Posts by Puddy

  • What have you watched recently?

    Quote from e-freak

    i looked it up now and its feb 14th supposedly... looking forward to it! such a great show


    yeah, it's great "NOTHING will come of this." etc


    In other news, I'm almost done with season 3 of boardwalk empire (I'm ill and at home, not much else to do). Fantastic show too!

  • aw yeah


    Part 2

    Before the surgery, I had experienced a smooth fade to black. Turns out, fading back in isn’t quite as straightforward. Long before big ideas like understanding where I was came along, my thoughts were simple and diffuse. Feelings and sensations mostly. One thing was certain, it hurt like a motherfucker. Before not too long, I could distinguish the nurse, then the room. I have never been so tired in my life. I could barely talk or raise my hand, let alone move my body. Desperately I asked if they were able to repair my valve. I didn’t get an answer; probably didn’t speak loud enough. Did they repair the valve I asked once more, quite loudly. The nurse said they had, and explained that I had already repeated the question many times before, unbeknownst to me. Slowly, things became a bit less hazy. I got to drink water, meet my family and try sitting up. That was when I noticed the rather large drainage tubes that led out from my stomach. It was not pleasant, but I was assured that they’d get removed after just a few hours. They were stretching the holes in my stomach open, so I was glad to hear they wouldn’t stay long. I felt like absolute dogshit but things were gonna get better! Or so I thought.


    After battling constant pain with generous amounts of morphine for a few hours, I noticed the tubes didn’t come out. I inquired why and it was because they needed to be in a “little bit longer” to get rid of all the various and colourful gunk coming out of me. My pulse was constantly in the 130 range (well above resting heart rate). They told me my heart was trying to pump out all the crap left after the surgery. Not uncommon they said. Shouldn’t take long. The hours went, slowly, and the morphine kept coming and the vomit kept following. I could never truly rest, my pulse and the constant agony made sure of that. My head was sore as shit and everything felt like a bad fever dream. The beds were far too small and had railings around them, so I couldn’t lay straight and had to have my legs bent with my knees up (I’m a fairly gargantuan man). Everything remained hazy and out of focus. I was tired, weary and had dried vomit on my lips and clothing. After a while, a nurse said I probably wasn’t handling the morphine too well. They tried putting me on something else. At first it was fine, but then everything started to get a bit too much Pink Floyd for my taste. When I barely knew what was up or down and I got the distinct and overwhelming sensation that my head and brain was shaped like a triangle ( ) I finally said that I think I prefer the vomiting from the morphine. After a while I was asked to do breathing and sitting exercises. I writhed and screamed in pain as this caused the drainage tubes to stretch the skin of my stomach even more. I begged; when can those goddamn things be removed. Soon was always the answer.


    Nurses came and went. More pain. More morphine. More vomit. Nutrition drinks, quickly followed by more vomiting. I faded in and out, but never truly slept. One night, I had the most retarded chain of thought. First, I was absolutely determind that I had to get to the “book sale”. You know, THE book sale (? ). I tried leaving my bed but a nurse stopped me. Bitch, I’m going to that book sale, I thought. A doctor reinforced her. Cracker please, I’m going to that book sale, I told myself, not surrendering. I struggled and a third doctor had to reinforce. They said I couldn’t leave and asked where I was headed. I said I had to go, I just couldn’t miss that book sale. They said that I simply couldn’t go. That’s when it hit me. If I punched one of the doctor’s, the two remaining fascists wouldn’t stand a chance to hold me back. Unfortunately for my book sale plans, my arm strength was at minus ten. Shortly after I came to my senses. There was no book store, no book sale. In fact, I don't read books. Despite all the crap, I actually chuckled when I thought about my retardedness.


    The days passed and I was becoming number and more indifferent by the hour. I didn’t know what was night and day because the lights were always on. Machines were always beeping, fellow patients were coughing, crying, breathing and doctors were talking. I just stared forward as the hours passed. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. When would it stop? There was no end in sight. But on the fifth day there had finally been some improvement and I was allowed to leave intensive care and go to an observation ward. The tubes were disconnected and for the first time in these five days there was hope that all of this shit would end sooner rather than later. My recovery may have been delayed by a few days extra in intensive care, but it would be smooth sailing from here! Or so I thought.


    Stay tuned for the dramatic conclusion. Hope my writing is bearable.

  • aw yeah

    Thanks for the kind words guys! Just to be clear, there's no looming danger hanging over me at this stage. Just my body getting used to things and medicines having some side effects. This is all just retrospective.


    And yeah, I'm hella-glad money wasn't an issue. I'd be homeless right now if that was the case. Anyway, I'll write up the nasty second half soon. That's the part which... well, broke me.

  • Alien: Isolation

    Quote from Mazy

    Looks really great guys, still curious how this will shape a full length game but it looks like it's off to a great start~


    Yeah I think this will be the main challenge! Having only one enemy could potentially limit the gameplay variation and one questionmark is how they'll prevent the player from killing the alien without making the player feel completely gimped.

  • aw yeah

    Part 1


    In light of some recent events, I’m bringing you a tl;dr post related to this whole ordeal. I’ve recently had some chest pains and a bunch of migraines, but it’s nothing to worry about. It has, however, made me think more about my hospital time and has made me revisit it more. For anyone curious what it can be like to go through this sort of shit, this is the post for you. I’m primarily writing for personal and therapeutic reasons. It wasn’t always pleasant, and I’m still processing it all. It turns out you don’t have to be in a war to experience nightmares and things that can only be described as “flashbacks” (no kidding). Mostly, the following tale will be depressing, but there’s a few humorous moments and a few reflections on life and similar deep shit. So, let me tell you about life six months ago.


    I think it’s definitely wise to start from the top. I have a congenital heart issue (thanks FMPONE for teaching me that word), which has caused two problems. One, my aorta, the main artery in the human body, was too wide at a certain point (just above the heart). This is potentially very dangerous, as the aorta becomes vulnerable to a rupture. If that happens you are lucky to survive the trip to the hospital. I think roughly 80% of affected patients die before they arrive. Anyway, this condition caused my second heart problem; a leaking heart valve. As the aorta was widened, more blood came streaming through. The heart valve, which is part of the pumping mechanism of the heart, was under too much pressure and leaked small but not insignificant amounts. This weakened the heart’s function. Luckily, I am fortunate enough to live in a first world country where healthcare is freely available and where surgeons are incredibly talented, skilled and have increased the success rate of these kind of surgeries over the last few decades. Not many years ago, I think it would’ve been a 10-15 percent chance that you had seen the last of me. It may not sound like much, but if you’re ever staring down the barrel of kind of that of gun, it will probably sound like 10-15 percent too much. Now? It’s less than a percent and thank modern medicine for that. I’ll always be grateful for this. The only thing I had to worry about was the heart valve. There was a significant chance that it couldn’t be repaired; that it would have to be placed with an artificial one. This was scary, because it would’ve meant lifestyle changes. I would have to take some very important medicine which I wouldn’t ever be able to be without, I would have to go to routine check-ups to measure the levels of the medicine in my blood stream etc. If things were successfully repaired, however, I’d basically be an average joe, have a normal life expectancy and not think too much about things. Sounds much nicer, doesn’t it?


    Well, after waiting for the scheduled date, it was finally time to get things done. I wasn’t too scared of the surgery itself and I avoided thinking too much about what they actually do to you when you’re unconscious. Like slicing you open, sawing up your rib cage, hooking you up to a bunch of machines and then cutting off (yep!) and replacing part of your aorta with a gore-tex tube thing. You know, that stuff. I was thinking more about the recovery afterward. Feeling like crap and spending maybe a week in hospital and then gradually getting better didn’t sound like fun. I was concerned but thought it would be manageable. I came to the hospital, called my loves ones, showered twice in a special bacteria-killing soap, talked to a doctor and then went to bed. I woke up early, showered once more in the disinfectant soap, laid down on my bed and was rolled in for surgery. I was helped over to the the operating table and looked around. There was a big team surrounding me. They started to hook me up to different things. It all felt cold and alien, strange. They asked if I everything was okay. I smiled and responded calmly. The anesthesiologist joked. It then faded to black. Everything went dark for a while. Little did I know what I would wake up to…


    I’ll continue this later, still feeling a bit shitty at the moment.


    EDIT: I see that the stupid/funny shit will be in the next part. That's when the heavy drugs will get involved! :D

  • Battlefield 4

    Quote from knj

    To me, ONLY solution for EA is:

    fix the fucking game

    give the premium to all gamers who bought the game


    That would force them to refund all those who actually paid for Premium imho.