wall as she moved again, landing in a crouch in the centre of the floor.

Filling the room with swirls of the same demonic energy he had unleashed moments earlier, Dassila tightened his focus, starting off towards the woman again. She was doing unusually well, anticipating all his moves and keeping one step ahead of him despite his speed advantage. Increasing his speed to a point where he was practically teleporting through space, his mind shifted into overtime calculating a hundred different ways he could take her down.

He was so caught up he never noticed that she didn’t seem intent on following his plan. Any one of his plans. Even as he drew close to her, he noticed that she wasn’t moving an inch. Why should she? To her eyes he just vanished into thin air. Then he realized that she was looking right at him, and that he was beginning to slow down.

He hit the dirt at the woman’s feet. His mind spun with confusion and anger. Who the hell was she, and how did she do this to him? He tried to summon the strength to move, but there was an invisible force pulling him down. Even his aura was receding. Dassila tried one final time to break free, then her boot came down hard on his head and his world went dark.

---

So that was the first installment of Wishworld. For those of you who were waiting, hope it was worth it for you. By the way, despite what I wrote it's not really Chapter One. It's more like installment one. Several installments will be compiled into one chapter, and update time is every Saturday.

While I'm full aware it's way too early for extra content, I wanted to do something special for release one. So I made wallpapers. I'm using the second one.


Tune in the same time next week for more Wishworld. In the meantime, my blog will operate as normal. Don't forget to write in to tell me what you think. All opinions are welcome. Except for Mark's. You're not wanted, scumbag!

PS: This is how you start a WC rivalry.

Thursday, February 16, 2006

Wishworld, Chapter One

...will be up Saturday night. Ahahaa!

While you wait, help yourself to some stock. Or... here's some Wishworld artwork for you guys.

Yeah, you heard right. Wishworld will not only be a written feature, but it will have comic pages in glorious full color! Of course, the actual panels will not contain such bright candy colors, since Wishworld is a tale set in dark times.

Stuff that has happened in the past few days:

"Something's wrong with Chee Leong's thingy. It won't go straight." - Azfar (he says things like this all the time)

Mdm Stan Lee: When you first saw the title of the chapter - Fire on the Mountain - what was the first thing you thought of?
Eliot: Fire... y'know... on a mountain.
Jun Ian: A volcano... no wait, smoke on the water!
Sanjay: A fire in the sky...

Guan Xiong: Today you're going to learn a bad word. Say fuck you or I stab your throat with this pencil!
Kumaran: No... no....
Guan Xiong: Okay, I give you discount. Say asshole.
Kumaran: Ass... hole?
Guan Xiong: Good boy.

Li Sha: Wouldn't it be cool if I died?
Jun Ian: Yes... it would...
Li Sha: No, I mean like, if I went out there and died, I can say I died on Valentine's Day! So romantic!
Eliot: Only you couldn't say it. Cause you'd be... y'know, dead.
Jun Ian: That's not romantic. If you went out there in the rain with Edward and got hit by a falling tree and died in his arms... now that's romantic.
Li Sha: Oh yeah! Edward has to die too!
Eliot: Imagine if you went out there and died, and in Australia Edward died at the exact same time! You'd be like "I knew we were destined"!
Li Sha: !!!

Azfar: Man Jason, when did you get so intellectual?
Jason: I've always been intellectual.
Azfar: Yeah right.
Jason: *makes quick succession of screwed up faces at Azfar*
Jun Ian: All of a sudden the intellect's gone.
Jason: I'm just pretending to make y'all think I'm stupid.
Jun Ian: You're succeeding beyond your wildest dreams.

Mahadi: Take that! Wooo!
Yow Hwui: ...
Jun Ian: Mahadi plays PikaBall at home every day.
Jason: Yeah la, every day go home and practice...
Mahadi: Where got...
Jun Ian: Dudes like Mahadi go for the PikaBall Word Championship...
Azfar: There's a PikaBall Word Championship?
Yow Hwui: World series...
Azfar: Number one enemy of the professional PikaBall player... finger cramps.

Peak Sheng: And he said "Ice lemon tea... tanpa ais."
Jun Ian: You know what he should have asked for? Ais kacang... tanpa ais.

Tuesday, February 14, 2006

In Memory

For Darren Lim Kai Fun.

Some of you may have heard of him. The rest of you will learn about him now. You really should take some time to find out about his life until this point, since there won't be any more stories to tell about this unfortunate soul. Ever.

Darren Lim was a kid from my school. You know, Wesley Methodist. He was I think twelve years old, a Form One from 1P. I don't really know that much about him.

Well, the thing is that Sunday night... he died.

Yeah, that's right. Fell out the window of his 28th-storey condo... the Tamarind Condominium in Sentul, which really isn't too far from our school.

How did he fall? It depends on which version you believe.

The first version I heard came from Peak Sheng. Who heard it from my cousin, Joo Lee, who heard it from Mdm Grace Simon in class. They say he was playing hide-and-seek with his younger brother when he fell off the balcony. This is the story i heard from my sister.

The chinese newspaper says... well, for those of you who don't read Chinese, the below article states that he was (literally transalated) "playing superman". This I find an insult to his memory, but the chinese article has pretty good coverage. It even has a psyche section.


Another source is from the New Straits Times website. This matches what our principal told us this morning. It says he fell out an open window jumping on a couch... well read it yourself.

There is a final, unorthodox theory: he jumped.

Why, exactly, we have not ascertained. But the following conversation log may shed some light on the matter.

[δ] «±[ίἦ vἆlέntiΩξ's sρί®Ϊt]±» Tonight, a very special Skull Pandamonium:
people dont just fall for no reason...

banana rejection:
maybe he was leaning over to get the clothes

[δ] «±[ίἦ vἆlέntiΩξ's sρί®Ϊt]±» Tonight, a very special Skull Pandamonium:
what? the school uniform isnt that bad

Clarity.
She said, he was leaning over to get the clothes
I read, he was learning to get over the clothes

It might have started as a misread, but it raises an interesting question.

What if it was the mandated school uniform - with its high socks and pleated pants - that drove the boy to jump?

Scandalous.

Exactly how it happened might be a bit mixed up, but in the end, none of that matters. What matters is that a boy died. I might not have known him, but there were people who did. He had friends, and he had a family. Someday he might have become something... no one will ever know now.

I'm not really good at stuff like this so I'm just going to close now. For those of you who might have missed it, my Valentine's Day special is just down the screen. Next on Pandamonium... Wishworld Chapter One, and it will be dedicated to Darren Lim Kai Fun.

May his soul rest easy tonight.

My Chemical Romance

And here it is, the post I promised. And what better timing than Valentine's Day? Remember how I promised to reveal secrets that would take everything you thought you knew about my life and turn it upside down? How I said I would spin you a tale that is going to completely nerf Questionable Content, MegaTokyo and every other thing even remotely related to dating and romance in general?

Well, it looks like today I break that promise. Sanjay already accused me of playing those poor sweet innocents just after sneaking a look at the messages on my phone, and there are only seven. So any more of that and I'll probably be lynched during assembly tomorrow or something.

Still, this Valentine's Day you people aren't going home empty-handed. For an Aries like me, the stars supposedly predict a loveless V-Day, but that doesn't mean I can't whip up one shock entry.

Valentine's Day Special

So I was going through my folder of old letters and things when I found this. No it wasn't burned when I found it, but realizing what it was I decided that burning one end open might have been a better idea than just running a knife through the envelope, in a symbolic kind of way.

Maybe I should tell you exactly what this is. It's a letter I wrote to myself some time ago. The date on the envelope says 1:44 am Tuesday 22nd November 2005. And beneath that: Private and not to be opened until the time when the veil of secrecy is truly cast aside. I sealed the envelope with wax from a dripping candle. I really hate to use the term drama king, maybe because it reminds me a little too much of drag queen, but maybe it's fitting here.

Whatever.

Okay, now you might wonder what exactly was written in that letter. Well, normally I would consider such a thing to be like, totally private. Cause it's, you know, scandalous.

But then again, sometimes it's healthier to reveal our dirty little secrets. Or it could be healthier to keep them bottled up inside. Maybe a lot healthier. Look at me, second thoughts already. I'm just going to get this over with before I come to my senses. And by the way, even though her name was mentioned in the original letter, here I have replaced it. With princess. Just to stop things from getting too out of hand.

It is unclear to me when it was when I first met her, for it was a long time ago and at the time we acknowledged our seperate existences and little more. Over the years we did interact on various occasions but we did not truly become friends, no did I realize how much she meant to me until one night at a party held by a friend of ours. It was that night, which I shall always recall as magical, over several hours of what would usually be routine activity, when spent in her presence became something else altogether. The night ended, in my mind, perfect in every way. Those treasured memories of stolen glances, guilty smiles, awkward silences and electric eye contact I will carry within me in a special place within my heart, to call upon during dark times when smiles are scarce. I know now, or I can guess, that it was only my deep infatuation for her that painted the night so beautifully in my memory, but I hold on to those thoughts nonetheless.

Since that time we have not had much time together that I consider to be truly as memorable as the night I first set my heart upon her, but I did try with varying degrees of success to be as much a part of her life as she was of mine. Of these, I remember most fondly an all too brief moment we shared - in her attic, of all places - during which I convinced myself she shared at least a hint of the feelings I had for her, and took great comfort in that fact. My attempts to see her since have annoyingly been thwarted, but even as I write this I swear I will find a way.

No amount of words will describe how strongly I feel for her, or the readiness with which I would lay down my life in her name. To say that I love her would not suffice, for I use that word to describe my relationship with so many other mundane, everyday things. That love would be a pale shadow next to the pure desire I have to be with her in every breath, and God willing it will never end. Love will not allow me to watch over her every step of the way, to be her guiding light through whatever darkness that may befall her, nor to explain or do justice to the way I feel in my heart of hearts, the undying need and the burning desire to be with this angel every step until the bitter end. Love is described as all-encompassing and all-powerful, but here it is not enough. Here it is not even close. Love is not enough, but it is all I have. All I have to offer her. It will never explain or demonstrate to the way I feel, but I am willing to spend the rest of my life trying. These words will stand, my soul bled onto paper as a testament to my eternal love for her, which burns brighter than any furnace of flame or star creation has ever known.

If I have not won your heart by the time this is read, I have failed.

I love you, princess. It is my only wish that you could see it, and if that love were returned it would be the source of my joy until the end of my life and beyond. I love you, princess.

I was an incredible sap. Well, looking back at what I wrote, and knowing how it ends, I wonder if I was foolish to think the way I did. Learning as I did, that the feeling was hardly mutual, and looking back do I regret writing those words?

Not one bit. Painful as it might have been at times, there were memories that I hold cherished, and I will continue to do so despite the events that have transpired since. Though ultimately I was unsuccessful, I never really felt as though I had lost that much. I guess it was just a part of life we all have to experience, and in the end I was still luckier than most.

I don't think I can properly say what I'm trying to get across here, so I'm just going to stop now. Initially I had intended to end the article here, but something's come up. Or, more accurately, something went down. So it's going up in the next post. Which is also going up this night of star cross'd lovers.

Happy Valentine's Day, everyone.

Sunday, February 12, 2006

21/01/2006, Part IV

And so it ends. These four pages could be considered my equivalent of Mark's pilot series, seing as how no one understands my plot and the inking at times gets really, really bad. This is not a slight on Mark's work, which I strongly encourage you all to go and see. But in the pilot none of his plotlines connect either, so I will consider these pieces exercises in artistic expression. But as soon as I get my schoolwork down to an acceptable minimum I will start blowing Eliot and Mark out of the water.

Wishworld, I have decided will be a written story with some illustrations or panels thrown in for good measure. The series will start sometime this week. I'm still taking submissions. I repeat, I don't have enough girl characters. If no one responds to this I will start allowing the guys to submit female avatars, as per request. I'm not that desperate yet, but I'm getting there.

I'm not sure how much work I will be able to complete on Wishworld this week, but it is entirely possible - even likely -that some of you may not appear as characters in the first chapter. This is as so to avoid introducing too many main characters at once. Also, you may have to face the possibility that some of you may die.

Still, this should not stop you from asking more people to join the crew. More characters would be great. This is gonna be a big project for me so I am hyped, and all feedback or suggestions regarding Wishworld are totally appreciated.

On Dexter's Party

It was pretty awesome. One of my favorite, I'm thinking. Possibly the only party I didn't enjoy was when the mob tied me to a lawn chair bondage-style and took a picture. An account of the proceedings can be found at Peak Sheng's blog. It's too late for me to recount it myself, so here are some choice quotes and a series of unfortunate events (but only if you're Azfar).

"At least I wasn't put on probation over my relationship with another guy!" - Azfar

"I have friends who can empty your pockets and toss you into the pool in five seconds flat. I've never been thrown into a pool so fast!" - Darryl, trying to convince us to pitch Dexter

"You've got to see what Jun Ian's doing! No, you can only get the full effect from this side - " - Azfar, like two seconds before Dexter went in

"What party is complete without getting thrown into the pool by your older brother?" - Darryl, moments after pitching Dexter the second time

Dexter: The puppy? I don't know why you think it's cute. Right now it's in its uncute stage. It was cuter before.
Pia: If this is the uncute stage, in cute stage it must be like the King of Cute.

"Everyone needs at least one totem Malay friend." - Eliot

Jun Ian: Ben Kane keep away from the mashed potatoes. It might cut you! I mean, a glue stick!
Ben Kane: That glue stick was sharp! None of you would even know about that if Evans hadn't decided to shout it out to the whole class!
Jun Ian: I bet it was round. Does she still have it?
Eugene: Can you cut yourself on ice?
Ben Kane: Ice is hard! It's got sharp edges!
Jun Ian: Yeah, I can see the headlines. "Boy Caught In Rain Loses Five Pints In Ten Seconds".

"You team-killing cockbite!" - Jun Ian

"You're both team-killing cockbites." - Darryl, because there were only like two players on the map and they were both German

"Can you stay there? I wanna get a good angle." - Jason, about two seconds before walking onto a grenade

"Wow, a package shaped like something I've seen before! I wonder what it is!" - Dexter, being sarcastic (shows what he knows)

"Rule number one, if the police come, you all scatter - run in different directions. It's every man for himself. And if you get caught, don't be an asshole and rat out your friends. Remember, if they ask, you have no connections to me or this house." - Darryl, handing out moon travellers and cherry bombs

"Yeah we're going up to your room and we'll be all OH-MY-GOD-KAH-YUN WHAT-ARE-YOU-DOING-WITH-THOSE-MAGIC-CARDS AND WHERE-ARE-YOUR-CLOTHES?" - Jun Ian

"Oh yeah baby, turn it up to high!" - Jun Ian (what do you think?)

"Ohpleaseohpleaseohpleasestopstopstop!!!!" - Azfar, forced by his religion into running away from the cutest puppy ever

"Oh looks... its the pizza that tastes like cum." - Eliot, on pizza

Ben Kane: Then there was that stupid skateboard thing! I was using the skateboard in Edward's house and then Serene was standing right in front of me! She didn't move at all! I had to throw myself to the floor to stop banging into her!
Eliot: And we sometimes wonder if Ben Kane is secretly a masochist. Which genius put you in charge of wireworks last year?
Ben Kane: She was standing right there!
Jun Ian: Your choices, I remember were a) full body contact with Serene or B) full body contact with the floor. Am I the only one who fails to see your problem here?

And the evening ended on a high note when on Friendster, we found this.

Li Wen, Li Wen. When will you learn to stop trying to be someone you're not?

Posting your email and handphone number online for all the world's sweaty-palmed perverts to see? For shame.

Li Wen, keep yourself and your crossdressing ways away from my family.

Friendster's Most Wanted.
Lonely, desperate men beware!

On Wednesday, join us for a very special Skull Pandamonium!

Thursday, February 09, 2006

Unprompt

Links updated. The World Map now includes exotic locales such as the eternally rainy kingdom of the Uncommon Blogger, the vast, sunlit plains of the Cactus Secrets, the airborne castle of the Blue Amoeba and the dark streets of the shady undercity that is Ruang Saya.

Also Li Sha and Pia have switched ideals. From Blogspot to Xanga and vice versa, respectively.

The fourth and final page of the 'No One Understands Me' storyline will be up by Saturday. In the meantime, I am not going to post teasers, neither will I release deeply intimate details of my personal life, little gold nuggets of information.

There will instead be interesting stuffs for you to look at.

Good old Streamyx. Always showing us how it's better to have an internet connection than to be dead. But not by much.

"That's because we have the best damn bug-exploiting players. In the world." - Peak Sheng

This is an old picture, from my second post ever. Did you see this?

What a way to tell the world that you find a certain someone offensive!
Khor Ming Yi - you got SERVED!

I need someone to help me create a better html for the site, or at least an understanding on what the script in the template is.

So on Wednesday we played census taker again. The question?

If you had three wishes, what would you wish for?
You can't wish for more wishes.
You can't wish for other ways to gain said wishes.
You can't wish for composite things, for example,
things that are composite.
(Every super hero power in all the Marvel and DC universes is not a valid wish. Same goes for super villains.)

We had a field day.

Dexter
  1. Immortality
  2. Ability to kill upon contact
  3. World domination
Eliot
  1. Hugotti Diablo
  2. Voluntary invisibility
  3. Unlimited credit in a Swiss bank account
Pia
  1. Teleportation
  2. Telekinesis
  3. Voluntary invisibility
Dassila
  1. Super speed like the Fourth Hokage
  2. Chakra tap like Naruto and knowledge on how to use it
  3. Good looks
Wai Khuin
  1. Complete control over time
  2. Shapeshifting
  3. A national education system less centered on exams
Jun Ian
  1. Voluntary invisibility
  2. Enough power to teleport to the moon
  3. Immaterial form which causes disruption of electronics and organics
Jason
  1. Invincibility
  2. Ability to make anything out of nothing
  3. Dead Monkey Powers (opens a portal to the land of infinite dead monkeys)
I can't remember all their wishes... those of you who were there, help me out here.

On Saturday when I post the fourth page I will write the pilot for a series set in an alternate reality where all our wishes are reality. I have yet to decide how this epic will be presented, but it will most likely be written. Y'know, as opposed to drawn.

Important note: If anyone else wants in, write me a comment with your three wishes (follow the rules) and I'll make you a character. Same goes for any existing characters who wish to pull out or change their wishes.

Additional important note: Submit all the wishes or Act-of-God powers you want, actual results may vary. In other words, I will not create a world filled with invincible deities with beyond-Godlike powers who can all turn invisible and are filthy rich to a point that defies imagination.

Second additional important note: I don't have enough girl characters.

"Don't tell anyone about this. If I hear anyone talking about this I'll slap you." - Serene

Like five minutes later...

"Can you draw a comic about it? - Serene

Next, on Pandamonium... the final installment of 21/01/2006 and the first chapter of Wishland! (Working title, post your suggestions people)

Sunday, February 05, 2006

21/01/2006, Part III

The post formerly known as Problems.

Edit: Okay, we're not having problems any more. But comments were lost. Like three comments from Li Sha, four from Khai Sim and one from Eugene. Some people have been double posting... I think. Sorry for the inconvenience caused, sorry for comments lost. But it's back to normal now, only they lost my whole page three post somehow.

Important: Yes Li Sha, sorry Li Sha, thank you Li Sha for sending me the pictures, thank you Serene for taking the pictures, thank you Li Sha again for taking some of the pictures. The Blogger people lost all your comments, by the way. But I got the message cause its registered in my Gmail.

And now, page three.

The first thing you *may* notice is that page three is different.

You may notice it is on the right, and in a single thumbnail. That aside sets it apart.

You may notice that there is no panel-by-panel summary. This is mainly because from reader feedback I know that not one person understands the plot anyway. Page four will come with a plot summary.

You may also notice, upon actually reading the comic, that some panels look better than others. This could be because I was using a different inking style for each panel, but it could also be because I am a lazy tool... possibly.

Anyway, I won't say too much. I have stupid work to do for stupid school. Stupid holidays lulling me into stupid false sense of security. Stupid BM!

PS: Everyone who has been following the twin QC/MegaTokyo storyline that has been my life for the past two weeks, archiving starts soon! (After page four. After!)

Wednesday, February 01, 2006

Intermission: Intermission

Note to future self: We suck at gambling. This isn't going to be a real post. First off, I would like to tell everyone reading this to click on this link. As often as you can, it helps.


Now, here's an interesting piece of trivia for Firefox users, if you type w into your address bar it takes you to the White House site. Does anyone know why?

Did you know that the president has two dogs (Barney and Miss Beazley) and a cat named Willie?

A long time ago I said I would talk about Edward's party. I'm not gonna do that, but I am gonna put up some snapshots I found.

In this picture, you can see the Tropicana river. It looks innocuous enough, anyone unfortunate enough to have been in it knows that in reality it's a cesspit.

Right. Now I'm not going to tell you to look closely at Wai Kit here, but I just did.

"When you were in the water every time you made a move every part of your body moved with you." - Azim

Me, Brian, Sanjay and Aaron.

That's Daniel, Edward and... Aaron. For some reason every time I looked at this picture I thought he was Li Wen. It wasn't until like five seconds ago when I realised Li Wen never went to Edward's party.

skullpanda_1337, aaron1990ayis, psycho.joker, eduardo_christiano and lirael90

So Daniel and Edward were spooning on the bed. Then Sanjay came in, jumped on top of the both of them and the whole thing degenerated into some kind of threesome.

I also found these old pictures of Brian washing his hair.


And finally, this is the part where I thank my faithful, and reply your questions.

Thanks everyone who commented on my two comics, the third page is almost done.

Thank you Peak Sheng, Jo Seen, Jason, Eugene, Pik Yen, Eliot, Wei Zhen, Vanu, Pia and Aaron.

As for the murder, what do you mean did I take those pictures with that storyline in mind? It just happened! When a crime is commited, do you ask the detective if he collected his evidence to fit the theory, or shaped his theory to match the evidence? Those photos just were. The case was formulated on the evidence, the way it should be.

I have a preview for you. Actually, it's just a title. For a post I plan to do after the story arc is complete.

My Chemical Romance

It is unclear to me when it was when I first met her, for it was a long time ago and at the time we acknowledged our seperate existences and little more. Over the years we did interact on various occasions but we did not truly become friends, nor did I realise how much she meant to me until one night....

... Then I slid on my knees and I laughed and I cried all at once and I prayed for it to be real or to never wake from this dream if it weren't. And I felt with dread, even as my heart sang with joy, the beginnings of the daylight world ebbing into my conciousness. And I awoke, and frantically I sought her out, wishing to know if it had been a fantasy...

... And that memory I will store within me, perhaps in an eternally sunlit meadow in a corner of my mind that is free from taint, that one day when troubles are near I may draw upon it to give me strength or when my days are at an end, to spend my time in that distant place, where the world beyond shall fade away and oblivion claims me...

... Sure I can be clever and articulate in fantasy worlds I create in my head, but I just realised that no matter how prepared I think I am for something I always come out at the bottom...

... The dirty plate, the saucer and cup, the half empty glass. And they say my whole life is turning into a QC/MegaTokyo dating sim. They hate me for it, I probably should too, but I don't care.

Go preview! Stay tuned people!