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| 18 Jul 2012 11:14 PM |
[ This is a story, not an RP. ]
[ Infact, it's not even my story. ]
[ Enjoy. ]
Dear Esther, I have lost track of how long I have been here, and how many visits I have made overall. Certainly, the landmarks are now so familiar to me that I have to remind myself to actually see the forms and shapes in front of me. I could stumble blind through the rocks, the edges of these precipices, without fear of missing my step and plummeting down to sea. Besides, I have always considered that if one is to fall, it is critical to keep one's eyes firmly open.
[ If you'd like more letters, tell me! ] |
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| 19 Jul 2012 12:03 AM |
Dear Esther, The gulls do not land here anymore; I've noticed that this year, they seem to shun the place. Maybe it's the depletion of the fishing stock driving them away. Perhaps it's me. When he first landed here, Donnelly wrote that the herds were sickly and their sheperds the lowest of the miserable classes that populate these Hebridean islands. Three hundred years later, and even they have departed.
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| 19 Jul 2012 12:06 AM |
| [ These are meant to be read slowly, with a british accent. ] |
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| 19 Jul 2012 12:07 AM |
Dear Esther, I sometimes feel as if I've given birth to this island. Somewhere, between the longitude and latitude a split opened up and it beached remotely here. No matter how hard I correlate, it remains a singularity, an alpha point in my life that refuses all hypothesis. I return each time leaving fresh markers that I hope, in full glare of my hopelessness, will have blossomed into fresh insight in the interim.
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| 19 Jul 2012 12:14 AM |
| (not trolling or being mean)This is pointless and stupid. IT makes so sense to just do tis. Who is writeing? Who is esther? Its weird... |
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| 19 Jul 2012 12:18 AM |
Thank you for your insight.
I, aswell, mean no harmfulness. That is a very ignorant thing to say.
Now, I shall return. |
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| 19 Jul 2012 12:26 AM |
Dear Esther, The morning after I was washed ashore, salt in my ears, sand in my mouth and the waves always at my ankles, I felt as though everything had conspired to this one last shipwreck. I remembered nothing but water, stones in my belly and my shoes threatening to drag me under to where only the most listless creatures swim.
[ This should bring you up to speed, as for the plot. ]
[ You need patience and intelligence and the ability to understand when you're wrong to do something like this. ]
[ Leave now if that is impossible for you. ] |
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| 19 Jul 2012 12:47 AM |
| Donelly reported the legend of the hermit; A holy man who sought solitude in its most pure form. Allegedly, he row there from the mainland in a boat with no bottom, so all the creatures of the sea could rise at night to converse with him. How disappointed he must have been with their chatter. Perhaps now, when all that haunts the ocean is the rubbish dumped from the tankers, he'd find more peace. They say he threw his arms wide in a valley on the south side and the cliff opened up to provide him shelter; They say he died of fever onehundred and sixteen years later. The sheperds left gifts for him at the mouth of the cave, but Donnelly records they never claimed to have seen him. I have visited the cave and I have left my gifts, but like them, I seem to be an unworthy subject of his solitude. |
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Spino288
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| Joined: 07 Apr 2009 |
| Total Posts: 1214 |
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| 19 Jul 2012 01:47 AM |
Dear Esther,
This is a Half-life 2 mod. |
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| 19 Jul 2012 01:57 AM |
Well, Not exactly.
It IS, however, made with the same graphics engine. |
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| 19 Jul 2012 02:15 AM |
| Isn't Dear Esther an indie game on Steam? It was in the summer sale a few days ago. |
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Spino288
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| Joined: 07 Apr 2009 |
| Total Posts: 1214 |
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| 19 Jul 2012 11:08 AM |
| Yes, it's based on the HL2/Source engine. |
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Spino288
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| Joined: 07 Apr 2009 |
| Total Posts: 1214 |
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| 19 Jul 2012 11:13 AM |
Dear Esther,
All the boats are empty, only shadowed by a distant cry in the night. I see somewhere in the canyons above me a foreign glow. I am hungry, I am thirsty. But there is nothing on this island but me. The glow rises above me, and shows itself to be a sun. A blue sun made of tears, and sorrow. |
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