Image Designer Archive
Thread: Journal of a Novice-ID
Day 32:
Got "Faces I" now.. supplies running low. Used my last Muon, and only a few bottles of Vasarian Brandy left. Less than 259000 XP left, and moral is high. Saw someone run to the Starport.. I shouted and waved, and offered free Holoemotes and makeup restyling, but they disappeared. I will see what tomorrow brings.
Day 35:
There was a lot of shooting to the northeast. I went on recon across the large pond, and discovered someone AFKing training their Fencer skills against wave after wave of Mummers. I offered to do their hair, or pump up their muscles, but the fighting must have been too intense. There was no response. I had to retreat to my tent before the 2:30 timer expired.
Brandy is out now, but I have discovered that the water nearby has similar effects.
Day 39:
I've discovered a pattern in the movement of the few people that come into the area.. it seems they all head in the direction of a large structure to the north. I've decided to go their, and see if I can determine what it is...
In order to maintain my conversation skills, I’ve named one of the Image terminals ‘Beth’ and I’m already in the process of changing it’s hairstyle to something less shiny metal and glowing purple. Beth never got out of the punk scene it seems.
Day 40:
I only barely managed to make it back to the tent in time for my timer to restart! There's a large mass of people inside the structure to the north.. they seemed unconscious. I saw a metal man sitting in their midst, commanding them. "8 minutes!" I heard it shout. I shudder to think of what horrors he was commanding them.
Not having much time, I tried to rouse some of the crowd... to bring them back to the safety of my tent, but they were apparently hypnotized.. one even told me he was "Waiting for 'it' to come." I did not want to be there when this ominous 'it' arrived, so I evacuated home. Perhaps I can build up supplies, and find out what this 'it' is.
252000 more XP = 70 hours, 00 minutes, 00 seconds. It will be time enough.
Day 41:
I’ve declared open fashion war with the shiny metal man, and have decided my best chance lies in dressing in order to clash with him, hoping his fashion sense will drive him off. I shouted for volunteers to aid me in this desperate battle, but the Fencer-guy still seems to be absorbed in his unending battle with Mummers. A few more innocents also ran past, and despite my best efforts, were lured into the heart of the metal man’s lair. Curse him.. I’ll not let him get away with this.
Moenia Water supplies good, and mental state is unstable, right where I like it: on edge, tense and ready. However, my supply of tools is low.. As much as I hate to let the metal monster continue it’s reign of terror for even one more moment, I was forced to admit that without supplies the conflict could only end in my defeat. As I went to sleep awaiting the coming day, I could feel the terminals watching me...
Day 47:
I managed to locate a glowing red resupply depot. I would like to note that my Datapad was of no help in this, no matter how much I punched in "/find Terminal:Bazaar," it kept insisting the nearest one was in Keren. Even after I tried various intimidation/interrogation techniques, it would still not divulge the correct information.
Fortuitously, as I was burying the pad in the soil next to the pond to await high tide I discovered a Bazaar Terminal directly to my south. I loaded up my makeover supplies in case of trouble in transit, and began the slow process of crawling to the Terminal.
The metal man had spies everywhere, standing like robots, and begging for passers by to be ‘trained’ by them. I knew what evil their ‘training’ had caused, and so was able to avoid the temptation. One of them, Ikea Sunlighter (a Medic trainer), came too close, and I was forced to unleash my Holoemote of Bees on him. His confusion at me being swarmed with bees and running in circles around him caused him to ignore me, and I made good my escape.
Through a little skill, and a good deal of luck, I managed to return to the tent, nails and hair mostly intact. 251000 XP = 69 hours and 43 minutes and 20 seconds remaining.
Day 148 :
I did not sleep well tonight at the sight of the coming storm...it has been awhile now since i haven't written in my journal and the times have been tough.Over the months i have been forced to move to the image designer tent located in the city under imperial influence on tatooine. It has been days now that nobody has passed by the tent apart from the casual hermit perhapes. I no longer keep track of how much time i have been image designing , it seems like decades have passed , i can see wrinkles forming on my face ( or is that just me IDing myself...) and my hair getting greyer by the day. Only time will tell if one day i willbecome a master of my chosen proffesion... only time...
-Ender- * May the hair be with you...*
Day 48:
Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,
Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,
Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs,
And towards our distant rest began to trudge.
Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots,
But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame, all blind;
Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots
Of gas-shells dropping softly behind.
Gas! Gas! Quick, boys! An ecstasy of fumbling,
Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time,
But someone still was yelling out and stumbling
And floundering like a man in fire or lime.
Dim through the misty panes and thick green light,
As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.
In all my dreams, before my helpless sight,
He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.
If in some smothering dreams, you too could pace
Behind the wagon that we flung him in.
And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,
His hanging face, like a devil's sick of sin;
If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood
Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,
Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud
Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,
My friend, you would not tell with such high zest
To children ardent for some desperate glory,
The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est
Pro patria mori.
((Ok, I stole from Wilfred Owen. Sorry.))
Day 55:
I awoke this morning to discover a scene of carnage.. The entire tent was full of bottles, cans, and strange glassware, and I had the worst hadache you can ever imagine. In my lap was the head of a 3P0 unit. I’m going back to sleep.
Just a minor happy, personal note.. I finally Mastered the Hairstyling branch.. so I'm an Expert Hairstylist, and a 4/1/4/0 Image Designer! Time to Climb the Faces branch!
All with Casual playtimes, on myself. Granted, I started macroing most of it, and it goes a little faster that way.
/cheer!!! Love reading your journal
KeyTokikoMima wrote:
Just a minor happy, personal note.. I finally Mastered the Hairstyling branch.. so I'm an Expert Hairstylist, and a 4/1/4/0 Image Designer! Time to Climb the Faces branch!
All with Casual playtimes, on myself. Granted, I started macroing most of it, and it goes a little faster that way.
Stick with it trooper! I find that if you crawl into a bottle of 18yr old scotch and pop in "The Family Guy", it helps with the pain. If you we're in my area I could administer a couple of cc's to your brain to help.
-Awesome post!
BZ