Hello there internet. I’ve been recently have been having serious problems lately, and I feel that I could be in danger. Sorry if it’s a long read, but this has gotten really freaky for me. This is regarding a used game of Pokémon Sapphire I just recently got.
For those who don’t know, I’m somewhat of a Poké-nerd. I’ve been a fan of the series since me and my older brother got the first generation games, Red for him, and Blue for me. Eventually as time passed, my brother grew out of it, but I still remained faithful to the series (well, gamewise, at least. The show has gone downhill after the first series in my opinion.)
Anyways, it started a few weeks ago, when one of my internet buddies posted that he was going to start his Pokémon Ruby version over, and recording his progress and posting it on youtube. After talking about it for a bit with him, he joked about how I should restart a sapphire game. Even though it wasn’t serious, it got me in the mood to possibly play through it again.
However, I didn’t want to restart my old sapphire game over, since I had gotten so far in it, as well as had a lot of Pokémon not found in that game in the Pokédex. And I didn’t want to download an emulator and rom, so I decided that I would just get my hands on a new copy of the game. I searched for a few days online, finding a lot of sapphire games, but most were too pricey for me.
29 wrz 2011
27 wrz 2011
Do Try
Found the shit on my porch one night… Fucking ding-dong ditch or whatever. A little baggie with two blue capsules. And a stupid note with two words… “Do try”
I figured it was some shitty prank from my “experimental” friends from down the street. We’ve tried nearly every reasonable drug there is, trying to get the most psychadelic trips, maintain the best highs..
DMT, E, Acid, some experimental shit this dude sold me for wayy too much. Shit fucked me up… I tripped I was dust floating down from the ceiling. Lasted like eight hours. Fucked… me… up…
Anyway, the pills had like an orange 17 on them… Looked them up online, and couldn’t find anything.
I threw it on my dresser and crashed for the night.
I called all my friends the next afternoon. They all “claimed” they had nothing to do with it. “Wasn’t them”. I figured one of them would fess up eventually…
Over the next week, I pretty much forgot about it. None of my friends said anything, so either they forgot, or it really wasn’t them. I didn’t feel like mentioning it, we had some concentrated Salvia, so we lit that up.
The next day, curiousity killed me, I picked up the bag. Glanced at the note again… “Do it”… I swore it said “Do try” but I was high when I picked it up, so I dont know. But it entrigued me even more. I examined the pill. I reasoned with myself. I just couldn’t take it, it could be anything, but I was so curious. What if it was THE best high, the MOST psychadelic trip. I talked myself out of it. I set it down again, and I couldn’t help but feel like I was missing out…
I figured it was some shitty prank from my “experimental” friends from down the street. We’ve tried nearly every reasonable drug there is, trying to get the most psychadelic trips, maintain the best highs..
DMT, E, Acid, some experimental shit this dude sold me for wayy too much. Shit fucked me up… I tripped I was dust floating down from the ceiling. Lasted like eight hours. Fucked… me… up…
Anyway, the pills had like an orange 17 on them… Looked them up online, and couldn’t find anything.
I threw it on my dresser and crashed for the night.
I called all my friends the next afternoon. They all “claimed” they had nothing to do with it. “Wasn’t them”. I figured one of them would fess up eventually…
Over the next week, I pretty much forgot about it. None of my friends said anything, so either they forgot, or it really wasn’t them. I didn’t feel like mentioning it, we had some concentrated Salvia, so we lit that up.
The next day, curiousity killed me, I picked up the bag. Glanced at the note again… “Do it”… I swore it said “Do try” but I was high when I picked it up, so I dont know. But it entrigued me even more. I examined the pill. I reasoned with myself. I just couldn’t take it, it could be anything, but I was so curious. What if it was THE best high, the MOST psychadelic trip. I talked myself out of it. I set it down again, and I couldn’t help but feel like I was missing out…
25 wrz 2011
Pokemon: Tarnished Gold
Being someone who isn't nearly as computer savvy as someone from this generation should be, I know very little about what technology is capable of. Aside from email, IM, and the occasional download of something otherwise unobtainable for me at the moment, I have about the same amount of knowledge an eighty-year-old might possess about the electronic world.
For example, and for the sake of this tale I'm about to recount, I was totally unaware that someone is capable of hacking Pokemon games to make their own sub-story of the world - even less so that it was possible to make a physical copy of the game in a real cartridge.
However, I happened to learn about this one in one of the most disturbing ways possible.
When I was younger, Pokemon Gold was my very first game from the ever-popular franchise. I became very attached to the little creatures my character (name after myself even though the character was male) caught and often fantasized about the adventures we would go through had a preset storyline not been in place.
That isn't quite important, though.
What is important is the fact that I never truly let go of my childhood fantasies; the memories from that first game were far too cherished to set free. As such, I still have my old Gold cartridge, compleete with a total abuse of the copy glitch. I refuse to restart my game, though. I'm afraid too much of the old magic would be lost.
I wanted to play a whole new game of the version that I recall being the happiest with, but older cartridges are rather hard to find outside of the Internet nowadays; the most my local flea markets have are GBA games, with hardly any being Pokemon.
For example, and for the sake of this tale I'm about to recount, I was totally unaware that someone is capable of hacking Pokemon games to make their own sub-story of the world - even less so that it was possible to make a physical copy of the game in a real cartridge.
However, I happened to learn about this one in one of the most disturbing ways possible.
When I was younger, Pokemon Gold was my very first game from the ever-popular franchise. I became very attached to the little creatures my character (name after myself even though the character was male) caught and often fantasized about the adventures we would go through had a preset storyline not been in place.
That isn't quite important, though.
What is important is the fact that I never truly let go of my childhood fantasies; the memories from that first game were far too cherished to set free. As such, I still have my old Gold cartridge, compleete with a total abuse of the copy glitch. I refuse to restart my game, though. I'm afraid too much of the old magic would be lost.
I wanted to play a whole new game of the version that I recall being the happiest with, but older cartridges are rather hard to find outside of the Internet nowadays; the most my local flea markets have are GBA games, with hardly any being Pokemon.
New start, New life, New me
Moving to a new place was a big thing for me. 3 hours away from home, 3 hours away from the town I loved, the house I grew up in and the ex boyfriend who had been the thing to drive me away. In a way I was looking to escape.
New start, new life, new me, that was what I decided when I moved away.
It was going well within 6 months I was doing really well at my job, I’d even started dating this new guy, Paul, who was everything my ex hadn’t been man enough to be. He was polite and kind and loving but with just the right amount of “I’m a man”. Things were going so well that I didn’t even really realize when things started to go wrong. At the time I’d just assumed the things that were happening were small coincidences, just little problems that happen every now and again, it wasn’t until I looked back on it that I realized that it was all building up to something big. Something that has left me half the woman I once was.
It started off just small things, like I’d be certain that I’d left the book I’d been reading on my bedside table but when I found it it was next to the bath, the picture of me and my mum that I had always had on my fireplace had somehow fallen and smashed, food that I had left in the fridge would be gone when I went to look for it. As I lived alone I knew it couldn’t be anyone else. At first I thought I was just being careless, then as more and more things happened I started thinking that something wasn’t quite right, I was so certain that I had turned the tv off before I went to work and that I’d left my favorite necklace in my jewelery box. I called Paul up one day after work and asked him to come over and help me look around for signs of a break in. He kindly obliged even though he thought I was overreacting.
“Babe, I know you usually have it all together but sometimes people make mistakes, sometimes we just forget things.” he told me to try and placate me. I knew he was right but something just didn’t feel right about the situation.
New start, new life, new me, that was what I decided when I moved away.
It was going well within 6 months I was doing really well at my job, I’d even started dating this new guy, Paul, who was everything my ex hadn’t been man enough to be. He was polite and kind and loving but with just the right amount of “I’m a man”. Things were going so well that I didn’t even really realize when things started to go wrong. At the time I’d just assumed the things that were happening were small coincidences, just little problems that happen every now and again, it wasn’t until I looked back on it that I realized that it was all building up to something big. Something that has left me half the woman I once was.
It started off just small things, like I’d be certain that I’d left the book I’d been reading on my bedside table but when I found it it was next to the bath, the picture of me and my mum that I had always had on my fireplace had somehow fallen and smashed, food that I had left in the fridge would be gone when I went to look for it. As I lived alone I knew it couldn’t be anyone else. At first I thought I was just being careless, then as more and more things happened I started thinking that something wasn’t quite right, I was so certain that I had turned the tv off before I went to work and that I’d left my favorite necklace in my jewelery box. I called Paul up one day after work and asked him to come over and help me look around for signs of a break in. He kindly obliged even though he thought I was overreacting.
“Babe, I know you usually have it all together but sometimes people make mistakes, sometimes we just forget things.” he told me to try and placate me. I knew he was right but something just didn’t feel right about the situation.
22 wrz 2011
Dear Diary
Dear Diary,
I’m going to die today. Unfortunate, I know. I’ve recently finished reading this book, it was very interesting; fairly creepy as well. Did it give me the shivers? Yes, it really did. But now I’m going to die. Why can’t I live any longer? Well, that’s not for me to decide. It’s too late. I can’t escape now. If I turn around…I don’t even want to think about it. No, I really don’t. It’s that horrific. That terrifying. And it’s right behind me, breathing down my neck. Can I feel the breath? Yes, yes I can. It’s starting to really bother me, almost become a nuisance. There’s some crackling noise now…I know I can hear it. There’s no denying, I can definitely hear it. If I just listen close enough, if I just pay enough attention to the apparent silence…it will take control of me.
This book I read…it was really strange. It was almost as if something was…speaking to me. Telling me what to do, what to write down as I had a book of my own to finish. But this story was just so interesting, so entrancing. It was about a person, somebody, it was strange. I didn’t exactly know the person, it was just somebody. I know I didn’t like that person very much though. They had been looking into my secrets, trying to steal into what I considered precious and dearest. I managed to seal these secrets, though. Seal them deep down, somewhere safe. Somewhere where you’ll never find them.
Stop looking into my secrets, you fool. That’s right, I’m talking to you. Do you know me? No, of course you don’t know me. You know nothing about me. All I know is that you’re reading my diary. Why are you reading my diary? Are you trying to figure something out about me? Are you some sort of assassin, trying to kill me? Good luck. You won’t ever be able to kill me. It’s practically impossible. I will go on and on, doing what I do best. Are you simply curious about my life, a meaningless someone’s life? Somebody you’ll never meet in your entire life? Well, actually, I believe you have met me now that I think about it. You know me very well.
What do I sound like? Well, however you want me to sound like. What do I look like? Well, that’s up to you to decide. Because in reality, you created me. You formulated something in your mind to create my existence. How else can you read this and imagine that voice in your head speaking these words to you? Something about me exists. But still, I wonder. Why did you do that? Why did you create me? Are you lonely? In need of a friend? I can be your friend. I can be whatever you want me to be. Because you created me, you made me. But if you created me, how can you be invading my secrets? Does that mean that these are your secrets? Did you write this? I think you did write this. This diary, it’s yours, isn’t it? That’s pretty strange. Are you a good writer? Whether the answer is yes or no, it’s always good to proofread anything you’ve written. Go ahead, proofread. Go read this over again. Maybe you’ll notice something. Stop when you feel you’ve gotten the message.
Look out.
I’m going to die today. Unfortunate, I know. I’ve recently finished reading this book, it was very interesting; fairly creepy as well. Did it give me the shivers? Yes, it really did. But now I’m going to die. Why can’t I live any longer? Well, that’s not for me to decide. It’s too late. I can’t escape now. If I turn around…I don’t even want to think about it. No, I really don’t. It’s that horrific. That terrifying. And it’s right behind me, breathing down my neck. Can I feel the breath? Yes, yes I can. It’s starting to really bother me, almost become a nuisance. There’s some crackling noise now…I know I can hear it. There’s no denying, I can definitely hear it. If I just listen close enough, if I just pay enough attention to the apparent silence…it will take control of me.
This book I read…it was really strange. It was almost as if something was…speaking to me. Telling me what to do, what to write down as I had a book of my own to finish. But this story was just so interesting, so entrancing. It was about a person, somebody, it was strange. I didn’t exactly know the person, it was just somebody. I know I didn’t like that person very much though. They had been looking into my secrets, trying to steal into what I considered precious and dearest. I managed to seal these secrets, though. Seal them deep down, somewhere safe. Somewhere where you’ll never find them.
Stop looking into my secrets, you fool. That’s right, I’m talking to you. Do you know me? No, of course you don’t know me. You know nothing about me. All I know is that you’re reading my diary. Why are you reading my diary? Are you trying to figure something out about me? Are you some sort of assassin, trying to kill me? Good luck. You won’t ever be able to kill me. It’s practically impossible. I will go on and on, doing what I do best. Are you simply curious about my life, a meaningless someone’s life? Somebody you’ll never meet in your entire life? Well, actually, I believe you have met me now that I think about it. You know me very well.
What do I sound like? Well, however you want me to sound like. What do I look like? Well, that’s up to you to decide. Because in reality, you created me. You formulated something in your mind to create my existence. How else can you read this and imagine that voice in your head speaking these words to you? Something about me exists. But still, I wonder. Why did you do that? Why did you create me? Are you lonely? In need of a friend? I can be your friend. I can be whatever you want me to be. Because you created me, you made me. But if you created me, how can you be invading my secrets? Does that mean that these are your secrets? Did you write this? I think you did write this. This diary, it’s yours, isn’t it? That’s pretty strange. Are you a good writer? Whether the answer is yes or no, it’s always good to proofread anything you’ve written. Go ahead, proofread. Go read this over again. Maybe you’ll notice something. Stop when you feel you’ve gotten the message.
Look out.
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