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IF YOU’RE LOOKING for a place where misadventure could begin, you can’t go past Mbargo. The nightclub’s streetfront is painted a purple so bright you’ll see it in your dreams. Strings of giant sequins shimmer in the breeze. Its phonically inventive name is spelt in silver letters that climb its three-storey terrace facade. Inside are strips of burning neon, a few booths, floorboards so marinated in drink that they have an ingredients list. Bristol is a student city on England’s south coast crowded with music and nightlife and street art. This is Banksy’s home town, and the tourism board suggests in rather strong terms that ‘you would be a fool not to see his amazing work firsthand’. The same organisation describes Mbargo as ‘intimate’, which is fair for a place where you can catch an STI standing up. Students cram into its modest dimensions while people with names like DJ Klaud battle for billing with £1.50 drink deals over seven sloppy nights a week. To get a sense of the story about to come, consider that it’s the kind of place open until two o’clock on a Monday morning, and that at two o’clock on a Monday morning, Ben Stokes still thought it had closed too early.
The Ashes of 2017–18 had disciplinary bookends. It was after that series that Australia’s two leaders went off the rails in South Africa. It was a few weeks before that Ashes tour that England’s biggest star windmilled his way into his own disaster.
In the early hours of 25 September 2017, Stokes and teammate Alex Hales were barred from re-entering Mbargo after a night out on the piss. A Sunday thrashing of an abject West Indies in an ignored series at the fag-end of the season apparently required ample celebration. After arguing with the bouncer and hanging about at the door for a while, they wandered off to find a casino in the hope of more drinking. They’d barely made it around the corner before getting in the middle of a conflict between four locals. As is said on the internet, it escalated quickly.
The 26 September reporting was bloodless. Withholding names, police stated that a man ‘was arrested on suspicion of causing actual bodily harm’ while another went to hospital with facial injuries. England’s director of cricket Andrew Strauss separately confirmed that Stokes was the arrestee, adding that he had been released without charge and that Hales had gamely offered to ‘help police with their enquiries’. Administrators had a good chance of hiding behind that investigation, and the next day Stokes was named in the upcoming Ashes squad as expected. But that night the video emerged.
Bristol student Max Wilson had shot it on his phone, then offered it to The Sun. What he thought was playing hardball was actually lowball: his opening price of £3000 was snapped up by a tabloid that would have paid ten times that. The Sun went on to make a mint by syndicating the rights worldwide. From a window above the fray, the vision showed six men on the street below performing the muddled choreography of a melee. One was right at the centre of it. One was waving a bottle, one dipped in and out, one tried to calm it. Two others floated around the edges. The central figure was unmistakable: red hair burning even in the streetlight as he launched into a series of blows against two of the men, falling to grapple with them on the ground, then following both across the street, swinging punches the whole way. Hales trailed behind, repeatedly and impotently shouting ‘Stokes! Stop! Stokes! Enough!’ The ECB could fudge issues that existed only in thickets of legalese, but not those captured in moving colour. Stokes was stood down from the next West Indies match, then suspended indefinitely. It emerged that he had broken his hand during the fight, something he’d done twice before while punching objects in dressing rooms.
The response in Australia was fierce: Stokes was a thug, a lowlife, a selection that would disgrace England. It was not entirely coincidental that a ban for England’s best player would be handy for the Aussie team, but there was also a cultural split. In England, plenty of people still minimise pub fights as lads letting off steam. In Australia, heavy media coverage as a succession of young men were killed had inverted that tolerance. The discourse now saw any punch as potentially deadly and accordingly reckless. This was more poignant in a cricket context given that David Hookes, the dashing Test batsman and state coach, was killed in 2004 by a pub bouncer’s fist.
The PR situation was bad for Stokes as details emerged of the injuries to the men he’d hit, and that one was a young war veteran and father. Stokes wasn’t officially removed from the Ashes squad through October but stayed behind when his teammates left, hoping for police to dismiss the matter in time for a late dash to Australia. His annual contract was renewed on the due date in case that came to pass. Then 29 October brought a twist in the tale.
‘Ben Stokes praised by gay couple after defending them from homophobic thugs,’ ran the headline. Kai Barry and Billy O’Connell had emerged. Not entirely out of nowhere: while Stokes had made no public comment, this story in his defence had initially been leaked to TV host Piers Morgan after the fight, as soon as the video appeared. Police body-camera footage played in court would later show that Stokes had given the same story to the arresting officer on the night. But no-one knew the identities of the fifth and sixth men in the video, and police appeals had turned up nothing.
It was The Sun again with the breakthrough. Kai and Billy were perfect for a readership not keen on nuance. ‘We couldn’t believe it when we found out they were famous cricketers. I just thought Ben and Alex were quite hot, fit guys,’ said Kai, who was memorably described as a ‘former House of Fraser sales assistant’. The paper had the pair do a full photo shoot: layering the fake tan, showing off chest waxes, mixing Ralph Lauren and Louis Vuitton into a range of outfits. Their best shot had them standing back to back, heads turned to the camera, in a mirror-image Zoolander moment.
Suddenly The Sun was the England team’s best friend. ‘Their claims could lead to the all-rounder being cleared over the punch-up and freed to play in the First Test in Australia next month,’ it gushed, then gave a tasting platter of quotes: ‘We were so grateful to Ben for stepping in to help. He was a real hero.’ ‘If Ben hadn’t intervened it could have been a lot worse for us.’ ‘We could’ve been in real trouble. Ben was a real gentleman.’ Would it be known forever as Kai and Billy’s Ashes? No. While the Bristol boys provided spin for Stokes’ reputation they didn’t influence the police. With charges still pending there was little choice – not given Strauss had previously sacked Kevin Pietersen for being annoying. Stokes remained suspended through the Ashes and a one-day series in Australia, and lost the vice-captaincy. It was January 2018 before the Crown Prosecution Service laid a charge.
That charge surprisingly came in as affray, a crime that can carry prison time but is classified as ‘a breach of the peace as a result of disorderly conduct’. The men he had punched, Ryan Ali and Ryan Hale, faced the same count, charged as equal participants in a fight rather than Stokes being charged with assaulting them. Alex Hales was not charged, despite being seen in the video to aim several kicks when Ryan Ali was lying on the ground. Given the underwhelming standing of the offence, Stokes was cleared by the ECB to tour New Zealand, and kept playing until his trial in August 2018, which he missed a Test to attend. None of the three defendants would be convicted.
The reasoning behind the charges was never released and was attributed vaguely to ‘CPS lawyers’. The service gave the case to Alison Morgan, a prosecutor of a class known as Treasury Counsel who usually handle serious criminal matters. Morgan had a scheduling clash and never ended up court for the case, but in 2018 and 2019 she would go on to win damages and admissions of libel from The Daily Mail, The Times and The Daily Telegraph variously for incorrectly reporting that she had been responsible for the inadequate and inconsistent charging decisions.
Morgan’s successor on the case was Nicholas Corsellis QC, who on the first day of trial was permitted by the CPS to request two assault charges be added against Stokes. ‘Upon further review,’ claimed a CPS statement, ‘we considered that additional assault charges would also be appropriate.’ This was patent nonsense from the service that eight months earlier had chosen the lesser charge. Any lawyer knows that no judge will allow new charges once a trial has begun, because the defence hasn’t had time to prepare. But such a request could deflect criticism of the prosecution service by technically making the judge the one who disallows the charge.
Working through the story from the trial and the tape is complicated. You had a Ryan and a Ryan, a Hale and a Hales, a Billy and a Barry and a Ben. You had several versions of events as to who knew whom, who was drinking with whom, who had insulted whom and who had merely engaged in ‘banter’, a word that in modern Britain has to do an unconscionable amount of lifting. The reporting had constantly mixed up the Ryans as to who had which injury, who was in hospital, who had played which part in the fight, and whose mum had which stern words to say about it.
Let’s agree that from now Ryan Ali is Ryan One, the firefighter who ended up with a fractured eye socket and a cracked tooth. Ryan Two can be Ryan Hale, the soldier who scored concussion and facial lacerations. Mr Barry and Mr O’Connell are best known per The Sun as Kai and Billy. In scorecard parlance we’ll leave the cricketers as Stokes and Hales.
Amid the confusion, Stokes and his lawyers built his case in a straightforward way. The UK legal definition of affray is ‘if a person threatens or uses unlawful violence or force towards another person, which causes another person of reasonable firmness present at the scene to fear for their safety’. That means it doesn’t account for violence that harms a target, but violence that might frighten a theoretical bystander. The wiggle room for Stokes was with ‘unlawful’, because the charge excuses violence in defending oneself or others.
This interpretation hinged on the beginning of the video, where Ryan One waves a beer bottle about and takes a swing at Kai. The version from Stokes was that he was minding his own business walking down the street when he heard homophobic abuse. He intervened verbally and was threatened verbally by Ryan One – something that Ryan One denied but that couldn’t be proved or disproved. In fear for his safety Stokes had to nullify that threat by bashing Ryan One before it went the other way. He registered Ryan Two in his peripheral vision as another possible threat, and again had only one recourse.
Stokes also had to convince the jury to disregard testimony from Mbargo’s bouncer that he had been looking for a fight. A solid lump of a man, Andrew Cunningham had not enjoyed his patron’s attempts to get back into the club after the bouncer declined an offer of a bribe. ‘He got a bit verbally abusive towards myself. He mentioned my gold teeth and he said I looked like a cunt and I replied, “Thank you very much.” He just looked at me and told me my tattoos were shit and to look at my job.’ Cunningham described these words as coming in ‘a spiteful tone, quite an angry tone’, and said that Stokes still seemed angry as he walked away.
These were details the doorman had nothing to gain by inventing, but each of them Stokes denied. By his own accounting he had drunk a beer at the game and three pints at his hotel, then ‘potentially had some Jägerbombs’ along with half a dozen vodkas at the club. He insisted that after all of this he was not drunk.
If I may take a moment here to call upon the wisdom of experience – a person who cannot definitively say whether they have had any Jägerbombs has definitely had some Jägerbombs. A Jägerbomb is an experience that does not pass one by. Further to that, a person who says they have ‘potentially’ done something has definitely done that thing and doesn’t want to admit it. A person who has had between 15 and 24 standard drinks in one evening is shitfaced. A person who tries to bribe a bouncer £300 – three hundred quid! – to get into Mbargo – Mbargo! – is beyond shitfaced.
If Stokes admitted that he was drunk then the prosecution could say he was out of control. He claimed clear recall of assessing a threat, feeling fear and deciding to protect himself with force. He confidently denied details from the bouncer’s testimony, like using the word ‘cunt’ or mentioning gold teeth. Yet on other details he claimed a ‘significant memory blackout’. He didn’t remember the punch that saw Ryan One taken away by ambulance. He didn’t remember what the Ryans had said to Kai and Billy, only that those words were homophobic. With no head injury, as one of the few people who hadn’t been hit, he had supposedly suffered this memory loss despite being sober.
The version from Kai and Billy was compatible but vague: they had been walking along, they ‘heard … shouts’ of abuse from an unspecified source, then Stokes ‘stepped in’ and thus they avoided possible harm. They claimed to have been bought a drink by Stokes at Mbargo, although CCTV showed them meeting outside. The overall implication from both accounts was that the cricketers had been pals with Kai and Billy, while the Ryans as per The Sun’s headline were a roving band of thugs.
The reality though is that the Ryans were the ones hanging out with Kai and Billy at Mbargo. Police discussed CCTV from inside the club in questioning and at trial. On that footage the four Bristolians bought drinks for one another, danced together, and Kai was noted to have variously touched Ryan Two’s crotch and Ryan One’s buttock. Ryan One told police that all of this was taken lightheartedly and wasn’t a problem. Indeed, when the Ryans called it a night the other two left with them.
This much is clear from footage out the front of Mbargo, which shows Kai and Billy exit the club and start talking with a subdued Hales and a demonstrative Stokes, who are stuck outside. The vision was played in court to determine whether Stokes was antagonistic towards Kai and Billy, as he appears to impersonate them and to throw a lit cigarette their way. More interesting is that after a few minutes the Ryans emerge, and all six actors in the fight video briefly form a prequel in the one frame.
Ryan Two pats Billy on the chest in friendly fashion with his right hand before clapping him on the back with his left. He moves past and does the same to Kai before leaving the shot. Ryan One stops to speak to Kai. They lean in for a moment, talking, then Kai turns and they walk out of frame together. Billy hangs around for a few seconds at the door and then looks after them and races to catch up. Stokes and Hales remain outside the club to remonstrate further with the bouncers. Whatever discord develops around the corner is between four men who left amicably together minutes earlier.
There’s no way to know what caused that friction. If Ryan One did use homophobic slurs, he might have been drunkenly obnoxious for no reason. He might have had an insecure macho response to some extra flirtation. He might have thought unkindness was funny – ‘banter’ once again. Or he might have said something that was misunderstood, as both Ryans insisted in court that they had not used nor had the impulse to use any abusive language.
What clearly didn’t happen was an attack by bigots on random passers-by. This kind of crime is regular enough that an audience understands the horror of it, and this is what was evoked by the public accounts of Stokes, Billy and Kai. All we know is that there was some verbal dispute among the Bristol locals, and that Stokes came along behind them and put himself in the middle of it. Ryan One responded to the interference aggressively and away they went. There are plenty of reasons to look sideways at the idea that Stokes was a saviour. Foremost, neither Kai nor Billy was called upon as witnesses in court. You’d think it would be ideal to have Stokes’ story backed up by those who benefited from his selflessness. But his defence team had developed the impression that the pair had shown a changeable recall of events amid a hard-partying lifestyle, and would be dismantled by the prosecution on the stand.
That raises the question of whether The Sun coached their quotes for the 2017 interview. Despite missing court, Kai and Billy clearly enjoyed the attention. In 2018 after the trial they did a follow-up spread in the same paper about how poor Ben had been mistreated. They got a television spot on Good Morning Britain and glowed about his heroism. In 2019 The Sun wheeled them out once more to say that Stokes should get a knighthood. In 2017 they had ‘never watched cricket’ but by 2019 were supposedly volunteering sentences like, ‘He saved us, now he’s saved the Ashes.’ Whether they were paid for these appearances is not known, but the chance to be famous for a day can be lure enough.
If you find this cynical, consider that on the night in question, the Bristol boys were so deeply moved and thankful for Ben’s intervention that they left him to be arrested and never attempted to find out who he was. Seconds after the video ended, an off-duty policeman reached the scene. You might think that someone grateful to a saviour would speak on his behalf. Instead, said Kai, ‘it all got a bit scary so we walked off. It was too much for me and we went to Quigley’s takeaway for chicken burgers and cheesy chips.’ They didn’t give their hero a thought for over a month while police issued multiple appeals for witnesses.
As for Stokes, he told his arresting officer that ‘his friends’ had been attacked. After three minutes of chat outside a nightclub, these friends were so dear to him that he has never contacted them again: not after the newspaper piece, not after the verdict. He didn’t want to see how they were or thank them for their support. He didn’t mention them by name in his solicitor’s statement after the trial.
The Stokes defence rested on Ryan One’s bottle, which he had carried out of Mbargo to finish a beer, not to use in a Sharks versus Jets amateur production. But once he turned it over to hold it by the neck it became a weapon. Intent and interpretation can change the material nature of things. Part of Stokes’ justification in court was that the bottle implied that the two Ryans might have ‘other weapons’ hidden away. You can understand how a jury could decide that created doubt.
Not being convicted, though, doesn’t give the contents of the video a big green tick. It does not, as his lawyer claimed, vindicate Stokes. Looking in detail, Ryan One is belligerent but his movements telegraph a bluff. Hales is the person he’s gesturing at, but they’re several metres apart when Ryan One cocks his arm ostentatiously, showing off the bottle rather than bracing to swing. He skips forward but Hales skips back and Ryan One doesn’t follow. Kai stretches out an arm to impede Ryan One, who has a drunken stumble, nearly eats pavement, then staggers towards Kai and hits him in the back. That hand is still holding the bottle, but his strike is a side-arm cuff on a soft part of the body. It’s all pretty tame.
This is where Stokes gets involved. Having moved across to protect Hales, he now takes three large steps to run around Kai and booms his first punch at Ryan One. They fall to the ground and the bottle clinks away. Stokes gets to his feet to punch down at the fallen man, while Hales arrives to kick him ineffectively then runs off across the street for some unknown reason. Ice-cream van? Stokes is soon back in the grapple having his shirt pulled up to show off his Durham tan. Ryan Two steps in for the first time to pull Stokes away, prompting a couple more random punches at this new target, then Stokes trips backwards over Ryan One and sprawls in the street. Hales chooses this moment to return and aim some solid kicks at the head of the man on the ground. Nothing so far is a triumph of moral philosophy or the pugilistic arts. But if it all stopped here, perhaps you could say it was somewhere approaching fair. Ryan One has behaved like a turnip and it’s not an entirely unjust world that would give him a whack across the chops. The antagonists have disentangled, Stokes has some distance, it’s time to dust off and go home. Ryan Two steps forward for this purpose with his palm raised in conciliatory style and says, ‘Settle down, stop.’
So Stokes punches him.
It’s roughly his fifth punch overall, and he really winds up into this one. He misses so hard that he stumbles away into the shadows of the shop awnings along the road.
Hales starts shouting for him to stop. Ryan Two backs into the street, still holding his palm up. Stokes closes on him from about five metres away, six large steps, to where Ryan Two is standing on his own. Stokes pushes him a couple of times, as Ryan Two keeps trying to placate him and saying ‘Stop.’ Stokes throws his sixth punch, largely missing as his target ducks.
Ryan Two keeps pulling away and reversing, into the middle of the street now. Stokes follows him, grabbing his sleeve to drag him back. By this point Ryan One has found his feet and walked around behind his friend. Both of them are in the same line of sight for Stokes, and both are backing away. Stokes aims his seventh and his eighth punches, which Ryan Two tries to deflect, as Hales walks up behind Stokes to grab him.
Stokes yanks away from his friend and switches to Ryan One instead, taking seven paces to grab him before throwing his ninth punch of the night. He grabs again; Ryan One blocks that arm and pushes himself back away from Stokes. Ryan Two again intercedes, putting himself between the two with his palms up and his arm extended.
Stokes throws his tenth punch, a right-hander at the face of Ryan Two, then shoves him backwards. Ryan Two backs away once more, four paces. Stokes follows, steadies, lines up, then launches his strongest punch yet, his eleventh, a proper right hook from a solid base, one that cracks across the man’s head and gives him concussion. Ryan Two ends up flat on his back in the middle of the street, his hands still outstretched for a moment in useless protest until they twitch and drop to the blacktop.
Stokes isn’t done. He once more shoves away the restraining Hales and follows Ryan One, who keeps backing away saying, ‘Alright, alright, alright.’ Five more paces from Stokes before another blow at the man’s head. Kai and Billy are now standing over the poleaxed Ryan Two. The video ends, but seconds later Stokes will punch Ryan One hard enough to knock him out too, before off-duty cop Andrew Spure arrives on the scene to bring down the curtain. When the body-camera footage kicks in some minutes later, Stokes is in handcuffs but Ryan One is still laid out in the street. Ryan Two has regained consciousness, folded his shirt under his friend’s head and is asking police for an ambulance.
‘At this point, I felt vulnerable and frightened. I was concerned for myself and others.’ This was how Stokes described that sequence to the court. An elite athlete with years of gym work and training to snap a bat through the line of a ball with astounding power and precision, swinging fists as hard as he can at men with none of those advantages. Punching so hard that he breaks his hand, and repeatedly shoving away a friend so he can punch some more. Frightened and threatened by two targets shouting ‘Get back!’ and ‘Stop!’
The off-duty officer testified that Stokes ‘seemed to be the main aggressor or was progressing forward trying to get to’ Ryan One, who was ‘trying to back away or get away from the situation’. The student who filmed the video can be heard on the tape at one stage exclaiming ‘Fuck!’ and testified that it was because ‘I felt a little bit sorry about the lad that had been punched and it looked like he had his hands up’. That tallied with the prosecutor’s depiction of ‘a sustained episode of significant violence that left onlookers shocked at what was taking place’.
The defendant stuck to his strategy. ‘No, my sole focus was to protect myself.’ All up, in the 33 seconds of footage after he falls over, Stokes takes 35 steps forward to keep hitting two men who keep trying to get away. Not once is he hit back.
After the verdict, Stokes’ solicitor positioned him as the victim. It had been ‘an eleven-month ordeal for Ben … The jury’s decision fairly reflects the truth of what happened that night … He was minding his own business … It was only when others came under threat that Ben became physically engaged. The steps that he took were solely aimed at ensuring the safety of himself and the others present …’ The statement was impossibly self-righteous and self-absorbed.
If there was anyone to feel sorry for it was Ryan Hale, the second of our two Ryans. He’s the one who emerged from the club with a friendly arm around the shoulder for Kai and Billy. He’s the one who interposed himself to end the fight, then kept putting himself back in the firing line, trying to calm an intimidating stranger while dodging blows. For his show of restraint he got laid out regardless, concussed in the street, then was issued a criminal charge equal to that of the man who hit him, and described in national media as a violent bigot in an untested story to support that man’s defence.
Lawyers for Ryan Two made a more convincing post-trial statement, noting that Kai and Billy, ‘neither of whom were relied upon by the prosecution or the defence team for Mr Stokes, have taken the opportunity to speak with various media outlets about the alleged homophobic abuse that they received in the early hours of September 25. Mr Hale has passionately denied this allegation throughout the course of this case,’ it continued.
‘It is upsetting to Mr Hale that although he was acquitted, the accusation that he was the author of such abuse remains. Both Mr Hale and Mr Ali were knocked unconscious by Mr Stokes, and although Mr Stokes has been acquitted of an affray, Mr Hale struggles with the reasons why the Crown Prosecution Service did not treat him as a victim of an unlawful assault.’Good question. Avon and Somerset police were the investigating force, and they were frustrated by the decision. Ryan Two was filmed clearly not hurting anyone, but police were instructed by the CPS to proceed with a charge. Hales (the cricketer) was filmed fighting but ‘a decision was made at a senior level of the CPS’ not to proceed. Police expected Stokes to be charged with assault but the CPS declined. It doesn’t take a wild cynic to think that placing the same lukewarm charge on three men for vastly divergent behaviour might ensure that none would be convicted, even as the trial would maintain the pretence that a defendant of influential standing had not been given a free pass.
A couple of years down the line, the original interview with Kai and Billy has disappeared. All traces have been scrubbed from The Sun website, its social media history, and even from the Wayback Machine internet archive. Given its headline of ‘homophobic thugs’ and text that names Ryan Two but not Ryan One, the libel liability isn’t hard to spot. Later interviews with Kai and Billy take the passive voice – they ‘suffered homophobic slurs outside a Bristol nightclub’.
The article that was once claimed to exonerate brave Ben Stokes now links only to a missing content page, with a picture of a dropped ice-cream cone and the phrase ‘legal removal’ inserted into the web URL. In terms of consequences, Stokes missed one tour. When he resumed his career in January 2018, the Australians hadn’t yet ruined theirs. Their year-long bans looked much more stringent. But the Stokes case dragged on in other ways. With no criminal liability, the Australians confessed promptly enough for the sporting world to give them the full length of the lash. Their situation was ugly but there was closure. Stokes got stuck in legal stasis, unable to be fully backed or condemned. Instead his issue was always present, a browser full of open tabs that the ECB swore they would read any day now.
Through 2018 Stokes was back but he wasn’t back, in the sunglasses and finger-guns sense. In his return one-day series he nearly cost England a match with 39 from 73 balls in Wellington. His first Test hit was a duck as England got rolled in Auckland for 58. At Trent Bridge while Stokes was injured, England posted a world record 481 against Australia. With Stokes three weeks later at the same ground they made 268. He crawled to 50 from 103, the second-slowest any Englishman had reached that milestone in 20 years. That span covered Alastair Cook’s whole career. It was apologetic batting, acting out responsibility via the scorecard. Stokes was creeping back into the team like he’d been kicked out in a blazing row and was hoping to tip-toe to the sofa.
It was December 2018 before the ECB disciplinary committee ruled on him and Hales. In a ‘remarkable coincidence’, wrote Simon Heffer in The Telegraph, ‘the punishment both players faced in terms of bans from playing at international level was covered by the amount of games they had already missed when dropped by England’s selectors, in the furore that followed the incident’. The verdict compounded the omissions around the case by not addressing the violence at its heart. Nor did Stokes, apologising only ‘to my team-mates, coaches and support staff’, and then ‘to England supporters and to the public for bringing the game into disrepute’.
The implicit next step was to rebuild that reputation. It might have been easier had his court defence not meant that he wasn’t game to admit any fault at all. It might have been easier if he or his advisers had been willing to change tack once the trial was done. Imagine a world where Stokes had stood outside court and apologised for overreacting, for the injuries he’d caused, and for the time and energy he had sucked out of other people’s lives. That would have been a show of responsibility beyond a scorecard. When the time came around to assess forgiveness, it might have meant forgiveness was deserved.

AITA for making my bf throw away his gift?

I turn 20 IN 3 hours, but I want to leave some parting advice of things I’ve learnt through my teenage years.

As the title says I’m turning 20 years old. I have learned a lot being a teenager, it’s the prime of our lives, it’s where we finish secondary school, get our first part-time job, choose a university, or leave school and get a full-time job. Personally, I have learnt a lot, most of it is from my own experiences but I wish someone else had told me earlier on before I found out for myself. I wouldn’t say I’m leaving this sub forever; I’ll give myself the “old” tag and give advice where I think I could be of help. I would still like to write the bulk of what I’ve learned here to help you. 1. I see a lot of posts about mental health and suicide and you need to know it’s okay not to be okay. Help is out there I love helping people I enjoy it, so please message me if you need help. I to have felt depressed at times, one major thing about me is that I care too much about what people think about me, if someone has a problem I want to know why. If you’re like this too learn to let things roll of your back and ignore them. 2. Stop worrying about relationships at 13 to 16 years old, at the time of writing this I haven’t had a girlfriend yet nor anything even close, nothing lasted more than a night 2 days at the most. We will all find someone at some point. I have thought about losing my virginity to a prostitute, it might fun, and I shouldn’t regret it, but I probably would. 3. Do well in school, one of my biggest regrets is being too busy trying to be the funny popular guy trying to be everyone’s friend, I failed at both having a huge circle of friends and failed school as well. 4. Your school grades don’t define who you are. There are plenty of options for you to take and still do what you want to do but doing as well as you can in school will make doing what you want easier. 5. Get a part time job once you are old enough. Even if it a volunteer job it will give you much needed work experience that will help you eventually get a paid job. Also looks good on a university application. Try and avoid customer service for your first! 6. Save up your money. I understand once you start working you might be tempted to spend your money on new games or PC upgrades I know I was, and that’s ok, it’s nice to treat ourselves every so often, however even putting just £50 aside each month into a savings account will help massively for when you wish to buy a car, pay for university or pay for when you decide to go on holiday with friends after you finish school and help you get a property for when you wish to move out. 7. If you know what to do you could invest your money in stocks, I wish I’d known to do that sooner, if you can invest £100 each month into shares over a few months or years your portfolio will grow and hopefully if you bought the right shares could make some sweet profit. 8. Carrying on from number 3. Use this time while you’re still at home to travel, I live in the UK so after we did A levels (I did engineering Btec) after saving up for about 2 years my friends and I were able to go interrailing (backpacking as the Americans call it!) through Europe for 4 weeks. But only do this with friends that you know you can have fun with. The people I went with didn’t enjoy going out to clubs and getting drunk as much as I do, so I wish I had gone with people I could do that with. 9. if it, it’s too good to be true it usually is 10. your Parents don’t always know best, if you want to follow a career path and your parents don’t agree do it, you will regret it. Thankfully I have parents that support me in whatever I do, but I know people that do. 11. Don’t hang around people who aren’t your friends. Fake people are the worst people, people like this will uses you, manipulate you and lie to you. 12. It is ok to have no friends, there is a difference between being alone and being lonely. Eventually you will find a small social crowds with whom you will do everything with. 13. As Chris Gardner once said Plan B and C are rubbish, stick to your plan A and you will succeed. 14. People don’t always change; some do I am completely different now than 2 years ago. But some people I was at school with are the same, they are the same dickhead who likes to be funny by putting others down, people like that are stuck in their own little world to scared to realize that they have been left behind due to still being immature. 15. As I said in 11 and 4 if you don’t have fun you will regret it, I promise you, one of the friends I went with told me he regrets not smoking weed in Amsterdam or getting drunk on £1 beers in Budapest and wants to go again to have the experience he didn’t. Life is fun enjoy it while you can. 16. You will probably have that night where you go to a party or a night out in town where you’ll drink too much and get beyond the point of wasted, at the time you’ll feel like shit and regret it but after time for me it was a year it becomes something you and your friends laugh at especially when they tell you all the things you can’t remember. 17. “In game theory, it serves you to be two-faced. Be everyone's friend 'til the moment you're not. Make them love you so much that when they're up against you, their own loyalty will act against their own self-interests”. That's game theory. This was taken from one of my favourite TV series prison break. And I think it perfectly describes social interaction between teenagers and young adults. People will use you and you will use people even when that wasn’t your intention. I’ve been used by people id call my closest friends some did it intentionally some not. 18. Find a hobby there is no such thing as an odd or weird hobby, it allows you to find a common interest with people allowing you to make new friends and meet people, when I turned 18 my hobby was cigars, I’d go to various cigar lounges around London and meet people obviously they were older but the best thing about a cigar is the great conversation that comes with it. That’s just my opinion. 19. You will most likely regret the things you didn’t do not the things you did. Don’t dwell on the past and your previous mistakes focus on the present and the future. If there is someone you fancy, ask them out what’s the worst that will happen? They might say yes worst case they say no. but at least you tried. 20. At a nightclub or festival where your surrounded by people you don’t know, never except a drink from anyone if it wasn’t poured out Infront of you. First time I went clubbing I excepted a drink of champagne from someone I didn’t know in one of London’s busiest clubs I was lucky that it was fine. 21. Never shake someone’s hand sitting down and always grip firmly and make eye contact. 22. In a negation never make the first offer. 23. Take the time to talk to a homeless person, they sometimes have the most interesting stories and lessons to teach. Everyone falls on hard times, someone I spoke to was a veteran and ended up losing his home. 24. Friends come and go 25. Never stop in the pursuit of happiness 26. Loneliness isn’t forever. The most popular person may also feel alone. 27. It might not be a good life, but it’s your life so live it. 28. You can never please everyone, live for yourself and not others I know this is a long post but below I’ve left a summary of all the things I’ve done and experienced being a teenager (2012 – 2021) 11-12: Started secondary school where I made new friends and experienced a whole new environment including no more packed lunches. 12-13: Another year of secondary school, made it into the higher level classes for science and IT, at this point I started to experience bullying for the first time from the same person I was friends with the year before, I also entered my schools coding competition where we competed against the neighbouring school in who could create the best game on scratch. During this year I re-kindled a past friendship with someone from primary school whom I drifted apart from. We remain close to this day. (He won the coding competition with a moon landing game). Joined my school’s car mechanics club too. 13-14 3rd year of school, the bullying started getting worse. Applied for the bronze Duke of Edinburgh award ( for the non-brits here it’s an award scheme where the participant has to take part in volunteering, something physical a skill and finally a hiking expedition) no you don’t get to meet prince philip until you complete the gold award too. Picked my GCSE options. Had my first real crush (this was a fiasco in itself) as well as had my first kiss with someone else (another awful experience). 14-15 Aight cool year 10, time to start my GCSE studies and think about the future. The bullying reached its peak I lost it tried to fight him failed sort of, I got a few punched in before teachers came and pulled us apart, spent the rest of that day and the whole next day internal exclusion room, him too. (was oddly fun ngl), might I add that even the headteacher was aware of the bullying and didn’t care neither did the pastoral manager who when I told her about the first time told me to go away and grow up. Completed my Silver Duke of Edinburgh award. I never completed the last level (gold). 15-16 Woo last year of high school time to sit the exams that so many people think will ruin their lives if they fail. Yes the best you do will allow you to go on and do better things like a good university or doing the A levels you want, but it won’t stop you getting the career you want, you will just need to take a different path to get there like I did. Towards the summer I was getting ready to go on Israel tour my first time away from home for more than a week and to a new country without my family. For those of you that don’t know what Israel tour is, it is when you go to the state of Israel for 3 weeks maybe more depending on the tour organiser and see various sites such as the western wall, dead sea, Masada, ride camels in the desert, live on an army base for a few days as part of a small boot camp type thing (my favourite part) and much, much more. On this though I sadly realised that some people can’t be trusted and will stab you in the back, my “friend” liked the same person I did and instead of saying something to me he just spoke shit about me to her. 16-17 Secondary school, been there done that got the fucking t shirt. After not doing as well as I expected to in my GCSE exams, I had to change my plan slightly. I wanted to go into forensic science to do this I wanted to study level 3 Btec in applied science, but because I had failed 2 of my exams (the important ones) I had to do a level 2 course instead (same subject but lower level) during this year being in a new environment from the last I bought and smoked weed for the first time as well as getting my first hangover. During this year I was able to re sit my exams I passed 1 but still failed the other. I realised that the subject I was doing was no longer my passion. I got my first part time job as a receptionist so I could build my first gaming PC. My other close mate: after helping him meet his first girlfriend which by this point was at the 8- or 9-months mark, the 2 of them wanted to help me find someone. After fancying the same girl for the last 3 years at this point they introduced me to someone else, we were all away on a summer camp together so after being introduced we got talking for the next 4 whole days became really close only for on the last night before the big party for her friend to talk shit about me to her (seems to be a pattern here). A week later I had my second snog (kiss, make out, get with) with someone else (whatever u want to call it), this one was decent this happened to me on the NCS award (national citizen service) it’s like the Duke of Edinburgh award. 17-18 As I said before science was no longer what I wanted to do, so I changed to engineering at a new college (community college for the Americans). As I still didn’t have a C grade or above in my remaining GCSE exam, I had to do another level 2 course to pass. I got a new job as a waitekitchen assistant. started talking to another girl who in many ways she was a female version of me, we agreed on everything and got on well had so much in common it was unreal. My mate sadly broke up with his girlfriend so he was on the market too looking for someone else, I suggested to him that for his 18th he should throw a massive party, he agreed. I saw it as the perfect opportunity to make a move on the girl I was talking too; so, I invited her as my plus one. I got to his house early to help setup the house, she arrived about an hour later. I made a poor miss judgment that night and drunk about half a bottle of Russian standard vodka (no mixers). Being my drunk self I stumbled over to her and we began talking, then guess who comes over to us the same girl who cock blocked me previously and she does the god damn same, I have to admit me being as drunk as I was at That point definitely didn’t help. As you could I lost my shit at the person who yet again ruined something for me I went off on one in front of the whole goddamn party by this point the full force of my drinking hit me, I was unrollable cursing at the bitch who for the second time ruined something I had with someone. By this point the girl I invited left early, and my parents were called to pick me up. FYI the party stared at 8 I was home by 9 30 passed out. The girl I invited never spoke to me again I tried to apologise she didn’t really want much to do with me (understandable). My 18th I went clubbing for the first time and experienced a casino for the first time (played blackjack with £25 walked out with £120(I don’t encourage gambling, only play with what you can afford to lose)). The night club itself was something I didn’t enjoy all too much, main reason being there was only a few of us and the club was full of much older crowd than us, drinks where a fortune too, it was fun I enjoyed being out in the capital with my close mates at that time. It’s all about finding clubs that offer student nights where the crowd will be younger. Summertime, before the majority from my year head to university they all host a second school prom a reunion. This night again I learnt that people can and will be 2 faced if it serves them better. A girl who my mate had been helping me get talking to decided that the night before prom at a separate party he would make out with her himself (I was fine with that; I wasn’t at that party). I got invited to pre-drinks at this girls house the minute I walked in something felt off, it wasn’t until later I knew why; I found out my mate had made out with her the night before, unexpectedly he apologised to me (he didn’t need to, however I told him it was fine and move on) I was still hoping to get with her. 20 minutes later Infront of me the same mate of mine and the same girl were making out again (now I was pissed, first you apologise and then 20 minutes later do it Infront of me and everyone making me look like a mug). And again he apologises I played the bigger man held myself back from sparking him in the face and said that once is a mistake, 2 times is a slap in the face) this mate of mine was coming traveling with me 3 days later we didn’t speak until then. I went interrailing (traveling) through Europe with 4 mates that summer. 18-19 What was supposed to be my first year at university turned out to be another year at community college. This was also the start of where things got bad for me, by this point all my friends have had some sexual experience except me. My social crowd at this point is dwindling slowly at the time I didn’t notice I was just being left out more, (looking back, with some of my friends I was a background friend). I was finally on level 3 Btec engineering and have finally passed my last exam that I needed (took 4 attempts but if at first you don’t succeed try, try again). 19-20 (Present) Ok things are bad, I’ve realised that only 2 of my close mates are my only friends ( I walk a lonely road, the only one that I have ever known, don’t know where it goes but its home to me, I walk alone). I knew for a while since the previous summer that most of the people I trust and call my friends don’t care about me. I only ever spoke to them If I was lucky enough to be invited out on the rare occasion (I would usually have to be the one to make the effort). I wanted to rid of the people who don’t care about me, I never thought for a second 2 of my other close mates (separate from the ones I mentioned in 19-20, they will always be my close mates) would be the ones to go first. One of these mates was someone who I had so many memorise with, we went clubbing together, wingmen for each other, I allowed him to get off with someone at my house while I was asleep in the same room (didn’t know until the morning); and now since the start of the coronavirus pandemic we haven’t spoken or seen one another and is telling people it’s my fault. (he and many others know that if I have done something to upset someone I will always be happy to fix it, I hate beefing with people) I realised he didn’t care for me no more, the memories we had together meant so much to me and nothing to him, he’s part of a new social crowd most of them I know and have also tried to get close with but I was never able to. I know I did something wrong to make all these people pull away from me I just don’t know what, I run so many possible reasons through my head but none make sense or seem big enough to make to a huge social crowd no longer want me around (popularity baffles me, it’s one thing I’ve never been nor able to understand). Now in my FINAL year of college and looking at either looking at going to university to study either Aerospace or Electronics engineering, getting an apprenticeship or I may join the army or the royal air force. I kind of wish I studied law. All I really want for my self is a job I’m proud of, something that when someone asks what I do for a living I can tell them and not be embarrassed or ashamed and not have to lie or exaggerate about it. However, before coronavirus hit the UK badly, I started a new part time job in retail pays very well for what it is, and I get nice bonuses I still managed to keep it through the lockdown. Been predicted high grades for my course more than enough for my university choices and the apprenticeships schemes I want. As I said at the beginning, this isn’t goodbye. I’ll still be here offering advice where I see fit giving my wisdom to those who need it. Also, if any of you need to talk or any advice drop me a message on here and I’ll try my best to help. “life is either a daring adventure or nothing at all”
-u/randomhuman_23
Edit: i hope this doesn't get lost in new

Sloppy: Big Mama Gumball Machine and Captain Jack

There have numerous times in which I am amazed by what you, Dear Reader, finds funny about my normal life. My brain is a chaotic mess of constantly firing neurons, but I vividly recollect each story I have posted. I don't exactly put a great deal of time or effort into my stories. I simply let my fingers do the work. I find that I am more passionate about my military-related stories. There is a sentimental value that I hold very dear. By no means am I saying the other stories are not precious, but I am surprised when I read, "This is my favorite Sloppy story." Especially when I view the story as a "normal" day in the life of Sloppy.
I recently wrote "Sloppy: Learning to be Sloppy Circa 1998." There was an inquiry about the gumball machine in the comments. There were also a considerable amount of Direct Messages (DMs) demanding additional information related to the gumball machine. Again, I was very surprised because I viewed that story as nothing more than simple miscreant mischief. I suppose it was more of a "coming-of-age-story." I didn't understand the significance when I was younger. I didn't know these were the very first steps of my Fuckery career.
The scavenger hunts were everything but typical. They were truly epic events that were held on a weekly basis. The hunt lists were never the same, and the winning team was responsible for making the new list. We, of course, had our staple items such as: Garden Gnomes, Big Wheels, Wheel Chairs, and Road Kill. There was approximately twenty items that continually made the weekly list. Each item had an associated point value. Then there were the coupe de grace items. These items would typically change form week-to-week, were extremely difficult to acquire, but had an immense point value that almost certainly guaranteed victory. The gumball machine was one of them.
The Big Mama Giant Gumball Machine was one of the coupe de grace items. It was a mammoth prize that stood at six feet and seven inches tall (2 meters) and weighed 130 pounds (60 kg) empty. Midnight acquisitions was in order, and this particular Big Mama was definitely big, and anything but empty. I don't know gross weight of a fully stocked Big Mama, but I can tell you exactly how many Super Highly Intelligent Teenage Scoundrels (SHITS) it took to secure it. Six! It took every ounce of strength six SHITS had to load this monstrous prize.
Dear Reader, I know. I know what it's like to be let down, and I am about to let you down. "Borrowing" the Big Mama was actually quite easy. There is no real story regarding the acquisition. We simply backed a pickup truck to main entrance of Walmart, and loaded it up. We wobble-rolled the base of the machine out the main door, rested it on the bollards, and gently tipped it into the back of a truck. Then we drove off into the night with our spoils. Not a single soul questioned us, or looked twice.
We were SHITS Dear Reader, not fucking idiots. We had purchased cheap blue collared shirts, and khaki shorts from Walmart the day prior. The SHITS felt it was appropriate to give a little coinage to Walmart considering Walmart was about to be down exactly one gumball machine. It was also important of look uniformed. I know the suspense is killing you Dear Reader. Yes! We were the victors that particular week. People don't bother you if you a convincing in your duties. We were mentally there to remove a gumball machine, and our actions were clearly congruent. There was one minor problem though. How in the fuck do you return a gumball machine of that size without getting caught? Simply, you don't. It was one of the very few things we had acquired that was not returned.
Sunday Before Work (0430)
Sloppy Dad: Sloppy. SLOPPY!
OP: (Groggy) Yeah?
Sloppy Dad: WAKE UP. Get dressed, and then met me in the garage.
Sloppy puts shorts on and walks to garage.
Sloppy Dad: (Pointing) What the fuck, is THAT?
OP Brain: The old man is losing it!
OP: Looks like a gumball machine.
Sloppy Dad: (Not Happy) Well no fucking shit. I can see that. How did it get here?
OP: We put it here!
Sloppy Dad: (More Irritated) We?
OP: Yeah. The SHITS NAMES.
Sloppy Dad: Do you want to explain HOW you got it?
OP: I can but...
Sloppy Dad: I don't even want to know. You're grounded.
OP: (Sad Voice) Okay. I will take it somewhere else.
Sloppy Dad: No. No you wont. I am trying to quit smoking. I can use the gum.
There is still a Big Mama Giant Gumball Machine in my parents garage. It was out of gumballs around year five, and my father said it was the best piggy bank he has ever owned. I don't know what he did with the $1,500 in quarters though. I am happy the old man finally figured out how to refill it without breaking it too. We failed to ask Walmart for the keys when we acquired it, but I assume that would have been the demise of our endeavor.
"Wow. Sloppy, you finally did it. You finally wrote a story that absolutely bored me to death." I hear you dear reader, and I apologize. How about I rub some wasabi paste on your wrinkle-grommet and spice it up? I think we need to talk about Captain Jack. "Who the fuck is Captain Jack?" Dear Reader, I will explain. Captain Jack was the unattainable coupe de grace item. It was Mission Impossible and my team was on a three week skid, and we needed a "W" in the win column.
There was an old steamboat in the harbor of town, and Captain Jack was at the helm. My team of SHITS had hit brick wall-after-brick wall that night. The hunt clock was dwindling down, and we needed to throw an Hail Marry. It was our only chance, and we decided to attain the unattainable! We parked in the large parking lot. One SHITS remained on lookout, and three SHITS started our Mission Impossible.
Captain Jack was at the top, and getting to the top was one continuous circle walkway with exits at each deck of the ship. Captain Jack was on the third deck, and we had finally arrived with our bag of tools. Keep in mind, we were not sponsored by the Central Intelligence Agency (CIA) or MI6, and our bag of tools lacked sophistication. We had a hacksaw, two screw drivers, and a baseball bat. It certainly lacked sophistication, but these tools had faithfully served us in the past.
We admired Captain Jack for a couple seconds before we started to work. He had one hand on the helm, and one hand extended skywards semi-grasping a chain that dangled from the ceiling. Captain Jack had a grin on his face and he was begging for a ride in something a bit faster than a steamship. I immediately began to saw his left leg, and it was tedious. Captain Jack was wooden, and the hacksaw blade was not made for wood. It was like trying to cut a ribeye steak with a dildo.
Jamie: Dude. We need to hurry up. We only have an two hours left, and this is taking forever.
OP: I am going as fast as I can.
Jamie: Can we unscrew the legs?
OP: No. They're fucking bolted in.
Jeremy: Dude, we really need to hurry.
Twenty Minutes Later
OP: Got it.
Jamie: Yes. (Talking to Jeremy) We're good to go man.
OP: NO. We still have one leg.
Jamie: Fuck that!
CRACK-CRACK-CRACK
Jamie lacked patience. The "CRACK" was thunderous. Jamie pulled out the multi-tool, and started to hit home runs with a fucking baseball bat. The hits were deafening loud, but surprisingly didn't draw any attention to our quest. Dear Reader, have you ever failed to fully think something out? Ever develop a plan, and fail to calculate a couple factors? Captain Jack was about was one swing away from tumbling, and we had a catastrophic miscalculation.
Jeremy: (Looking at Sweaty Jamie) Dude. One more swing and we got this fucker.
Swing
CRACK
Captain Jack falling in slow motion!
HOOOOOOOOOONNNNNNNNNKKKKKKKK!
The ship was built in the 1930s. How many of you actually expected the horn to work? We certainly didn't. The ship bellowed a thunderous HONK, and our covert mission immediately transitioned into overt chaos. I believe this is a perfect time to explain that this ship is immediately adjacent to a casino, and there is always a law enforcement presence. The gig was up, and we were more fucked than Chasey Lain.
Jeremy 2 (Lookout): (Hysterically Laughing) What the fuck was that?
Jeremy: The fucking horn. Jamie hit his legs, and he feel into the fucking horn. We still good?
Jeremy 2: (More Laughing) Good? (More Laughing) NO. You are not good. The cops are coming now.
Jeremy: (Looking at Sloppy and Jamie) We are fucked. The cops are coming.
OP Brain: FUCK. FUCK. FUCK.
The cops were about to board the steamboat. The odd stairwell played to our benefit though. There was no immediate access to our location. We could visual see the bouncing flashlights making their way to our demise. It was a fucking gut punch. I knew my father would not handle this well, and I was absolutely petrified with the images I envisioned. Having a belt surgically removed from my ass cheeks was not an option. It was a perfect "What Would Sloppy Do" moment, and I knew I would get an irrationally rational response in a timely fashion.
Jamie: (Eyes Welling Up) We're fucked.
Cops: (Screaming from Second Level) YOU BOYS STAY RIGHT WHERE YOU ARE AT.
OP: Fuck This. Give me Captain Jack
Jamie: For what?
OP: Just fucking give him too me.
Splash!
Captain Jack had just perform the best fucking belly-flop a wooden mannequin was capable of performing. It now looked like a dead body was floating in the harbor. The body didn't sink to the bottom, but I lacked the skills of Dexter. Then again, floating could be a good thing!?!
Jamie: What the fuck did you do that for?
OP: I am fucking jumping. They don't have jurisdiction across the river. JEREMY. JEREMY!
Jeremy: (Puzzled) What?
OP: Tell Jeremy to pick us up at LOCATION.
Jeremy: How the fuck are we going...
I assume he was going to finish with "get there" but I was too busy falling three stories into the river. It was time for them to either shit, or get off the pot. The cops were nearly approaching the entrance to the third floor. Jeremy and Jamie were already brothers and had bunk beds, but I doubted they had to desire to share bunks in jail.
SPLASH-SPLASH
They had decided to shit. The cops were puzzled. "Where do you think you're going?" was echoed from the third floor.
OP: Grab Captain Jack and doggy paddle.
Captain Jack was a perfect flotation device. We looked like three beavers with critically underdeveloped beaver brains just kicking our way outside of the harbor. It took no more than five minutes to evade the cops outside the harbor, and the fast moving current got us to our destination in approximately twenty minutes.
Jeremy 2: (Baffled. FUCKING BAFFLED) HOLY SHIT. HOLY FUCKING SHIT. HOW IN THE FUCK?
OP: We jumped. Now get down here and help us with this fucker.
We were sopping wet and wreaked of river, and minus a right foot, we had all of Captain Jack. Our ride to the drop-off location was glorious, and the defeated look on the faces of our opponent SHITS was gratifying. It was an epic evening, and an epic prize.
Sloppy Dad: Sloppy. SLOPPY.
OP: (Groggy) Yeah?
Sloppy Dad: GARAGE. NOW
In Garage
Sloppy Dad: WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT?
OP: Captain Jack. Just something we borrowed last night!
Sloppy Dad: You better un-fucking-borrow it. TONIGHT.
OP: You don't want to keep it?
Sloppy Dad: If you plan on leaving the house this summer, this will be returned tonight. There is wood glue in the cabinet. We will be discussing this after you get off work, and you and the SHITS will un-fuck this TONIGHT.
My apologies for the lack of flair in the story. It's Monday, and it really feels like a Monday. We did return Captain Black. "It takes a village." I was just as scared of the other fathers as the SHITS were scared of mine. They knew his background, and Sloppy Dad was already a certified Fuck-Fuck master. There are just some animals you don't poke with a fucking stick, and Sloppy Dad is one of those animals. Captain Jack was returned, and we were all collectively punished. Our Travel Baseball team was good, and there were sizable crowds at each games. Has your dad ever showed up to your baseball game in a beautiful floral summer dress to cheer you and your friends on? My dad did, and so did the fathers of the other SHITS. Embarrassment was our punishment, and it fucking worked.
Sorry! I don't have pictures, and I don't think I would share them if I did. It would still be embarrassing for me, and I don't have time for that. I am just trying to hunt myself a laugh today. I think I will post another story today if I have time. I reminded myself of something during this story. It was a "Stand by Me" moment when we stumbled upon a dead humanoid, and the sheer Fuckery. I happen to think it is a pretty funny tale, but I will let you decide.
Cheers.

Newlywed in Crisis

There's no feeling more intense than starting over.

There's no feeling more intense than starting over.
If you've deleted your homework the day before it was due, as I have,
Or if you left your wallet at home and you have to go back, after spending an hour in the commute,
If you won some money at the casino and then put all your winnings on red, and it came up black,
If you got your best shirt dry-cleaned before a wedding and then immediately dropped food on it,
If you won an argument with a friend and then later discovered that they just returned to their original view,
Starting over is harder than starting up.
If you're not ready for that, like if you've already had a bad day
then what you're about to go through might be too much.
Feel free to go away and come back. I'll be here.
Alright, thanks for coming with me on this trip. I'll understand if you have to take a break at any point...
Just find a safe place to stop, and quit the game.
Don't worry, I'll save your progress, always. Even your mistakes.
This game is a homage to a free game that came out in 2002, titled 'Sexy Hiking'.
The author of that game was Jazzuo, a mysterious Czech designer who was known at the time as the father of B-games.
B-Games are rough assemblages of found objects.
Designers slap them together very quickly and freely, and they're often too rough and unfriendly to gain much of a following.
They're built more for the joy of building them than as polished products.
In a certain way Sexy Hiking is the perfect embodiment of a B-game.
It's built almost entirely out of found and recycled parts, and it's one of the most unusual and unfriendly games of its time.
In it, your task is to simply drag yourself up a mountain with a hammer.
The act of climbing, in the digital world or in real life, has certain essential properties that gives the game it's flavor.
No amount of forward progress is guaranteed; some cliffs are to sheer or too slippery.
And the player is constantly, unremittingly in danger of falling and losing everything.
Anyway when you start Sexy Hiking, you're standing next to a tree, which blocks the way to the entire rest of the game.
It might take you an hour to get over that tree. A lot of people never got past it. You prod and poke at it, exploring the limits of your reach and your strength, trying to find a way up and over.
There's a sense of truth in that lack of compromise.
Most obstacles in videogames are fake—you can be completely confident in your ability to get through them, once you have the correct method or the correct equipment, or just by spending enough time.
In that sense, every pixellated obstacle in Sexy Hiking is real.
The obstacles in Sexy Hiking are unyielding, and that makes the game uniquely frustrating.
But I'm not sure Jazzuo intended to make a frustrating game—the frustration is just essential to the act of climbing and it's authentic to the process of building a game about climbing.
A funny thing happened to me as I was building this mountain:
I'd have an idea for a new obstacle, and I'd build it, test it, and... it would usually turn out to be unreasonably hard. But I couldn't bring myself to make it easier.
It already felt like my inability to get past the new obstacle was my fault as a player, rather than as the builder.
Imaginary mountains build themselves from our efforts to climb them, and it's our repeated attempts to reach the summit that turns those mountains into something real.
When you're building a videogame world you're building with ideas,
And that can be like working with quick-set cement. You mold your ideas into a certain shape that can be played with,
and in the process of playing with them they begin to harden and set
until theyre immutable, like rock. At that point you can't change the world—not without breaking it into pieces and starting fresh with new ideas.
For years now people have been predicting that games would soon be made out of prefabricated objects, bought in a store and assembled into a world.
For the most part, that hasn't happened, because the objects in the stores are trash. I don't mean they look bad or that they're badly made,
although a lot of them are. I mean they're trash in the way that food becomes trash as soon as you put it in the sink.
Things are made to be consumed in a certain context, and once the moment is gone they transform into garbage. In the context of technology those moments pass by in seconds.
Over time we've poured more and more refuse into this vast digital landfill we call the internet. It now vastly outnumbers and outweighs the things that are fresh and untainted and unused.
When everything around us is cultural trash, trash becomes the new medium, the lingua franca of the digital age.
You can build culture out of trash, but only trash culture: B-games, B-movies, B-music, B-philosophy.
Maybe this is what this digital culture is.
A monstrous mountain of trash,
the ash-heap of creativity's fountain.
A landfill with everything we ever thought of in it
Grand, infinite, and unsorted.
There's 3D models of breakfast
gen-xers' fanfic novels
scanned magazines
green-screen Shia leBoeuf
banned snuff scenes on liveleak
facebook's got lifelike bots
with unbranded adverts,
and candid shots of kanye
and taylor swift mashups
car crash epic fail gifs
Russian dash cam vids
discussions of McRibs
discarded, forgotten, unrecycled
muddled, rotten, and untitled
Everything's fresh for about six seconds
until some newer thing beckons
and we hit refresh.
And there's years of persevering
Dissapearing into the pile
Out of style
Out of sight
In this context it's tempting to make friendly content...
That's gentle, that lets you churn through it but not earn it.
Why make something demanding, if
it just gets piled up in the landfill
Filed in with the bland things?
When games were new, they wanted a lot from you.
Daunting you, taunting you, resetting and delaying you.
Players played stoically. Now everyone's turned off by that.
They want to burn through it quickly, a quick fix for the fickle
Some tricks for the clicks of the feckless.
But that's not you, you're an acrobat
You could swallow a baseball bat.
Now I know, most likely you're watching on Youtube or Twitch
while some dude with 10 million views does it for you
Like a baby bird being fed chewed-up food.
That's culture too
But on the off-chance you're playing this, what I'm saying is:
Trash is disposable but maybe it doesn't have to be approachable
what's the feeling like? are you stressed
I guess you don't hate it if you got this far
feeling frustrated
it's underrated.
An orange is sweet juicy fruit
Locked inside a bitter peel
That's not how I feel about a challenge.
I only want the bitterness
Its coffee, its grapefruit, its licorice.
It feels like we're closer now
Composer and climber
Designer and user
You could have refused but you didn't
There was something in you that was hidden
That chose to continue
It means a lot to me
That you've come this far
Endured this much
Every wisecrack, every insensitivity
Every setback you've forgiven me
Is a kingly gift you've given me
We have the same taste, you and I
It's not ambition.
It's ambition's opposite.
An obdurate mission to taste defeat
You'll feel bad if you win
So I put this snake in for you
Have you thought about who you are in this
Are you the man in the pot, Diogenes?
Are you his hand?
Are you the top of the hammer
I think not—
Where you hand moves, the hammer may not follow
nor the man, nor the man's hand.
In this you are his WILL. His intent.
The embodied resolve in his uphill ascent.
Now you've conquered the ice cliff,
The platforms the church and rectory,
The living room and the factory,
The playground and the construction site,
The granite rocks and the lakeside.
You've learned to hike.
There's no way left to go but up
And in a moment I'll shut up, but let me say
I'm glad you came.
I dedicate this game to you, the one who came this far.
I give it to you with all my love.

Konfidential KUWTK Producer Secrets: Season 19, Episode 5 - "Sister, Sister and a Babymoon"

Hello my fellow poor people! Welcome to this week's “~~Malikas~~ Kards Konfidential," inside production details/family notes from KUWTK’s last episode, “Sister, Sister and a Babymoon”
Needing 2 weeks of multiple health screens after watching this Malika-filled episode, producers surprised us with a trip to Morongo where we could pretend that we really care about the Malikas just for a brief moment in time. They gambled, put their own health at risk, discussed the horrors of giving birth to a person that’s about to pop, and honestly, nothing more. I realize that for most people, this episode is something so far out of reach from the normal Kardashian realm, so in moments like these, I am humbly reminded why this show is coming to an end. #ThisIsTorture
Our A-plot is Khloe taking Malika on a babymoon, something that is apparently a very real thing, and our B-plot was Corey v. Kendall. Let’s dive in before we're all haunted by Robert Kardashian's hologram!
Cold Open/Scene 1: Kourtney and Kim discuss Kendall/Kylie fight

Producers say Kourtney and Kendall spend the most time poolside at Kris' Palm Springs House.
When the family films in the pool, producers usually watch from Kris' outdoor grill and bar area.
Producers were still reeling from Kendall and Kylie's fight. They assumed the drag show ended their Palm Springs filming, but then things got turned upside down.

Scene 2: Kim and Khloe talk about the fight while Kourtney sits in the corner and says nothing

Producers spent a bit of time with Kim and Kendall after the fight to better understand what went down.
The girls are in one of Kris' guest rooms... The 14,500 square foot home has 7 bedrooms in total.
Kim and Kourtney's fight was still very fresh for producers even though it happened a few months ago. Producers say intense sister fights of that magnitude don't happen very often.
Because none of the sisters were actually present for Kendall and Kylie's fight, they were hesitant to take sides. They hoped Kylie and Kendall could work things out themselves.

Scene 3: Kim, Khloe and Scott talk about the fight + Malika's babymoon

Producers make sure every family member involved in an argument has their side captured on camera. "It's important we don't come off like the show is presenting only one person's perspective and emotions."
Although her sisters reached out, it was Kris that Kylie was in touch with the most after the fight.
Before giving birth to True, Khloe took a sister "baby moon" with Kim and Kourtney to Tokyo.
After Kim and Kanye announced in 2013 that they were expecting for the first time, they escaped to Paris for a "little baby moon"
Malika has said she craved cereal throughout her whole pregnancy.
Malika has said she'd love to have twins one day, just not in her first pregnancy.
There were a lot of mixed feelings when Scott started coughing. Most producers didn't know what to think or take seriously yet.
The crew also tried holding their breath and counting to ten.
Producers thought Kourtney was the family member who might get bored during lockdown. She loves to travel, so it would be hard for her to suddenly be grounded.
Producers thought Kim would love the downtime... she's so busy, it would be nice for her to get a breather from all of her obligations.
u/LinusRanger13 NOTE: Alright let's hold up a minute because we got some kontinuity ERRORS up in here. Let's call this scene for what it is: staged. This scene was filmed on March 30th, 2020, three weeks after Kendall/Kylie's fight and Malika's babymoon. I can tell because Kim is wearing the same shirt/hairstyle that she wore while taping virtual interviews for The Tonight Show and The View, the latter of which which aired the next day. Poor Malika... she's just trying to spend some time with her newborn baby, but this is the price you pay for taking over Kourtney's spot on the show! This must also mean that they were NOT quarantining separately here... as this was just two weeks after the L.A. shutdown. A professional camera crew clearly shot this as well, so let's hope they all got tested before filming!

Scenes 4/5: Malika sits through labor horror stories during her baby moon lunch + en route to Malika's favorite spot in the world, Morongo

Malika's babymoon was the same week (erhm, the day after) that Khloe had been in Palm Springs with her family.
The girls wanted a cute outdoorsy restaurant that was close to Morongo.
In August 2020, Khadijah announced she was pregnant with her third baby. She gave birth to her son Christian in 2010 and daughter Celine in 2014.
It made Malika nervous to hear all the birth stories over lunch.
The girls got recognized at lunch, but producers say people were respectful.
Palm Springs is frequented by L.A. residents. Producers say everyone kind of gets it and isn't so out of control the second they see a celebrity and cameras around them.
A long bathroom break at the restaurant held up the girls. Producers say it started with Malika, then everyone was in there with her, so it took her forever to get on the road.
It was only a 20-minute drive from lunch to Morongo.
Producers say Malika got pretty carsick whenever she wasn't driving.
Production provides a basket of snacks when filming on long drives.
All the sisters have given pregnant members of production great advice about labor and delivery.

Scene 6: Kylie breaks away from STASSSIE BABBBYYY to fulfill her contractual obligations by participating in a scene w/Kris at her office

Both Kris and Kylie have the same exact desk size in their offices.
Because Kris is seen by many as a "boss bitch mega-mogul," it's easy to forget she's parented 6 kids. Producers are always in awe when that side of her comes out.
Kylie and Kendall have bickered about "typical sister stuff" over the years, like borrowing each other's clothes without saying anything.
Some of producers' favorite memories of filming Kylie and Kendall as little girls were during family trips... most notably the Dominican Republic, Greece and Bora Bora.
Producers say those trips were a lot of fun, and the girls would film music videos with the whole family.
- u/LinusRanger13 NOTE: Here's another bonus music video from back in the day. :)
Producers say out of all her kids, Kim is the one Kris has the easiest time communicating with.

Scene 7: Khloe, Khadijah and the other girl day players celebrate Malika in their Morongo suites

The girls had five suites at Morongo.
Champagne and different juices were served at the "Momosa" bar.
Khloe had never been to Morongo... it was a place Malika usually liked going to by herself.
Besides hitting the casino, Malika wanted to lie by the pool in a cabana, go in the hot tub and do some shopping at the nearby outlets.
Producers found it funny that Khloe went through drama over not packing proper clothes. "We thought it was funny and just rolled with it... they would've had fun if they all only brought sweats."

Scene 8: A future boring plot is SAVED by Corey reading Kendall for the "asshole" that she really is

Corey just happened to have a mirror ball because of a prank that was being pulled on an associate producer.
Corey and Kris are big Dancing With The Stars fans. And, Rob and Kim's time on the show are some of the family's favorite memories.
This was Kris and Corey's first time meeting Artem, but Kris and Cheryl Burke already went way back.
Cheryl was Rob's partner on Dancing With The Stars.
The man standing against the wall is Kris' security guard.
Corey and Kris were learning the Argentine tango because they wanted to enter a small dance competition.
Producers say Kourtney would also be a great dance partner for Corey. (okay? 😅Maybe not after he whoops Penelope's ass!)
While Corey was on the phone with Kendall, Cheryl and Artem gave Kris a few pointers.
Kris knew Corey was on with Kendall, but she had no idea things got so heated until after the call.
Kris and Corey had a long dance session with Cheryl and Artem.
Producers say Kris and Corey's dancing was actually pretty good, and their choreography was complex.
Producers say maybe the footage of Kris and Corey's dancing will pop up in some future never-before-seen footage show.
u/LinusRanger13 NOTE: This scene is legit, as it was filmed two days after the Kendall/Kylie fight, on Mon. 3/9/2020.

Scenes 9/10: Malika celebrates International Women's Day by telling the world she don't give a flying FUCK about her baby daddy's business + Khloe, Malika and their day players risk their health by playing in the casino amid a pandemic

The family usually asks each other for their opinions before posting things on social media.
Producers have joked that the girls should read their DMs on camera - but it's never happened.
Many photos on the family's social media feeds are taken by the crew members. Audio supervisor Erin - aka Paxy - is their favorite "camera phone" photographer.
Sometimes producers will set the lighting and the DP suggests the framing... helping with the family's social media pics becomes a fun little production.
Throughout the babymoon, Khloe never took Malika's phone away... or made her take social media breaks.
Malika said she didn't morning sickness at all during pregnancy.
Malika has said, "I'm able to be a Malika because I have a Khloe.... we're a duo that's really tough to come by."
Producers say the girls got recognized in the casino, and there was a point where a small crowd was gathered behind their table filming them.
- u/LinusRanger13 NOTE: WOW, recognized with a full camera crew in tow!? SHOCKING.
None of the girls hit up the slots, which was good for production... it's difficult to get clearance to film slot machines.
Besides roulette, the girls also played blackjack for a while.
Khloe won the most money that night.
About 20 crew members went to Morongo.
The girls spent about an hour in the casino.

Scene 11: This trip seems to never end as Khloe, Malika and their day players head to dinner

Malika thought she was having contractions for about half an hour before dinner, but producers say nothing super alarming.
Producers were really worried Malika would actually go into labor.
Despite hearing about Morongo for years from Malika, Khloe had no idea what to expect.
Producers say this was one of the longest dinners ever filmed. It lasted for hours - the girls hung out and were chatting forever.
After dinner, Malika wanted everyone to play games back in the room, but Khloe and a producer were trying to figure out how to get out of it. It was really late and Malika needed to rest, even though Malika didn't feel like it.

Scene 12: This episode still drags on as Malika gives her baby a real kick by drinking caffeine

Malika had been in pain on and off since waking up.
There was talk about Malika pranking the girls by pretending her pain was getting worse, but that wasn't until later in the day when it was clear she was feeling fine.
One of the most heartwarming moments for producers was when Malika shared a sonogram of the baby with them. It was the first time any of them saw her future son.
Khloe and Malika did steal some private moments together early in the morning and at the end of filming.
Khloe was first to leave because she had work obligations back home. The other girls took their time and hit up some shops on the way out.

Scene 13: Corey and Kris talk about the phone call w/Kendall

When Kris moved into this house, production limited the amount of crew allowed inside to just a couple. That's significantly fewer than any of the girls' homes.
Kris had spoken off-camera to producers about being in the middle of Corey and Kendall. They really felt for Kris as she struggled with her dilemma.
Kendall didn't want to see Corey or film with him. Producers say she was still super upset.
u/LinusRanger13 NOTE: After this scene aired, a "Konfidential Klip" was shown of Khloe, Malika and their other day players playing a baby game. Malika also pretends that she is in pain but plays it off as a joke. Hilarious! Nothing noteworthy here.

Scene 14: Khloe, masked up, is graced by a visit from Kris... who is shook by the new mask culture

Khloe's assistant picked up the masks at a hardware store.
When filming that day, production also wore masks per Khloe's request. Producers say masks weren't yet mandated.
Some crew members were worried about Khloe's runny nose, while others were unsure what to think. The severity of it all was still not as clear as it is now.
At this point, producers and the family were all freaking out and unsure what was going on. It was the next week when they stopped filming and went into lockdown.

Scene 15: Kendall shoots her Architectural Digest cover

There were 15-20 people from the Architectural Digest team at the shoot, and just two people from the series production team.
According to producers, the most impressive part of Kendall's house is her art room. It has curtains that are actually a canvas you can paint on.
Sometimes the family copies each other's interior design ideas, but producers say they have individual vibes and like keeping certain things unique to their individual homes.
Producers were surprised that Kendall and Kylie still weren't speaking. Khloe and Kendall discussed the drama with Kylie for about 30 minutes, then Khloe "really started coming apart," say producers.

JoJo's Bizarre OC Tournament #5 - Round 2 Match 10 - Bert and Emilie "Dread" Delacroix vs John "Jack" Aurel

The results are in for Match 8.
Agnes and Arpeggi, in their shrunken states, continued to fight, surrounded by the rising flames of their lilliputian tower, fists flying and Stand blows being taken one after the other.
“You… Callous mother fucker!” Arpeggi cursed, Agnes feeling the singe of a heat blast both from behind and from launched wood. “We’re not aiming for a massacre!”
“You’re not,” Agnes spat out, then, pulling a tab on the table, a massive geyser erupting and launching his so-called ally away, “I don’t give a fuck about this place, and we’re in a Stand battle… And it’s all worthless, greedy scumbags watching! Let the fire spread! Let this place hit the ground so they see what someone with style can do!”
“You heard it here, folks! Agnes talked you all down… C’mon, where’s your passion! Don’t run out and away, c’mon! And here I thought you cared y’had money ridin’ on this…”
Conqueror Worm’s laughs reverberated as Glitch and William found themselves cooled by Ocean Eyes’ nectar, which found itself dissolving quickly but, for the moment, a functional barrier for the injured fighters, watching and listening to what happened.
“Th… They’re fighting each other up there…” William remarked, physically looking as though he was straining to force Ocean Eyes not to hurry up there and tear them a new one. “Glitch, we don’t have time to keep the flames at bay and call up another KST, and if I let Ocean Eyes up there it’ll eviscerate them, and-”
“What’s this? The kid is holdin’ back, afraid of his own Stand! Hey, kid, don’t hate this part of yourself! Ocean Eyes, it ain’t your enemy, that’s a part of you, what makes you special, so don’t be at odds with it! Embrace what it says, because it’s what YOU’RE sayin’!”
William was speechless, there, but his companion was less inactive in that time. Tiger “Glitch” Ricky simply hissed, then, her and her Stand hopping up out of the flames in an effort to brutally, mercilessly pounce upon the self-styled villain and the ally he had come to blows with. If they moved fast, they could bite through that shitty little twink’s neck right now!
Arpeggi grit his teeth, scrambling to find his footing as he witnessed the pouncing cat-stand, finding it hard to breathe among all the burning rubble, fading fast then.
Is… Is this how it ends..? Crushed and mangled as some lowlife’s burnt-up game piece..?
“And it looks like Glitch is about to take it! Shout-outs to Tigran, the only real one here, watchin’ through the fire and the flames!”
“Heh… This is just a bit of a sweat,” Tigran Sins answered, stifling a cough, “I’ll see all seven of these bastards run through games until they’re all-”
Arpeggi didn’t hear what was said next, only hearing his own defiant heartbeat. If he didn’t act fast, Agnes would die… Good riddance, right? But… Ugh, no, even scum like him, they don’t deserve…
He clutched at NEXT LEVEL until his fingers bled, and Glitch and William, both looking at him past their Stands waiting to attack, made curious sounds as yet more crumbled away.
“Mrr?!”
And then, there was white. An overwhelming cascade of baking soda burst from NEXT LEVEL, smothering the flames rapidly as an obscured form zipped up the tower again, grabbing Agnes and hurrying away from the thrown-off Glitch.
“You… Why did you…” Agnes rubbed baking soda out of his eyes, coughing and looking at the form of Arpeggi in this new Stand. “Motherfucker…”
“I have responsibility over even a scumbag like you… You tailed me here, and I’m not gonna let you die and escape responsibility easy.” He turned, then, to William and Glitch, his new form revealed. “Now, actually help me, follow my lead, and I’ll kick your ass later. We need to survive this-”
All four of the fighters, then, felt themselves grow rapidly, their combined weight so close together crushing the table they were on, much as a nearby tabletop wargame that had been setup found itself buckling under the weight of Metra, Oh No, the Black Angel, and their motorcycle.
“Welp,” Worm said with a bemused laugh, holding up the slumped body of Tigran. “Your fire couldn’t hurt him, but smoke inhalation sure could! I guess that means…”
“The winner is FIRE, with a score of 65!”

Category	Winner	Point Totals	Comments
Popularity	Graveyard Shift	12-17
Quality	Graveyard Shift	19-20	Reasoning
JoJolity	BADD GUYS	24-18	Reasoning
Conduct	Tie	10-10

With no more reason to fight, it got really awkward and everyone just sort of ran out of Heartache Casino. William Eyelash, recalling his stand and lost in thoughts, was the last to leave, joining the others in leaping single-file out a window into a nearby alley.
There, though everyone else seemed tensely uninvolved, the Black Angel’s motorcycle revved, and she stared down Worm as he safely stowed Tigran inside his Stand-body, leaning on his golden sword.
“There’s still something I need, Jones… I’ll run you down to get it if it means saving the city.”
Worm laughed, gesturing with his sword. “This thing? You’re huntin’ me down for this… Ah! I see! You’re tryin’ to do that.” Callously, he tossed it, so suddenly they fumbled with it in hand. “Here ya go, then! I don’t much want what Jack Aurel’s cookin’ up either!”
The Angel, worn and exhausted, stammered. “I… You just… But…”
“Lookin’ forward to killin’ me, huh? Get in line, kid… Or waste your time right now! See, nobody here is botherin’, they can all read that it’d be a waste when I’m in such good health! City’s countin’ on you, yeah, and you won’t get many opportunities for bein’ called a hero as an adult. Make it count!”
Then, before anyone could say more, he darted through a nearby wall, waving William and the rest off with a, “Ah, we safely may trust to its gleaming and be sure it will lead us aright!”
…
…
“Asshole.” The Angel turned away, strapping the sword to their back and driving away. “Thank you, all of you. I’ll take this from here… Get yourselves help.”
There was silence as they drove into the sky, scarf billowing before them, and then Agnes started cackling. “You’re all fucking morons… If I didn’t burn that place down, we wouldn’t have gotten away, and some wannabe with no style would be going down as Los Fortuna’s worst villain! Fucking bow and grovel, Jack Aurel’s grave is gonna say ‘spat on by Agnes!’”
Nobody had the energy to dignify that with a response.
An anticlimax is leading into a super-climax, and meanwhile, an ant-loving little boy and an aid worker are racing through their dreamscapes, with a day left to vote there.
Narration:
What is, as of the 1990s, ‘Capital Island,’ was the epicenter of Los Fortuna’s founding several hundred years ago, in the midst of a bloody Stand User conflict, many militias clashing for superiority, in the 1680s, starting with the death of the era’s own Andrew Tiffany, the missionary William Mandolin, and towards its end, knocking people into their senses through the awakening of exactly what he had tried to warn them of.
A grand T-Rex by the name of Megalomania had survived, dormant, underneath the land through the might of its Stand, coated in a goldlike substance, and awoken in a deep rage by the conflict of the locals. Megalomania was met in battle by a man out of place named Aaron Bruno, ‘Sir Aurel’ to most, and Memory Management, and when slain, crumbled where it stood into a pile of bones, feet firm in the ground.
Los Fortuna’s natural history museum was built around this monster’s remains, and Sir Aurel would turn its golden coat into a ceremonial weapon. The power these symbols were imbued with, even with their old purposes lost, were of great importance to the city’s stability.
Scenario:
Outside Los Fortuna’s Natural History Museum, Early Evening
In the blink of an eye, the attention of everyone within Los Fortuna had been turned to the natural history museum. That made sense, of course - considering the looming dark clouds containing the ghosts of the dead within them, the scuffles of the stand users outside of the building, and the vague knowledge that a ritual with the purpose of destroying fate itself was currently being performed within it, it would be out of the ordinary for people to not be paying it any attention. Even those who weren’t stand users that were up to date with the situation were drawn to it by the unusual level of activity surrounding it, from emergency services and VALKYRIE forces alike.
And then there was Bert. They were invested in the whole situation, of course - keeping up with the latest reality-breaking ancient rituals was the least that a wannabe god like them could do. Their status as an observer did raise a few eyebrows - they’d had to shake off both emergency service workers and VALKYRIE forces, who’d both taken the time to try and encourage Bert to leave the area for their own safety, clearly underestimating Bert’s own prowess.
Within the chaos, one could be excused for not failing to notice the drones Bert had been sending around to overhear and oversee it all. First, they paid attention to the chief of security at VALKYRIE, Ugo McBasie, who seemed to be getting interviewed by someone from the Fortuna Hermod, an ODIN-owned news publication (not their usual guy at scenes like this… Wonder what happened to him). Bert had heard that the man was a violent and irresponsible meathead who’d caused plenty of trouble in the past, but he seemed to be keeping a thin veil of professionalism for now. However, Bert couldn’t help but notice a young man in a blue aviator cap standing a few meters behind the reporter and staring daggers at him, perhaps keeping him in check somehow, occasionally piping in for comment about how it was all they could do to surround the place and wait for an opening if they didn’t want a meat grinder on their hands.
Meanwhile, Los Fortuna’s own city council chairman, Raymond Delwin Shimizu was discussing something of note with someone else, who seemed to have just finished an interview of his own. Bert didn’t recognize him, but the interviewer had called him “Chief Prosecutor Cavallo”, and she seemed as if she knew what she was talking about, so Bert opted to believe her. The interviewer, Jillian Something-or-other, had been running all over the scene, trying to get interviews alongside her oversized cameraman Bert recognized as having been that really huge cop who used to hang around Aurelio a lot of the time not successfully doing his job. Not worth Bert’s time.
Cavallo scratched his head in frustration. “Chairman, please tell me that you’ve made progress of some kind here...”
Ray shook his head. “Not much. That stand user that’s working alongside Jack Aurel, Akiko Mizushima, is making it impossible to get in - anyone we do send in is as good as gone. We haven’t even been able to get Admiral Pineapples out. Judging by your demeanor, I assume that the board hasn’t made much progress either.”
“No, doesn’t seem like it.” Cavallo let out a long sigh. “Every day, it’s just more and more work… Now we’re stuck having to deal with this. If nothing’s done, the board’s thinking it might very well cause a disaster unmatched by… Well, anything but the earthquake from thirty years ago. Something like this, bending the rules of the city, and breaking free from it… Los Fortuna’s probably not going to let that slide easily.” He shook his head. “Where the hell is the mayor through all this? Watching anime at home or something, probably.”
Ray remained silent for a bit, thinking to himself. “Well, we’ve got emergency services ready to act for now, and we’re working on evacuating any susceptible areas, but it only works so much.” Before Cavallo could respond, another reporter came up to Raymond, ready with a batch of questions for him. “Well, Cavallo, our work isn’t done yet, so let’s get to it. Saving as many people as possible here should be our utmost priority.” And with that, the two men parted ways for the time being.
Having listened enough, Bert began thinking to themselves. This was a tricky situation - they clearly couldn’t get in as is, but they certainly wanted to. Learning more about the situation at hand would improve their knowledge of the mechanisms holding Los Fortuna together, and gaining control over the ritual somehow would certainly be a feat befitting of a god such as them.
Bert stood in front of the museum entrance, taking another look at the chaos in front of them and continuing to think about the next step they’d take. So many different possibilities, so little time. They thought, and thought, and then one of their drones’ eyes glanced upon someone familiar - a blue haired, red eyed woman wearing a mask, trying to blend in and clearly resenting it, skulking around the perimeter of the area as though she, too, wished to enter.
Yet despite her efforts, Bert recognized her.
“Emilie ‘Dread’ Delacroix!” They declared it loudly, thoughtlessly so, approaching her with a hand raised. “Are you perhaps looking to find a crevasse through which to enter that place as well? It’s quite fortified, isn’t it?”
“Hm?” She wasn’t bothered by the way Bert drew attention to her, still wearing her same very extra outfit under the also quite extra hooded dark robe she was using to blend in. “Ah, pardon me dearly for having failed to notice you… You are Bert, from that incident where we fought on equal terms, yes?”
“I am that same Bert, Emilie ‘Dread’ Delacroix, yes. Though I doubt I could be much mistaken for others…”
“We are both quite conspicuous individuals, yes,” Dread said, taking the conversation into a nearby alley before VALKYRIE goons on the scene could prove it was her, “but no, I’m not terribly nonplussed about my abilities to infiltrate that place… Simply, I am attempting to assess the probability by which my approach itself, through the barricades erected, might occur. If your intentions happen to be helping me sneak through, then it is simply not necessary on any fronts… I have formulated a plan now.”
Dread, now appearing alone, walked through that alley curiously, looking around her and beginning to see her opportunity of approach - there appeared to be a side door there, at which a certain fish-themed hero was sitting outside, looking, Dread knew from their DMs, at funny images of her wife atop the T-Rex skull in the museum.
Yes, certainly, this would be-
“Whoa, hey, it’s you!”
Damnable. Had she been spotted, or..?
No, no, wait. The one speaking, a man also in this alleyway who smelled of cannabis, holding what looked like a GAP bag, was speaking to someone on the opposite side of it, disembarking from a sportbike and handing it to the rider, who was wearing a very ornate-looking golden sword which Dread had sworn she’d seen somewhere before.
“Thanks,” the Black Angel told this young man, accepting the bag and producing its contents - a Roman helmet and black bird-looking tokusatsu cosplay? “Green couldn’t make it himself, huh?”
“I made it,” the guy said, pointing proudly to himself, before blinking. “Oh, you mean like… Showing up. Yeah, no, there was a thing with a mammoth coming down from the mountains, he’s helping East deal with that. Feel like lighting up before you go in? It’ll take the edge off..!”
The rider removed their helmet, coincidentally perfectly timed for the strawberry-blonde with pale blue eyes to stare him down incredulously. “About a million people live on this island, Weedboy. Now is not the time…” The Angel ducked into the nearby building to change, finishing, “shit, yeah, it looks just like the Flying Men do… uh. you should get out of here now.”
“You kidding?” He asked. “I don’t wanna bow out right before it gets good! That’s, like, saying I think you can’t do it!”
Well, these two appeared distracted, so Dread would continue along her way, walking right past them and towards the blockade, towards where Jo was sitting casually, only to be interrupted by-
“Holy shit, it really is her! Stop right there, Dread!”
Oh boy, here we go. This had been happening more lately, since a somewhat frustrating individual went and opened his big mouth about her dangers on Bifrost. Turned out that the head of VALKYRIE was literally in the server, so now she had a bounty on her head after a modicum of investigation into her after that public statement, and her casual admittance thereof!
Two armored guards were pointing guns at her as she stood there, unfazed.
“Don’t come any closer!” One of them, an older woman, said, turning to her younger partner and quickly telling him, “if she approaches, open fire. She’ll eat you alive if not!”
“This again, are you being serious?” Dread was less than pleased. “I am evil, and a murderer, unrepentantly so, yes, but I do not eat people. This rumor is being so blown out of proportion that I find it quite tiresome.”
“F-fuck off and die!” The younger moved to fire his weapon, only to realize there was a knife through him, catching the gun by the trigger after running from his shoulderblade to his fingertip.
Dread didn’t need the help, but like a true friend, Kimijo Kaneko offered it anyway
“Wh-what the-” The older woman cursed as her partner was cut open and dropped. “Fucking useless moron! HEY, EVERYONE, KANEKO BROKE RANK AND DREAD IS HERE TO! NOW’S OUR CHANCE TO-”
The distraction, then, was all it took for Dread to take her first kill of the day. Of course it was fine. She read the news, she knew how these VALKYRIE people were literally at war with poor people.
“Sh-shit, those people just died! More VALKYRIE corpses, and Jo again..!” The stoner declared in the background, and the Black Angel, now dressed exactly like the birdmen many had seen before, paused in her efforts to run past the opening created by Jo breaking formation.
Nobody could hear it or see her lips move, but she apologized under her breath, clenching her fist, but the disguise had worked. 32 Footsteps, the primary guard which would warp away anyone who tried to enter, apparently had instructions to allow in anybody dressed like this, yet none of the intended recipients of this deliberate loophole made their way in.
“Dread, hello, friend!” Jo exclaimed in high spirits, sheathing her knife, but still speaking quietly as she hurried back into place, “good to see you!”
“Yes, it is most certainly fortuitous for us to encounter one another…” Dread agreed, walking and talking with her as the pair were watched in horror. “By any chance, may I come into this museum? I am absolutely curiously intrigued by what is going on within here…”
“Sure!”
A VALKYRIE sniper was taking aim at Dread, then, as she entered, muttering under her breath, “got a shot lined up… I can take her out, and Jo a second later! Two bastards out of the way, at least, and-”
“Wait,” the youth in a blue aviator hat and goggles, speaking as VALKYRIE’s tactician, instructed, “hold your fire.”
“Sir, she just made one of our senior officers fall into rotten pieces! She’s chatting it up with this fish-bitch like it’s nothing!”
“I know, and I’m appalled too, but I think…” The Blue Kid paused, contemplatively. “No, I know it. Dread is here to defeat John Aurel, just like the Black Angel.”
Spinning and pivoting through the air, “Lou” Reed, dressed like a dark, sixth Flying Man, landed atop the skull of the t-rex, which had apparently been adorned in a cute little pirate hat. It made for a fine vantage point, then, to look all over the halls of the Natural History museum, noting one, two, three, four spots, grotesque and morbid statues Remix had apparently erected of ghostly abominations.
She was exhausted, injured from the three-way skirmish she, Metra, and Oh No had been forced to undergo and riding like hell to get here, but she had made it this far, and others had managed to get in too. She couldn’t choke now.
Seven minutes… I’ll just have to destroy those, and be back here in seven minutes. Easy enough… I don’t think I’ve been-
“Green, Orange, and Purple… I don’t believe a ‘Flying Man Black’ was ever mentioned, nor that any of the brothers were into swords.”
Shit. That voice, too… Lou turned around, then, seeing someone standing behind her, a man with long dark hair, brandishing a hammer and looking up at her.
John “Jack” Aurel.
“Even if you are what you appear to be and not in disguise, you should realize that you aren’t welcome here. There’s nothing to be done in this museum worth dying for, and no way to accomplish any more foolish goal if I were to raise attention now. Care to waste some of the time you have left and explain?”
Of course this would happen. Lou removed her faux-beak, helmet, and goggles, staring down at him as her hair billowed in the ceiling fans’ wind. “Jack… I’ve come here to put a stop to this.”
“You’re that kid who’s always running around, huh?” Jack frowned, twirling his hammer. “I hear what you talk about through the grapevine… About how we’re all victims of fate, forced against each other by Gravity. That Stand Users are always going to be molded by this… You understand it too. You understand that people like us prey upon the weak, that it’s in our natures and our place in the world. I want to remove myself from that… Remove these people from that, and atone for what I’ve done.”
“By killing even more people! There’s no way they’ll get everyone away from your blast radius, and you haven’t even given them the chance to!” Lou protested. “It doesn’t have to be this way… Don’t say this is how it has to be! We can save this place, free everyone from gravity, without barreling towards its destruction! I don’t want to kill you, Jack. I want you to stop this crazy, self-indulgent crap and help me do something real!”
“You think everyone deserves this? That Stand Users will simply reform without this? The cycle has started, and it will push to the end even if the wave guiding it fades away completely… Bastards, the lot of us, and I don’t intend to run from what I’ve done. I’ll give you one chance to run away, kid… the worst I can call you is naive.”
Lou drew the golden blade, seeing Jack wince as he clearly recognized its significance, all as her Stand appeared behind her. “We both know I can’t do that, even if I can barely keep my balance up here. And hey, maybe I will die here… Maybe I am fated not to see this through. But then, someone is gonna finish this for me! Your security is already compromised!”
“Fascinating… And you are utterly convinced that, should it work, those he’s slain to commence this ritual to begin with will return outside the city?”
“Remix is full of himself,” Jo said, nodding quietly, “but he and Jack, they researched a lot… Akiko and I, for helping this finish, we can finally go home! Be done with the bad city…”
“She has made this place remarkably impregnable,” Dread agreed, thinking aloud, “anyone who waltzes in waltzes into her backrooms…”
“Unless they have a ‘pass!’” A voice from within Dread’s cloak spoke, and as Jo raised her knife at it in defense, the pure-white, terribly contorted form of Bert tumbled onto the ground, stretching and reshaping into their typical humanlike shape.
“Don’t worry, don’t worry, they are fine, with me!” Dread assured Jo, frankly thankful to have that weight literally off her back. Bert was very light, but even then it was hard to walk carrying someone, let alone not give it away. “We have… Some history, and so I thought I might as well indulge Bert’s request to see this place as well. I apologize for not mentioning earlier, but it was quite dire getting in here past guards attacking us.”
Jo didn’t seem to mind, continuing to lead the pair around, even passing Akiko who was casually, distractedly reading some manga while in a bit of a pirate mood.
They also passed by another scene, slightly more concerning, of an injured old man in a Hawaiian Shirt, close by the frontmost entrance of the place and clutching himself as his fleet of four Stand-starships remaining fired at Remix, who guarded against it with ghost-objects while a Flying Man Red tried to find an opening to strike.
“You’ve been at this for hours, old man, die already! You have no place in the world I mean to birth from your bloodied, pulped remains!”
Pineapples stood, then, leaning against the wall, trying not to show weakness.
“I think that guy is going to lose, at this rate… It’s a shame, too,” Bert, the loudmouth again, remarked. “He might have been a worthwhile pawn in wrestling control away from this operation.”
Dread, Jo, Remix, and Red all gave Bert simultaneous incredulous looks, all in completely unique ways.
Jo drew her knife again, about to transform, only to dodge out of the way of the injured ‘Lou’ Reed, blacked out, helmetless, being knocked away and into the floor, the shock of which made her rise quickly, feeling around. “Where’s the- Shit!” As she sat up, then, feeling around for the saber no longer in her possession, she noticed that she was smack in the middle of something else here.
Hurriedly, she rolled away, standing herself up and looking to the injured Admiral. “You… You’re one of those MFAs, right? How did you-?”
Weakly, he gestured to Remix. “He brought me here in a damned urn! I’ve been fending them off to buy others in the museum time to escape… Everyone in this hall here and Jack, those are the only ones left in the building, minus masses and masses of ghosts. They’re harmless, though… Don’t worry about them attacking unless that guy takes them.”
“I see…” Lou, then, smiled sadly, clutching her bloodied suit. She looked to Bert and Dread, then, moving to get between them and Jack’s incredulous accomplices. “You said you wanted to take him out, right? I overheard…”
“Well, Bert has let yet another cat out of the bag,” Dread admitted, “indeed, I came here with the intent of dethroning Jack Aurel before he had a chance to complete his little ritual. Few others would even be able to get in here.”
“So that’s my role, then…” Lou smiled, then, sighing, ducking out of the way of the Flying Man sending a kick her way, a gauntlet-clad arm emerging from her body, grabbing his ankle hard, and swinging him into the Jo who was shocked to hear Dread say that. “I can’t do anything about Jack… Too fucked up from that ED match…” She grinned, then, mouth bleeding as she stared Remix down. “But this old man and I can at least keep these assholes from interfering!”
Dread, then, watched passively as the five erupted into battle, she and Bert curious about what was to come as, from each hand, the Stand which emerged seemed to fire odd projectiles at their foes. “The ‘I’ll hold them off…’ You’re styling yourself as some sort of exceptional hero, aren’t you?” She seemed amused by that, the irony of their cooperation. “I’m evil, you know… And Bert, at least, is morally ambiguous. But if you’ve settled on putting the city in our hands, have you any advice?”
Over the sounds of laser fire, Lou quickly found time to answer, “yeah, there’s… I brought this golden ‘saber’ with me, and it must’ve fallen somewhere by the T-Rex… In, in a bit over six minutes from now, this ritual of theirs is gonna go through and rip this island open. Before that… They have these ‘failsafe’ statue things, and…” She took a breath, retracting and wincing from a blow her Stand had taken. “Look, I don’t have time to explain it, but you need to smash those up first! They’re there, made up of spirits fused together, to keep these guys safe from the consequences of their own actions… To ensure their safety, and at the same time act as a ‘failsafe’ for the ritual. Gives you the ‘power’ over it, too, in the way that right now Jack himself does… That’s important to stopping it. So you need to smash them first, and then, right as the time passes for the ritual, when the skull of the T-Rex in the center starts to split open and glow and its mouth starts gushing water… Embed the sword into the opening in its forehead, right as it starts to shape. That’s the only way to prevent this at this stage!”
“The forehead particularly, hmm?” Bert asked, pacing curiously and avoiding a cross split attack from Red, who barreled into Lou and was barely blocked. “Why there, per se? Why nowhere else on the thing?”
“Ngh..!” Lou grunted, saved from a follow-up by Pineapples. “I dunno, that’s just where you have to do it!”
“Black Angel… That’s what you’re called, yes?” Dread smiled, turning away. “You will be thanked for this victory… Try to live long enough to witness it firsthand, won’t you?”
“I’d… I’d love to,” Lou answered, smiling sadly, “for five years now, when I first learned there was anything worth a damn in this world, I’ve wanted to protect that… The dark pit of despair that was the first thirteen years of my life, and even so much since, I’d love nothing more than a world where no person is fated beyond impossible odds to suffer that.” She grew serious, then, raising her voice. “Go, now! Leave this to us!”
Bert and Dread approached the T-Rex, impressed at the amazing height and Akiko’s snazzy pirate duds upon the thing, the lab-grown being whistling with impression. “A T-Rex lived ‘til three-hundred years ago… Preserved whole, in this city. It’s astonishing, isn’t it, Emilie ‘Dread’ Delacroix?”
“A curious anomaly,” Dread agreed, examining it from afar, even noticing that alleged sword in the distance. “I wonder why it survived that long, so far after its brethren…”
“It’s because it was a ‘Stand User.’”
Jack approached from the same room in which Dread spotted glints of the golden saber, announcing his presence with that. “That was its ‘fate…’ A savage, cunning animal, ripped from where it belonged. to be a problem to solve and squabble over, to found this city on its literal bones.”
“John ‘Jack’ Aurel… You’d best stand down.” Bert, helpfully, started. “You cannot beat us… Even if we only had seconds to overcome you, I would be too much for you to handle!”
“No, he’s going to fight, I know it.” Dread, meanwhile, prepared Joywave, staring him down with a pointed, grinning lethality. “I suppose introductions are not necessary, with how Bert here loves to say my full name… I am not one to make things curt or brief, John, but consider yourself toppled, usurped, bloodied and dead.”
“The lab accident with a God complex and by far the worst, most grisly of Jo’s friends…” With no real amusement, no happiness in his eyes, Jack chuckled, looking them over. “Of course, right at the end, my final test isn’t some hero… It’s exactly the worst kind of Stand User! The apex predators that I’ve preyed upon, that stand in the way of saving everyone who’s died to reach this point! Of course it would be someone like me to gain entry, wouldn’t it?”
“You speak with such confidence you’ll raise the dead…” Bert was curious. “Even if it costs more lives, such a thing is… That is the realm of gods, John ‘Jack’ Aurel.”
“Not today it’s not,” Jack answered, twirling his hammer in his hand. “Both of you… You’ve been driven here, standing in my way, as agents of ‘fate’ itself. Isn’t that the reason you were ‘lucky’ enough to pass through our defenses… Because you were meant to stand here, and you were meant to watch as every horrible, cruel thing you’ve done amounts to nothing in the face of these circumstances.”
He looks the two intruders over with sympathy for a moment, before steeling himself and clenching his weapon, Stand appearing behind him just as stone-faced. “You may be the puppet of something beyond your control, but you must understand that I can’t let you ruin the plan I’ve bet my life on. I bear you no anger as people, but your role here is something I can’t ignore. I’ll waste our time no longer in arguing ethics, let there be no apologies or restraint until this is settled.”
The other conspirators had been instructed not to intervene if it came to this point, even if it risked the collapse of everything they had worked for. Not if it threatened lives. An enemy to make it this far was deserving of being dealt with reasonably. As the critical moment drew near, Jack readied all the fury that months of waiting had stored within him, and accepted that this may very well be his final true fight.
“Five minutes on the dot now, until ‘that time…’ If what the Black Angel said is true.” Dread looked to Bert. “What do you say we demonstrate incontrovertibly to John exactly how confused he truly is?”
OPEN THE GAME!
(Image credit to CaptainSpooky27!)
Location: A part of the Los Fortuna’s Natural History Museum. The area here is 75 by 75 meters with each tile being 5 by 5 meters. The ceilings here are 8 meters tall. The yellow tiles are the hallways and the green and purple tiles form the different rooms.
The white tiles have ritual shrines built on those areas. There are 7 shrines total and will be explained in further detail in the additional information.
The players start at the south of the map and Jack starts at the top of the map as represented by their tokens. The walls are represented by thicker borders and the dotted lines are the doorways.
At the top of the map, in the pink tile and yellow symbols, is the Golden Sword. It is currently pinned under 2 meters of rubble.
Each wing of the museum houses an exhibit, in the center is the main attraction a large T-Rex in display as denoted by the large grey circle.
The other exhibits are denoted by the letter on them:

G: The geologic exhibit, displaying and teaching about different rock formations and types
O: The two Oceanic exhibits, displaying the marine life and seabed of Los Fortuna.
C: The climatography exhibit, displaying the different temperature maps and features across Los Fortuna.
A: The Agricultural exhibit, displaying the various fruits and crops grown around Los Fortuna.
T: The two Taxidermy exhibits, displaying a wide range of animals in roped off and glass displays.
E:The Entomology exhibit, displaying photos and models of various bugs.

Goal: For the players, desecrate all the shrines and, when time runs out, have at least one of you, living and conscious, at the T-Rex with the golden sword in hand! For Jack, make sure the players don’t stop your ritual before it goes off!
The match will last exactly five minutes, unless of course players are dead before then. It doesn’t end just because players reach the goal.
Additional Information:
The shrines are 2 meter tall marked wood and metal structures, each having an strange carve effigy sitting in the center of them. In order to properly desecrate a shrine the players can do one of a few things, destroy the shrine outright, deface all the carvings made into the shrine, or destroy the effigy hidden within the shrine.
After destroying or defacing a shrine, the ghosts of the dead will begin harassing the players - three ghosts will move towards the player responsible for destroying the shrine (even in a situation where the stands are responsible: the ghosts will target Bert if a Perfect Hair minion destroys a shrine, and same for if anything affected by Joywave does so). These aren't strong, having flat 222 physicals and being partially see-through, but will increase in numbers as more and more shrines are destroyed. Strong enough hits can phase them out of existence, but they'll respawn ten seconds after at the spot that they previously were. They will go directly towards the players and can phase through any walls or objects that may be in their paths (but not out of any attacks), grabbing onto the players and trying to gang up on them once they're close enough to do so, dealing minor damage.

Team	Combatant	JoJolity
Red Carpet Rennaisance	Emilie "Dread" Delacroix	"Wow! It's a hand drawn original color illustration!" You’re a cultured woman, and this museum might very well end up being wiped off of the face of the earth quite soon, so you need to make the most of it while you still can! Make sure to visit and appreciate the various exhibits on display here! (Character Specific)
Suburban Regalia	Bert	"What a terrible person. If I wrote about someone like you, none of my readers would like it." So this man is playing at god, trying to control life, death, and fate themselves? What foolishness! Clearly, only you can do such things, and you do them best! Over the course of the strategy, prove your superiority to this “Jack Aurel“ and take him down a notch! (Character Specific)
???	Jack Aurel	"Where the hell did you go?! Come out, you fucker!" It's now or never. This is the culmination of all of your plans, and failing is absolutely not an option here. During the fight, hold nothing back, and make sure to thoroughly defeat your opponents so that no one and nothing will ever stand in your way again!

(Jack sheet plain text version)
Link to the Official Player Spreadsheet
Link to Match Schedule
As always, if you would like to interact with the tournament community and be among the first to get updates for the tournament, please feel free to PM a member of our Judge staff for an invite to our Official Discord Server!

Clarkson's Columns: "It's time you quit Furious Tweeters Anonymous" & "Up to my ears in Agri-Jargon"

It's time you quit Furious Tweeters Anonymous and joined me and the Trots for a quiet pint
By Jeremy Clarkson (Sunday Times, Oct. 25)
All this month, people have been talking about a new Netflix documentary called The Social Dilemma, in which a bunch of stubbly Californian tech start-up nerds on a guilt trip worry out loud about how the internet has been hijacked by enormous companies that are now using it to make — gulp — money.
They say that our phones constantly monitor what we do and who we talk to and what we say. And clever algorithms are used so advertisers can target their products and services at exactly the sort of people who might be interested. And this is what, exactly? A bad thing?
If you are a woman and you are experiencing lady problems, you do not want your Facebook feed to be full of ads for agricultural buildings. In the same way, I'm not the slightest bit interested in hearing about an exciting new breakthrough in tampon technology. Targeted advertising makes sense for all concerned, and if Facebook can make a few quid along the way, good luck to it.
"Ah, but," say our stubbly friends from California. "Exactly the same information-gathering and algorithms can be used by political parties to target undecided voters." And ... what's wrong with that? Seriously. What's the difference between doing that and dispatching some smiley dweeb with a clipboard and a pamphlet full of promises to the swing-state housing estates of Hemel Hempstead?
The Social Dilemma, however, did in the end touch fleetingly on a subject that's been troubling me for a little while now. That Google and Facebook and all social media will eventually cause every country on earth to be engulfed by a bloody civil war. Possibly about toothpaste.
When I was a reporter on the Rotherham Advertiser, I'd go for lunch most days with two people who were in the Workers Revolutionary Party. I liked them a lot, and I think they liked me, even though I was very obviously not a member of the Workers Revolutionary Party. We talked about politics, of course, and we'd argue in a good-natured way and then we'd have a couple more pints. And then we'd go back to work.
It was the same story with my dad. He didn't like my trousers and I did not like his. We didn't have similar taste in music either. He thought Dave Greenslade might be the devil. I thought Bach needed to cheer up. And we'd have lengthy debates about hair too. But we never actually fell out over any of it.
Today, though, things have changed, because we can engineer our lives so we rarely encounter anyone who thinks differently. You think you are chatting to your kids in the evening, but actually you're making noises while they're tuned into Radio Greta on social media.
We all follow like-minded souls on Twitter. We have WhatsApp groups, where we share jokes with others we know will find them funny. We watch whatever news channel echoes what we are thinking. We ignore those on Tinder who like Donald Trump, or those who eat meat or who do anything that doesn't belong in our opinion bubble.
That's why people were staggered when the country voted for Brexit. Remainers such as myself were surrounded by other remainers, so we thought everyone was a remainer. It's why everyone at the BBC was bowled over when Boris Johnson won such a massive majority. They couldn't believe it because absolutely everyone in their electronic lives voted for Jeremy Corbyn.
If you are a vegan, it's extremely likely that you will share vegan recipes with other vegans on social media. You may even share stories that say meat is murder and growing cows is destroying the ozone layer. So when you see a picture of a man eating an actual burger, you are horrified. Staggered. Because how could he be so obtuse?
You are going to send him a message, which, because social media allows you to dispense with the niceties of meeting face to face, will be extremely abusive. And then your friends are going to pile in until, eventually, burger man responds in kind and soon everyone is threatening to kill everyone's children.
If you don't believe me, tell someone under the age of 25 that we shouldn't be pulling down statues. But be warned, the response will be so unpretty your phone may well melt.
I don't think there's been a time when society is as divided as it is now. Women versus men. Black people versus white people. Rich versus poor. Right versus left. There are even heated and abusive online arguments about dental hygiene. And it's because people are always absolutely convinced by social media that they have the majority on their side.
The internet was built so you could get a pizza at four in the morning, and find out where James Garner was born while you're on a beach, but it's become home instead to levels of bigotry, rage and hatred not seen since the Trojans opened up that horse.
It will spill out on to the streets in time. It already has in America, where gangs of white supremacists, utterly convinced by social media that 94% of the world is on their side, are roaming around in packs, with Glocks on their thighs and an AR-15 rifle in the boot, just waiting for one of the nation's six Democrats to look at them funny.
The stubbly start-up nerds say it isn't possible to step back from the brink. They say we've created Skynet and that no one's going to come from the future to save us.
But I think it is possible. We just need to remove the cloak of anonymity behind which all social media users can hide. You used to need a licence to own a dog and could have had it taken away if you didn't treat it well. But anyone can go online and say anything they like to anyone in the world, completely safe in the knowledge that they will only ever be found by Heckler & Koch, which will send them an ad for its latest sub-machinegun.
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My bafflement is sprouting nicely: Pass me the scythe — I'm up to my ears in agri-jargon and I don't understand a word
By Jeremy Clarkson (Sunday Times, Oct. 25)
I didn't think farming would be especially difficult. I figured that man had been growing crops for 12,000 years and that after such a long period it would be in our DNA. That it would be relaxing. Monty Donnish even. I'd plant seeds, weather would happen and food would grow.
In my mind, then, farming would mostly involve leaning on a gate while munching pensively on a delicious Dagwood Bumstead sandwich, or enjoying a late summer sundowner from behind the wheel of an air-conditioned tractor. It'd all be a festival of crusty bread, lemonade, fresh air and cider with Rosie. Followed by a cheery harvest festival and a big fat cheque from the EU.
I've learnt, however, that all of it is back-breaking and difficult, that there's never time for a ploughman's in the sunshine, that there's no cupholder in my tractor for sundowners or anything else and that to be a farmer you must be an agronomist, a meteorologist, a mechanic, a vet, an entrepreneur, a gambler, a workaholic, a politician, a marksman, a midwife, a tractor driver, a tree surgeon and an insomniac.
I am none of those things, which is why I spend every single evening with my nose buried in a copy of the countryside bible — Farmers Weekly. It's my new favourite thing.
I especially love the fertiliser and machinery adverts, because they all feature fifty-something men and they're all wearing checked shirts and zip-up gilets made from a material that exists only in agricultural supply shops. I want to buy everything they're advertising because it all looks so manly and proper.
The editorial is a bit different, though, because I can't really get my head round any of it. There will be a picture of some sheep, so I'll think, "Ah. I have sheep. I must read this." But after the second paragraph I have to give up and move on because I don't understand a single word.
I therefore switch to a piece about the new agriculture bill, but all I've taken in when I finish it is the sound of a voice inside my head saying, "Concentrate, Jeremy. This is important." The actual words? No. They've just swum about like fish.
I understand now how life is for people who think they might be interested in cars. They pick up a car magazine, and after five minutes they think that maybe the exciting front cover featuring a Porsche on full opposite lock was a con because the text inside seems to be about physics.
I can read about an electronic limited-slip differential and know what the writer means.
I know terms such as lift-off oversteer and axle tramp and torque steer and scuttle shake and I even have a fairly good idea what the motoring writer Gavin Green meant in Car magazine when he said the then new Toyota MR2 suffered from "tread shuffle"\*. For most people, though, this kind of language is gobbledygook.
We see the same problems today with Formula One. The commentators don't translate tech-speak such as "deg" for the viewers. They use it to demonstrate to the drivers and the engineers that they too are part of the inner circle. It annoys me — so, chaps, can you stop saying "box"? And use the word "pit" instead, because then people at home will know what the bloody hell you're on about.
This brings me on to the world of banking. Like a lot of people I have savings, and that means I occasionally have to speak with people called Rupert and Humphrietta. One said in a Zoom call recently that in the previous few months I hadn't "shot the lights out". I had no idea what she was on about. She then tried to sell me a "product", which, it turns out, is only a product in the way that a casino chip on red is a product. I could be wrong, but I'm in no position to know.
I turn occasionally to the Financial Times for assistance on these matters, but, like the car magazines and the F1 commentary, it's far too complicated. Which is why I mostly end up reading the superyacht reviews in the disgusting but strangely engrossing How to Spend It supplement.
I fear, however, that simplification isn't actually necessary in Farmers Weekly, because the readers don't need the jargon translated. When they read that ex-farm spot wheat values are averaging close to £176.50/t midweek, they know what the words mean and what the implications are. Me, though? Not a clue.
I have been writing these farming columns for six months and I have started buying all my clothes at StowAg, so quite often I'm stopped in the street by farmers wanting to know about the moisture content of my wheat or where I am on the idea of levying a carbon tax on farmers who finish their cattle after 27 months.
I have therefore become very skilled at nodding and then suddenly remembering that I must get in the car and go away.
The worry is that I want to learn how to speak farming, but I have no idea how this is possible. I don't have a boss who can take me under his wing, and while I have a land agent, who's brilliant, he is even more un-understandable than Farmers Weekly.
I could sign up for a three-year course at what is now, hilariously, called the Royal Agricultural University in Cirencester, but by the time I'd finished learning how to drive a Golf GTI up the steps and how to get home from Cheltenham after a particularly pissed-up day at the Gold Cup, I'd be too old to lean on gates or climb the ladder into my tractor.
Muddling on isn't really an option either, because when our EU money dries up in January, it's very obvious farmers are going to have to adopt a much more scientific approach to survive with dwindling government grants.
I already don't know how a potato grows, but soon it won't matter unless I can use chemicals and boffinry to grow four billion of them. I shall therefore drown in tech I don't understand and can't afford.
I have turned to the internet, of course, and it is neatly split between two approaches. Fantastically simple nonsense written by and for failed City boys who have two acres and a lamb. And head-spinningly complicated equations written by people into chem-porn at Monsanto.
And in the middle of all this there's me, who wants to make good food, well. I think I'm not alone. I think there are a lot of farmers like me who are bewildered and even a bit frightened by what they must do to survive. And I think you, round your breakfast tables, should be worried too.
Because when you take the art and the history and the simplicity out of farming, I suspect you may end up with a lot of food that doesn't taste very nice.
\* I actually don't know what "tread shuffle" means.
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And here's the Sun column: "The first real upside of this Covid business is that Halloween’s dead this year"

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Stokes's Bristol Nightclub incident in detail (From: The Comeback Summer by Geoff Lemon)