It always blows me away when a relatively older band come out with one of their best works in years. Fates Warning are no exception.
Gelatinous Cube
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One among the Fence
STATUS: Rest In Peace Akira Toriyama. A huge part of so many childhoods. His legacy lives on stronger than ever. 12 mos ago
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12 mos ago
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Rest In Peace Akira Toriyama. A huge part of so many childhoods. His legacy lives on stronger than ever.
4
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4 yrs ago
Better yet, make a new game somehow bringing Halligan and Briggs from Limbo of the Lost together
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4 yrs ago
Baldur's Gate is my absolute jam, but I'm having trouble getting on board with 3
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5 yrs ago
"I'm bleeding, making me the victor."
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5 yrs ago
Well, I'm off to pet one or both of my cats!
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Most Recent Posts
It always blows me away when a relatively older band come out with one of their best works in years. Fates Warning are no exception.
I have ideas! I have so many ideas, I have the BEST ideas! A friend of mine, let me tell you he's a good, GOOD friend of mine, he'll tell you.
My ideas are the best.
My ideas are the best.
^ "All Along The Watchtower" reminds me of Battlestar Galactica every time. I agree, great song.
Anyway, here's what I'm listening to:
I've been listening to this band non-stop. Powerful, female-fronted progressive metal.
Yes yes YES! Oceans of Slumber are amazing! Winter is one of the best things I've heard this year.
Yeah, you know what? This could be fun. I'll take a slice of the pie too.
I was thinking about posting but I think it's open for @Always to respond now.
Nothing. Nothing at all can or will go wrong.
Just ask my Mother, she'll tell you.
Just ask my Mother, she'll tell you.
It was enough to make his head spin.
He had held onto Charlotte's gaze for as long as he could, before he lowered his eyes like a damn coward. He was suddenly aware of the two new faces in the room, and how the attention was focused on him. His face flushed red, and the heat made his scars itch like made. It was everything he could do to keep from scratching them like a feverish junkie. He was thankful for the poor light.
He shook his head.
"Jake," he said at last, "You used to be a policeman. You're the closest thing we have to law right now. If you let me walk out now, I'll never come back and you'll never have any trouble from me. Though, I'll be the last person to argue against you executing me right now."
It was living with himself that he struggled with so much. Every good deed done, every life saved, or settlement helped was an act of atonement. He never accepted any remuneration for his work unless he was truly desperate and even in those circumstances he only took the bare minimum.
The question remained his mind.
Is it enough? Will it ever be enough?
There was no taking away from the terrible things he had done, no excuses. He could try and preach survival, but the reality of it was that he had been too dead inside to fight it. The loss of his wife and two daughters had been devastating.
Lastly, the thing he would never admit to anyone for as long as he drew breath.
He had gotten to the point where he had liked it. The rush he got from killing, or dominating another human being, stripping them of their worth...it had become intoxicating.
That was when he had left as pleasure turned to disgust and his nauseating conscience had seeped back in through his skin.
He had held onto Charlotte's gaze for as long as he could, before he lowered his eyes like a damn coward. He was suddenly aware of the two new faces in the room, and how the attention was focused on him. His face flushed red, and the heat made his scars itch like made. It was everything he could do to keep from scratching them like a feverish junkie. He was thankful for the poor light.
He shook his head.
"Jake," he said at last, "You used to be a policeman. You're the closest thing we have to law right now. If you let me walk out now, I'll never come back and you'll never have any trouble from me. Though, I'll be the last person to argue against you executing me right now."
It was living with himself that he struggled with so much. Every good deed done, every life saved, or settlement helped was an act of atonement. He never accepted any remuneration for his work unless he was truly desperate and even in those circumstances he only took the bare minimum.
The question remained his mind.
Is it enough? Will it ever be enough?
There was no taking away from the terrible things he had done, no excuses. He could try and preach survival, but the reality of it was that he had been too dead inside to fight it. The loss of his wife and two daughters had been devastating.
Lastly, the thing he would never admit to anyone for as long as he drew breath.
He had gotten to the point where he had liked it. The rush he got from killing, or dominating another human being, stripping them of their worth...it had become intoxicating.
That was when he had left as pleasure turned to disgust and his nauseating conscience had seeped back in through his skin.
"I couldn't stand it anymore...the killing, the torturing...the raping. I tried to run away after dark, but they followed me. They don't punish desertion lightly. I barely got away, nearly died. I wish I had."
That night had been a blur of running, gunfire and explosions. He could clearly recall blinking through hot, sticky blood as it poured down his face. His breath grew more and more labored as his legs burned and turned to jelly.
When they eventually gave up the ghost it was because he managed to reach the city limits and steal away into the night. Guess they figured that the shambling freaks of the night would have gotten to him.
Instead, he survived until morning until the caravan of merchants rolled by and got him. It felt like a dream, they seemed so damn out of place. Quinn spent almost three weeks drifting in and out of consciousness before finally awakening free of pain and infection.
"I'm sorry you had to find out like this. Were it up to me, I would never have even told you."
That night had been a blur of running, gunfire and explosions. He could clearly recall blinking through hot, sticky blood as it poured down his face. His breath grew more and more labored as his legs burned and turned to jelly.
When they eventually gave up the ghost it was because he managed to reach the city limits and steal away into the night. Guess they figured that the shambling freaks of the night would have gotten to him.
Instead, he survived until morning until the caravan of merchants rolled by and got him. It felt like a dream, they seemed so damn out of place. Quinn spent almost three weeks drifting in and out of consciousness before finally awakening free of pain and infection.
"I'm sorry you had to find out like this. Were it up to me, I would never have even told you."
"I haven't been completely honest with you. I didn't think I needed to tell you, but..." He paused, unsure of how to proceed. He decided it was best to just tell Jake everything.
"Alyssa knows me. She knows me because I used to be a part of the Blood Army. She was a captive of my platoon. I thought I had left it behind, thought I was out. They left me with this," he turned his head and pointed at the scars on his face, "my punishment for desertion."
Quinn turned his head back, unable to look at Jake.
"I've done...I've done terrible things. No matter how many of those bastards I kill, it doesn't go away."
"Alyssa knows me. She knows me because I used to be a part of the Blood Army. She was a captive of my platoon. I thought I had left it behind, thought I was out. They left me with this," he turned his head and pointed at the scars on his face, "my punishment for desertion."
Quinn turned his head back, unable to look at Jake.
"I've done...I've done terrible things. No matter how many of those bastards I kill, it doesn't go away."
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