#egor dark

[solopezoncillos]

OBED SIMON & EGOR DARK

#obed simon #egor dark

[substarxr]

Very incredible!

#egor dark

[madcat-world]

Extermination - Egor Grishin

#Extermination #Egor Grishin #undead #dragons #magic #cities #skeletons #dark fantasy #digital art

[wh40kartwork]

Sketches

by Egor Gafidov

#imperium #pre heresy #sisters of silence #space marines #loyalist astartes #dark angels #emperors children #warhammer #warhammer 30k #30k #egor gafidov

[dummerjan]

a get to know you better meme

tagged by @zozobruh - Thank you! <333

do you make your bed? No. I do turn turn up the blanket so it can air out but that's it.

what's your favourite number? There's 3, and then 9, then 12, then 16 (but only because that's the day of the month I was born), then 21 (for non-SKAM reasons actually), then 27. 3 is the dominant theme. I like to do things in a set of three, but not compulsively. There's a bit of a system to and a whole story behind the numbers. I could go on a whole spiel. It also goes back to me playing around with words and syllables when I was around 8. I used to collect words with 9 letters.

what is your job? Don't have one.

If you could go back to school would you? What school? Elementary? No thanks. Also not secondary. Or night school. Regular school does not work for me, too autistic and the system too... well, a system. People are assholes, teachers included. Most of my schooling was done via distance learning and I definitely don't want to go back to that either. But also, I am attending school right now (vocational school) and I intend to further my education afterwards. I'd really like to learn how to properly draft and construct patterns and/or acquire the master craftsmen certificate in tailoring (or however you say meinen Meister machen).

can you parallel park? I don't have a license and I hope to make it through life without having to learn how to drive.

a job you had that would surprise people? None.

do you think aliens are real? Earth being the only inhabited place seems unlikely. Though I highly doubt they are how we have pictured alien life forms.

can you drive a manual car? If I did have a license, I'd be able to since that is the norm in Germany.

what's your guilty pleasure? I don't know... really bad smut? I have horrendous taste in that, I really do.

tattoos? I love them on other people, from a single or a few to lots of skin being covered, and all kinds of styles. But I don't have any myself and I don't think I ever will. I just couldn't be bothered. Way too indecisive and uncertain to decide on a design, and then the work put into researching which artists are the best, nevermind that I am scared of needles. And then afterwards it won't look exactly how I pictured it, especially after a few years or even decades. Oh, and the price! I do admire them on other people but I just don't think it's for me, too much hassle and not enough passion for it. (But if I would get tattos, I suspect I would get an Against Me! quote tattooed. Something from True Trans Soul Rebel. And an AJJ one.)

favourite colour? Dark blue.

favourite type of music? *panicked screaming* I listen to way too many artists (or sometimes just a single song) from all over the world and from all kinds of genres. And while there are genres I really like, I rarely will listen to more than a few representatives. But I can say that right now I really enjoy late Soviet/90s Siberian punk (Yanka Dyagileva and Egor Letov).

do you like puzzles? Yep. I don't know who but someone on tumblr got me into online puzzles last summer. (They did a Jeff puzzle.) I like those.

any phobias? No proper phobias.

favourite childhood sport? I didn't really do sports. In fact I hated sports, still do. Worst of all was school sports class, I had a stomach ache every the evening before. But my family was active and we regularly went swimming, rock climbing, hiking. I did horseback riding for several years but it was therapeutic.

do you talk to yourself? In my mind yes, but rarely out loud.

what movie(s) do you adore? I adore Latin American movies though I can't say I have seen too many. (Quemar las naves, María, llena eres de gracia and El cielo dividido are my favourites.) I enjoy Nordic comedies, not just with Mads Mikkelsen but I really do like those. (The last one I watched was Riders of Justice though I really wouldn't classify it as comedy. It has comedic elements.) I like movies with open, ambiguous endings, ones that leave you a bit unsatisfied, ruminating, on edge. When they linger. I don't like it when movies make it easy for me. And above all else I adore Astrid Lindgren movies. I feel like so many conversations I have lead to me mentioning how much I love them but it's true. I really, really do.

coffee or tea? I don't (can't?) drink coffie and when I drink tea, then not black (or any other proper tea) but herbal and spiced tea.

first thing you wanted to be growing up? I think a teacher? I adored and really looked up to my elementary school teacher. I loved German and correcting texts so I wanted to be like her.

tagging @lady-guts @thestrangeillusion @toppingjeffsatur @scattered-stardust @sitron-sunni @die-schwanenkoenigin

#meins #playing tag #i was just done with the other tag game when i was tagged in this one and couldn't resist #but i am going to resist proofreading even if i feel anxious about any mistakes I've made #but i really need to get ready for bet now

[askthebrokenones-fm]

Hey there! I was thinking of doing an rp of an HM AU I have: It's called Cat Poessession!

The AU goes like this:

Hannhson wants to have more dark & magic so the black cat and Hannhson do a pack secretly without anyone knowing.

If that's fine okay with you?, or no?Just wanna ask first! 😅

((That’s a super cool AU idea!!! I like it!!

((Unfortunately, the only dudes who are open for rp are Sinclair and Egore, so I’d be down if you don’t need Host or Obec themselves! (Host is in the works to start rping at some point and maybe Obec just not at the moment)

#theredheadedfelinepainting #mun magician

[wrinklybrain]

The Complex-ities of Encountering Egor Serling

All the pieces line up for Egor Serling’s encounter in the Complex, with the game’s structure, the level design, art and narrative all contributing in full force. Unlike the rest of the levels (time of day as well as area), the Complex at night is a terrifically linear (guided) experience. There’s no other area or encounter to prepare or be careful for later in the day– it’s going to loop after this level. Nor are there any leads to pursue within this level either (this factors in during subsequent visits). In short, all distractions have been kept from the level. The only objective to visiting the Complex at night is to assassinate Egor Serling. 

    It’s different. The paranormal emissions from the Stabilizer have picked up in intensity, its aviation obstruction lights glow in the night sky and snow’s begun to fall over the Complex. The synths in the day transition take on an even more foreboding tone. “It was a dark and stormy night”, as they say. You’re dropped into an actively hostile situation between Egor and some eternalists outside the central bunker. Guy isolated himself away after killing everyone else in the area. Instead of increasing enemy count, every route between you and Egor is laced with turrets, nullifiers and mines (though you wouldn’t know exactly where he’d be hiding the first time through). A clever design decision in four(4) parts. 

Communicates danger environmentally. Dude, they put improvise markers around the mines. That’s so environmental storytelling.

Presents a different sort of challenge than placing more eternalists in your way.

Isolates the area. Restricting the number of eternalists in this level tightens the control Arkane has over crafting the experience of going through this level. There is a tendency towards empty-level disease* in Deathloop, where you’ve killed everyone in a level (either in the process of, or as a result of) completing whatever tasks you got going on. It’s *empty* in the same way an empty Capri-Sun is empty. In a sense, you’ve “consumed” the level. In a level like the Complex at night where the threats are passive, are not interesting to neutralize and have no benefit to being neutralized, such a state can be avoided. All the player has to focus on is clearing the path of literal obstacles in front of them.

Isolates the fight between you and Egor into a duel. Very important.

Every other visionary you’ve encountered has been doing their own thing within their domain: if you raise a commotion outside of that domain, they’d be none the wiser. Egor’s hair-trigger when you detonate a mine or spook the eternalists out front is both unprecedented and is almost guaranteed to be bumbled into during your first visit. He monologues to Colt, and unlike the other Visionaries, he has space to establish a deeper history with him, pleading to let him live (not just because he know Colt’s incredibly capable of killing him, but because he’s *this* close to a breakthrough– one whose progress will tragically reset with the loop). This comes to a head when you finally enter his zone. 

Egor gets to have this cool climactic showdown– more accurately, Egor gets to be hunted down. I draw this distinction given how taking down most Visionaries involves either infiltrating or assaulting their base, and killing them to death. Deathloop’s enemy AI isn’t anything to write home about, (nor are the Visionaries as forthcoming with backstory as Egor when Colt swoops in to take them out, especially given how quickly they perish) but Egor makes the best of what he’s got. His single-shot Rapier, Invisibility from Aether and flighty AI culminate in the unusual situation where you have to deal with a Sniper constantly on the move. Arriving in the Array Y, an open exterior arena, it’s unclear where exactly Egor’s position is**, and more often than not *he* gets the first shot off on you from a distance. You can choose to counter-snipe from a distance, at risk of losing track of him. You could rush him down like a… 

colt 🐎

(hehe).

You could even catch him out using his own field nullifiers.

He goes down the same amount of bullets as any other visionary, but his presence throughout the level builds up to a (as far as Deathloop is concerned) uniquely engaging boss fight sticks with me. It’s all a great bit of story-telling. Greater than the sum of its parts for sure.

The acknowledgement that he knows Colt will likely succeed in killing him, but futilely tries to fend for himself is grim. Oh yeah, And Colt taught him how to shoot.

Sheesh.

* This isn’t a real term, but definitely something I run into even outside of Deathloop **Arguably the same could be said for arriving in the Complex in general

#frank spicer wishes he had what Egor and Colt have #and vice versa #alternative title: The Hunt for the Red Raktober #(a little Runescape and ig Tom Clancy ref) #egor serling #colt vahn #deathloop #a highlight in the game definitely

[sigilmint]

🌤️

🌤️Share your favorite piece of dialogue from your WIP.

I'm gonna choose to interpret this holistically and pick a line from CMWL that's already published, bc the fic as a whole is technically still a WIP :P this exchange never fails to make me smile:

“It’s not as if anyone else had some kind of claim on my time! He was nice to me, you know!”

Aleksis reaches up between them and lets Karnesis push him back with unrestrained force, sending Egor crashing backwards into the snow with a yelp. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?? Where’s this coming from, all of a sudden? Haven’t I been nice?”

Purple shadow envelops Egor’s form as he gets to his feet, and there he is, the Egor he knows. Funny how it’s so much easier to see him when he’s invisible. Aleksis chuckles as he takes a step back, holding his hand out in front of him so he can strike when necessary, but even with his senses heightened, he misses the translucent form in the relative darkness, and all of a sudden, he feels the cold steel barrel of a rapiér at his back, even through the thick layers he’s wearing.

Egor’s voice is quieter as it grits out behind him, “You were being nice—but you aren’t nice. And you never have been, and you never will be.”

“Nice is boring,” Aleksis quips before he can stop himself, but he feels the jolt of the gun being pressed against his back. Quite the step up from the little rock thrown there hours earlier. “What’s the move, then? Throw away this Loop just because I poked at the bloodfly nest?”

“You just—you push and push—and you walk around like everything belongs to you. But guess what, Dorsey? Blackreef doesn’t belong to you, and neither does Colt, or Frank, or any of the others, and neither do I. Nobody owes you.”

Aleksis lifts a brow at that choice of words, wondering what the fuck Egor’s actually talking about. Karnesis flares, and he barks over his shoulder, “Okay, don’t call me ‘Dorsey’ like you’re suddenly my arch nemesis or something. And don’t act like you’ve got the guts to shoot me in the spine for fuck’s sake—I doubt you even know how to load that thing.”

There’s an answering click of the trigger being held tighter behind him, and Egor’s voice is closer than it was before, breath hot at his ear, “Colt taught me. On one of our many excursions.”

#ask meme

[theheadlessgroom]

"You...you've never worn white?"

This gave Randall pause, as he halted his sketching to take a sip of his coffee and glance his friend's way, intrigued by this-although white wasn't his most prominent or favorite color to wear, he still had worn quite a bit of it throughout his life and afterlife; he was reminded of the nice, neat church clothes his mother sewed for him when he was a boy...granted, they never attended church when he was alive, but still, they were such a pretty shade of white...

Pulling himself out of his memories, he gave a little shrug before looking to Egore, asking curiously, "Well...would you ever want to? A-Are there any other colors you might like to wear sometime?"

#outofhatboxes #askthebrokenones-fm #V:Capes

[distraughtmary]

To Uncreate You. Chapter 1 and the synopsis

The Synopsis

After discovering that he is capable of magic, Dmitry is forced to enrol into the only magic school in Siberia that has a place even for a university graduate such as him. However, Dmitry appears to only possess destructive powers, failing to recreate his very first act of magic that brought something unusual into the world, and has to sign up for individual classes with a fellow named Valera, whose magic is prone to creating things out of nothing. Dmitry, on his arduous path to making sense of his potential, crosses ways with Egor, who is too curious about Dima and too eager to make friends with him… or something more. Meanwhile, the magic school harbours too many secrets that do not mesh well with Dmitry’s, and staying true to himself will be a challenge even with the support of new and old friends.

Chapter 1

The Zayeltsovskaya metro station was unnervingly silent when it should have been bustling with people desperate to catch the last train. The old-fashioned lamps that once had been considered futuristic barely lit the platform and its sole occupant, who was standing at the first mark indicating where a train’s door would open. It was a young man in a dark-blue parka and a nondescript black hat, his face covered with a black surgical mask only to reveal thin brows and piercing green eyes. They happened to be fixated at the screen with numbers above the train tunnel, and the red digits, indicating that it was 11.40pm, suggested that it had been twenty minutes since the latest train had passed the station. The implication made the man nervously shuffle his feet and reach for his smartphone for the umpteenth time to check if the issue had made the local news as every single inconvenience in Novosibirsk tended to do, but the outlets were silent on the matter.

A metro attendant, who had been hiding in one of the security booths, noticed the man’s singular and suspicious presence and trotted towards him, her hand in a firm grip of the black baton.

‘Young man,’ she said, slightly out of breath. ‘Remove your mask and show me your ID immediately’.

The man hesitated upon seeing that the woman had no mask herself and could easily pass “the zaraza” to him, but decided to do as she said, perhaps out of fear of getting involved with the Russian police that rarely let one go unpunished. He unpeeled the mask, exposing a meadow of freckles covering his face and sharp nose in particular, rosy cheeks, their color emphasized by those freckles, and a soft mouth twisted in subtle annoyance. The attendant might have been within her right to demand what she had done, but it did not make the situation any more pleasant. Then the man rummaged in his leather bag, which dangled dangerously close to the station’s polished mirror-like platform, and produced his maroon ID, preemptively open at his personal information page. The woman snatched it from him hungrily and started reading aloud.

‘Angarskiy Dmitry Alexandrovich, born on the 31th of December, year 2000, male. The photo appears to match face… Well, Dmitry Alexandrovich, it must be nice to have your birthday on the same day as New Year’s Eve. Now, let’s see…’

The attendant turned over the page to look at Dmitry’s place of registration, which made him tense.

‘Aha! Dmitry Alexandrovich, you live exactly above this station, so what business do you have taking the last train away from your house?’ she said triumphantly, having found exactly what she needed to apprehend the guy, at least in her dutiful mind.

Dmitry’s face tightened at the question, as it made too much sense, and nothing he could say would make the tenacious woman reconsider. He straightened himself and prepared to babble some nonsense about having a relative around the Karl Marx station (which he actually did according to his grandma, but he did not even know her name), but the salvation came in the form of a sound of someone skipping down the stairs, and the attendant’s attention immediately shifted to another phantom enemy of the state. Her adversary was a guy who was apparently undaunted by the Siberian winter, his black hair messily waving around the hatless head. His clothes looked obscenely light for the weather, and Dmitry could not help but notice that his zipper was undone, but fortunately for all of them, the jeans appeared to have enough fabric inside to cover anything indecent. Before the guy could reach the platform, the lady attendant was there at the foot of the stairs, ready to grab him, and Dmitry hastily adjusted his mask and was about to leave through the other entrance equipped with escalators. Out of nowhere, a female voice announced the arrival of the long-awaited train, and just as Dmitry was arriving at the fateful decision, the new guy whispered something into the attendant’s ear that made her look satisfied and hopped to a spot next to him. The woman remained indifferent despite such a breach of discipline and re-entered her booth, presumably to spend the rest of the night there.

‘Are you here for the school, too?’ the guy asked cheerily, his teeth too white for the gloomy station. Dmitry looked at him closer, discovering azure eyes and a curved nose with a small mole on it as well thin lips and unattended stubble that somehow complimented the handsome face. While Dmitry was bracing himself to say a simple ‘yes’, a train’s rumble became audible, and the poor fellow’s answer was completely drowned out by the vehicle’s stopping shriek. The doors opened, and both men entered an empty car, which was not surprising for the starting station in the line but still felt eerie.

Dmitry took a seat next to the door while the other guy just grabbed the horizontal iron bar and situated himself over Dmitry, clearly intent on continuing the conversation.

‘So, I didn’t hear you, are you going to the school?’ he asked again, less cheerily and less teethy.

‘Yes,’ Dmitry replied curtly through the mask, his voice distorted, not willing to engage himself in a talk with another person, not matter how charming they might be.

‘Great. I’m Egor, by the way. I had to take a bus from Rodniki and was almost late. Ugh, when are they going to build a new damn station? The third city in the whole country, and some of us still feel like we live on the outskirts,’ the guy complained in a rapid breath, his left hand mimicking his indignation.

‘Yeah,’ Dmitry managed another short reply and started reaching for his smartphone.

‘Hey, what’s your name? And you could remove that mask, I’m vaccinated, you know,’ Egor said, a hint of discontent in his voice.

‘And I’m not,’ Dmitry retorted, equally vexed.

‘Are you one of those anti-vax people? Or do you think magic will protect you from germs because that’s definitely not the case,’ the guy said patronizingly, further annoying Dmitry. He no longer looked as pleasant as the first impression had suggested.

‘That’s none of your business, and can you get off my case, please? There’s plenty of room in this car, you don’t have to stand here and waste your precious time on the likes of me,’ Dmitry said, finally getting hold of his smartphone. He took it out and started swiping his fingers aggressively over the protected surface, completely ignoring the other guy.

‘Hey, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize… You could be one of those exemption cases. Ok, I’m a dummy, but at least tell me your name, pretty please? We are going to study together, and I don’t want any bad blood between us,’ Egor said apologetically, his face awfully similar to that of a puppy.

‘Dmitry,’ he replied, not taking his eyes off the smartphone.

‘Nice to meet you,’ Egor said politely. ‘Can I call you Dima?’

‘No.’

‘Why?’

‘Because you aren’t my friend and you aren’t doing a great job of making me want to do anything with you,’ Dmitry replied exasperatedly, his fingers still spidering over the smartphone’s screen.

‘I did save you from that woman, didn’t I? I heard the commotion from the turnstiles hall and climbed down the stairs as fast as I could,’ Egor smiled, seemingly proud of himself.

Dmitry raised his eyes, the smartphone suddenly forgotten.

‘What did you tell her?’ he asked, half-curiously. ‘I doubt it was a simple “oh you look beautiful tonight.”’

‘I used some of manipulation magic, looked up the spells online. I hadn’t tried them before that little trick, but it worked, and everyone was happy,’ Egor said smugly. ‘Why didn’t you use your magic, I bet you already know a spell or two.’

‘I thought we weren’t supposed to use magic,’ Dmitry shrugged. ‘I’d rather learn first and then start casting spells around, not really knowing what they do.’

‘Sure, but this private Telegram chat I found was the real deal. I only tried some minor stuff, like how to light a candle by just looking at it. So you didn’t do any experiments at all?’

‘Nope,’ Dmitry replied. ‘Granny has some books on magic back from the USSR, but nothing I read there was really useful, and I wasn’t about to call myself a God’s slave or worse to make them work.’

‘Heh, such books are mostly bogus, trust me. So, you know anything about that school?’ Egor asked, trying to change the subject.

‘Well, it’s near my uni, judging by the address, the same street, but I never saw the building itself and I have no idea why we have to use the last train to reach it through some secret tunnel,’ Dmitry said, crossing his legs and trying not to kick Egor in the process, although the desire was more or less burning.

While they were deep in the conversation, the train kept going, making no stops during all that time. The next one was the Lenin Square station, as the female announcer had proclaimed to no one in particular.

‘Do you mean the teacher’s uni? What are you studying there?’ Egor asked, surprised.

‘I already graduated, and I wasn’t interested in doing my Masters, not that I had the money anyway. Still, they told me to wait until the next year, build up my portfolio, but with this magic thing that’s out of the window, I guess. And I was studying history… well, to be a history teacher’ Dmitry replied, suddenly talkative.

Egor’s face brightened at the success of making his previously unwilling partner-in-magic talk, and he started firing off ever more questions.

‘Teacher, huh? And history, wow. Never liked that one, but mad respect to you, bro,’ Dmitry flinched at that comment but decided not to say anything. ‘So you like teach at a public school or something? Kinda funny that you’re about to be a student again.’

‘No, I don’t work at school, basically nobody does after graduating, and don’t ask me why, I have my reasons,’ Dmitry said, brushing aside the potential comments to follow.

‘Ok, ok, so what do you do for living then? You must have a job, especially in this economy.’

‘Well, what do YOU do?’ Dmitry retorted, starting to get annoyed again. ‘I can’t be the only one spilling my guts here.’

‘I graduated from the NSU, majored in… physical informatics, I know, I know, it sounds weird, but that’s what I studied,’ Egor glanced at Dmitry, expecting laughter or derision, but the latter only raised his eyebrows at the strange name. ‘I got a job at a reputable organization, but I’m not sure if I’ll be able to juggle both the job and the magic studies, and you can’t really opt out of the magic thing once it manifests.’

Egor sounded quite regretful when he said that, and Dmitry felt a bit sorry for him despite their rocky start.

‘My so-called job is nothing to write home about, and I don’t want to say what it is because it’s shameful, but I think I’ll manage to do it together with my studies, and even if I don’t, my brother said he’d take care of the family, so…’ Dmitry trailed off, not caring that he had revealed another goldmine for Egor to dig into.

‘Oh, you have a brother? Who is he? Does he know about your gift?’ the guy inquired excitedly, accidentally removing his right hand from the iron bar and almost falling straight into Dmitry.

‘Hey, careful, curious Varvara,’ Dmitry said, not unkindly. ‘I don’t really want to talk about my brother now. It’s… complicated.’

‘You are complicated,’ said Egor with a grin. ‘Well, does he have the same eyes as you, at least? I kinda like them even though they’ve been judging me ever since we passed the Gagarinskaya station.’

‘What in the…,’ Dmitry gasped at the out-of-nowhere compliment, his masked cheeks flushed, but then a new announcement drew their attention.

‘Switching to the Oktyabrskaya line,’ an unknown male voice said, a contrast with a typical feminine announcer.

‘Oktyabrskaya line? That doesn’t exist in the city,’ Egor said with suspicion.

‘We must be approaching our destination,’ Dmitry rationalized. ‘Magic isn’t supposed to exist either.’

‘You might have a po-,’ Egor was about to concede just as the train suddenly started gaining speed, sending him flying, this time not sparing Dmitry. His head landed on Dmitry’s chest, his hands circled Dmitry’s waist, and legs met legs.

‘God, I’m so so-,’ Egor tried to apologize and raised his hand to grab the vertical bar protruding from the seat’s thin armrest, but the train jerked hard, and his fingers fell on Dmitry’s face, awkwardly moving the mask down the frustrated guy’s nose.

‘Wow, I’ve never seen so many fre-,’ he unsuccessfully tried to finish his sentence, only to be interrupted by the train’s abrupt stop. Egor was forced to the left, but not before his fingers snatched the rest of the mask from Dmitry’s face, snapping one of the straps in the process. It helplessly fell to the seat, never to be used again, and Egor finally took a good look at Dmitry’s face.

‘You know, your eyes aren’t the only good thing about you,’ he said, half-sprawled on the car’s floor.

In return, Dmitry kicked him in the shins, causing the ‘ooh’ sound, and said, his voice no longer muffled by the mask:

‘You know, your zipper’s still undone.’

He stood up, stepped over Egor’s spindly legs, completely ignoring the guy’s embarrassed face and futile attempts at concealing the hole of indecency, where one could see a hint of the underwear, and walked through the gap left by the doors into the unknown.

Read the rest of the chapters on my website: https://danceonthebrink.wordpress.com

#writing #writeblr #amwriting #m/m romance #m/m fiction #queer #to uncreate you

[schrullesworld]

After the Debutant Ball

⚠️ Unintentional Manipulation ⚠️ Roughly a week after the Debutant Ball, Lord Norman had a confession to make. His niece Lady Bailey doesn't understand why he doesn't tell the truth. Lord Norman doesn't mean to manipulate his niece, he just didn't want to make a big drama over an one time thing.

Lady Bailey (B): You did what? Tell me again? Lord Norman (N): [sighs] Do I really have to? I was drunk, it was one time... B: You need to tell her. N: I will not, it was one time. Nothing will come out of this anyway.

B: I swear if you don’t tell her, I will. N: And hurt her? Listen Bailey it was one time. We were both drunk. And nothing can happen. It’s not like he can get pregnant. B: You say that now. N: I promise.

B: How can you say that uncle? N: Listen, Egor got enough shit already when he accused Kalea of flirting with his brother, despite Aleksej being clearly into guys. If she finds out he had been sleeping with somoene... B: So why not tell her? And you have to tell your girlfriend. N: Bailey, I will not.

B: But why not? It is a good thing to do. N: Making your friend sad? Listen it would be different if I saw Egor like for months. We slept one time with each other and we were both drunk. B: But you can remember it. N: Only vaguely. I slept with someone dark haired. Could have been anyone else.

#sims 4 #sims 4 royal family #the sims 4 royal family #sims 4 royals #sims 4 royal #ts4 #miraraeroyalstartersave

[solopezoncillos]

EGOR DARK

#egor dark #towel boy

[glamnessaaumisc]

Made a new alien OC, Zrout

He's gonna be the Planktonesque villain Zogg and Hox are gonna fight. He's like 5'2" and he can best be described as Legally Distinct Invader Zim because I watched Dark Harvest and thought an organ-harvesting alien in disguise is really cool sci-fi villain material. Zrout will be the aforementioned Great Terror that Zogg defeated.

Update 3/20/2024: I forgot to add, while I was creating Zrout I was thinking of a Skyrim mod I played a long time ago called "Clockwork" which featured the Gilded, Dwemer who encased themselves in metal to live forever. One of the characters is a big Gilded named Amalgam who kills other Gilded to eat their "hearts." Throughout his bossfight you can hear him rambling stuff like "I need the hearts. I need them. They break, one after another." And I thought that was pretty intimidating.

Zrout is an Egon from Planet Egor, an alien species that resulted from humans gene-splicing mollusks to make them super-intelligent. Egon wear semi-organic humanoid meat-suits they grew in a lab to fit in with the post-Human races. The Egorite State is an isolationist, Egon-supremacist technocracy that cares little about the squabbles of post-Human geopolitics, though they do occasionally exile their undesirables (like Zrout here) to go bother the post-Humans.

Zrout himself was exiled to Earth after committing some crime on Egor. Somewhere down the line Zrout's humanoid body contracted acute bronchitis. Zrout feared he was deathly ill and began arbitrarily transplanting human organs into his meat-suit, thinking it would cure its ailment. This behavior escalated to the point where he ended up enslaving all of humanity to serve as his supply of organs so that he would never fall ill again. He cut off all transport to and from Earth, which was partially responsible for the eventual fall of the Universe-spanning Human Empire. His reign of terror on Earth ended when he was defeated and imprisoned by Prince Zogg of Yusiff and all his ill-gotten gains were returned to their rightful owners.

#zrout #art #alien #alien oc #zogg and hox #scifi #scifiart #sci fi and fantasy #idk wtf to tag this

[madcat-world]

Angel of Purpose (1 of 2) - Egor Grishin

#Angel of Purpose #Egor Grishin #statues #angels #death #insects #demons #surrealism #Dark fantasy #digital art

[wh40kartwork]

Ultramarines / World Eaters

by Egor Gafidov

#imperium #chaos #space marines #loyalist astartes #heretic astartes #ultramarines #khorne #world eaters #primaris space marines #dark imperium #warhammer #warhammer 40000 #warhammer 40k #40k #egor gafidov

[lenbryant]

Play review (long post)

Review: In ‘Russian Troll Farm,’ You Can’t Stop the Memes

An unlikely dark comedy imagines the people pushing #PizzaGate, Donald Trump and who knows what next.

No one misses the early days and dark theaters of the Covid pandemic, but the emergency workaround of streaming content was good for a few things anyway. People who formerly could not afford admission suddenly could, since much of it was free, and artists from anywhere could now be seen everywhere, with just a Wi-Fi connection.

That’s how I first encountered “Russian Troll Farm,” a play by Sarah Gancher intended for the stage but that had its debut, in 2020, as an online co-production of three far-flung institutions: TheaterWorks Hartford, TheaterSquared in Fayetteville, Ark., and the Brooklyn-based Civilians. At the time, I found its subject and form beautifully realized and ideally matched — the subject being online interference in the 2016 presidential election by a Russian internet agency.

“This is digitally native theater,” I wrote, “not just a play plopped into a Zoom box.”

Now the box has been ripped open, and a fully staged live work coaxed out of it. But the production of “Russian Troll Farm” that opened on Thursday at the Vineyard Theater is an entirely different, and in some ways disappointing, experience. Though still informative and trenchant, and given a swifter staging by the director Darko Tresnjak, it has lost the thrill of the original’s accommodation to the extreme constraints of its time.

Not that it is any less relevant in ours; fake news will surely be as prominent in the 2024 election cycle (is Taylor Swift a pro-Biden psy-op?) as it was in 2016. That’s when, as Gancher recounts using many real texts, posts and tweets of the time, trolls at the Internet Research Agency — a real place in St. Petersburg, Russia — devised sticky memes and other content meant to undermine confidence in the electoral process, sow general discord, legitimize Trumpism and vaporize Hillary Clinton.

Egor (Haskell King) is a friendless, robotic techno-nerd who just wants to win the microwave oven that’s a prize for productivity. Steve (John Lavelle) is a Soviet revanchist who calls the Enlightenment a mistake and Gorbachev the “world’s biggest cuck.” Nikolai (Hadi Tabbal) is a moony screenwriter manqué who thinks what he does is evil but still wants “to do a good job at it” — causing Steve, who went to junior college in California, to deride him as a “human latte” and a “performative bookstore tote bag.”

The fourth troll is the newbie, Masha (Renata Friedman). A disillusioned journalist who took the job at the agency for the pay, she wants nothing more than to move to London and recover from Russia by doing yoga. Naturally she becomes the focal point of several interconnected bids for love and dominance among Steve, Nikolai and Ljuba, whose bureaucratic fury belies a troubled emotional life beneath.

The snappy dialogue draws moderate laughs, often by squeezing banal office politics against the scarier kind. (“No Nazi content unless specifically requested by supervisor,” Ljuba warns the others.) But though Gancher subtitles the play “a workplace comedy,” you may in the end be left wondering what’s funny. The trolls’ various schemes for advancement and connection all end disastrously, as many in the audience surely feel the election did, too. Nor does it help that the cast works so hard to get a response from the audience, sometimes annoyingly demanding participation and thus a kind of complicity.

Complicity was not of course possible in the no-longer-available 2020 streaming production, which required viewers to process it on the fly, in much the way they process social media, deciding for themselves what to laugh at — and what to ponder, repost or trash. Lacking that formal congruence, the live “Russian Troll Farm” has a temperature problem: Instead of cool, it feels overheated; instead of suggestive, prosaic.

It was likewise unsettling, in 2020, that you never quite knew where the characters existed, except in the electronic ether; now, on Alexander Dodge’s white box set, they are fixed in a highly specific, nonvirtual space, with ergo chairs and a photo of Putin. Likewise, the ear-scratching interstitial noise (by Darron L West and Beth Lake) and strobey light (by Marcus Doshi) and projection effects (by Jared Mezzocchi) are almost too gorgeously professional, failing to reproduce the deliberate crudeness of the original’s fuzz, pixelation and green-screen blur.

Crudeness is key. Not only does it elicit the poetry of Gancher’s writing, which despite its shiny surface has depth; it is also expressive in itself, because crudeness is a hallmark of the trolls’ greatest hits. Egor considers his English spelling mistakes (“libral” for “liberal”) a useful way of promoting engagement. People who comment on the errors are merely being pulled even farther into the web — and the whole point of the troll farm, as an author’s note points out, is “to stir up trouble.”

At that, it succeeded, though Russia has no patent on trolls. Indeed, the Internet Research Agency shut down last year, collateral damage from the Wagner Group rebellion, but fake news has never been riper. It’s just more local. I suppose “Russian Troll Farm” wants us to consider whether we would participate in its strange, chaotic economy of lies if given the opportunity — and a microwave.

Russian Troll Farm: A Workplace Comedy Through Feb. 25 at Vineyard Theater, Manhattan; vineyardtheatre.org. Running time: 1 hour 40 minutes.

Jesse Green is the chief theater critic for The Times. He writes reviews of Broadway, Off Broadway, Off Off Broadway, regional and sometimes international productions. More about Jesse Green

A version of this article appears in print on Feb. 9, 2024, Section C, Page 3 of the New York edition with the headline: Even in Person, They Just Can’t Stop the Memes. Order Reprints | Today’s Paper | Subscribe

#refrigerator magnet #russian troll farm #drama #play #live theater #theater #theatre #sarah gancher #playwright