nohman

I use it because it's the nomenclature everyone else used when I got into reading them.

The only VN that comes to mind where I got a big giant kick out of the bad endings is F/SN. Those were done well, made sense, and were mostly interesting. Plus you got all the tiger dojos on top of that to collect. I enjoy bad endings, with the obvious contingent of them being written-well and grounded. Particularly when the consequences are played out and they are more than just "Dead end: go back and play around with your choices."

Bad voice acting in old game is always a plus in my book. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VRhDmUzWuBI

If you want your cookie returned, give me $1,000,000 in unmarked currency. Tuck it away in a DVD of Catwoman (2004) and go to room 5 at Karaoke Nation at 7 a.m. Order a Ginza Mary and wait for me to contact you again. Do not deviate and do not contact 911. I removed an edge from your cookie to inform you of my intention. Cookie M.

Looks like everyone else has got the questions, so I'll just welcome you to Fuwanovel. I hope to see you around.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qGEubdH8m0s

Interesting introduction you're doing. Welcome to the forums.

Greetings! Welcome to Fuwanovel. I hope to see you around.

Okay. I haven't seen that one. Some of my friends and I are petty big Noboru Iguchi fans. I'm going to have to look into that.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jAWrscplyOA

Welcome back. It's nice to meet you. Hope to see you around.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z_F5xyP6cuE

I ended up having a lot of fun with this: Week 3 - Challenge 4: The Stray Sheep The door closed behind me, the weight of which was like a period at the end of a sentence. My working day and its routine were now over, put away and well-kept outside of these bar doors. Now I was to begin a night of excess, the tone of which would be decided by the company I had yet to find. Perhaps I’d find a couple of good-ole boys and we’d happily drink the night away. Maybe all that awaited me tonight would be sad-saps and deadbeats, the kind of company that that either results in self-loathing or – even worse – a misplaced sense of superiority and misanthropy. Maybe the only company I’d find is myself. That would be the worst of all. I was greeted by the stale smell of smoke and the uninterested eyes of people looking to trade the humdrum of their daily lives for a night that will most likely blend together with other nights. My kind of the people. The people who can feel terribly alone even when surrounded by like-minded souls suffering in equal measures. I made my way to the bar’s counter, making a note of all the fresh faces and contemplating which might make for the best company and who might be receptive to my advances. Perhaps tonight I’d get lucky and I’d trade dulling my senses for the awkward fumbling and meaningless kind of companionship a woman could offer. The barman greeted me, lightly raising a hand in salutation while the other polished the bar top. This was a ritual carried out every night. Funnily enough, in spite of coming here for the better portion of a year, I’d never learned the bartender’s name. It was better that way. Like a priest, he was a confessor. It might sound stupid, but I needed a degree of anonymity if I wanted to feel like I had some dignity left to lose. To me, he was simply Boss. “Give me chocolate milk, go heavy on the syrup.” He gave me a light nod in affirmation. Boss’s gestures were always so light, so deliberate. Nothing was wasted. He was like a goddamn monk. He was – Something caught my eye. Someone caught my eye. A woman caught my eye. She had gotten up to leave from her table on the far side of the room. I was baffled as to how I didn’t notice her immediately. She had a pull, not unlike any other beautiful woman. Yet there was something more to it, though – something unplaceable. Strangest of all, I seemed to be the only one entranced. As if this was a personal siren’s song, dedicated only to me. Before I could even process and rationalize the strange hold her presence had over me, my body knew it had to act. I sprung forward, making my way to the doors that that punctuated the beginning and end of my every night. Tonight it would act as a question mark. I watched her approach. She stepped lightly, each clack of her heels stirring in me a peculiar mix of excitement and apprehension. After all, this could only end in two ways: I’d earn her assent or be rejected. Truthfully, I don’t know which would be better. I took in her profile as she approached. A white sundress emphasized her girlish figure. A red ribbon was wrapped tightly around her waist, as if to serve as a suggestion. What followed with her was a seductive, coquettish air. Inescapable, palpable, suffocating. Her golden hair was arranged in short twin tails. Her blue eyes betrayed the seductive way she carried herself. She stopped in front of me, eyes alight. I had no doubt she knew my intention. A small tilt of her head forward and a slight of her lip gave me the go ahead. This was my chance, I had bring out my best line. My very best line: “If I flip a coin, what are my chances of getting head?”

Welcome to the forums. I hope to see you around.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QWaWsgBbFsA

Welcome to the forums.

:3 Chicks ✔ Cute ✘

Spaghetti and some Kid Cudi: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rCLBGY0huVE

^^ There's a lot to be said for keeping it simple. I think "Chatter and games" works well.

I really like that one. Uh, my recommendation... Community Shenanigans!

To make up for my lazy haiku: “When reason fails, the devil helps!” I slumped against the cold steel wall of my holding cell. In the hours following my crime, my head just hasn’t been working right. Perhaps it would be fairer to say that my head wasn’t working right the moments leading up to my crime. Perhaps it would be best said my head has never been right, and all its misfirings and all my misgivings were just piling up over the years, culminating to this point along with a very poor choice. To say I don’t know what came over me would be a lie. What I felt at the moment was just too vivid to conveniently sweep away as being a lapse of judgment. No, what came to me… what possessed me, was a rage unfiltered. It was a conscious act, done unflinchingly with full awareness of the malice behind it. Perhaps some people would laud what I did as justifiable. Those people would lack perspective. Lofty ideals like justice should never be used to cover up our baser sides. Justice didn’t raise the head of that fire axe. Justice didn’t bare it down! At the brunt of the impact, justice was no wear to be found! Alas though, what was found in the midst of broken glass and assorted snacks was that damn candy bar. The one that refused to acquiesce. The one that hung there taunting me. The one that sought to deny me satisfaction. The one that was stuck in that damn machine. Well, it’s mine now. It’s mine now, along with a few minor lacerations to my hand. It’s mine now, along with this cell. … An hour passed and a guard came to me. He told me someone posted my bail. I couldn’t imagine who would. He told me it was the strangest damn thing too. He said the bail was posted in rupees. A profile came into view in the threshold behind the guard. It was a young man. He had a well-used physique adorned in a green tunic. Atop his head sat a… green cap. He had blonde hair and, strangest of all, pointy ears. The guard unlocked the holding cell and waved me out. The man approached me. His sharp eyes locked with mine. He said to me: “…”