Shop More Submit  Join Login
About Deviant Member MigsMale/Philippines Groups :icon1983-doomsdaystories: 1983-DoomsdayStories
Beyond the Wastes
Recent Activity
Deviant for 4 Years
Needs Premium Membership
Statistics 609 Deviations 32,636 Comments 56,108 Pageviews

Newest Deviations

*WIPs in progress*

Random Favourites


TUMBLR - Bruges by White-Seafoam

The first thing that one notices is Belgie herself. In all honesty, she looks incredibly sexy and feminine, especially in that dress. A...

DAF : love? by White-Seafoam

Admittedly, it's wonderful as always. But I'll try to make it more concrete. Vision: It's definitely fitting the fantasy image you're t...

winter in brussels by White-Seafoam

While the work in question is good in my opinion, I'll try to explain why as briefly but concisely as possible. Vision: Technically, it...


Still here and have a few ideas in the works.
An Agent's First Encounter: Or, a 1983 Doomsday Tale through a Visiting Person's Eyes

Linz, Austria, Alpine Confederation. 14 October 2009.

Jonatan Herz waited patiently, sitting outside a coffee house not far off from the Austrian capital’s Hauptplatz while wrapping his jacket close to himself. His eyes glanced casually about the various old buildings and stores around him, some of which he recognized if still patched with scaffolding. It was only in the last 15 years or so that any semblance of normalcy fully returned to this corner of the Alpine Confederation. In fact, the coffee house itself was part of some sort of attempt at reviving a Wiener custom. One that died with the city, he thought uncomfortably as he sipped his cup. Despite his training and distance from his lost home, the story behind it still seemed too familiar. As is this world. And yet…

“Ah, there you are!”

The young man watched as an Alpine Militia officer no older than his twenties approached him, flushed despite a feeble attempt to act formal. Yet despite that, there was an air of authority that could only have come from a nobleman’s upbringing.

“I guess you’re Leutnant Steiner, ja?” Jonatan asked in German as he stood up and offered his hand, pausing for a moment. “I’m Leutnant Herz, just arrived from Eisenstadt.  It is a pleasure to meet you in person.”

“T-The pleasure is mine,” the other man replied meekly, shaking his hand before clearing his throat. “As it is w-with the approval of your request. Forgive me. It’s been unusually cold lately, and I’ve had a small setback trying to find this place.”

“With respect, Mein Leutnant. But weren’t you the one who chose this venue?”

Bitte, C-Call me Franz. And true, I have.  Um, would you like to continue this inside?” The officer sighed as he adjusted his greatcoat. “Sorry again, I must be becoming more like Herr Edelstein. I have to say you even look a bit like him, but I digress.”

Jonatan fought back an urge to bite his lip upon hearing the name. For a very brief moment, images flashed of his childhood. It had been another time. Another world. His true employers, it seemed, forgot to mention a particular detail about his assignment. Even his foster father seemed to leave it out before sending him to this place. Scheiße, just stay focused, verje meg!

Leutnant Herz?”

With a soft nod however, he tried to smile.

Ja. It’s nothing. After you.”


He had to hand it to the Alpine aide. The fact that they were able to find a nice spot close to the windows and that there were fewer patrons than usual with none the wiser spoke more for the officer’s connections and acumen than what his relatively low rank suggested. Or his appearance. To his relief, the paperwork was surprisingly small for such a “vital duty,” as the aide-de-camp to Herr Roderich Edelstein described it. Even if that name still bothers me.

“You have to understand,” Franz explained. “All this, um, came on such short notice ever since we were able to identify her. A few weeks ago, actually.”

“As I understand it, her name’s Julia right?” Jonatan asked nonchalantly while glancing outside. Of course, he had read the short, hastily compiled dossier the Alpine officer provided: a young, female orphan barely past 10 years old in appearance from the Sopron Frontier Territory. Exact age classified, parents unknown. It sounds so familiar. He frowned. “I take there’s more to her than just that.”

The aide sighed knowingly as he leaned closer. “You’re perceptive, ja? Sehr gut. Makes my job easier. But, um, this - all of this isn’t exactly standard procedure as you might have guessed. More so than than the duty you’ve just been given. In fact, as far as the top brass here and in Vaduz are concerned, all of this is not, um, in the books. Officially, we are not here.

“And neither are they.”

As if on cue, Jonatan noticed a pair approaching the coffee house. As the two entered, he forced back an urge to cringe. One of them was a tall, bespectacled man in an old suit barely covered by a greatcoat, carrying himself with all the distinction and honor of someone far older than his age suggested. The other was a young, frail-looking girl in an old country dress and muffler, her green eyes wide and gleaming.

Nein…Nem. Not now! As he stood up along with the aide, he found it harder to keep up his façade; even after all these years and his training, he had to force himself to even look at them straight. The girl in many ways looked so much like his late mother, right down to the smile on her face. To say nothing of the man who was by any accounts her new caretaker, right down to the peculiar bit of hair protruding from his head. And father. He has to be.

Grüß Gott,” the aristocratic figure known among some as Austria greeted cordially before giving a crisp salute. “My apologies for missing this venue as well, Lt. Steiner." He then turned towards him. "My name is Roderich Edelstein. Bitte, pardon us for these less formal circumstances.”

“None taken – Mein Herr,” the new aide replied formally, though with a strained hint. “Leutnant Herz at your service. And it is an honor to be given this assignment.”

For a few moments, the figure’s purple eyes seemed to narrow, staring into his as if trying to sense something. Jonatan resisted the urge to look away as he saw glimpses of a realm that had endured for many centuries, even beyond the atomic flames known as Doomsday. An empire, a soldier, an officer, bureaucrat, artist, pianist, lover, husband and countless others all rolled in a single being that bore - and witnessed - the memories of an entire country. And a-a father. He’s dead…Nein, this isn’t him.  

It was then the young man realized. Nothing could replace his loss, his experience or true parents, let alone his true identity. His foster father had been right. The Nation before him looked and even acted the part but in the end wasn’t exactly him. It can't be him! Just another possibility. Ja...has to be! The notion still didn’t remove the pain, but it definitely made it more tolerable. But if Herr Edelstein noticed anything at all, it didn’t show in his face.

“I don’t recall seeing you before, Leutnant. Though it must be my memory playing tricks with me as is this attempt at reviving a Wiener tradition. But I digress.” The figure nodded ever so slightly before gently bringing the girl forward. “Now, allow me to introduce my d-I mean, my new ward, Sopron.”

The young lady grinned at him as she reached out to him. “Guten napot!” she greeted in an accent that sounded much like his own mixed with his mother’s. “It’s nice meeting you, Leutnant Herz!”

Jonatan managed a soft smile as he shook her hand. In another time, she would have been his sister.  Then again, in some other time, Wien would still have been the capital. The bombs here and back when many not have fallen. They might still be here alive. But perhaps for now, it wouldn’t hurt...

Bitte, Fraulein Julia. Call me Jonatan. I’m sure we’ll get along very well.”
An Agent's First Encounter: A Doomsday-verse Tale
Here's a story meant as a prequel of sorts to a request for :iconaufigirl:. Thus we're back to the 1983 Doomsday Stories AU after quite a while. This one's a day in the life of a character she and I made in an RP: Jonatan Herz, a dimensional-crossing agent with a much darker past involving two Nations along the Danube. More specifically, this one covers his first "assignment" in the Doomsday-verse, namely being Julia/Sopron's first "aide"...while meeting Austria as well, which makes for some very uncomfortable awkwardness.

In the AU, it's set shortly after A Wasteland Melody , aka the very first fic in the Doomsday-verse (A Wasteland Melody (Revised Edition) ), though I try to make this as stand-alone as possible. 

In any case, I hope you enjoy!


As for the translations and references:

The backstory behind the Alpine Confederation and Sopron can be found here: [… and […

The Hauptplatz (Market Square) is the heart of the Old Town of Linz (… ), one of the major cities of Austria; the square itself is the largest of its kind in the country. In the Doomsday-verse, Linz became the Austrian capital after the nuclear destruction of Vienna/Wien in 1983.

Coffee houses are a cultural custom that is famous in Vienna/Wien.

The city of Eisenstadt is the capital of the Austrian State of Burgenland, which until 1918/1921 was considered part of Hungary (with Sopron being the only area that didn't follow the rest of Burgenland); to this day, there still exists a Hungarian enclave.

As for Doomsday itself, it's another term for "World War 3," which in this AU happened in 1983 between America and the Soviet Union, killing billions and leaving much of the landscape in ashes. Austria survived, as did Switzerland and Liechtenstein, even Prussia. Hungary...didn't. :(

Leutnant - "Lieutenant" (German)
Herr - "Sir" (German)
Sehr gut - "Very good" (German)
Grüß Gott - "Good day" (Austrian German)
Nem - "No" (Hungarian)
Guten napot - "Good day" (Mixed German and Hungarian)

There are also a few German and Hungarian swears in there. 


I neither own Hetalia nor 1983: Doomsday. All rights belong to their respective owners.


You can find out more about Jonatan here:…

As well as the RP he came from:


A Day in the Life of an Agent: Request
A Day in the Life of an Agent: Or, a 1983 Doomsday Tale through a Visiting Person's Eyes

Berlin, Kingdom of Prussia. 29 September 2010.

“Have you ever been here before, Margert?” Jonatan Herz asked his junior partner as he looked over the restaurant’s menu. They managed to find a table close to the front windows. The clean if faded walls around them bore posters for the upcoming Europa Games and pictures of the ruling family of House Hohenzollern, all bearing the Black Eagle. To his relief though the few other people there were clustering more to the bar. Better for us, at least, he thought. Better for me.

“Hmm? Well, not like this,” Margareta Bethlen sighed sheepishly in a Magyar accent. “At least the food’s the same. I remember this place being more – modern, I guess?”

“In another time, maybe. You’d be surprised.” In more ways than one.

The brown-haired twenty-something smirked wryly as he set the menu aside to glance once more at their surroundings. Most everything, from what the other patrons wore to the font on a nearby copy of Die Welt and even the absurdly dated music coming from a bulky stereo looked like a strange blend of two Cold War decades slapped together. Beyond the windows meanwhile, Brandenburg Gate was visible beneath a passing zeppelin, the differences between what had been East and West Berlin still visible even with all the construction around it. The sight of a few posters warning of radiation along the coasts however was enough to remind his of the less pleasant aspects of this country.

Or rather, this whole world! To think that there was a wall here not too long ago.

As he took a sip from the rather bland cup of coffee in front of him, Jonatan noticed Margert taking quick glances at him, blushing slightly even as she tried looking out at the street below. He smiled, though he wasn’t quite sure what that meant. His father, he remembered, was better in these kinds of things only to push that thought out of his mind.

“Maybe you should order yourself something to eat. If you’re worried about the tab, I’ll be paying.”

Startled, she tried to force a grin. “N-Nem! It’s just that it’s my first time seeing this place. Well, not exactly the first time but you get what I mean! Everything look so-”

“Strange?” Despite himself, he laughed. “Familiar yet different, I bet. Don’t worry. It happens to everyone in the Agency.  In fact, it’s part of the job description, having to deal with it every time. Even for me, it’s a bit hard to take in that all this was spared because a bomb didn’t go off over 20 years ago.”

Just then, they heard a car coming to a screeching halt right in front of the restaurant. Turning to the windows, Jonatan saw that it was one of those infamous Trabants, a light-colored one that had clearly seen some jury-rigged additions from its old East German days. And with a tacked-on Black Eagle in front. Real subtle there. Stepping out from the vehicle was a young-looking albino in a somewhat dusty power suit, a rusted Iron Cross visible on his neck. The agent smirked.

“Looks like our guest is here, Margert,” he whispered. “Remember your cover.”

“U-Um, of course!”

As though on cue, the peculiar Prussian approached him from behind. There was a sly grin on the newcomer’s face, one more light-hearted than menacing despite his red eyes as the agent turned to greet him. Jonatan already knew all he needed from just looking at him: brash, arrogant and a tad irreverent yet with a firm sense of discipline and honor.

I’ve met you before, after all. Another you. “You’re early for a change, Gilbert.”

“Just excited for the games, Leutnant Herz. And the awesome me’s here to see it done right!” the albino quipped, smirking upon noticing Margert. “The name’s Gilbert Beilschmidt, by the way. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Fraulein~”

“Julia,” she replied smoothly with a German accent. “Julia Steiner. Recently up from Salzburg. And the pleasure’s all mine.”

The Prussian smirked as he turned his attention back to the older agent. “Didn’t know you were into people with the same name as the one you’re guarding. Actually, it isn’t my place to judge and all. But shouldn’t you be doing that?”

“She’s with her fa-I mean, with Herr Edelstein for the moment. I doubt they would be in harm’s way here.” Nice going, Jonatan!

He noticed Gilbert – or rather, the Kingdom of Prussia himself – shrug as he found himself a seat next to them. The agent though felt the urge to slam his head on the table for nearly breaking his cover, even if bringing his name up brought up painful memories. Of a childhood that still left scars on his skin. Of a world lost forever. Of a family taken away with it. Mine…

Leutnant?” he heard Margert whisper, her voice tinged with concern even as she tried to keep up her act. “Maybe I’ll be the one to pay for this one.”

That brought the agent back to reality long enough to notice her. “Guess so,” he sighed with a thankful smile before turning back to his guest. “There’s nothing to worry about. Just remembered an old face.”

Gilbert smirked, though his eyes seemed to linger on for a few more moments before blinking. “Admittedly, now that you mentioned Roddy, you actually look a bit like him and Liz. Though that might just be you being Alpine and all. It happens, ja?”

More than you’ll ever know. The agent took a deep breath before sipping his cup of coffee. Outside, the zeppelins and Trabants continued going on their merry way. If his parents were still alive, he mused, perhaps he wouldn’t be here. No point in that. Just do this job. Better for Margert to know now.

Ja. Can't say I've actually met him though. But now then, on to business.”

This was going to be a long day.
A Day in the Life of an Agent: Request
Here's a request made for :iconaufigirl: that's also a return to the 1983 Doomsday Stories AU of sorts. This one's more a slice of life and intro tale to two characters she and I made in an RP: Jonatan Herz, a dimensional-crossing agent with a much darker past involving two Nations along the Danube and his junior partner and friend Margert.

This also fits into the AU in that it's set shortly after A German Surprise (… ), though I try to make this as stand-alone as possible.

In any case, I hope you enjoy!


As for the translations and references:

Info on the Doomsday-verse Kingdom of Prussia can be found here: [link](1983:_Doomsday) . Also "King Christian" is the same one who formally restored Prussia's name in A New Meeting for Old Rivals, though had gone a tad crazy in the years after.

The New Zeppelin Company ([link]) is a Prussia-based corporation and manufacturing house spearheading the revival of airships as alternatives to increasingly valuable planes.

The Europa Games ([link]) are a kind of post-apocalyptic European Olympics that were first proposed in-verse in 2007, though it was only in December '09 that it's revealed that it would be a Prussian-led venture to be held around Berlin in 2010.

The Trabant is the quintessential car associated with East Germany during the Cold War, known in the Western world for how infamously bad it seemed. In the Doomsday-verse, it's still used by many Prussians though considerably improved upon.


I neither own Hetalia nor 1983: Doomsday. All rights belong to their respective owners.


You can find out more about Jonatan here:…

As well as the RP he came from:


An Agent's First Encounter: A Doomsday-verse Tale
The Parasol Civilized World: 1894 AD by mdc01957
The Parasol Civilized World: 1894 AD

Here's another map-profile, though this one is both a throwback to my much earlier maps as well as something different. This one in particular is based on the Parasol Protectorate books by Gail Carriger, aka the Soulless series. It's a sleeper-hit series of Steampunk books set in the Victorian period, albeit an alternate historical one where among other things vampires, werewolves and other supernatural stuff exist, as well as being more-or-less common knowledge. It's sort of like what would happen if Twilight were set 100+ years in the past and was done much better? With enough action, intrigue, politics and at times heated romance all given a very British slant. Pretty good stuff actually, but I digress. I also added a few bits of other fantasy and steampunk influences here and there, along with a little Indiana Jones for good measure.

In any case, hope you enjoy this one as much as I have in making it!


It is the Year of Our Lord 1894. Her Imperial Majesty, Queen Victoria has reigned over mighty Britannia and her Dominions for decades. Whether in the great factories, universities, dirigible ports or the halls of Government, there is no denying that these are fascinating times. For human and supernatural alike.

To this day, no one knows how the “unnaturals” or “supernaturals” – the majority of whom are know as vampires and werewolves – came to be in the processes of the natural order. It remains disputed when exactly these beings or their age-old rivalries first made their presence felt to mankind at large, with some scholars dating the earliest case to Ancient Egypt. What is certain, however is that their existence has been a mainstay in folklore of varying accuracy around the globe. To be sure, as these figures gradually became visible to the wider world, there were times of confrontation on both camps, borne for the most part from mistrust and superstition. But the days of zealous purges and brutish bloodbaths are long over for those who consider themselves members of civilized society. 

Of the Great Powers of the world, the United Kingdom holds a special claim among others as the most tolerant of realms. Indeed, vampires and werewolves have become as accepted within the halls of Parliament as in the pubs of England’s towns for the most part, although the nobles of Faerie still hold their own council away from London despite their oaths of fealty. Every now and then, the age-old animosity between the local vampiric hives and werewolf packs – the latter peculiarly being led by clans based in Scotland – would resurface in more civilized forms, whether in verbal squabbles or proxy brawls between human followers voluntarily wishing to become either species. This has led to the present Bureau for Unnatural Registration – also known as the B.U.R. or simply the Bureau – whose task under Her Majesty’s mandate is to oversee and supervise supernatural affairs. This has not stopped rebellious malcontents however from causing most grievous harm in the Raj, some of whom are suspected as belonging to the vile Thuggee. Nor has less public misgivings against those from beyond the British Empire’s borders ceased. Nonetheless, this atmosphere of tolerance and equality under law has made the realm prestigious for human and supernatural alike, in addition to its industry and power.

On the European Continent meanwhile, one may find a fascinating if at times uncomfortable blend of different nations, be they Great Powers or those in their shadow. France, eternal rivals to Albion had long deposed their kings in favor of an absurd notion of a republic with Emperors; their “revolutionary” lands nonetheless are fertile ground for the arts and even sciences, although the French make galling claims of being more adept with their supernaturals than their neighbour across the Channel. The northern, unified kingdoms of Scandinavia meanwhile have made honourable strides in bridging the divide between human and supernatural, though rumours of old religions resurfacing and peculiar creatures dwelling in the outskirts of cities like Stockholm, if not along the coasts make one pause. Even smaller lands such as Switzerland and Monaco have shown tremendous clout borne from their banks and the prowess of their supernatural expertise. Others Powers are less forgiving. The Germans remain torn between a Prussian north, where werewolves have over time come to influence so-called Junker cast, and a Bavarian south, in constant strife between vampiric nobles and various rival organizations. Those supernaturals who have tried seeking shelter in the neighboring and more tolerant Hapsburg Dual Monarchy have claimed that the heirs of Vlad Tepes still haunt the Hungarian plains, attracting the growing attention of the ever persistent separatist lodges. While stories persist from Tsarist Russia of mysterious disappearances, secretive orders and hidden wars, matters that neither the Romanovs nor their newly formed Duma in St. Petersburg seem willing to disprove; but as the Russians seem more interested in the Orient with the Trans-Siberian Dirigible Line and their border squabbles with exotic China, they are of relatively little consequence in Continental affairs.


But the most peculiar of all, and the most worrisome to Her Majesty’s citizens on the Continent is the Vatican Papal State. Unified in the 1860s, the Kingdom of Italy is nominally ruled by the House of Savoy and comprised of those smaller realms and city-states Italians had called home for centuries. In reality, the Papacy in Rome still wields considerable power over the realm, rivaling the clout it once had when the Papal State was sovereign. It is also among the most virulently opposed to the very existence of supernaturals in our midst, many in the Roman Church believing such beings either abominable tools of Satan or corruptions of the Divine Plan. Their influence, as a matter of fact stretches across the civilized world and beyond. And of the number of known organizations the Vatican maintains or funds, the long-reconstituted Knights Templar are believed to be among the most zealous and insidious of them all, at times coming to grips with Britain’s finest representatives, be they supernatural or Bureau-aligned.


Across the Atlantic Ocean meanwhile is a similarly troubled lot. The United States of America, former colonials once loyal to the Crown, have long showed their true colors. While the so-called Americans take pride in their democracy, industry and image as a nation of pioneer-migrants, their distaste for supernaturals is nigh unrivaled in the New World; many speculate that this may have descended from peculiar zealots among the first colonists, further egged on by local superstitions and ungentlemanly malice. Her Majesty’s loyal subjects in the Dominion of Canada have held their ground admirably, welcoming those who seek sanctuary in the Empire’s borders. They have also found a trustworthy ally with the Free Empire of Mexico, forged from the old colony of New Spain by royal and reformist exiles fleeing their homeland. Together, these two domains have become valuable to maintaining an ordered balance to that portion of the globe, a feat that the Russians settlers in Aleyska are only lately been seeking to take advantage of.


It needn’t be said by this point that these times are not always peaceful. Be they secular clubs or religious orders, “purist” factions still abound in their quest to clean mankind of the supposed supernatural fiends, a sentiment shared by similar cliques on the opposing side. But their powers are limited, their reach varying most significantly from nation to nation. By and large, such affairs pale to the wider scope of diplomacy on the world stage. The game of kings, ministers and presidents continues apace as feats of scientific and supernatural prowess like dirigibles, railroads and ether-phones bring the peoples of this globe together in profound ways. And as many an honourable lady or gentleman in London would say, it may not be a perfect peace but these are glorious days.


There is but one more mystery, however. That of the so-called preternaturals: otherwise human persons born without a “soul.” For reasons that continue to baffle, they excel in the intellect and can neutralize the peculiar traits of supernaturals by touch, therefore allowing a vampire for example to experience direct sunlight. Their talents are known to Her Majesty and her finest officials in the Bureau, as they are to various players with their own interests, be they scientists or purists. But some speculate something deeper behind their presence, of some more fundamental link to the supernaturals. Such individuals point to the ruins being uncovered in Egypt for possible answers to this riddle. But there are whispers spreading between the Ottoman and British delegates in Cairo. Tales of strange events in the desert, and of a lost citadel. Perhaps the soulless would know.


Also, just as a disclaimer, I do not own The Parasol Protectorate/Soulless, all rights belong to their respective owners. 




mdc01957 has started a donation pool!
436 / 1,000
This is a donation pool for a Premium Membership account! Anyone's more than welcome to contribute. And if you're interested in point-collabs, please feel free to talk about it! :)

You must be logged in to donate.


Current Residence: Philippines
Favourite genre of music: Light rock or jazz, retro anything
Operating System: Windows 7, Windows XP, Mac OS Lion

Journal History

To move on from the Gamergate saga mentioned in the previous posts, even if the topic is tangentially related, I just remembered something about an old habit I used to do in years past: collecting and reading game magazines.

As a Manila kid growing up in the 1990s-early 2000s, one got whiff of the latest videogames, usually by word of mouth or whatever was being displayed in stores or on pirated stalls. If one was willing to spend a bit of cash however, an alternative existed through magazines all about videogames; and even if one couldn't afford the latest issue or a subscription package, there were always the back-issues. Back then, there was a large selection to choose from, including PC gaming, consoles and even magazine issues dedicated to cheat codes. By and large these magazines, like Nintendo Power, Computer Gaming World or Gamepro, were imported from North America, which meant that readers were exposed to a US-centric focus (including coverage on the infamous Jack Thompson and the videogame violence scare in America at the time). Personally, I was fond of getting my young gaming fix from PC Gamer and Electronic Gaming Monthly

Anyway, this highly foreign bias in the magazines on display may have in part encouraged some local publishers to try their hand at making their own gaming publications catering to Filipinos (especially given that the other option required a working knowledge of Japanese or Korean). Things like GamesMaster Philippines and Playground popped up for a time, which were much more affordable and at least superficially focused on the local gaming community. By the early 2000s however, Internet access in the country was no longer confined to dial-up modems and online cafes. As "game journalism" increasingly moved to the web with sites like IGN and Gamespot, the number of hard-copy magazines soon dwindled. Before long, even the homegrown gaming publications began closing shop. By 2014, you'd be lucky to find any game magazines on sale in the local National Bookstore or Fully Booked. 

By that point however, I wasn't as avid a gamer as a kid though I still enjoy playing games. It's been years since I've bought game magazines on a regular basis; at most, I'd get a copy of EGM or PC Gamer once or twice a year, tops. When one could look up news and gamer channels online, it seems redundant these days. But one thought has come to mind that, in hindsight, was foreshadowing to more recent *ahem* events that I may stop buying those magazines altogether.

It was 2006. GamesMaster PH released a review of a locally-developed game called TerraWars: New York Invasion, a shooter "based on" War of the Worlds which was touted as the first internationally-released "Pinoy" game. To say that it wasn't good and didn't do justice to Filipino programmers is an understatement. Yet the reviewers lapped praise after praise on it as if it were the second coming of Counter Strike (yes, that game and its Source variants are still popular here). Not many, it seemed, were convinced that it was anything but a legitimate article. Come to think of it, however well-intentioned that magazine was in trying to promote my country's gaming community, there were moments where the editors were more interested in what they wanted vs. their audience, even if it meant a cheap, ultimately failed shot at gaming nationalism. 

That case may have been a minor blip compared to the major gaming press. But nearly a decade on, perhaps that should have been a warning sign for me back then not to rely on such magazines. Or perhaps find outlets that have more of a connection to gamers, or at least some shred of integrity. 

*sigh* The more things change...

AdCast - Ads from the Community



:iconheliosmegistos: :iconwintercookies: :iconinkstaineddove: :iconpsionicbird: :iconrd-comics: :iconkannakurru: :iconwithout-a-pen: :iconjinnocenceph11: :iconfirelord-zuko: :iconamongthesatanic: :iconrarayn: :iconrosel-d: :iconzalezsky: :iconquantumbranching: :iconmuzik-maniac: :iconnederbird: :iconchaneljay: :iconkojab8890:


Add a Comment:
without-a-pen Featured By Owner 1 day ago
Whoops, sorry. I know this is super late but HAPPY BELATED BIRTHDAY! :iconlachoirplz:
mdc01957 Featured By Owner 1 day ago
No worries! And thanks! :aww:
KitFisto1997 Featured By Owner 3 days ago  Hobbyist Filmographer
More 83DD Polandball! :)
KitFisto1997 Featured By Owner 4 days ago  Hobbyist Filmographer
Made 1983 Doomsday Poland Ball:…
mdc01957 Featured By Owner 4 days ago
Yes. :la:
HeliosMegistos Featured By Owner 5 days ago
Though of something that's that should be spread around.

Austria-Hungary: Efficient like the Germans, musical like the Italians, diverse like the British and refined like the French.

Seems fairly accurate if I don't say so my self which I do :XD:
mdc01957 Featured By Owner 1 day ago
Just saw this now. And it sounds pretty good! Any reason for bringing it up? :)
HeliosMegistos Featured By Owner 22 hours ago
Not really, it just happened to pop into my head out of no where but it's pretty much true so I felt I should pass it around :)
mdc01957 Featured By Owner 2 hours ago
Heh. Though it does make for a good premise. :XD:

Anyhoo, ever heard of KotakuInAction in Reddit?
HeliosMegistos Featured By Owner Oct 14, 2014
You asked a while back what kind of work I'd like to see in the future if I recall. If I recall right then here's a suggestion that I felt to cool to pass up, a what if where an meteor storm like that in the Peshawar Lancers occurs in the in the RDNA verse a decade or two before the terror.

I think it would be fairly interesting since the world is more developed then in the PL verse and has New Austria which given it's location and lack of otl Mexico's shitty political and economic situation at the same time would be posed to benefit from the massive changes and the population of the Crownlands survive from a combination of moving to the RDNA and and pushing down into the Balkans and Greece to be close to the heart of the Mediteranian.

Throw in the growing Collectivist trouble at the time and.... Lots could happen.
Add a Comment: