Hokulea (story), art, funfact, and memes

Is you're much more likely to find a world where you don't exist, than one where you do.

Like come on, just biologically speaking, if your parents shaboink just a few minutes later - it's going to be a whole different sperm that fertilizes that egg. A whole different set of genes. A whole different you. Heck if your dad does something different - or jerks off at a different time - again, a whole different you. Same with your mom - if hormones send down a different egg... Boom.

I guess it depends on what your view is on nature vs nurture. But personally, I feel the two are intrinsically tied into making who you are. Put simply, just like how the earth formed, if those specific conditions aren't met - you won't exist.

There is no variant of you with blue skin - that's a completely different person.

I also don't believe in true RNG. If you go back in time, the same thing will happen again. Because the world has a specific seed - if the RNG was truly random in our reality then things would be different each time we went back in time. But - even if it's untested - I think everyone will agree time is linear. Unless changed by an outsider, it will always happen that way. Because it's not a random seed, it's set.

That same concept applies to multiverses. Multiverses IMPLY a change. But WHERE was that change? If there are infinite multiverses then there had to be infinite outsiders changing things.

If you invent time travel, okay, you can create some multiverses I suppose. But by default, multiverses are IMPOSSIBLE. Because the randomized seed will never change. There is nothing that will change things one way or another.

Again, I suppose if you believe in a God, you can view that entity as one outside of all universes. The one that can act to change things. But I don't believe in any higher being.

This is our world, this is our reality, if we start imagining we can jump ship to a "better" one than we're taking away all meaning to the life we've led so far.

Grass is always greener on the other side kinda thing.

He smiled when he woke up, in the room so big the emptiness was suffocating. He smiled at the empty breakfast table and he smiled at the tutors that knew more of his life than his own parents. He smiled so much that it lost its meaning.

The photographers praised the parents for their behaved son. The shareholders were swayed to his father’s side for being such a good parent. His mother roasted the sons of her friends who couldn’t compare.

As long as he smiled, his father would pat his head and his mother would adjust his tie. But there comes a day in every boy’s life, where one day he wakes up and doesn’t want to smile. That’s when it started, when his smiles became reserved for his dreams. Where he gained glimpses of a different life and where his desires started to form.

When the boy sneered at the family friends, climbed onto the roof, tore his new suits and cut his hair he stopped being so golden. Suddenly the boy was scaling the trees in the backyard, causing crowds of employees to beg him back down. He was feeding the strays with his leftovers and destroying the lawn with a stolen bike his parents didn’t approve of. He was slamming doors and back talking to his father. He was recoiling from his mother’s touch and refusing to wear ties. Worst of all, he made his parents look incapable.

What else could the parents do? They threatened him with his inheritance. They yelled at him. They hit him. They locked him up. And the boy? Ha! He climbed out his bedroom window.

It was late at night, coming back from being gone most of the day, after missing the many superficial meetings asked of him. He used the front door and his mother nearly called the police, thinking it was a beggar. Her son’s clothes were falling off his shoulders. His hair was a mess, his face bloody, his clothes dripping wet, but he was grinning. In his hand, a damp enveloppe. Through it, faintly, you could see the color of bills poke through.

The boy, he’d worked a night shift and he’d never had more fun. In his hands, he held money that he’d earned himself and he couldn’t be prouder. He’d been recognized by people with a hatred for his father, and they jumped him on the way. A scuffle that sent him into the river, but he’d rescued his pay and that was all that mattered.

His mother was speechless and disgusted. His father? He snatched the envelope and pulled out his belt. Get on your knees, he told the boy who’d survived his first street fight. He took the first thing he could be proud of and expected the spirited boy to submit.

There was once a time where this boy admired his father. He built an empire, provided for his family with a house so large he always got lost. When he spoke of his golden son, it sounded like pride. The boy who would succeed his legacy. They would build an immortal dynasty. His son and his son afterwards and so on would follow in their footsteps. But how peculiar, that the more the golden boy learned about his father’s work, the less excited he became for it. A world of cheating, swindling and politics. Of friends waiting to backstab you and of taking money from those who needed it the most. His view of his father changed. This wasn’t an empire he built. This was a pile of bodies. And when the golden boy decided he didn’t want that, his father’s praises and love disappeared.

Get on your knees.

The boy grabbed the belt and with his other hand, he swung to punch his father. There were things he didn’t know about his father - and those things caught his punch and sent him back. To prove his disappointment and disgust in his own son, he took the envelope of money and brought it to the fireplace.

The money itself was nothing compared to what his parents had. It was pennies, if even that. The money could at most pay a quick meal. A burger and fries. But it was his money. It’s money he dirtied his hands for. He sweated for that money. It was proof that he wasn’t just a golden boy. He could be more. Smiling wasn’t the only thing he was meant to do.

Despite his protests, despite his fight, as his mother cried for them to calm down, he had to watch his father throw that proof into the fire. It burned up, the envelope turning the color of his hair before becoming ash. His father? Backhanded him in the face, a ring to set a mark, and straightened his vest to signify a job well done.

Kneeling before the fireplace, the boy felt the loneliness in his surroundings. Everything around him had so little meaning. He was a stranger, staining the carpet with the dampness from the river. Never had the feeling of being out of place been stronger. Watching the flames lick up its food, he chose something different for himself.

He went to his father’s desk and he grabbed all the papers atop it. He grabbed the pile of ties his mother had handpicked. He ripped out the wallpaper. And he fed it all to the fire. Trails of burning things always so much more important than he was. They lined the house like cracks of a volcano erupting. The flames ate the couches and licked up the curtains. They made the paint peel and the wood crack. The household panicked, his father took notice of him again, but this time the boy was ready.

He protected his already bloodied face and jabbed at his sides, he went for his face and for his chin. And as he sent his father tumbling into the wall, he stood proudly, with the flames blazing behind him. The man looked up at him with a gaze that didn’t recognize him, and blood of his own spurting from his nose and mouth.

His mother, in fear, had pulled out the gun, hands shaking as she pointed it to her son, begging him to stop. The golden boy simply smiled, pointing to his jaw as he tilted it.

“Chin up and smile.”

When the fire brigade arrived to save the house, the arsonist had vanished into the night. The parents had hundreds of pictures of the culprit. A brown-haired boy with a collar and tie perfectly adjusted around his neck. His hair combed back and his face padded with makeup for the cameras. His mouth stretched into a shape that didn't reflect in his eyes.

There was no similarity whatsoever to the messy, bloodied, grinning, burnt boy who ran through the streets. Homeless, disowned, orphaned - yet none could match the confidence and pride that fueled him.

Unnatural Genetic Hairs for Infants/Toddlers/Children

This mod adds the genetic swatches for the base game unnatural hair colors for infants, toddlers, and children.

(White, Purple pastel, Hot pink, Dark blue, Turquoise and Green)

These are genetically compatible and functionnal

This includes all the expansion packs, stuff packs, and kits released up to Life and Death. (Simply delete the folders for the packs you don't have)

This isn't perfect. Some colors are a little odd. They're also a little different to the adult versions, this was a personal choice.

ENJOY