Noshir Dalal

I swear Ghost of Tsushima and now Yotei are some of the only games I take loooooads of pictures in cause they are such gorgeous games!

Haven't gotten far in the game so no spoilers, but here are some pics I took of @noshirdalal s character when I found out he was in it, couldn't resist, Sucker Punch's camera settings are *chefs kiss*

These shots are awesome, @blue-leviathan - thank you for sharing these!

Noshir Dalal's (Charles Smith's VA and the man who largely shaped Charles into the singular character that he is, found here on tumblr @noshirdalal and on Cameo [in case you have your own questions you'd like answered]) beautiful response to my cameo prompt:

Q: You’ve mentioned before that Charles likes to read. What is his favorite book? Also, you’ve talked some about cowboy poetry and how you think it’s something Charles might have connected to. Can we get a favorite poem of his in his voice?

Besides the fact that this reading of "The Men That Don't Fit In" was just plain fantastic and moving as all get out, I really admire Noshir's choice of poem.

Similar to the poem’s author and his simultaneous celebration and castigation of the prototypical outlaw, Charles always came off to me as someone who loves his fellow gang members deeply but who didn't share their illusions about themselves or how they function within the larger context of the world around them.

Charles makes several remarks throughout the game ('Unpleasant? How do you rob and kill people pleasantly?' 'All this death and for what? Just so we can have enough money to be able to run from what we've done?' 'The amount of hell we raised, we’re owed some back') that indicate a high level of self-awareness about what it is the gang ACTUALLY does and how they're perceived by the outside world. 

Arthur makes some gestures at this understanding throughout the game, but his moral musings are undercut by his inability to stand his ground against Dutch throughout the numerous acts of outright cruelty his found-father perpetuates in Chapters 4-6 (Arthur barks, but he never bites).

Arthur and John have their gripes and moans, but ultimately the two of them stick it out until the bloody end. Charles is the first person to really break free of the fate the gang is hurtling towards.

In a tragedy built on the back of it's main cast's inability to cope with a changing world, Charles is arguably the character who exerts the most agency. He makes the decision in Chapter 6--when the circumstances that once tied him to the gang have dramatically altered--to cut loose.

Because of this choice, he lives.

To me, at least, this poem--and Noshir's brilliant delivery--isn't about Charles himself. Or at least not just about himself.

Its him talking about the Van der Linde gang. Arthur and John, his second family. Wild, brilliant, bold, true, free--and gone. With nothing but graves to show for the lives they lived.

Charles isn't reciting a poem--he's reciting a eulogy.

As many of you on Tumblr can attest, there are lots of folks out there who want to create art without ever going through the self-work necessary to actually become an artist - relying on AI to create something vaguely representative of their vision without actually developing any skill or overcoming any failure. The result isn’t art. It’s theft.

In the combat arts we’re seeing this a lot as well. Average people empowered by the fact that they’ve quickly learned how to hurt people who have no skill, without really taking the time or having the guidance to learn when and how that new power should be responsibly used. The result isn’t a warrior. It’s thuggery.

There’s an excitement to living outside the bounds of the law. The desperate scrabble for tomorrow’s meal, or simply to live to see tomorrow at all. Living in a state of danger also heightens the every day because it may always be your last. Life seems brighter - or at least brought into sharper focus. And I think for many in the gang, that heightened experience of resisting death has been conflated with what it actually means to live.

thresher is out! and as expected we were all wrong and, far from being untrustworthy, Hercules is probably the most honest person on the Thresher team so far, save maybe Val.

which also means at high risk of death in a candela obscura system. i'm nervous for next week, y'all, not gonna lie. this is what i love about short runs and the candela system in particular -- the stakes are always high and any character can croak pretty much any time.

Yup. Absolutely. No need to apologize, everyone makes mistakes.

Baaaaaahahahahahaha

thresher is out! and as expected we were all wrong and, far from being untrustworthy, Hercules is probably the most honest person on the Thresher team so far, save maybe Val.

which also means at high risk of death in a candela obscura system. i'm nervous for next week, y'all, not gonna lie. this is what i love about short runs and the candela system in particular -- the stakes are always high and any character can croak pretty much any time.

Also, goddamn, Steel, why you gotta go and make Hercules look all sexy and French.

WTF!? 🦑 🐠 🦈

Many years ago, Mme Glask was approached by a very wealthy, haunted young man named Rajan, who came seeking her help. Unlike most of her guests, he is not here to sate carnal appetites… his request is rather unique.

Keeping a healthy distance, he drops to a knee and explains that there is a woman he cares deeply for, but that whenever she moves to touch him, he suffers a panic attack of sorts. He begs Mme Glask for her help as he wants nothing more than to be able to share her affections.

It‘s certainly not the first time Glask has encountered a nervous, bumbling young man, but something about this is very different. His fear goes beyond nerves there is a desperate fear there, that he is constantly trying to check… and his despair is profound. She decides to train this one herself. It would seem that she has adopted yet another stray.

His anxieties turn out to be stronger than she first realized, but she is up to the challenge. She gives Rajan a poem, explaining that it used to bring her comfort in dark times. He is to sit in the room, alone, and recite the poem until it becomes almost a mantra… and when he feels he is ready, she would enter the room and see how close she can get to him before he becomes too unsettled. The first day, she turns the door knob and suddenly he screams for her to stay out. She releases the knob and listens. The boy is gasping for breath, the poem now being recited at a furious, desperate pace as her ears are filled with a low grinding hum.

And then she is aware that something is on the other side of the door. She steps back, like the waves retreating off the beach, acutely aware that something massive is on the other side of the door… seeking her out.

A short while later a disheveled and crestfallen Rajan leaves the room. Mme Glask asks no questions, but watches him go. He leaves a handful of perfect diamonds with the hostess, apologizes for the room, and walks off into the night.

The room is gone.

Not wrecked. Glask has watched drunken men and their tantrums. This is different. The bedding is gone. The lampshades and window dressings are gone. The walls, most of the flooring, and some framing for the room are gone. The glass of the window, framing nails, metal from the light fixtures… those are covered in tiny pits, but intact. In the center of the room, by the bed, lays an island of flooring and part of a pillow that remain untouched. She approaches carefully, and places her hand on the floor… it’s warm to the touch. She can almost see the boy, laying there curled in a ball, clutching the pillow as whatever happened in this room tore the world apart around him. The Eye of the Storm.

The boy returns the very next day. And Mme Glask welcomes him as if yesterday never even happened. This time she suggests the now vacated East Wing. She’d been meaning to remodel that wing anyway.

Over the next year, there is steady progress couple with several moments of terror where Glask dove out of the room and waited. And by the end of the year, she holds the young man in her arms and he recites the poem with shuddering breaths - his arms holding her almost painfully tight. She gets the feeling she is the first woman he has held in a long long time.

The next step is the final test. Can he handle a kiss? You’ve never seen a boy so excited and yet so dreading a Final Exam.

As Rajan is in the room preparing, there’s commotion in the Glass Cat. A large fight has erupted in the main hall. Glask rushes to guide her bouncers when a small gang of drunkards scrambles up the stairs looking for entertainment, bulldozing over her with cheers and hoots. She yells at them to stop, and as they kick open a door, she yells, “Rajan!” as loud as she can.

She hears Rajan scream for them to get out, but the door slams shut. For a moment, it’s quiet. And then the panicked cries of the drunk patrons are overwhelmed by a roaring drone. The sound of a thousand waves crashing upon a thousand rocks, as the Glass Cat begins the shake.

Glass breaks and there’s commotion outside - the ravaged remnants of a corpse has landed in the street as the entire East Wing collapses upon itself.

And that was the last she ever saw of the young man, until the Circle.

It's been a year already?

Noshir is offering a mind-boggling plethora of options 🤯There is definitely something for everyone among all these selections.

🌟 All choices are 8" x 10" prints and they go for $82.00 each plus all applicable fees 🌟

The options below are just a partial amount, to see more options and place your order, check out Noshir's Streamily page!

@noshirdalal pov vs. Fan's pov

Noshir Dalal’s response to my prompt “Please record Charles roasting Dutch post-refinery/Eagle Flies’ death”

Please please go throw money at @noshirdalal over at his newly established cameo. He’s such a talented and dedicated artist who really brought Charles to life and I love everything about this insane five minute monologue he made in response to my joke prompt. The pathos. The catharsis.