Doktor Anon's Journal|
[Most Recent Entries]
Below are the 20 most recent journal entries recorded in
Doktor Anon's LiveJournal:
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|Friday, May 15th, 2015|
|The Unknown Armies Fan Club
So, to my surprise, myself and some of my associates learned there was not a dedicated Unknown Armies group on Facebook, so some friends of mine made the Unknown Armies Fan Club
. We currently primarily post weird news stories, although I hope that’ll change soon. Come check us out!
And post rumors in my rumors section. It needs some love.
|Wednesday, August 14th, 2013|
|Neutral Good Human Druid
I Am A:
Neutral Good Human Druid (4th Level)Ability Scores:Strength-
A neutral good character does the best that a good person can do. He is devoted to helping others. He works with kings and magistrates but does not feel beholden to them. Neutral good is the best alignment you can be because it means doing what is good without bias for or against order. However, neutral good can be a dangerous alignment when it advances mediocrity by limiting the actions of the truly capable.Race:Humans
are the most adaptable of the common races. Short generations and a penchant for migration and conquest have made them physically diverse as well. Humans are often unorthodox in their dress, sporting unusual hairstyles, fanciful clothes, tattoos, and the like.Class:Druids
gain power not by ruling nature but by being at one with it. They hate the unnatural, including aberrations or undead, and destroy them where possible. Druids receive divine spells from nature, not the gods, and can gain an array of powers as they gain experience, including the ability to take the shapes of animals. The weapons and armor of a druid are restricted by their traditional oaths, not simply training. A druid's Wisdom score should be high, as this determines the maximum spell level that they can cast.
Find out What Kind of Dungeons and Dragons Character Would You Be?
, courtesy of Easydamus (e-mail)
|Monday, March 11th, 2013|
|Thursday, August 16th, 2012|
|Friday, March 2nd, 2012|
|Saturday, December 3rd, 2011|
|Tuesday, November 8th, 2011|
I know, I know. I'm hardly on here anymore.
(Actually, I still check LiveJournal daily. I just post more on Facebook or my gaming blog. Ah, the future.)
Anyway, make certain you vote early and often.
To paraphrase Frank Zappa, "Get your butt out there and vote, would you please?"
|Saturday, August 13th, 2011|
|Tuesday, July 26th, 2011|
|And I must
The fact that anyone can do anything other than scream each time a mouth is opened proves either a monumental will or a truly staggering level of stupidity.
|Wednesday, April 13th, 2011|
|Exit, pursued by a bear
It all started when the trucks came.
That's not precisely accurate, but the human mind always looks for causation rather than correlation.
Nevertheless, that's the line of demarcation. The line that leads to infinity.
We take our bows, say our goodbyes, and exeunt
|Saturday, April 9th, 2011|
I'm 95% sure that one of my students is a deep one. He has all the classic signs.
Imbue meaningless events with occult significance for fun and profit!
|Wednesday, April 6th, 2011|
|Monday, March 7th, 2011|
|Saturday, December 25th, 2010|
Merry Christmas! Or, if you prefer, happy Saturday!
|Monday, December 6th, 2010|
|Fun Fact of the Day:
The tradition of placing small gifts in children's shoes for Saint Nicholas' Day began in 2028, when John Titor taught Quentin Tarantino the secrets of time travel, prompting Quentin Tarantino to exclaim that it would be cool if "everybody were eating chocolate out of their shoes."
Quentin Tarantino would later start World War II to give him the subject matter for Inglorious Basterds
. And to make way for the modern and postmodern literary movements so as to create a niche for himself.
|Sunday, December 5th, 2010|
|A tableau from long ago:
Jazz music plays in the distance. It's fast, but since it is barely audible, only the bass permeates. The bass is slower, and the occasional strains of saxophone add a melancholy air to the room. Initially running converse to the bright lights and conversation, it ultimately fits right in as these people with sullen faces mumble and feast.
A couple argues across from me. He is domineering and unreasonable. She is quiet and introspective. A predator watches with interest, etiquette restraining its claws.
|Friday, November 5th, 2010|
|Guy Fawkes Night
I nearly forgot. Fortunately, the poem implores one to remember.Remember, remember the Fifth of November,
The Gunpowder Treason and Plot,
I know of no reasonWhy the Gunpowder Treason
Should ever be forgot.
Guy Fawkes, Guy Fawkes, t'was his intent.
To blow up the King and Parli'ment.
Three-score barrels of powder below
To prove old England's overthrow;
By God's providence he was catch'd
With a dark lantern and burning match.
Holla boys, Holla boys, let the bells ring.
Holloa boys, holloa boys, God save the King!
And what should we do with him? Burn him!
|Monday, November 1st, 2010|
|All Politics Are Local
Keep that in mind tomorrow. Take time from your busy schedule and vote.
And make sure you vote early and often.
|Monday, September 20th, 2010|
|When the Levee Breaks
In droves they came to that kingdom by the sea. Charm City, they call it.
These were restless men. Weathered men. All faded tattoos and pot bellies.
These are the particles comprising HST's wave that broke. These are the shattered remnants of Freak Power.
Most of them used traditional means. Telephone, internet. They drove, they flew. They learned of this gathering, the concert, everything.
But some of them. The burnouts, the acid casualties. They only knew because they felt
the vibrations of the things. Wounded veterans of a war nobody remembers. Not even them.
Freak Power died as it always does. Everything has so much momentum until it succumbs to inertia. Friction. Energy lost as heat. It just happens. This is what it leaves behind.
Some of these guys look rough and tumble, but they have kids and mortgages. If they don't work in a certain type of job, they wear long shirts and pants to cover the tattoos. They remove the piercings. Nobody notices.
And even if they don't? Then they work in a job where nobody notices anyway.
But the rest. Their brains operate on rhythms we can't understand, reprogrammed by secret frequencies. For them, the big bad days of the '60s and '70s never ended. They kept fighting. They kept riding that wave, despite the fact that it broke and rolled back. Now they're all twitches and air guitars, lost in a world that left them behind.
Such is the way of things. Even today, the center cannot hold.
But despite all this, the shattered remnants, the death by nostalgia.
For a moment, it all came flooding back.
|Friday, September 17th, 2010|