Author Archives: Nautilus
Note: Sorry for not following your “How to Post Good” methods, Bucky! It’s just that this format is very different to the one you presented, and I don’t understand it in the least. I also can’t add my own Tags or Categories (I can only select from pre-made ones, all of which don’t apply to this post).
Ghostwriter’s Note: Herein, slathered permanently upon the endless murals of the cyberworld, shall be detailed a blurb for a (not so short) story that I’m planning on writing. I have already outlined much of the tale, and, since it is heavily based off of two stories (well, technically, it was one story, with a rewrite) that I wrote more than 5 years ago on the LEGO Universe Stories Message Boards, some of you might already know a little of what’s going on. But no longer is this second rewrite of my original story, “The Battle for LEGO Universe”, just a blatant action-fest with the occasional tragic whoop-te-do boo-hoo and a elephantine spill of equally tragic grammatical errors. It is now a blatant action-fest with an incessant blitzkrieg of whoop-de-do boo-hoos and, hopefully, a smaller spill of incomprehensible blather.
The story will be published chapter-by-chapter, but will in no way be periodic. I’ll put them up when they’re ready, if they’re ready.
“Starless Night” – A LEGO Universe Fan-Fiction
There are no heroes in the Nimbus System. Only beasts and tricksters, dead men and sickly actors with a dozen masks and no faces. Only professionals.
The threat of the Maelstrom is now greater than ever, and the Nexus Force is falling apart.
The leader of the Assembly, Albertram Deering, commonly known as “Dr. Overbuild”, has locked himself into the Nexus Core, sealing all entrances and ensuring that the rest of the Nexus Force no longer has access to the immeasurable found of Pure Imagination therein, forcing them to ration their Imagination usage for fear of running out. Now, leaderless and redundant, the Assembly is slowly bleeding away into nonexistence.
Althalos Exeter, Lord-Commander of the Sentinels and Duke of Beryllian, hasn’t truly gone to war for years; instead of charging into battle with his compatriots in the front lines like he did before, he has now become nothing but an armchair general, signing off lives and playing chess with real people and stunted regard for human life. Blinded by shame, and the loss of all honour or chivalry, Althalos stands by and supports his troops from light-years away, turning a blind eye at the hundreds of war-crimes that his warriors commit every day. But even though the Sentinels fight the Nexus Force’s wars without aid from other Factions on the front, they wouldn’t be able to function without funding.
Captain Clyde “Hael” Storm, pirate-king and extortioner extraordinaire, is, perhaps, the richest man in the Universe. If it wasn’t for his backing, the Nexus Force wouldn’t vanish as quickly as it was patched together. But the source of his money is hardly virtuous: he is, in fact, the mastermind behind the slave trade and the Turbul Drug Cartel, a conglomerate that sells tablets of concentrated Chaos to the citizens of the Nimbus System to give them temporary explosions of power and joy, at the eventual cost of their sanity. But hey! His income ensures the continued existence of the Nexus Force, which is, after all, the only group capable of combating the real baddy; Baron Balthazar Typhonus, the Darkitect.
And all the while, the Nexus Force’s smallest and most enigmatic Faction – Paradox – does nothing. At least, they don’t do anything noticeable. Continued experiments to use the Maelstrom’s power against itself have proved fruitless, often ending in disaster. And to add to their troubles, Paradox has been torn in two, leaving one half of it as a group of ineffectual scientists, black-magicians, assassins and marauders who steadily grow madder and madder the more they are exposed to the very substance that they are trying to destroy, and leaving the other half as a force of highly trained terrorists who have mutinied against the Nexus Force and proceeded to cripple it at every given opportunity. Worst of all, it it unclear which side the leader of Paradox, Vanda Darkflame, is on.
And, without a care for the Nexus Force’s troubles, the Maelstrom’s influences continue to grow, and world after world are darkened by its omnipresent shadow.
CHAPTER 1 RELEASE DATE: When it’s ready.
NEGOTIATIONS WITH AN EARTHQUAKE
I miss what my life was, and hate what it is,
I miss the years past, when you were still, dead but alive,
When the leaves rustled to naught but the wind,
And the rivers rippled only with dropped stones,
And washed clothes and ducks.
Incense dances forth as our thuribles sway,
As we pray,
As we kneel before red-painted gods, and crosses, and books,
We would give you our love,
For you give us our life,
We would live alongside the snakes,
The fathers in your valley, in our mother,
We would dance upon your clay, and sing to your clouds,
We would be born and age and die upon your rooted, mossy flesh,
We would live.
We thought we were so clever,
Flying in your skies, drilling into your heart
Of the mountains,
Of your arms,
We think ourselves strong, and great,
Though we steal what is yours, and we disease your love,
But, though our lies are great,
And our stupidity greater,
We are small, and the beatings of our hearts are drowned by your great thumping,
C r u m b l i n g,
We hack and slash at you with a passion, rending and tearing at your gifts,
Greedily asking, greedily wanting,
As only children can,
Under the shadows of their creators,
But we are innocent,
We don’t know,
We thought we were so clever,
But now, we have come of age.
You sleep so gently, so beautifully,
But when your eyes are closed, we set fire to our homes,
And build abominations anew from the ashes and sinews of your work,
We love you, but we forget you,
And then you awaken,
Your great heart thumping,
C r u m b l i n g.
And our dreams shift with your chest,
As our lie-built homes are laid to waste by our one true home,
Forgive us for our conceit, mother,
Forgive us for the wounds that we have bored into your flesh,
But please remember,
We are human,
We need to wake up to our loved ones smiling,
Our children laughing,
Those smiles and laughs, we take away by ourselves already,
And you take them away again,
We love you,
We need you,
We do not deserve you,
But we cannot stand against your wrath,
You birth the food that we eat, the water that we drink,
As your children devour your children,
We devour them,
But we don’t give thanks,
To the flesh,
To the bones,
To the blood,
And so you tremble,
C r u m b l e.
And though we cannot promise that no more hurt will come upon you,
We will try,
And we will die,
And we will be born again in your hearts,
B u i l d i n g.
Ladies and gentlemen, I’m afraid I’ve decided to stumble back into this hovel of wonder and absurdity once again.
Today is the day that Francisco Pizzaro captured the Inca king, Atahualpa, during at the Battle of Cajamarca. No, not today-today. 1532. Oh yeah, and Happy Birthday, Emperor Tiberius! May you rest in piece.
So, hello, living things! And rocks, of course! I wouldn’t forget you! Oh yes, it is I, Professor Nautilus, in case you’ve forgotten. If you haven’t, you’re a finer person than most.
Today, we have a truly scintillating word to analyze in a truly scintillating manner: Scintillating!
Scintillating, isn’t it? Rhymes with coruscating. Which, by the way, means scintillating. It’s also a synonym. Which, by the way, means that it means the same thing as scintillating. And no, scintillative isn’t a word. Neither is scintillationistic. Scintillation is, though. As is scintillating.
Let us begin with a couple of definitions:
“Ready… and… action!”
A very good day to you, fine viewers! Today, we have a special surprise… a word that everyone knows, is easy to remember, and tastes downright fantastic. If cooked properly.
Also, don’t try to cut it… starch is the blood of the devil… horrible stuff. Makes all the pieces stick to the knife and whatnot… bhrr.
Anyhow, I, Professor Nautilus, your ever-so-gracious host, have returned, to give you this week’s “Ridiculous Word Analysis and Etymology!”
Thank you, thank you.
So, without further ado… potatoes!
And where do they come from? No, not the ground. Well, yes, but I mean linguistically.
First, the definitions:
1: a starchy plant tuber which is one of the most important food crops, cooked and eaten as a vegetable.
2: the plant of the nightshade family which produces potatoes on underground runners.
3: a large hole in a sock or stocking, especially one in the heel.
Now, forget batata–patata-potato, because that’s a ridiculous analysis. There so much more it could have been derived from! Let us look at the plausible facts, not the inter-lingual cognates!
So, it’s a fruit-no-a-veggie-no-a-root-don’t-be-a-rump-wit-and-yell-out-berry, right? Now, with a definition like that, we can’t really do anything with it. I mean, the word’s a noun. Cow would be easier to analyze than this.
But, since I’m so incredibly intelligent, I know what to do.
Put pauses in between the syllables:
Now, that makes no sense. You can’t “Pot a To”, since “to” is a prepositionadverbinfinitivemarker. Yes, quite.
However, you can:
Aren’t I brilliant? We’re beginning to crack the code, my sidekick and I!
Oh, it’s you. I thought I had you fired, Cameraman.
“You then hired me, Professor.”
Oh my, I just realized… “fired” rhymes with “hired”! HA! Talk about contradictory terms.
“If I may ask… what sidekick were you referring to?”
Don’t be ridiculous! What sidekick?
You know what I’m talking about.
“Oh, you’ve gotten me the wrong way around, sir. I mean what sidekick were you talking about?”
For goodness sakes, Cameraman, what sidekick are you blabbering on about?
“The one you wer-“
“Alright sir, I’ll shut it.”
Wonderful. Now, where was I…
What? Oh, come on. My sponsors are idiots. Well, see you after the break, folks!
The following video has been rated PG for Peevish Guava
Time for our weekly quote!
Stephen Fry on the works of P.G. Wodehouse
“You Don’t Analyze Such Sunlit Perfection, You Just Bask In Its Warmth and Splendour.”
Brought to you by Nautilus Corporations
The Boss wanted to change the company’s logo, but to what, he wasn’t sure
Welcome back to “Ridiculous Word Analysis and Etymology”, Episode 3!
So yes, potatoes.
When you look at the term “Pot-a-Toe”, it’s quite obvious what comes to mind. If it hasn’t come to your mind, here’s a definition:
We are looking at-
1: preserve (food, especially meat or fish) in a sealed pot or jar..
Although there are-
2: plant in a flowerpot.
3: strike (a ball) into a pocket.
4: hit or kill by shooting.
5: succeed in obtaining (something desirable); win.
6: make articles from earthenware or baked clay.
7: sit (a young child) on a potty.
So, obviously, this word originated from the act of preserving toes. We know it’s human toes, because of the potato definition, “a large hole in a sock or stocking, especially one in the heel”, because humanity wears socks. Sure, some apes do to, but, at the end of the day, we are apes. Forget all that homo-erectus nonsense, it’s Latin, and Latin hasn’t contributed to our language at all.
So, the potato definition of it being a hole helps when attempting to find the etymology, because… where do we find toes? In socks! And other than the heel, what’s a most common place for a hole in a sock? Somewhere around a toe!
So, I am happy to say that the word “Potato” originates from somewhere in our cannibalistic ancestry, when we didn’t only preserve gherkins, but body-parts too.
And this truly does work, when you look at the “pot” verb tenses 2 to 7.
Cannibals. Toes. Preservation. Look at verb 4: it speaks of hitting or killing by shooting. People don’t just give their toes away, unless gods are involved. So, someone has to be killed – either with a gun, or, more likely when you look at timelines, a bow, cocked with an arrow or two.
Now, look at 5: to succeed in obtaining, or to win. Back in the day, “winning” didn’t have much to do with checkers. It was more “murder-murder-murder”, so to speak. Well, not really murder. “Surviving” is a better word. That was winning. Collecting toes… I’m sure that was an absolute success!
And what does this have to do with number 6? Well, we didn’t have glass or plastic jars in prehistory! We must have preserved toes in some container or other… clay pots would be ideal!
And 2 – to “plant in a flowerpot”. Lately, death has been related more and more with flowers. Plus, tribal people are smart. Ashes from cremations make great tulips. And our mouths have lips, and we use our mouths to eat… toes. Puns away!
After that, there’s verb number seven. People preserved toes to eat them, obviously. What happens after you eat?
“A content feeling washes over you, making you reel with joy. Depends on the taste, though.”
Shut up, Cameraman. After you eat, quite obviously, you take a dump. And yes, little kids poo too.
And then there’s number 3… what does that have to do with anything?
Well, I’m sure Neanderthals played snooker.
Also, eating a lot gives you a pot-belly, so… yes!
The word “potato” officially derived from our ancient tendencies of serving foot-fingers in vinegar.
And that’s all for today, ladies and gentlemen! We will be back next week!
~Degree in Fallacy
Merry Hallowe’en three days prior, dear breathers!
It is I, Professor Nautilus, and I have returned to present to you the second episode of “Ridiculous Word Analysis and Etymology”, airing now! These will officially premier every Saturday, so you have something to look forward to in your obviously dull existence.
Today, we shall deeply analyse a word that has plagued our lives and brought great minds to their knees for almost a decade; Swag.
Let us start with a definition:
Yes, that is the definition. How low civility has come, to incessantly use such common terms, and in such a low-class dialect!
So, our modernized, animalistic tendencies have taken a truly beautiful and diverse word, and twisted it into utter… bile!