The City of Slaughter.
Extended my test map from an older post (way, way older upload on this blog....)
originally i added the interior warehouse area for the sake of something i was gonna add in the LUA, but i ended up fixating on detailing it instead of working on the gamemode feature...
i think the touchups i made make the map look a bit better than it was, though still not very "ghetto like", as was my original intent,,,,, uhh,,,,, 10 or 11 months ago now? (well, fuck) and the way the buildings cut off is still completely dogwater, though that's something i'll fix in a later version if ever that comes :]
custom propoganda garfield and femtanyl grafitti drawn by @tdutb's immaculate tallent. decalized by me,
Hybrid Theory decal (processed) by me
i just took a greyscale off google duckduckgo images, did a simple color to alpha, colored it, and added wear.
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𝚂𝚝𝚛𝚎𝚎𝚝𝚕𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚜
a/n: this is just a short story based off of my childhood, i altered names for the sake of my actual family
TW: mentions of shootings
Growing up in the “ghetto” isn’t an ideal place for children to grow and learn in society's eyes. But boy did we have fun.
Grandma’s house was the place to be, a big apartment building, all stone, with a steel door to get into the building and a steel door to get into the unit. The first-floor windows have bars on them to keep people out. No AC and basically no adult supervision. Every child’s dream summer was my reality.
I sit on the porch as my older cousins play basketball with their friends from school. The younger kids were in the yard playing on the play set and there were others in the tree house. A typical summer day. One of my cousins run out of the house with Hoppa on his heels yelling, “Entra a la casa cabron.”
He doesn’t listen and proceeds to climb the fence to get into the yard.
“Ayo, whatchu doin?” my older cousin Jimena asks me.
“Writing,” I reply.
“Oooo is that your diary?” she asks.
“No, I just like to write,” I lie and feel the heat creep onto my face.
I immediately close my journal and close the lock. Not suspicious at all.
Her eyes me, her eyes darting back and forth between me and the book I held in my hands. She turns around and walks away, off to mess around with Rio or her brother Joaquin.
“Xo,” my cousin Katherine calls from behind the backyard gate, “hop the fence and come play with me and Dani.”
I look up at the 6ft tall chain link fence, “Okay, gimme a sec.”
I place my journal in my little bookbag and I hop on top of the stone rail. I grab onto the poles of the gate and I begin to work my way to the other side of the fence. Once I’m on the ground I chase after Kat to the treehouse.
All day, every day. Outside playing, games we come up with and games widely known. However when the sun begins to set we know our time outside is limited, as soon as those street lights are on we run inside and put blankets and pillows on the floor. Making it comfortable enough to sleep. We all lay down away from the windows, the tv on, volume low. The gunshots outside don’t phase us.
“We should play twister,” Carmen suggests.
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