Your least favourite hacker.

We still need a lot of help paying off my best friend's cremation. We can't do it on our own. Any help is much appreciated. If you can't help, please reblog/share.

There's an iceberg of issues behind this person but I wanted to highlight a recent one.

FangBanger92 ( aka xFangBanger92x xFang-Banger92x etc) has laid claim to an OddWorld fan character and rather than simply create her own art of the character, she has instead traced art that was made of that character years ago by someone who used to be a friend of hers.

Worse is that he is no longer with us and he cannot defend his own work. And she knows this.

A very odd friend group

Nolybab.

From what I remember, bit of a shithole. It’s filled with mostly Glukkons, and a lot of businesses. Businesses doing well, businesses doing shit. There were a small lab - I think it was for reject Vykkers not good enough for Vykkers Labs.

Ran by a Vykker called Professor Hattie. They did experiments for smaller companies that couldn’t afford to get their products tested at Vykkers Labs. So Professor Hattie’s Lab it was.  She began working on something bigger. Developing a fertility drug - which if it were alright, could boost labour numbers. Mudokons that were meant to be making babies or whatever could do that and there’d be more to do work or some shit. I don’t really know how the system works much. 

She were lucky two Mudokons were easy to get for the first trial. I don’t know anything about them. 

It worked, but the eggs were taken away from the mother and whoever else, and there weren’t many. Apparently the mother is meant to make more than six eggs, but six eggs was what they got. The eggs were kept in a warm thing, I think it’s called an incubator. One egg hatched early. The mudling were small, bit too small. Bit peaky looking, and had a funny mouth. But he survived. 

Later, the rest of the eggs hatched the expected time. Well, except one. But they kept it around because they reckoned it would hatch soon.  The other mudlings were peaky as well, but a bit bigger and healthier looking than the early one. Only one was a girl, and she was the tallest one.

Time went by and the last egg still didn’t hatch. They figured it were a dud, and Professor Hattie ordered it to be chucked away, as it were no good.  So they thought.

The egg was chucked in a bin, soon to be collected and taken fuck knows where, fuck knows what would happen to it. But it started to hatch. Out came me. 

BELLA CIAO

Behold! A project that me and a few odd friends have been working on since January, for an early birthday gift to the one and only @this-game-has-themes

Featuring screenshots at the beginning from Abes Oddysee/New n Tasty, My own Exoddus-Intro-Style Poetry, and AMAZING FANTASTIC EPIC art (in order of appearance) from @this-game-has-themes's fanfic, @ask-alf-oddworld, @wiredalienvampire, @phantomtoff @ghostmoor, @kirbysdreamlands, AND @industrial-tox

WHAT A PROJECT! YAYYY YIPPEEE YAYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY

Go research Howler's Illyodd if you haven't NOWWWW it's the greatest Oddworld fan story everrrrrrrrr

He stood there. His hands were trembling. The clock ticked. Somewhere far away, a shift horn wailed and then cut off. Lenny reached up and began to take off the wig. So, so fucking slowly. Like he knew every second something fragile was breaking like glass. Alf felt it before he understood it. Something inside him was tilting. The story he had been telling himself folding, no, snapping in half. The girl he had been falling in love with was never there. Every word she had said was fake. This whole time, it was just another worker. A worker he knew. Lenny. "Lenny?" The name echoed in Alf's head as he said it like a door had just slammed. Confusion hit first, thick and blinding. Then shock, hot and electric. Shame crawled up his spine. A deep seated rot he had been taught to call virtue. Embarrassment burned his face as if someone were watching and laughing at him. Disgust followed, learned and automatic, a reflex drilled into him by years of whistles and rules and locker room talk. Anger surged, loud and righteous, then hatred, ugly and desperate. Anger again, because anger was easier than anything else. Betrayal. Anger. Anger. Anger. Anger. Anger. He clung to it because it was solid. Lenny whispered his name. Not to defend himself. Not to explain. Just to anchor the moment.

"Alf.." He reached out. For a split second Alf almost let him touch him. In that instant lived every shared bottle of Brew, every late night laugh, every quiet understanding about the pain and shame and pride and loss and aching that had once kept him sane and working one more day. Then Alf stepped back. “Get the hell away from me,” he said, his voice breaking even as he forced it hard. “I ain’t-I ain't like that. I like girls.” To Lenny, the words sounded like every session with the Shrink. Every slur from the Sligs. Every beating, every zap, every walk of shame out of the bathroom. Lenny froze, his paw suspended in the air, hope flickering and dying all at once. Alf turned and stormed out, feet pounding against the cold ground as he tried to get away from Lenny as fast as possible, breath ragged, anger carrying him like a current. He did not look back. He could not. He didn't want to be seen with that freak behind him. He didn't want to see that freak. That freak. Behind him the silence rushed in. Lenny sank to his knees, the wig now ruined from squeezing and slipping from his fingers to the floor. His shoulders shook as everything around him swallowed him whole. Every sound was drowned out by a ringing in his ears. A train horn sounded, calling them both back to the lives that had taught one of them to hate what loved him, and the other to pay the price for it.