> We are apes ooking and eeking, that's all we are. Antinatalists are over-rational really. Embrace the eek ook.

ban this pro life scum. suffering has always a negative value. ignoring and denying this fact will only bring more suffering upon the already meaningless and innocent lives that cannot consent to come into this hell-like existence.
The future is either free of sentient beings or infested with bastards who don't care about justice. Which future you think is the best for humans?

Death is Absolute.

why do people bring up quantum immortality in suicide discussions
do you have knowledge of previous lives? of course not. when you're dead you're fucking dead. the excuses cowardly normals come up with to make others doubt their extremely rational choice to kill themselves. and even if it does repeat, at least this life will be cut short and thus prevent a bit of suffering. suicide is ideal, suicide is justice.

>>19

>ban eek and ban ook, allow ook and eek for no one but ourselves.

y?

lmao imagine reading the same boring damage control written by normalfag psychopaths over and over again for years

that's wizchan

OH SHIT I JUST READ MY DIARY ARGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH FUCK I SUCK THAT PERSON ISN'T ME THAT PERSON IS AN IDIOT.

So I've been an idiot all this time? Wait. What if I'm still an idiot? Right now, this moment that I'm writing these words, am I being an idiot? Oh man, I can't, I don't want to. I need to stop this somehow. Only way to do it is by never writing again.

>Fell asleep at work and dreamed of having sex with my sister and cumming inside of her. I woke up with a little bit of cum in my underwear.

Ayyyyyyyyyyyyy

>On a wizard-related note, it talks a lot about how marriages become miserable for both spouses. So, that validates my life choices

You could just have a relationship and never marry. My uncle did that.

You are a crab who wants to be a wizard for the wrong reasons...

Oblivion is ridiculously comfy, but I've been getting motion sickness from playing it lately for some reason.

I think Umihara Kawase probably fits both, actually. It's my favorite SNES game, because it's so quick to just pick up and play, the puzzles are a lot of fun, and the mechanics work well.

It's my most hated game, because the platforming is incredibly difficult, and it feels like it was made for the same sort of people who have already tired of those hyperdifficult japanese romhacks of Super Mario.

>>5
Umihara Kawase has an amazing physics engine for a SNES game. And that absurd atmosphere it has makes the whole thing a surreal experience.

Super Mario Bros 3 for me. It is just the right difficulty to play actively and zone out with my thoughts. I used to enjoy Midnight Club 3 for the same reason but I haven't played since my playstation broke and it's not holding up so well.

Least favorite is The Sims 2. That one gives the bad kind of zoning out where lose 10 hours and feel exhausted instead of being with the flow. And I hate that it's concept is playing virtual dollhouse where you can do anything, but really nothing because the simulation is so shallow, and yet I come back to it again and again.

Favorite game: crusader kings 2 due to the crazy things you can do like marry a horse or conquer the world as a gnostic nomad horde or kidnap and execute people. Best rpg and best strategy game imo.

Hated game: sonic adventures 2. When I was young I got so frustrated at this game that I punched the floor and dislocated and fractured my pinky finger.

why I don't have favorite games? Hated games? None that I remember.

>>27
well I doubt that since people were still the same even in 80s-90s
>>28
what about personal profit lol

pictured: the fine line between defining a community and gatekeeping truwizfaggotry

so mods are gays?

Normalfags are everywhere now. It's over.

I always play stealth classes, it just fits my risk-averse nature.

I am a wizard

I'm a brainlet, so I prefer to play tank-characters in games simply because it, generally, allows me to brute-force my way through difficult content without too much stress or anxiety. It's good to have a large HP pool when you're prone to fuck ups. It's also nice to be able to hit people with sharp and/or heavy objects without having to put too much forethought into it. In a world that constantly demands caution, diligence and politeness(read: supplicating normies) it's downright cathartic play as a belligerent brute.

I normally experiment with different classes during replays of games I've completed once already, since I feel more confident with the mechanics and enemies so I don't feel the need to have a large health pool as retardation insurance.

nazeriku

lol

Because it's not something that all of the "newfriends" would be into. Most of the people who would be a part of these boards still have moved onto different things in their lives. Those who actually lurk or use textboards are a dying breed. It's also I believe more common in those who were more familiar in the older days of the internet such as the '90s or maybe even the early '00s.

I think the layout is to blame. The formatting is just much worse than the rest of the site, especially quoted text. Additionally it's put apart from the other boards on the main wizchan page so it's easy to miss.

>>61
I agree. The site structure is neither retro-shique or functionally modern. It's better than other textboards I've seen though.

I don't know, it does have a very Web 1.0 feel to it.

Then Vivec left Seht to look after the dome-head demon and went back to the space that was not a space. From the Provisional House he looked into the middle world to find the fifth monster, called The Ruddy Man.

When the dreughs ruled the world, the Daedroth Prince Molag Bal had been their chief. He took a different shape then, spiny and armored and made for the sea. Vivec, in giving birth to the many spawn of his marriage, had dropped an old image of Molag Bal into the world: a dead carapace of memory. It would not have been a monster if a Velothi child had not wanted to impress his village by wearing it.

The Ruddy Man, of the eight monsters, was the least complicated. He made those who wore him into mighty killers and nothing more. He existed in the physical. Only geography makes him special.

When Vivec found him near the boy's village, anon Gnisis, there was a violent clash of arms and an upheaval of the earth. Their battle created the West Gash. Wanderers that still go there hear still the sounds of it: sword across the crust, the grunt of God, the snapping of his monster child's splintered legs.

After his victory, Vivec took the shell of The Ruddy Man to the dreughs that had modified his mother. The Queen of Dreughs, whose name is not easy to spell, was in a period of self-incubation. Her wardens took the gift from Vivec and promised to guard it from the surface world. This is the first account of dreughs being liars.

The Scripture of the Numbers:

1. The Dragon Break, or the Tower. 1
2. The Enantiomorph. 68
3. The Invisible Gate, ALMSIVI. 112
4. The Corners of House of Troubles. 242
5. The Corners of the World. 100
6. The Walking Ways. 266
7. The Sword at the Center. 39
8. The Wheel, or the Eight Givers. 484
9. The Missing. 11
10. The Tribes of the Altmer. 140
11. The Number of the Master. 102
12. The Heavens. 379
13. The Serpent. 36

Then Vivec left the mystics of the Number Room and went back to the space that was not a space. From the Provisional House he looked into the middle world to find the sixth monster, called City-Face. He was vexed when he could not find it and went back to the Mourning Hold in secret anger, killing a mystic that asked about higher order.

Nerevar, the Hortator, witnessed this and said, 'Why do this, milord? The mystics look to you for guidance. They work to make your temple better stoned.'

Vivec said, 'No one knows what I am.'

The Hortator nodded and went back to his studies.

Here is how City-Face hid from his mother-father: it had been born named as Ha-Note, a bare urge of power, an esoteric wind nerve tuned to the frequency of huddled masses. It found root in villages and multiplied, finding in the minds of the settled a veiled astrology, the star charts of culture, and this resonance made its head swim. Ha-Note moved sideways into the Adjacent Place, growing and unbeknownst. Above the vocal, it trembled with new emotions, immortal ones, absorbing more than the thirty known to exist in the middle world. When Ha-Note became gravely homesick, the Grabbers took it.

Many more years passed in Resdaynia, and the high priests of the Dwemer were almost ready to make war on the rulers of Veloth. The Hortator had become the husband of Ayem during this time, and the first saint of the Triune way. Vivec had tired of fighting his sons and daughters, and so took a respite from trying to find them.

The Hortator said to his wife, 'Where is Vivec, my teacher? I love him still, though he grows cold. His lamentations, if I may call them that, have changed the skin of the whole country. He is hardly to be found anywhere in Veloth of late. The people grow dark because of it.'

And Ayem took mercy on her troubled husband and told him that the sword of the Triune had been fighting minor monsters stirred up by the Dwemer as they worked on their brass siege machines. She took the Hortator inside her and showed him where his master was.

ALMSIVI, or at least that aspect that chose to be Vivec, sat in the Litany Hall of the False Thinking Temple after his battle with the Flute-and-Pipe Ogres of the West Gash. He began writing, again, in his Book of Hours. He had to put on his Water Face first. That way he could separate the bronze of the Old Temple from the blue of the New and write with happiness. Second, he had to take another feather from the Big Moon, further rendering it dead. That way he could write about mortals with truth. Third, he recalled the Pomegranate Banquet, where he was forced to marry to Molag Bal with wet scriptures to cement his likeness as Mephala and write with black hands. He wrote:

The Scripture of the Mace, First:

'The pleasure of annihilation is the pleasure of disappearing into the unreal. All those that would challenge the sleeping world will seek membership in this movement. I denounce the alienation of the Cloven Duality with a hammer.'
Second:

'Take from me the lessons as a punishment for being mortal. To be made of dirt is to be treated as such by your jailers. This is the key and the lock of the Daedra. Why do you think they escaped the compromise?'
Third:

'Velothi, your skin has become the pregnant darkness. My brooding has brought this on. Remember that Boethiah asked you to become the color of bruise. How else to show yourselves people of the exodus into the vital: pain?'
Fourth:

'The sage who is not an anvil: a conventional sentence and nothing more. By which I mean dead, the fourth walking way.'

Then Vivec left the Litany Hall of the False Thinking Temple, where he had brooded for so long creating the scripture of the pounding light, and went back to the space that was not a space. From the Provisional House he looked into the middle world to find the seventh monster, called Lie Rock.

Lie Rock was born of Vivec's Second Aperture and was thrown out of the Pomegranate Banquet by a member of the Sweeps, another forgotten guild. The Sweep did not take it for the monster that it was and so he did not expect it to fly from his hand and into the heavens.

'I am born of golden wisdom and powers that should have forever been unalike! With this nature I am invited into the Hidden Heaven!'
By which he meant the Scaled Blanket, made of not-stars, whose number is thirteen. Lie Rock became full of foolishness, haggling with the Void Ghost who hides in the religions of all men. The Void Ghost said:

'Stay with me a full hundred years and I will give you a power that no divinity will dare disobey.'
But before the hundred years was up, Vivec was already looking for Lie Rock and found him.

'Stupid stone,' Vivec said. 'To hide in the Scaled Blanket is to make a mark on nothing. His bargains are only for ruling kings!'

Then Vivec left the Ministry of Truth and went back to the space that was not a space. From the Provisional House he looked into the middle world to find the eighth and final and mightiest monster, called GULGA MOR JIL and more. The wise must look elsewhere for this string of power.

Vivec called to his side the Hortator and this was the first time that Nerevar had ever been to the Provisional House. He had the same vision that Vivec had so many years ago: that of the two-headed ruling king.

'Who is that?' he wondered.
Vivec said, 'The red jewel of conquest.'

Nerevar, perhaps because he was frightened, became vexed at his lord's answer. 'Why are you always so evasive?'

Vivec told the Hortator that to be otherwise was to betray his nature.

Together they moved into the middle world, to a village near where Vivec had been found by Ayem and Seht. The eighth monster was there, but he did not act much like a monster. He sat with his legs in the ocean and with a troubled look on his face. When he saw his mother-father, he asked why he should have to die and return to oblivion.

The Scripture of Love:

'The formulas of proper Velothi magic continue in ancient tradition, but that virility is dead, by which I mean at least replaced. Truth owes its medicinal nature to the establishment of the myth of justice. Its curative properties it likewise owes to the concept of sacrifice. Princes, chiefs, and angels all subscribe to the same notion. This is a view primarily based on a prolific abolition of an implied profanity, seen in ceremonies, knife fighting, hunting, and the exploration of the poetic. On the ritual of occasions, which comes to us from the days of the cave glow, I can say nothing more than to loosen your equation of moods to lunar currency. Later, and by that I mean much, much later, my reign will be seen as an act of the highest love, which is a return from the astral destiny and the marriages between. By that I mean the catastrophes, which will come from all five corners. Subsequent are the revisions, differentiated between hope and the distraught, situations that are only required by the periodic death of the immutable. Cosmic time is repeated: I wrote of this in an earlier life. An imitation of submersion is love's premonition, its folly into the underworld, by which I mean the day you will read about outside of yourself in an age of gold. For on that day, which is a shadow of the sacrificial concept, all history is obliged to see me for what you are: in love with evil. To keep one's powers intact at such a stage is to allow for the existence of what can only be called a continual spirit. Make of your love a defense against the horizon. Pure existence is only granted to the holy, which comes in a myriad of forms, half of them frightening and the other half divided into equal parts purposeless and assured. Late is the lover that comes to this by any other walking way than the fifth, which is the number of the limit of this world. The lover is the highest country and a series of beliefs. He is the sacred city bereft of a double. The uncultivated land of monsters is the rule. This is clearly attested by ANU and his double, which love knows never really happened. Similarly, all the other symbols of absolute reality are ancient ideas ready for their graves, or at least the essence of such. This scripture is directly ordered by the codes of Mephala, the origin of sex and murder, defeated only by those who take up those ideas without my intervention. The religious elite is not a tendency or a correlation. They are dogma complemented by the influence of the untrustworthy sea and the governance of the stars, dominated at the center by the sword, which is nothing without a victim to cleave unto. This is the love of God and he would show you more: predatory but at the same time instrumental to the will of critical harvest, a scenario by which one becomes as he is, of male and female, the magic hermaphrodite. Mark the norms of violence and it barely registers, suspended as it is by treaties written between the original spirits. This should be seen as an opportunity, and in no way tedious, though some will give up for it is easier to kiss the lover than become one. The lower regions crawl with these souls, caves of shallow treasures, meeting in places to testify by way of extension, when love is only satisfied by a considerable (incalculable) effort.'

For these were the days of Resdaynia, when Chimer and Dwemer lived under the wise and benevolent rule of the ALMSIVI and their champion the Hortator, though the Dwemer had become foolish and challenged their masters.

Out of their fortresses they came with golden ballistae that walked and mighty atronachs and things that spat flame and things that made killing songs. Their king was Dumac Dwarf-Orc, but their high priest was Kagrenac the Blighter.

Under mountains and over them the war with the Dwemer was raged, and then came the northern men to help Kagrenac and they brought Ysmir again.

Leading the armies of the Chimer was the slave that would not perish, the Hortator Nerevar, who had traded his axe for the Ethos Knife. He slew Dumac at Red Mountain and saw the heart bone for the first time.

Men of brass destroyed the eleven gates of the Mourning Hold and behind them came the Dwemeri architects of tone. Ayem threw down her cloak and became the Face-Snaked Queen of the Three in One. Those that looked upon her were overcome by the meanings of the stars.

Under the sea, Seht stirred and brought the army he had been working on in the castles of glass and coral. Clockwork dreughs, mockeries of the Dwemeri war machines, rose up from the seas and took their counterparts back beneath, where they were swallowed forever by the sea.

>the solution is simple to all this blather, resolve to live FOR YOURSELF AND ONLY YOURSELF! WOE2MEN BRING NOTHING BUT GRIEF AND MISERY AND STRESS… live your life for yourself! you will be happier and your stress levels will drop quickly.

aylmao poor the wizzies who believe this.

I'd like to figure out a comfortable way to make roughly between $500-$800 a month tax free.

dropshipping

>>43
How would dropshipping be tax free though?