Ever17

Wow.

I just completed Ever17, an visual novel. My mind is blown after seeing the true ending. It's almost like watching a whole season of Doctor Who. I didn't expect this to be so good. To see the true ending, I had to go through the game's other 4 endings first, so it was a bit slow. In fact, I went through these endings in a marathon, because I played through the first path halfway during school and had to stop for a while. And I finally finished it today. Boy, was it good.

There are so many twists, and you get to see the story from many different perspectives. I can't say more because I don't want to spoil the story. But I must say that, it might be a bit slow at times, and it might be a pain to go through the 4 endings, but the true ending is totally worth it. And you really need to see the 4 endings to appreciate the true ending. I promise you it will blow your mind.

Let me end this post with one of the jokes said by one of the characters in the story:


A nurse named Kate was desperately in love with Robert, a doctor who worked at the same hospital.
Robert was crazy about Kate, as well.
Kate stood on the left side of the room and Robert stood on the right.
Kate slipped out of her white uniform and hung it on the closet door.
Robert stripped his uniform off in a bit of a hurry and simply dropped it on the floor.
Kate lowered her panties. Robert threw off his boxers.
Kate's body was lovely and supple and Robert was lean and muscled.
Kate put on the silk pajamas she had bought for the occasion.
Still naked, Robert turned off the light.
Standing on the left of the bed, Kate turned slowly to the right.
On the right of the bed, Robert turned easily to the left...
And they jumped into the bed, and... slept.
Oh, btw, Kate was sleeping in the night duty room, and Robert was sleeping in his room at home.

I'm highly sensitive

I always knew I was more sensitive than the average person, but reading the book "The Highly Sensitive Person" by Elaine Arron, readily confirmed my thoughts. Highly sensitive people(HSP) process sensory data from the world more deeply. Usually, what is normal arousal levels to other people become overarousal for HSP. Are You Highly Sensitive? I answered "true" to all the questions there with the exception of the caffeine one. (I don't notice any effect from caffeine)

Those are the questions that resonate deeply with me:

  • I am easily overwhelmed by things like bright lights, strong smells,coarse fabrics,or sirens close by.
  • My nervous system sometimes feels so frazzled that I just have to go off by myself.
  • I get rattled when I have a lot to do in a short amount of time.
  • I am annoyed when people try to get me to do too many things at once.
  • I make a point to avoid violent movies and TV shows.
    There are exceptions, of course. But I will always prefer comedies.
  • I become unpleasantly aroused when a lot is going on around me.
  • Being very hungry creates a strong reaction in me,disrupting my concentration or mood.
    I can never sleep when I'm hungry
  • I notice and enjoy delicate or fine scents, tastes, sounds, works of art.
  • When I must compete or be observed while performing a task, I become so nervous or shaky that I do much worse than I would otherwise.
  • When I was a child, my parents or teachers seemed to see me as sensitive or shy.


Really, this HSP thingy explains a lot of things.

1. I hate overcrowded places. I can literally go dizzy. That's why I also hate big parties, and I secretly come out with excuses not to attend my friend's birthday parties because I probably won't be able to take it (oops).

2. Smokers and their smoke are a fucking bitch. Seriously. Does this even need explanation? Why the fuck do we have to content with smokers for fresh hair? The saying goes "better to light a candle than to curse the dark", but it's a fucking pain to go out of your way to avoid those fucking smoke? Btw, the new Serangoon MRT bus stop is a fucking good combination of overcrowding and smoking. I really fucking hate it. (So, wearing a mask is a pain; and even then the smoke seeps in the clothes making them smell; so I have to go out of my way to the bus interchange)

3. I eat really slow. I have friends who eat slower, but I'm still slow. I like to savour my food. And I really hate it when people make me rush to eat.

4. I read the ingredients of every food I buy. Okay, this is probably OCD.

5. I cry easily. I don't cry as easily now, because I have learned to hold my tears. Which is probably not healthy, but whatever.

6. I really need a lot of alone time. I enjoy interacting with people, yes, but I need a lot of alone time to recharge.

7. I'm quite sensitive to sounds. Even the mere vibration of the phone can usually wake me up.  And my alarm is the Titanic song in piano form. Unless I'm in super deep sleep, which is probably never?

8. So picky about food. New stuff can really frazzle me, so I like to stick to stuff I know.

9. I really, really cannot do business. The business industry would probably freak the hell out of me. Oh, my nerves will be gone if I have to keep interacting with people all day.

10. I have always longed for the country life. Because I know city life is too arousing for me. But then country life might be too boring for me. I guess I'm easily bored, yet easily overaroused. Sad huh?


11. Sometimes I see people reading or studying while listening to music. I don't know how they can do that because it never works for me. I'll be distracted by the music (even calming songs).


12. I like to think about why? and how? and I like to improve myself. Some people don't and they go all like whyyousoweird which is of course fucking insulting to me but then they don't know it.

13. I don't know how I'm gonna survive after I graduate.


Edit: Blog of a Sheep has written a great response to this post.

Gasai Yuno is the Bomb


I've only watched 4 episodes of Mirai Nikki, but I've already fallen in love with Yuno. She is super awesome. IMBAgirl. Yanderes FTW

Surfeit of Thieves

Hello! This is yet another book I found in Skyrim. It's creepy, and quite funny at the same time.

Surfeit of Thieves
by Aniis Noru
How a busted robbery gets even worse


This looks interesting," said Indyk, his eyes narrowing to observe the black caravan making its way to the spires of the secluded castle. A gaudy, alien coat of arms marked each carriage, the lacquer glistening in the light of the moons. "Who do you suppose they are?"

"They're obviously well-off," smiled his partner, Heriah. "Perhaps some new Imperial Cult dedicated to the acquisition of wealth?"

"Go into town and find out what you can about the castle," said Indyk. "I'll see if I can learn anything about who these strangers are. We meet on this hill tomorrow night."

Heriah had two great skills: picking locks and picking information. By dusk of the following day, she had returned to the hill. Indyk joined her an hour later.

"The place is called Ald Olyra," she explained. "It dates back to the second era when a collection of nobles built it to protect themselves during one of the epidemics. They didn't want any of the diseased masses to get into their midst and spread the plague, so they built up quite a sophisticated security system for the time. Of course, it's mostly fallen into ruin, but I have a good idea about what kind of locks and traps might still be operational. What did you find out?"

"I wasn't nearly so successful," frowned Indyk. "No one seemed to have any idea about the group, even that that there were here. I was about to give up, but at the charterhouse, I met a monk who said that his masters were a hermetic group called the Order of St Eadnua. I talked to him for some time, this fellow name of Parathion, and it seems they're having some sort of ritual feast tonight."

"Are they wealthy?" asked Heriah impatiently.

"Embarrassingly so according to the fellow. But they're only at the castle for tonight."

"I have my picks on me," winked Heriah. "Opportunity has smiled on us."

She drew a diagram of the castle in the dirt: the main hall and kitchen were near the front gate, and the stables and secured armory were in the back. The thieves had a system that never failed. Heriah would find a way into the castle and collect as much loot as possible, while Indyk provided the distraction. He waited until his partner had scaled the wall before rapping on the gate. Perhaps this time he would be a bard, or a lost adventurer. The details were most fun to improvise.

Heriah heard Indyk talking to the woman who came to the gate, but she was too far away to hear the words exchanged. He was evidently successful: a moment later, she heard the door shut. The man had charm, she would give him that.

Only a few of the traps and locks to the armory had been set. Undoubtedly, many of the keys had been lost in time. Whatever servants had been in charge of securing the Order's treasures had brought a few new locks to affix. It took extra time to maneuver the intricate hasps and bolts of the new traps before proceeding to the old but still working systems, but Heriah found her heart beating with anticipation. Whatever lay beyond the door, she thought, must be of sufficient value to merit such protection.

When at last the door swung quietly open, the thief found her avaricious dreams paled to reality. A mountain of golden treasure, ancient relics glimmering with untapped magicka, weaponry of matchless quality, gemstones the size of her fist, row after row of strange potions, and stacks of valuable documents and scrolls. She was so enthralled by the sight, she did not hear the man behind her approach.

"You must be Lady Tressed," said the voice and she jumped.

It was a monk in a black, hooded robe, intricately woven with silver and gold threads. For a moment, she could not speak. This was the sort of encounter that Indyk loved, but she could think to do nothing but nod her head with what she hoped looked like certainty.

"I'm afraid I'm a little lost," she stammered.

"I can see that," the man laughed. "That's the armory. I'll show you the way to the dining hall. We were afraid you weren't going to arrive. The feast is nearly over."

Heriah followed the monk across the courtyard, to the double doors leading to the dining hall. A robe identical to the one he was wearing hung on a hook outside, and he handed it to her with a knowing smile. She slipped it on. She mimicked him as she lowered the hood over her head and entered the hall.

Torches illuminated the figures within around the large table. Each wore the uniform black robe that covered all features, and from the look of things, the feast was over. Empty plates, platters, and glasses filled every inch of the wood with only the faintest spots and dribbles of the food remaining. It was a breaking of a fast it seemed. For a moment, Heriah stopped to think about poor, lost Lady Tressed who had missed her opportunity for gluttony.

The only unusual item on the table was its centerpiece: a huge golden hourglass which was on its last minute's worth of sand.

Though each person looked alike, some were sleeping, some were chatting merrily to one another, and one was playing a lute. Indyk's lute, she noticed, and then noticed Indyk's ring on the man's finger. Heriah was suddenly grateful for the anonymity of the hood. Perhaps Indyk would not realize that it was she, and that she had blundered.

"Tressed," said the young man to the assembled, who turned as one to her and burst into applause.

The conscious members of the Order arose to kiss her hand, and introduce themselves.

"Nirdla."

"Suelec."

"Kyler."

The names got stranger.

"Toniop."

"Htillyts."

"Noihtarap."

She could not help laughing: "I understand. It's all backwards. Your real names are Aldrin, Celeus, Relyk, Poinot, Styllith, Parathion."

"Of course," said the young man. "Won't you have a seat?"

"Sey," giggled Heriah, getting into the spirit of the masque and taking an empty chair. "I suppose that when the hourglass runs out, the backwards names go back to normal?"

"That's correct, Tressed," said the woman next to her. "It's just one of our Order's little amusements. This castle seemed like the appropriately ironic venue for our feast, devised as it was to shun the plague victims who were, in their way, a walking dead."

Heriah felt herself light-headed from the odor of the torches, and bumped into the sleeping man next to her. He fell face forward onto the table.

"Poor Esruoc Tsrif," said a neighboring man, helping to prop the body up. "He's given us so much."

Heriah stumbled to her feet and began walking uncertainly for the front gate.

"Where are you going, Tressed?" asked one of the figures, his voice taking on an unpleasant mocking quality.

"My name isn't Tressed," she mumbled, gripping Indyk's arm. "I'm sorry, partner. We need to go."

The last crumb of sand fell in the hour glass as the man pulled back his hood. It was not Indyk. It was not even human, but a stretched grotesquerie of a man with hungry eyes and a wide mouth filled with tusk-like fangs.

Heriah fell back into the chair of the figure they called Esruoc Tsrif. His hood fell open, revealing the pallid, bloodless face of Indyk. As she began to scream, they fell on her.

In her last living moment, Heriah finally spelled "Tressed" backwards.