As embarrassing as it is to be forced to admit enjoying such garbage, I'm compelled to mention that today's Penny Arcade is rather effective.
The Accompanying News Post
They've almost pushed him entirely away; somehow, they have discovered the ragged boundary of his masochism. It's been true for a long time now that the movies, strangely enough, haven't been the core of his fandom.Karen Traviss had a take on the universe that really spoke to him, and he spent significant time there, reading her books and those books which were tangentially or sequentially related to her approach. Ultimately she left for greener pastures, or pastures that were green, at one point, that had been green, before a race of latter-day morlocks erupted directly through the aforementioned. He stopped reading one book altogether when, for no discernible reason, Han Solo and Chewbacca appeared halfway through a narrative. "This is a Star Wars book," it seemed to say. "It is a book abut Star Wars."
Except it's the universe and its peculiar cultures, not specific people, that draws him in. After a long while of not quite knowing how to feel about Star Wars: The Old Republic, he had a chance to play through an instance at the show, and felt the ancient stirrings. Star Wars is something his son likes now, in many ways. Not him.
I could tell that, in a way, he felt relieved.
The electrodes stopped pulsing, and the mind slugs were coaxed into releasing their psychic anchors from the subject's retinas. Oily disinfectant erupted from every surface in the lab, momentarily bewildering the distinguished visitor. Counters barricaded the perimeter of the lab overflowed with cutting implements new and old, bone and steel, obsidian and chrome. The ceiling and floor, matte black and curiously luminescent, seemed at once to advance and receede, offering a surrogate bellows, usurping the breath with an uncanny facsimile of preparedness; the two surfaces seemed to resonate with the accumulated gravitas of a hundred hundred screams of anguish a billion billion deaths In the center of the room hung suspended a figure long since divorced from pretense of humanity. The subject's skin stretched across chasms defined only by bone. Its gaunt face outlined by scars jagged and scars precise and colored only by the ochre of old bruises spasmed in anticipation of further torment. Technicians trained to scurry between scanners and screens as unthinking clockwork had already begun the next injections: eleven needles pierced the temples, crown, and sternum of the subject. The distinuished visitor spoke, resting his cane lightly on his toe while tapping the ring on his fourth finger. He spoke.
[font=courier]Surely you can wait one moment.
The gears rats clockwork men were unaffected. The machinery continued their work. The walls gleamed sterile and silent, and the floor thrummed with the promise of one more life human and fragile. The cane came crashing down and a pulse. The clockwork sundered and wounded quivered on the floor. Again, the visitor spoke.
George, you wouldn't have found me, not here or there. You wouldn't have found me no matter how long ago you looked. I was already here.
For the first time, the subject drew its eyes up to its guest. For the first time, there was clear fear. Where before showed pain, now mere terror. The jaw opened, air leaked out of the body. Not a sound.
Don't worry, George. Your work is nearly over. You are only going to be here for another two or three generations.
The visitor left that day. But we were on notice. The program could only reach back so many steps, the pattern of the perfect being was slowly degrading and we knew we had to find it. The galaxy had diminished, and its executioner was always waiting. Always ready. In not too long, a few life ages of the earth, the last vestige of the godhead would be purged and the line of Revan would die. The ancestral memories would fade and our only link to the avatars of the great one would be cut. Somewhere in the past we could find the answer. If only there were more time[/font]
Spoiler:
This is why there is a main character in every product. GL can only access memory from Revan the composite Godhead. (Revan is every single main character, via the Soul Transfer technique.)
Originally posted by Lord Lucien
It seems like every time I play KotOR II, the game gives me another reason to dislike it. So f*cking overrated.
It is crap, compared to the original KotoR game, mainly because they hadn't time to finish it properly. It's still better than 98 % of the RPGs produced today not coming from BioWare.
I also only have the Xbox version, so I can't even have fun with mods. I was in the Korriban academy, and in order to get in to Uthar's quarters, you need thorium charges to blow up the door and access the holocron and two footlockers. To get the charges you need to have someone with security. Too bad I didn't. No warning at all.
F*cking game...