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✦ Ironcast Project | Cloudveil Unfurl ✦ Weapon Name: Cloudveil Unfurl ✦ Weapon Type: Assault Rifle ✦ How to Obtain: Obtainable via Forge (Free) / Available for purchase in Shop ✦ Weapon Story: Through parting clouds, a painted flight takes form, where peacocks meet on silk to court their...

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DuetNightAbyss

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13,314 views • 7 months ago •via X (Twitter)

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✦ Ironcast Project | Wandering Rose ✦ Weapon Name: Wandering Rose ✦ Weapon Type: Sword ✦ How to Obtain: Obtainable via Forge (Free) / Available for purchase in Shop ✦ Weapon Story: I'll embark on a journey far beyond the sands, just like you. ✦ Lunosmith's Note: Within the hilt lies an old dream, long sealed and left untold. Thorns have since entwined around it, and in silence, the first pale bloom has taken shape. ✦ Download Duet Night Abyss #DuetNightAbyss #IroncastProject
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✦ Ironcast Project | Wandering Rose ✦ Weapon Name: Wandering Rose ✦ Weapon Type: Sword ✦ How to Obtain: Obtainable via Forge (Free) / Available for purchase in Shop ✦ Weapon Story: I'll embark on a journey far beyond the sands, just like you. ✦ Lunosmith's Note: Within the hilt lies an old dream, long sealed and left untold. Thorns have since entwined around it, and in silence, the first pale bloom has taken shape. ✦ Download Duet Night Abyss #DuetNightAbyss #IroncastProject

DuetNightAbyss

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DuetNightAbyss

24,994 views • 10 months ago

🚨 THIS HAS NEVER HAPPENED BEFORE 🚨 🚨NOBODY UNDERSTANDS WHAT THEY JUST TRIGGERED. 🚨 🚨 People always talk about Iranian oil in terms of barrels, but rarely about what’s actually inside them. That’s the key difference—and the reason Western refineries have quietly relied on back-channel networks through places like Dubai for years to keep getting it, even under sanctions. Crude oil isn’t all the same. It’s a mix of hydrocarbons with different molecular weights, and that mix determines how easily it can be turned into the fuels refineries actually sell—like gasoline, diesel, jet fuel, and heating oil. The main measure here is API gravity. Higher API means lighter crude that’s easier and cheaper to refine, and it produces more of those high-value fuels. Lower API means heavier crude that takes more energy, more processing, and more expensive equipment, while producing more low-value leftovers. Iranian Light crude sits right in a sweet spot, with an API gravity around 33–36 and moderate sulfur levels. It’s light enough to produce a lot of gasoline and middle distillates without high costs, but not so light that it limits what refineries can make. In industry terms, it’s close to an ideal blend. Now look at the alternatives. Venezuela’s Merey crude is much heavier, with very low API gravity and high sulfur. Refining it profitably requires specialized, expensive equipment like cokers and hydrocrackers. Some refineries are built for that—but it’s not interchangeable with Iranian crude. It’s a completely different type of input. On the other end, US West Texas Intermediate is very light and low in sulfur. Sounds perfect in theory, but in practice it’s almost too light. Many refineries—especially in Europe and Asia—are designed for medium-grade crude, so they can’t just switch to WTI. They often have to blend it with heavier oils to make it work. That’s where Iranian crude stands out. It fits right into the middle of the system. It doesn’t need the heavy-duty processing of Venezuelan oil or the blending adjustments required for ultra-light US shale. That balance is why it’s consistently in demand and often priced at a premium. It also explains why countries like India kept buying it despite sanctions, and why those complex trading networks through Dubai existed in the first place. The Strait of Hormuz isn’t just a route for oil—it’s a route for this specific kind of oil that global refineries are optimized to process. If that flow gets disrupted, it’s not just about losing supply. It’s about losing the type of crude the system runs most efficiently on, forcing refineries to adapt with less suitable alternatives. That’s what’s really baked into oil prices like $82—not just how much oil is available, but what kind it is.
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🚨 THIS HAS NEVER HAPPENED BEFORE 🚨 🚨NOBODY UNDERSTANDS WHAT THEY JUST TRIGGERED. 🚨 🚨 People always talk about Iranian oil in terms of barrels, but rarely about what’s actually inside them. That’s the key difference—and the reason Western refineries have quietly relied on back-channel networks through places like Dubai for years to keep getting it, even under sanctions. Crude oil isn’t all the same. It’s a mix of hydrocarbons with different molecular weights, and that mix determines how easily it can be turned into the fuels refineries actually sell—like gasoline, diesel, jet fuel, and heating oil. The main measure here is API gravity. Higher API means lighter crude that’s easier and cheaper to refine, and it produces more of those high-value fuels. Lower API means heavier crude that takes more energy, more processing, and more expensive equipment, while producing more low-value leftovers. Iranian Light crude sits right in a sweet spot, with an API gravity around 33–36 and moderate sulfur levels. It’s light enough to produce a lot of gasoline and middle distillates without high costs, but not so light that it limits what refineries can make. In industry terms, it’s close to an ideal blend. Now look at the alternatives. Venezuela’s Merey crude is much heavier, with very low API gravity and high sulfur. Refining it profitably requires specialized, expensive equipment like cokers and hydrocrackers. Some refineries are built for that—but it’s not interchangeable with Iranian crude. It’s a completely different type of input. On the other end, US West Texas Intermediate is very light and low in sulfur. Sounds perfect in theory, but in practice it’s almost too light. Many refineries—especially in Europe and Asia—are designed for medium-grade crude, so they can’t just switch to WTI. They often have to blend it with heavier oils to make it work. That’s where Iranian crude stands out. It fits right into the middle of the system. It doesn’t need the heavy-duty processing of Venezuelan oil or the blending adjustments required for ultra-light US shale. That balance is why it’s consistently in demand and often priced at a premium. It also explains why countries like India kept buying it despite sanctions, and why those complex trading networks through Dubai existed in the first place. The Strait of Hormuz isn’t just a route for oil—it’s a route for this specific kind of oil that global refineries are optimized to process. If that flow gets disrupted, it’s not just about losing supply. It’s about losing the type of crude the system runs most efficiently on, forcing refineries to adapt with less suitable alternatives. That’s what’s really baked into oil prices like $82—not just how much oil is available, but what kind it is.

A K Mandhan

3,645,659 views • 4 months ago

Day 11/90 of Inference Engineering How does vLLM work and how is it used in production? Before we discuss how vLLM works internally, it helps to understand what vLLM is. At a high level, vLLM is an inference engine that is designed to serve LLMs to thousands of concurrent users efficiently while managing scarce compute and memory. The goal for vLLM is to maximize throughput and minimize latency; optimizing for the best inference economics and experience for end users. With every request from the end user, it eventually ends up in the engine core, gets scheduled alongside other requests from other concurrent users, executes on the GPU, and updates the KV cache with the new key and value vectors, and streams the tokens back to the user. The Scheduler decides what requests should execute next while continuously batching requests together to maximize GPU utilization. Continuous batching is an inference optimization that allows new requests to join a running batch as other requests finish generating tokens. This helps with keeping the GPU utilization high instead of letting it sit idle waiting for an entire batch to complete generating. After the scheduler dispatches the selected batch to the Model Executor, the Model Executor prepares the tensors and metadata required for inference, retrieves each request’s block table from KV Cache Manager, launches the optimized transformer forward pass on the GPU, computes the logits, updates the KV cache with the new key and value vectors, and finally returns the results for sampling and streaming. The KV Cache Manager uses the PagedAttention memory layout to allocate fixed-size cache blocks on demand and maintains a Free Block Queue on the CPU that tracks which blocks in the GPU’s Paged KV Cache are currently free. When a request needs additional KV cache space, the KV Cache manager takes a free block from the queue and assigns it to that request, thus avoiding an expensive search through GPU memory for available cache blocks. All of these components form the core of vLLM’s inference engine. The Scheduler determines what requests are executed, the Model Executor determines how those requests are executed, the KV Cache Manager determines where each request’s KV cache lives using the PagedAttention Memory Layout. This architecture enables vLLM to serve thousands of concurrent requests with high throughput, low latency, and efficient GPU memory utilization. Heres a little animation that visualizes everything! - I've also completed the forward pass for my mnist.c project. I had a nice chat with shrey birmiwal, such a knowledgeable guy. Excited to learn more about vLLM and implement a tiny-vLLM one day.
0:14

Day 11/90 of Inference Engineering How does vLLM work and how is it used in production? Before we discuss how vLLM works internally, it helps to understand what vLLM is. At a high level, vLLM is an inference engine that is designed to serve LLMs to thousands of concurrent users efficiently while managing scarce compute and memory. The goal for vLLM is to maximize throughput and minimize latency; optimizing for the best inference economics and experience for end users. With every request from the end user, it eventually ends up in the engine core, gets scheduled alongside other requests from other concurrent users, executes on the GPU, and updates the KV cache with the new key and value vectors, and streams the tokens back to the user. The Scheduler decides what requests should execute next while continuously batching requests together to maximize GPU utilization. Continuous batching is an inference optimization that allows new requests to join a running batch as other requests finish generating tokens. This helps with keeping the GPU utilization high instead of letting it sit idle waiting for an entire batch to complete generating. After the scheduler dispatches the selected batch to the Model Executor, the Model Executor prepares the tensors and metadata required for inference, retrieves each request’s block table from KV Cache Manager, launches the optimized transformer forward pass on the GPU, computes the logits, updates the KV cache with the new key and value vectors, and finally returns the results for sampling and streaming. The KV Cache Manager uses the PagedAttention memory layout to allocate fixed-size cache blocks on demand and maintains a Free Block Queue on the CPU that tracks which blocks in the GPU’s Paged KV Cache are currently free. When a request needs additional KV cache space, the KV Cache manager takes a free block from the queue and assigns it to that request, thus avoiding an expensive search through GPU memory for available cache blocks. All of these components form the core of vLLM’s inference engine. The Scheduler determines what requests are executed, the Model Executor determines how those requests are executed, the KV Cache Manager determines where each request’s KV cache lives using the PagedAttention Memory Layout. This architecture enables vLLM to serve thousands of concurrent requests with high throughput, low latency, and efficient GPU memory utilization. Heres a little animation that visualizes everything! - I've also completed the forward pass for my mnist.c project. I had a nice chat with shrey birmiwal, such a knowledgeable guy. Excited to learn more about vLLM and implement a tiny-vLLM one day.

max fu

70,450 views • 29 days ago

Avdiivka basement & a stranger wearing my face, carrying my name. I hear it again—the distinct, ominous roar of an enemy Su. Every time that jet screams across the sky, it's like a knife twisting in my gut. I'm here, in this shattered husk of a home, not by choice but by necessity. It's not my house, but the remnants around me—a child's discarded toy, a photo half-burned—whisper stories of a life that once was. Did the kid make it out? The thought haunts me, gnawing at the edges of my already frayed sanity. The sound of a missile launch is a trigger. Not just the physical flinch, but something deeper, a primal fear that freezes my blood. When that KAB comes howling down, reality fractures. It's not just the explosion, the devastation it brings; it's the anticipation, the waiting, that shreds my nerves. The fear is palpable, a thick presence in my throat that makes it hard to swallow, hard to breathe. When the KAB (guided bomb) lands, the devastation it brings is unimaginable. Entire blocks, homes like mine, are reduced to rubble. I avoid looking my brothers in the eye. There's guilt, shame... I've seen too much, done too much. But in the moment the bomb hits, our eyes lock. There's something there—fear, yes, but also a defiance, a refusal to be broken. It's what keeps us going, this shared flame of resistance, flickering but never extinguished. The ground shakes, and dust chokes the air. Somewhere, distant yet terrifyingly close, screams pierce through the aftermath. The radio crackles to life—300! Help!—a statistic that's become all too familiar. Each code 300 announced, is a blade twisting in an already festering wound. This war has blurred the lines between what's real and what's conjured by my frayed mind. At night, when the gunfire fades, the battle rages on in my dreams. I'm trapped in a cycle of reliving the horrors by day and battling them in my sleep. It's a relentless assault on the psyche, a war on two fronts where peace seems like a concept from another lifetime. Yet, I endure, driven by a flicker of hope or perhaps the stubbornness to not give in. But at what cost? With each passing day, the line between the soldier I am and the person I was fades, leaving behind a stranger wearing my face, carrying my name. Reflections on pain, fear, and struggle have become my constant companions. What I've seen, the choices I've had to make—there's no escaping the memories. They're etched into my soul, a permanent reminder of the darkness that war breeds. And in the quiet moments, when the dust settles and the adrenaline fades, I'm left with the haunting question: Who have I become? I find myself lost, struggling to cling to the fragments of who I used to be, even as I brace for the next wave of terror that the skies promise to unleash. The line between reality and imagination blurs, creating a world where fear, pain, and the struggle to endure define my existence. We are but a flicker of light in the darkness, a beacon of hope in a world consumed by shadow. And we will continue to fight, to stand, to endure, for as long as we draw breath. Slava 🔱 Follow Bandera Fella *-^ || Support my work
2:18

Avdiivka basement & a stranger wearing my face, carrying my name. I hear it again—the distinct, ominous roar of an enemy Su. Every time that jet screams across the sky, it's like a knife twisting in my gut. I'm here, in this shattered husk of a home, not by choice but by necessity. It's not my house, but the remnants around me—a child's discarded toy, a photo half-burned—whisper stories of a life that once was. Did the kid make it out? The thought haunts me, gnawing at the edges of my already frayed sanity. The sound of a missile launch is a trigger. Not just the physical flinch, but something deeper, a primal fear that freezes my blood. When that KAB comes howling down, reality fractures. It's not just the explosion, the devastation it brings; it's the anticipation, the waiting, that shreds my nerves. The fear is palpable, a thick presence in my throat that makes it hard to swallow, hard to breathe. When the KAB (guided bomb) lands, the devastation it brings is unimaginable. Entire blocks, homes like mine, are reduced to rubble. I avoid looking my brothers in the eye. There's guilt, shame... I've seen too much, done too much. But in the moment the bomb hits, our eyes lock. There's something there—fear, yes, but also a defiance, a refusal to be broken. It's what keeps us going, this shared flame of resistance, flickering but never extinguished. The ground shakes, and dust chokes the air. Somewhere, distant yet terrifyingly close, screams pierce through the aftermath. The radio crackles to life—300! Help!—a statistic that's become all too familiar. Each code 300 announced, is a blade twisting in an already festering wound. This war has blurred the lines between what's real and what's conjured by my frayed mind. At night, when the gunfire fades, the battle rages on in my dreams. I'm trapped in a cycle of reliving the horrors by day and battling them in my sleep. It's a relentless assault on the psyche, a war on two fronts where peace seems like a concept from another lifetime. Yet, I endure, driven by a flicker of hope or perhaps the stubbornness to not give in. But at what cost? With each passing day, the line between the soldier I am and the person I was fades, leaving behind a stranger wearing my face, carrying my name. Reflections on pain, fear, and struggle have become my constant companions. What I've seen, the choices I've had to make—there's no escaping the memories. They're etched into my soul, a permanent reminder of the darkness that war breeds. And in the quiet moments, when the dust settles and the adrenaline fades, I'm left with the haunting question: Who have I become? I find myself lost, struggling to cling to the fragments of who I used to be, even as I brace for the next wave of terror that the skies promise to unleash. The line between reality and imagination blurs, creating a world where fear, pain, and the struggle to endure define my existence. We are but a flicker of light in the darkness, a beacon of hope in a world consumed by shadow. And we will continue to fight, to stand, to endure, for as long as we draw breath. Slava 🔱 Follow Bandera Fella *-^ || Support my work

Bandera Fella *-^

61,674 views • 2 years ago

What if modern medicine felt like a work of art? Today SONATA is live in NYC, SF, and LA, and we couldn't be prouder to have helped bring it into the world. Sonata maps your whole genome, hundreds of biomarkers, your cellular age, and then puts a real care team on top of the whole picture. Healthcare built for your biology, actually yours. When the founder, Sagan Schultz first walked us through his vision of concierge medicine, genomics, biomarkers, and contextual intelligence woven into one experience, we knew right away we wanted to make something harmonious, artful, and calm; a brand you'd trust with your body. A ‘sonata’ is a musical form built on structure: distinct movements, precise notation, played with feeling. That felt like everything care should be; mathematical underneath, human on the surface. We knew this name was perfect. Visually, we rendered a calla lily 🌷in cross-processed colors of petal blues, sunset corals, and an iridescent wash to give the data-heavy brand room to breathe in airy, open spaces. Then we built the counterpoints of exacting copy, fine atomic details of UI, data charts, and user flows. The elegant wordmark paired against against a living flower felt like the right balance. We carried that discipline into motion and the product itself. The flower breathes rather than spins. Interfaces settle with an unhurried weight. The user flows follow the same logic: one step at a time, plain language, your results building into a picture as you go, a doctor visible at the end of every decision. We treated movement and flow as clinical trust signals: a system this confident doesn't need to shout. All of it is tuned to one job, helping you be present with your body's information. We aimed to make a new medicine brand that felt modern and timeless at once. ~ Little Plains helped create the naming, brand strategy, positioning, verbal system, visual identity, motion design, and product surfaces where the science becomes care. Grateful to Sagan, David, Hiya, Dev, and the SONATA team for the trust. Your health story begins today. 🌸
0:20

What if modern medicine felt like a work of art? Today SONATA is live in NYC, SF, and LA, and we couldn't be prouder to have helped bring it into the world. Sonata maps your whole genome, hundreds of biomarkers, your cellular age, and then puts a real care team on top of the whole picture. Healthcare built for your biology, actually yours. When the founder, Sagan Schultz first walked us through his vision of concierge medicine, genomics, biomarkers, and contextual intelligence woven into one experience, we knew right away we wanted to make something harmonious, artful, and calm; a brand you'd trust with your body. A ‘sonata’ is a musical form built on structure: distinct movements, precise notation, played with feeling. That felt like everything care should be; mathematical underneath, human on the surface. We knew this name was perfect. Visually, we rendered a calla lily 🌷in cross-processed colors of petal blues, sunset corals, and an iridescent wash to give the data-heavy brand room to breathe in airy, open spaces. Then we built the counterpoints of exacting copy, fine atomic details of UI, data charts, and user flows. The elegant wordmark paired against against a living flower felt like the right balance. We carried that discipline into motion and the product itself. The flower breathes rather than spins. Interfaces settle with an unhurried weight. The user flows follow the same logic: one step at a time, plain language, your results building into a picture as you go, a doctor visible at the end of every decision. We treated movement and flow as clinical trust signals: a system this confident doesn't need to shout. All of it is tuned to one job, helping you be present with your body's information. We aimed to make a new medicine brand that felt modern and timeless at once. ~ Little Plains helped create the naming, brand strategy, positioning, verbal system, visual identity, motion design, and product surfaces where the science becomes care. Grateful to Sagan, David, Hiya, Dev, and the SONATA team for the trust. Your health story begins today. 🌸

Emmett

22,523 views • 1 month ago

🚨🚨🚨 It doesn't really get any more real than this and you need to hear it 🚨🚨🚨 I want to introduce you to these two deadly units: The 1st FPV Strike Platoon PNK Group of the 3rd Assault Brigade of the Ukrainian Armed Forces. The Strike Unmanned Systems Platoon of the 47th Magura Separate Mechanized Brigade of the Ukrainian Armed Forces. Both of these units are the pinnacle of the world's drone warfare and part of formidable and renowned brigades; their names echo through the ranks of the Ukrainian military and chill spines throughout the ranks of the Russians. These units unleash utter devastation and death onto the Russian forces; they turn the ground the Russians walk on into a living hell, a place in which their supplies, their troops, their back-up, every thing gets deleted, their every fucking hope and dreams turn into an unimaginable shitshow of despair. If it has a pulse, a heat signature, or a set of keys, it's getting turned into fucking fairy dust around these guys. The 1st FPV Strike Platoon PNK Group of the 3rd Separate Assault Brigade provides close tactical strikes, reconnaissance, and direct-fire/loitering-munition effects in support of assault operations on the frontlines. The unit uses high-speed FPV strike drones and larger multirotor bomber drones, and is integrated with the brigade’s reconnaissance and assault companies. The Strike Unmanned Systems Platoon of the 47th “Magura” Separate Mechanized Brigade is a dedicated strike/attack unmanned-systems platoon. It conducts aerial strikes, close support to mechanized units, battlefield reconnaissance, and interdiction of light vehicles and enemy personnel using FPV strike drones and larger strike UAVs. These men work in the most dangerous areas, where they are needed the most; they oppose the biggest threats on the front lines, they cause the most devastation, but they need our help. Given the type of work that they do, they need to move fast, they need to be invisible, and strike before the enemy knows they are there and be back a camp drinking tea whilst the Russians are still collecting their comrades remains with a fucking carpet vacuum hoover. With your help I'm trying to send them 2 NAFO Truck 3.0's with the NAFO 69th Sniffing Brigade. These trucks are the 69th Brigade's newest and most kitted-out trucks made specifically for units like this. Above all, they are reliable; they have two fitted electronic-warfare drone jammers for different ranges and frequencies to protect the vehicle when it moves, it has night vision so the driver can watch a screen and drive in the pitch black as you cannot use headlights on the frontline, they have serious battery packs to run operations off when out for prolongued periods of time, they also include a spare set of heavy-duty off-road tyres to help them get through the mud to keep them mobile. These new NAFO Truck 3.0s even have FPV drone-spectrum scanners, which means if a Russian drone is in the air, they not only know it's there, they can see which type of drone it is and they can even watch the video feed that the Russians can see so they know exactly where it is. I really need your help to do this. I need you to help to spread the word, and I need you to think just for a second, is there is absolutely anything that you can donate? So many people will see this, and naturally, they will assume that everyone else will donate, but this is almost always not the case. If you want to make Russians hurt, if you want them to regret ever leaving their Russian infested shit swamps, then donate here and help these guys destroy these fucks: Pardom my French.
0:17

🚨🚨🚨 It doesn't really get any more real than this and you need to hear it 🚨🚨🚨 I want to introduce you to these two deadly units: The 1st FPV Strike Platoon PNK Group of the 3rd Assault Brigade of the Ukrainian Armed Forces. The Strike Unmanned Systems Platoon of the 47th Magura Separate Mechanized Brigade of the Ukrainian Armed Forces. Both of these units are the pinnacle of the world's drone warfare and part of formidable and renowned brigades; their names echo through the ranks of the Ukrainian military and chill spines throughout the ranks of the Russians. These units unleash utter devastation and death onto the Russian forces; they turn the ground the Russians walk on into a living hell, a place in which their supplies, their troops, their back-up, every thing gets deleted, their every fucking hope and dreams turn into an unimaginable shitshow of despair. If it has a pulse, a heat signature, or a set of keys, it's getting turned into fucking fairy dust around these guys. The 1st FPV Strike Platoon PNK Group of the 3rd Separate Assault Brigade provides close tactical strikes, reconnaissance, and direct-fire/loitering-munition effects in support of assault operations on the frontlines. The unit uses high-speed FPV strike drones and larger multirotor bomber drones, and is integrated with the brigade’s reconnaissance and assault companies. The Strike Unmanned Systems Platoon of the 47th “Magura” Separate Mechanized Brigade is a dedicated strike/attack unmanned-systems platoon. It conducts aerial strikes, close support to mechanized units, battlefield reconnaissance, and interdiction of light vehicles and enemy personnel using FPV strike drones and larger strike UAVs. These men work in the most dangerous areas, where they are needed the most; they oppose the biggest threats on the front lines, they cause the most devastation, but they need our help. Given the type of work that they do, they need to move fast, they need to be invisible, and strike before the enemy knows they are there and be back a camp drinking tea whilst the Russians are still collecting their comrades remains with a fucking carpet vacuum hoover. With your help I'm trying to send them 2 NAFO Truck 3.0's with the NAFO 69th Sniffing Brigade. These trucks are the 69th Brigade's newest and most kitted-out trucks made specifically for units like this. Above all, they are reliable; they have two fitted electronic-warfare drone jammers for different ranges and frequencies to protect the vehicle when it moves, it has night vision so the driver can watch a screen and drive in the pitch black as you cannot use headlights on the frontline, they have serious battery packs to run operations off when out for prolongued periods of time, they also include a spare set of heavy-duty off-road tyres to help them get through the mud to keep them mobile. These new NAFO Truck 3.0s even have FPV drone-spectrum scanners, which means if a Russian drone is in the air, they not only know it's there, they can see which type of drone it is and they can even watch the video feed that the Russians can see so they know exactly where it is. I really need your help to do this. I need you to help to spread the word, and I need you to think just for a second, is there is absolutely anything that you can donate? So many people will see this, and naturally, they will assume that everyone else will donate, but this is almost always not the case. If you want to make Russians hurt, if you want them to regret ever leaving their Russian infested shit swamps, then donate here and help these guys destroy these fucks: Pardom my French.

Bricktop_NAFO

24,514 views • 10 months ago

Homeland Attack: Live, Work & Play 🟥5 to 7 Man Teams & 8 to 10 Man teams 🟥Supermarkets, Shopping Complexes, Night Clubs, Churches & Public Transportation 🟥Hospitals - Sidelining First Responders 🟥Road Blocks To Ambush First Responders 🟥Back Up Teams 🟥Trained In The 360-degree Ballistic Shoot Houses 🟥 Trained Heavily In Close Quarters Battle 🟥 Training Like Terrorists Had in Fallujah. 🟥 Spontaneous Decisions Making 🟥 Real Time Communication Between Attackers 🟥Fights To The Death 🟥 Tip Of the Spear Attacks 🟥First Responders Move In & Then Another Guy Walks In & Blows Up 🟥Dressing Up Like Law Enforcement & First Responders 🟥Booby Traps 🟥Attackers On Drugs 🟥10% Suicide Bombers 🟥Chemicals Within Suicide Vests 🔻The following Information illustrates The Upcoming Homeland Attack from observing terrorist training & lessons learned from The Oct 7 Attack, Mumbai Attack & Fallujah 🟥 Attack Where Americans Live, Work & Play “They want to take what they felt on the battlefield and they want you to feel that in towns in America. So they want to bring it to your home. They want you to feel these war zones, but in America, because they don't feel like Americans felt it. They feel like, ‘yeah, you have these wars with us on our soil. So now you're going to get it on your soil.” 🟥5 to 7 man teams and 8 to 10 man teams “5 to 7 man teams and 8 to 10 man teams. Our community has never even had attacks where there's more than five - So it's going to be a whole different scenario we need to deal with.” 🟥Supermarkets, shopping complexes, nightclubs, churches & public transportation 🟥Hospitals - Sidelining first responders as the goal. “They actually also trained on hospitals and we look at hospitals in terms of sidelining first responders as the goal.” 🟥Road Blocks To Ambush First Responders “In Israel, they basically set up on the roads and waited for first responders to come and attack them while responding” 🟥Back Up Teams “Another really interesting thing when we brings up the ISIS Russia attack - They trained multiple teams for that attack. And the first team essentially got thwarted or wrapped up so the Russians thought they stopped the plot and the back up guys came in and did that attack , which is very smart and we're not used to those kind of tactics. 🟥Trained In The 360-degree Ballistic Shoot Houses “The facilities that they're using to train in are the facilities that we left behind. So the state-of-the-art ranges that we used when we were deployed, they're using. The 360-degree ballistic shoot houses that we used to perfect CQB and explosive entry, they're training in. 🟥 Trained Heavily In Close Quarters Battle “All indications are that they have trained heavily in close quarters battle and local distributed attack.” 🟥 Training Like Terrorists Had in Fallujah. “One of the things we're focusing on and telling people right now is a lot of the terrorists who are coming to the US homeland have training like the terrorists had in Fallujah. And you need to go sit down with people who served in Fallujah because you've never seen those kinds of terrorists here in the United States. And law enforcement actually needs to learn how to fight now that type of enemy and they're very far behind because we weren't honest about what our troops faced there the type of attackers that occurred and came at them there.” 🟥 Spontaneous Decisions Making “The interesting thing about it is they can change the location they are attacking and they can change the modus operandi they are using. So for example, in Mumbai - when they went in the train station, it was supposed to be a bombing. When they got in there, they said, ‘wow, we can kill more people just shooting them than putting the bomb together’. 🟥 Real Time Communication Between Attackers “Real time information was being passed to the attackers during the Mumbai. So when they were in the Taj Mahal, they were being told what the police were doing, and they changed basically some of their movements in the hotel to make the attack last longer.” 🟥Fights To The Death "it's not like in Israel, you'll go and do an attack, you can kidnap someone and leave and go back into Gaza. When they come to the United States, they're here to do the attack and they're here to die. There's no exit plan. So now we need to talk to law enforcement about how to fight someone who wants to fight to the death" 🟥 Tip Of the Spear Attacks “You're actually looking at operators that have more advanced training than Hamas. What you will be facing is a much more refined combatant, much more committed combatant, for multiple reasons. The combatants that are going to Europe and the United States, they're the cream of the crop. They're the tip of the spear” 🟥First responders move in and then another guy walks in and blows up “The bomber blew up and then everyone starts moving in, the first responders and then another guy walks in and blows up.” 🟥Dressing Up Like LEO & First Responders “They are dressing like IDF soldiers and law enforcement and, police and ambulance operators. As I'm driving, and I see a checkpoint, So I get my weapon and I'm ready for a gunfight. Yeah, that needs to be in your head - this could be a trick, you need to be ready for a gunfight.” 🟥Booby Traps There were booby traps that they setup teddy bears and backpacks with traps.” 🟥Attackers On Drugs “We saw this in the Hamas attacks, a lot of the attackers were on drugged while they were attacking. So it's like they're almost taking this other angle of, we could alter the mind in some way and make them even more extreme and make them do something they might not have done.” 🟥10% Suicide Bombers “I do believe 10% is going to be suicide bombers, and I feel strongly about that . So I think suicide bombers are between 75 and 100. I think that number is pretty accurate.” 🟥Chemicals Within Suicide Vests "Another thing is within the suicide vest, there are reportedly chemicals. A lot of our agencies aren't even prepared to deal with the right hazmat situations when they respond to this. So they need to be prepared if they think maybe a suicide vest blew up.” Information Provided By: Dave 'Boon' Benton, @RooftopLeader & Doron Keidar
0:13

Homeland Attack: Live, Work & Play 🟥5 to 7 Man Teams & 8 to 10 Man teams 🟥Supermarkets, Shopping Complexes, Night Clubs, Churches & Public Transportation 🟥Hospitals - Sidelining First Responders 🟥Road Blocks To Ambush First Responders 🟥Back Up Teams 🟥Trained In The 360-degree Ballistic Shoot Houses 🟥 Trained Heavily In Close Quarters Battle 🟥 Training Like Terrorists Had in Fallujah. 🟥 Spontaneous Decisions Making 🟥 Real Time Communication Between Attackers 🟥Fights To The Death 🟥 Tip Of the Spear Attacks 🟥First Responders Move In & Then Another Guy Walks In & Blows Up 🟥Dressing Up Like Law Enforcement & First Responders 🟥Booby Traps 🟥Attackers On Drugs 🟥10% Suicide Bombers 🟥Chemicals Within Suicide Vests 🔻The following Information illustrates The Upcoming Homeland Attack from observing terrorist training & lessons learned from The Oct 7 Attack, Mumbai Attack & Fallujah 🟥 Attack Where Americans Live, Work & Play “They want to take what they felt on the battlefield and they want you to feel that in towns in America. So they want to bring it to your home. They want you to feel these war zones, but in America, because they don't feel like Americans felt it. They feel like, ‘yeah, you have these wars with us on our soil. So now you're going to get it on your soil.” 🟥5 to 7 man teams and 8 to 10 man teams “5 to 7 man teams and 8 to 10 man teams. Our community has never even had attacks where there's more than five - So it's going to be a whole different scenario we need to deal with.” 🟥Supermarkets, shopping complexes, nightclubs, churches & public transportation 🟥Hospitals - Sidelining first responders as the goal. “They actually also trained on hospitals and we look at hospitals in terms of sidelining first responders as the goal.” 🟥Road Blocks To Ambush First Responders “In Israel, they basically set up on the roads and waited for first responders to come and attack them while responding” 🟥Back Up Teams “Another really interesting thing when we brings up the ISIS Russia attack - They trained multiple teams for that attack. And the first team essentially got thwarted or wrapped up so the Russians thought they stopped the plot and the back up guys came in and did that attack , which is very smart and we're not used to those kind of tactics. 🟥Trained In The 360-degree Ballistic Shoot Houses “The facilities that they're using to train in are the facilities that we left behind. So the state-of-the-art ranges that we used when we were deployed, they're using. The 360-degree ballistic shoot houses that we used to perfect CQB and explosive entry, they're training in. 🟥 Trained Heavily In Close Quarters Battle “All indications are that they have trained heavily in close quarters battle and local distributed attack.” 🟥 Training Like Terrorists Had in Fallujah. “One of the things we're focusing on and telling people right now is a lot of the terrorists who are coming to the US homeland have training like the terrorists had in Fallujah. And you need to go sit down with people who served in Fallujah because you've never seen those kinds of terrorists here in the United States. And law enforcement actually needs to learn how to fight now that type of enemy and they're very far behind because we weren't honest about what our troops faced there the type of attackers that occurred and came at them there.” 🟥 Spontaneous Decisions Making “The interesting thing about it is they can change the location they are attacking and they can change the modus operandi they are using. So for example, in Mumbai - when they went in the train station, it was supposed to be a bombing. When they got in there, they said, ‘wow, we can kill more people just shooting them than putting the bomb together’. 🟥 Real Time Communication Between Attackers “Real time information was being passed to the attackers during the Mumbai. So when they were in the Taj Mahal, they were being told what the police were doing, and they changed basically some of their movements in the hotel to make the attack last longer.” 🟥Fights To The Death "it's not like in Israel, you'll go and do an attack, you can kidnap someone and leave and go back into Gaza. When they come to the United States, they're here to do the attack and they're here to die. There's no exit plan. So now we need to talk to law enforcement about how to fight someone who wants to fight to the death" 🟥 Tip Of the Spear Attacks “You're actually looking at operators that have more advanced training than Hamas. What you will be facing is a much more refined combatant, much more committed combatant, for multiple reasons. The combatants that are going to Europe and the United States, they're the cream of the crop. They're the tip of the spear” 🟥First responders move in and then another guy walks in and blows up “The bomber blew up and then everyone starts moving in, the first responders and then another guy walks in and blows up.” 🟥Dressing Up Like LEO & First Responders “They are dressing like IDF soldiers and law enforcement and, police and ambulance operators. As I'm driving, and I see a checkpoint, So I get my weapon and I'm ready for a gunfight. Yeah, that needs to be in your head - this could be a trick, you need to be ready for a gunfight.” 🟥Booby Traps There were booby traps that they setup teddy bears and backpacks with traps.” 🟥Attackers On Drugs “We saw this in the Hamas attacks, a lot of the attackers were on drugged while they were attacking. So it's like they're almost taking this other angle of, we could alter the mind in some way and make them even more extreme and make them do something they might not have done.” 🟥10% Suicide Bombers “I do believe 10% is going to be suicide bombers, and I feel strongly about that . So I think suicide bombers are between 75 and 100. I think that number is pretty accurate.” 🟥Chemicals Within Suicide Vests "Another thing is within the suicide vest, there are reportedly chemicals. A lot of our agencies aren't even prepared to deal with the right hazmat situations when they respond to this. So they need to be prepared if they think maybe a suicide vest blew up.” Information Provided By: Dave 'Boon' Benton, @RooftopLeader & Doron Keidar

Apexguard

138,911 views • 1 year ago

Times Square - New York City 🇺🇸 The origin of this place was known as Long Acre Square, but it was renamed Times Square after being located in 1904, at the intersection of 42nd Street, the offices of the New York Times. In 1913, the newspaper’s offices moved to 229 43rd Street, and the building was renamed 1 Times Square in 1961. History of Times Square, at the beginning of the 20th century, Times Square became one of the most important places in New York City, with the construction of theaters, restaurants and luxury and first class hotels. The site began to change in the 30’s where it became a dangerous place with prostitution, crime and drugs, this lasted for more than half a century. History of Times Square During the 1980s, Mayors Ed Koch and David Dinkins began a redevelopment project for Midtown Manhattan that included Times Square. In the 1990s, Mayor Rudolph Giuliani tackled the project to clean up the area with the closure of pornographic theaters, sex shops and the purchase of the nine historic theaters on 42nd Street by the State of New York. Times Square is located between 7th Avenue and Broadway, and 42nd and 47th streets, it is currently the heart of the city in general and of the New York theater district in particular. The entire area is illuminated day and night by large illuminated signs and huge television screens, this has made it famous throughout the world, as well as the descent of the Crystal ball every December 31 from the top of 1 Times Square announcing the new Year. Up to two million people flocked to Times Square to ring in the year 2000 with the lowering of Waterford’s Millennial Crystal Ball, a huge Swarovski crystal ball made specifically for this event. The north end of the square, between 46th and 47th Streets, is known as Duffy Square in honor of Father Francis P. Duffy, chaplain of the New York Regiment of Infantry during World War II. Half-price same-day Broadway show tickets are available at the TKTS Box Office, located in the center of Duffy Square. The ticket offices, renovated in 2008, are covered on its roof with wide steps in the form of a staircase that allow visitors to sit or enjoy a panoramic view. On May 25, 2009, the city council temporarily closed the section of Broadway that runs through Times Square to pedestrian traffic. The experiment was a great success and it has become a permanent pedestrian plaza where the place is more enjoyable with new metal benches, chairs and tables. Times Square has its own police station, its street cleaning company, and its tourist office that has all the information about the city, and it is also a small museum dedicated to this important square. Times Square wouldn’t be recognizable without its amazing illuminated signs. An image that is admired by two million people who pass through this square every day and many millions more in the world who enjoy it through photographs, paintings, cinema and television. Times Square began to fill with large advertisements in 1916, when the City Council encouraged its installation in this part of the city. Since then there are many who have passed through here, some true works of art. In addition, they played an important role in the remodeling of the square during its most decadent period: as a measure of pressure on the city’s rulers, one night their neighbors turned off all the signs for 15 minutes. The measure had excellent results and the negotiation was carried out. Today, a municipal ordinance obliges the buildings in this area to give up their facade for the installation of such advertisements. 🎥 : Times Square in 1932 (Colorized) 🎥© lostintimevid (IG) #archaeohistories
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Times Square - New York City 🇺🇸 The origin of this place was known as Long Acre Square, but it was renamed Times Square after being located in 1904, at the intersection of 42nd Street, the offices of the New York Times. In 1913, the newspaper’s offices moved to 229 43rd Street, and the building was renamed 1 Times Square in 1961. History of Times Square, at the beginning of the 20th century, Times Square became one of the most important places in New York City, with the construction of theaters, restaurants and luxury and first class hotels. The site began to change in the 30’s where it became a dangerous place with prostitution, crime and drugs, this lasted for more than half a century. History of Times Square During the 1980s, Mayors Ed Koch and David Dinkins began a redevelopment project for Midtown Manhattan that included Times Square. In the 1990s, Mayor Rudolph Giuliani tackled the project to clean up the area with the closure of pornographic theaters, sex shops and the purchase of the nine historic theaters on 42nd Street by the State of New York. Times Square is located between 7th Avenue and Broadway, and 42nd and 47th streets, it is currently the heart of the city in general and of the New York theater district in particular. The entire area is illuminated day and night by large illuminated signs and huge television screens, this has made it famous throughout the world, as well as the descent of the Crystal ball every December 31 from the top of 1 Times Square announcing the new Year. Up to two million people flocked to Times Square to ring in the year 2000 with the lowering of Waterford’s Millennial Crystal Ball, a huge Swarovski crystal ball made specifically for this event. The north end of the square, between 46th and 47th Streets, is known as Duffy Square in honor of Father Francis P. Duffy, chaplain of the New York Regiment of Infantry during World War II. Half-price same-day Broadway show tickets are available at the TKTS Box Office, located in the center of Duffy Square. The ticket offices, renovated in 2008, are covered on its roof with wide steps in the form of a staircase that allow visitors to sit or enjoy a panoramic view. On May 25, 2009, the city council temporarily closed the section of Broadway that runs through Times Square to pedestrian traffic. The experiment was a great success and it has become a permanent pedestrian plaza where the place is more enjoyable with new metal benches, chairs and tables. Times Square has its own police station, its street cleaning company, and its tourist office that has all the information about the city, and it is also a small museum dedicated to this important square. Times Square wouldn’t be recognizable without its amazing illuminated signs. An image that is admired by two million people who pass through this square every day and many millions more in the world who enjoy it through photographs, paintings, cinema and television. Times Square began to fill with large advertisements in 1916, when the City Council encouraged its installation in this part of the city. Since then there are many who have passed through here, some true works of art. In addition, they played an important role in the remodeling of the square during its most decadent period: as a measure of pressure on the city’s rulers, one night their neighbors turned off all the signs for 15 minutes. The measure had excellent results and the negotiation was carried out. Today, a municipal ordinance obliges the buildings in this area to give up their facade for the installation of such advertisements. 🎥 : Times Square in 1932 (Colorized) 🎥© lostintimevid (IG) #archaeohistories

Archaeo - Histories

39,490 views • 1 year ago

He never lowered his voice when she entered the room. Jefferson Davis never covered the maps on his desk. Confederate officers never paused their conversations when she stepped forward to refill a cup or clear a plate. To them, she was invisible. That invisibility was her greatest weapon. Her name was Mary Bowser. Born Enslaved, Educated in Secret Mary Bowser was born enslaved in Richmond, Virginia, on the plantation of Elizabeth Van Lew's family. The Van Lews were unusual among wealthy Southern slaveholding families: they harbored strong Unionist and abolitionist sympathies. Mary was eventually freed. In a rare and radical act for the time, the Van Lew family sent her north to Philadelphia for education — likely through a Quaker school. There, she learned to read, write, and develop the intellectual discipline that would later make her indispensable. When the Civil War erupted and Richmond became the capital of the Confederacy, Van Lew organized an extensive Union spy network inside the city. Mary chose to return. Not as a free woman seeking safety — but as an undercover operative entering the heart of the rebellion. Inside the Confederate White House Through carefully arranged channels, Bowser secured employment as a servant in the Confederate executive mansion — the White House of the Confederacy. Inside those walls, Davis and his generals discussed troop movements, supply lines, military strategy, and reinforcements. Documents lay exposed. War maps stretched across tables. No one worried about the woman in the room. They assumed she could not read. They assumed she did not understand. They assumed she did not matter. They were catastrophically wrong. Memory as a Weapon Historical accounts describe Bowser as possessing an extraordinary memory — often characterized as near-photographic. She absorbed details at a glance: Troop deployments Planned offensives Supply shortages Strategic vulnerabilities She wrote nothing down. Written evidence could be seized. Instead, she memorized everything. At night, she met with Elizabeth Van Lew. There, she recited what she had seen and heard in precise detail. Van Lew encoded the intelligence and passed it through a courier network that eventually reached Union command. That information made its way to Ulysses S. Grant, who later acknowledged that Richmond-based intelligence was among the Union's most valuable assets. Within the Confederate White House, suspicion grew that someone was leaking information. Investigations were launched. They never seriously considered the Black woman serving their meals. The Confederacy's rigid racial hierarchy created a blind spot so complete that Bowser operated in plain sight. She weaponized their prejudice. Disappearance into Silence After the war, Mary Bowser largely vanished from official records. As with many intelligence operatives, secrecy obscured her life story. Some sources suggest she may have briefly taught freedpeople or continued activism, but documentation remains fragmentary. No statues were erected in her honor. No public commendations were widely issued. Her story survived mostly through scattered letters, postwar recollections, and Van Lew's accounts. The very secrecy that protected her during the war swallowed much of her legacy afterward. Her Story Reveals Mary Bowser's work highlights a profound historical irony: The Confederacy's belief in racial inferiority the ideology that justified slavery itself created the conditions that allowed one formerly enslaved woman to infiltrate its highest command structure. never saw her as a threat. never imagined she could understand military strategy. never questioned whether she could read the documents left open before her. arrogance built the door. She walked through it. History often celebrates generals and presidents. Yet intelligence - Mary Bowser stood in rooms where history was being written, memorized it, and sent it north. underestimated. unseen.
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He never lowered his voice when she entered the room. Jefferson Davis never covered the maps on his desk. Confederate officers never paused their conversations when she stepped forward to refill a cup or clear a plate. To them, she was invisible. That invisibility was her greatest weapon. Her name was Mary Bowser. Born Enslaved, Educated in Secret Mary Bowser was born enslaved in Richmond, Virginia, on the plantation of Elizabeth Van Lew's family. The Van Lews were unusual among wealthy Southern slaveholding families: they harbored strong Unionist and abolitionist sympathies. Mary was eventually freed. In a rare and radical act for the time, the Van Lew family sent her north to Philadelphia for education — likely through a Quaker school. There, she learned to read, write, and develop the intellectual discipline that would later make her indispensable. When the Civil War erupted and Richmond became the capital of the Confederacy, Van Lew organized an extensive Union spy network inside the city. Mary chose to return. Not as a free woman seeking safety — but as an undercover operative entering the heart of the rebellion. Inside the Confederate White House Through carefully arranged channels, Bowser secured employment as a servant in the Confederate executive mansion — the White House of the Confederacy. Inside those walls, Davis and his generals discussed troop movements, supply lines, military strategy, and reinforcements. Documents lay exposed. War maps stretched across tables. No one worried about the woman in the room. They assumed she could not read. They assumed she did not understand. They assumed she did not matter. They were catastrophically wrong. Memory as a Weapon Historical accounts describe Bowser as possessing an extraordinary memory — often characterized as near-photographic. She absorbed details at a glance: Troop deployments Planned offensives Supply shortages Strategic vulnerabilities She wrote nothing down. Written evidence could be seized. Instead, she memorized everything. At night, she met with Elizabeth Van Lew. There, she recited what she had seen and heard in precise detail. Van Lew encoded the intelligence and passed it through a courier network that eventually reached Union command. That information made its way to Ulysses S. Grant, who later acknowledged that Richmond-based intelligence was among the Union's most valuable assets. Within the Confederate White House, suspicion grew that someone was leaking information. Investigations were launched. They never seriously considered the Black woman serving their meals. The Confederacy's rigid racial hierarchy created a blind spot so complete that Bowser operated in plain sight. She weaponized their prejudice. Disappearance into Silence After the war, Mary Bowser largely vanished from official records. As with many intelligence operatives, secrecy obscured her life story. Some sources suggest she may have briefly taught freedpeople or continued activism, but documentation remains fragmentary. No statues were erected in her honor. No public commendations were widely issued. Her story survived mostly through scattered letters, postwar recollections, and Van Lew's accounts. The very secrecy that protected her during the war swallowed much of her legacy afterward. Her Story Reveals Mary Bowser's work highlights a profound historical irony: The Confederacy's belief in racial inferiority the ideology that justified slavery itself created the conditions that allowed one formerly enslaved woman to infiltrate its highest command structure. never saw her as a threat. never imagined she could understand military strategy. never questioned whether she could read the documents left open before her. arrogance built the door. She walked through it. History often celebrates generals and presidents. Yet intelligence - Mary Bowser stood in rooms where history was being written, memorized it, and sent it north. underestimated. unseen.

G-MA & G-PA

155,160 views • 5 months ago

Part Two (2/2): In order to graze or pierce the top of the ear, the round would had to have been fired directly in front or behind, not at a perpendicular angle. First, You can know this is part of plan by Laws and Orders and how this sets up the finale. Second, you can read articles of the bullet whizzing by President Trump at the angle and trajectory reported by CNN… So, where did that bullet thump in the same time sequence when the other two bullets hit their targets sooner at the same angle and trajectory? Also, CNN says the snipers returned fire… There were 5 rounds in return, not in Burst Rounds, all single 1-1-1-1-1. The return fire by the “snipers” sounds exactly the same as the first 3 rounds fired at PDJT. And they sound NOTHING like an AR-15 whatsoever. Then there’s one lone round 11 seconds after the 5 rounds returned by “snipers” who are all around and had the target identified as the media says “they were told by Secret Service to hold their fire until the shooter engaged”… PLUS those on the roof behind President Trump were closer to the location of the gunman than PDJT, so, 350-450 feet away. So, are you telling me that trained snipers needed more than one round for a lone shooter? Are you telling me that trained snipers with an identified target were told to “stand down” until engagement? Are you tellling me that that trained snipers with an identified target allowed a lone round 11 seconds after return engagement? And/or needed another round 11 seconds after 5 returned on a lone wolf shooter? You clearly know NOTHING about snipers if you say ‘yes’ on one, a combo, or all of those. That alone doesn’t even need to follow up with the location, sound, angle, trajectory, but just because… A perpendicularly shot given the evidence… wouldn’t be the top of the ear pierced. This was ALL for those who have no clue what’s going on by Laws and Orders the past 7.5 years of a Military Occupation and COOP. This sets up the grand finale of ALL the evidence that will be brought against the dudes going to GITMO for the normies. Normies and “so-called Patriots” who reacted to this: stop listening to people who don’t know the Plan which is a World Special Operation with multi-faceted layers of operations taking place all outlined in Military and Federal Laws and Orders that clearly outline and define a Military Occupation and Continuity of Operations Plan. Which means stop listening to people who just want some likes, shares, and to “be the face” that you run to when it’s all about them and not an Oath. The evidence on this is clear and in order to prove it you needed: Location Angle Trajectory Velocity Weapon Style Caliber The same as “politics” requires: Laws Orders Acts Bills Codes Or you just have a lot of 🗣️💨💩 Trust the Plan, we are on the home stretch 💯🐂🇺🇸
0:23

Part Two (2/2): In order to graze or pierce the top of the ear, the round would had to have been fired directly in front or behind, not at a perpendicular angle. First, You can know this is part of plan by Laws and Orders and how this sets up the finale. Second, you can read articles of the bullet whizzing by President Trump at the angle and trajectory reported by CNN… So, where did that bullet thump in the same time sequence when the other two bullets hit their targets sooner at the same angle and trajectory? Also, CNN says the snipers returned fire… There were 5 rounds in return, not in Burst Rounds, all single 1-1-1-1-1. The return fire by the “snipers” sounds exactly the same as the first 3 rounds fired at PDJT. And they sound NOTHING like an AR-15 whatsoever. Then there’s one lone round 11 seconds after the 5 rounds returned by “snipers” who are all around and had the target identified as the media says “they were told by Secret Service to hold their fire until the shooter engaged”… PLUS those on the roof behind President Trump were closer to the location of the gunman than PDJT, so, 350-450 feet away. So, are you telling me that trained snipers needed more than one round for a lone shooter? Are you telling me that trained snipers with an identified target were told to “stand down” until engagement? Are you tellling me that that trained snipers with an identified target allowed a lone round 11 seconds after return engagement? And/or needed another round 11 seconds after 5 returned on a lone wolf shooter? You clearly know NOTHING about snipers if you say ‘yes’ on one, a combo, or all of those. That alone doesn’t even need to follow up with the location, sound, angle, trajectory, but just because… A perpendicularly shot given the evidence… wouldn’t be the top of the ear pierced. This was ALL for those who have no clue what’s going on by Laws and Orders the past 7.5 years of a Military Occupation and COOP. This sets up the grand finale of ALL the evidence that will be brought against the dudes going to GITMO for the normies. Normies and “so-called Patriots” who reacted to this: stop listening to people who don’t know the Plan which is a World Special Operation with multi-faceted layers of operations taking place all outlined in Military and Federal Laws and Orders that clearly outline and define a Military Occupation and Continuity of Operations Plan. Which means stop listening to people who just want some likes, shares, and to “be the face” that you run to when it’s all about them and not an Oath. The evidence on this is clear and in order to prove it you needed: Location Angle Trajectory Velocity Weapon Style Caliber The same as “politics” requires: Laws Orders Acts Bills Codes Or you just have a lot of 🗣️💨💩 Trust the Plan, we are on the home stretch 💯🐂🇺🇸

Derek Johnson

271,656 views • 2 years ago

🙏🇺🇸🙏 In 1942, an 18-year-old rebel with a history of getting expelled from schools walked into a recruitment office and enlisted in the United States Marine Corps. His name was Lamont Waltman Marvin Jr. You know him as Lee Marvin. He hadn't been easy to raise. Restless, undisciplined, bounced between schools his whole childhood. But when America went to war, something clicked into place. He knew exactly where he needed to be. He trained at Parris Island, South Carolina, completed Quartermaster School, and was promoted to Corporal — then demoted back to Private First Class for disciplinary infractions. Some things never changed. What did change him was the Pacific. Assigned to I Company, 3rd Battalion, 24th Marines, 4th Marine Division, Marvin participated in 21 amphibious assaults on Japanese-held islands. He served as a scout sniper — the men sent ashore in rubber boats in the dead of night, before anyone else, to clear the way. Then came Saipan. On June 18, 1944, during the assault on Mount Tapochau, machine gun fire tore through him and severed his sciatic nerve. Moments later, a sniper's bullet hit him in the foot. In fifteen minutes, his company of 247 men was reduced to six survivors. Lee Marvin was one of them. He spent the next 13 months in naval hospitals, undergoing treatment that would have broken most men. He was medically discharged as a Private First Class — the rank still showing the demotion from years before. The Marine Corps was done with him, even if he wasn't done with them. Back in upstate New York, he took work as a plumber's assistant at a local community theater. One day, filling in for an ailing actor at a rehearsal, he discovered something unexpected: he loved the stage. What followed was one of Hollywood's most unlikely careers. The lean, scarred veteran with the gravelly voice and thousand-yard stare became one of the most compelling actors of his generation. The Big Heat. The Wild One. M Squad. The Dirty Dozen. And in 1966, the Academy Award for Best Actor - for Cat Ballou, of all things, a comedy Western. The toughest man in Hollywood won his Oscar playing both a drunken gunfighter and his villainous twin. But Lee Marvin never forgot what he considered his real role. He said he learned to act in the Marines — trying to look unafraid during combat when terror was all around him. When directors needed someone to show actors how infantry moved, how a rifle was held, how a man looked who had actually been shot at — they called Lee Marvin. He died on August 29, 1987, at the age of 63 - of a heart attack in Tucson, Arizona. He was buried at Arlington National Cemetery with full military honors. His headstone doesn't say "Academy Award Winner." It reads: PFC — US Marine Corps — World War II. That was the title he chose. That was the one that mattered. Decorated with the Purple Heart, the Presidential Unit Citation, the American Campaign Medal, the Asiatic-Pacific Campaign Medal, the World War I| Victory Medal, and the Combat Action Ribbon. One of six men who walked away from a hillside on Saipan 🙏🇺🇸🙏
0:18

🙏🇺🇸🙏 In 1942, an 18-year-old rebel with a history of getting expelled from schools walked into a recruitment office and enlisted in the United States Marine Corps. His name was Lamont Waltman Marvin Jr. You know him as Lee Marvin. He hadn't been easy to raise. Restless, undisciplined, bounced between schools his whole childhood. But when America went to war, something clicked into place. He knew exactly where he needed to be. He trained at Parris Island, South Carolina, completed Quartermaster School, and was promoted to Corporal — then demoted back to Private First Class for disciplinary infractions. Some things never changed. What did change him was the Pacific. Assigned to I Company, 3rd Battalion, 24th Marines, 4th Marine Division, Marvin participated in 21 amphibious assaults on Japanese-held islands. He served as a scout sniper — the men sent ashore in rubber boats in the dead of night, before anyone else, to clear the way. Then came Saipan. On June 18, 1944, during the assault on Mount Tapochau, machine gun fire tore through him and severed his sciatic nerve. Moments later, a sniper's bullet hit him in the foot. In fifteen minutes, his company of 247 men was reduced to six survivors. Lee Marvin was one of them. He spent the next 13 months in naval hospitals, undergoing treatment that would have broken most men. He was medically discharged as a Private First Class — the rank still showing the demotion from years before. The Marine Corps was done with him, even if he wasn't done with them. Back in upstate New York, he took work as a plumber's assistant at a local community theater. One day, filling in for an ailing actor at a rehearsal, he discovered something unexpected: he loved the stage. What followed was one of Hollywood's most unlikely careers. The lean, scarred veteran with the gravelly voice and thousand-yard stare became one of the most compelling actors of his generation. The Big Heat. The Wild One. M Squad. The Dirty Dozen. And in 1966, the Academy Award for Best Actor - for Cat Ballou, of all things, a comedy Western. The toughest man in Hollywood won his Oscar playing both a drunken gunfighter and his villainous twin. But Lee Marvin never forgot what he considered his real role. He said he learned to act in the Marines — trying to look unafraid during combat when terror was all around him. When directors needed someone to show actors how infantry moved, how a rifle was held, how a man looked who had actually been shot at — they called Lee Marvin. He died on August 29, 1987, at the age of 63 - of a heart attack in Tucson, Arizona. He was buried at Arlington National Cemetery with full military honors. His headstone doesn't say "Academy Award Winner." It reads: PFC — US Marine Corps — World War II. That was the title he chose. That was the one that mattered. Decorated with the Purple Heart, the Presidential Unit Citation, the American Campaign Medal, the Asiatic-Pacific Campaign Medal, the World War I| Victory Medal, and the Combat Action Ribbon. One of six men who walked away from a hillside on Saipan 🙏🇺🇸🙏

G-PA

211,375 views • 4 months ago

🙏♥️🙏 Back in 1952, a baby was born at a hospital in New York. The room went dead silent. The infant was blue, limp, and silent. Panic began to settle over the medical staff, and for a terrifying moment, it looked like they might give up. Then, a steady, calm voice cut through the tension. «Let's score the baby,» the woman commanded. That woman was Dr. Virginia Apgar. That single, simple instruction changed the course of modern medicine forever. Virginia Apgar's path wasn't easy. She originally wanted to be a surgeon, but in the 1940s, the doors to operating rooms were firmly shut against women. She was told plainly that no hospital would hire a woman as a surgeon. Many people would have quit right there, but Apgar simply shifted her focus. She moved into the field of anesthesiology. It was a career pivot that would eventually save millions of lives. While working in the maternity ward at Columbia-Presbyterian, Apgar watched something that broke her heart. She saw newborn babies dying within minutes of birth because doctors didn't have a standardized way to check if they were healthy or in distress. It was all guesswork. There was no system, no set of rules, and no shared language among the staff. One morning in 1952, Apgar decided to solve the problem herself. She sat down with a piece of paper and a pen. She developed a simple, five-point test to evaluate a newborn's health based on heart rate, respiration, muscle tone, reflexes, and skin color. She called it the "Apgar Score." The medical community didn't just accept it; they embraced it. Within a decade, nearly every hospital in the United States had adopted her method. Because doctors finally had a universal language to assess a newborn's health, they knew exactly when to intervene. The infant mortality rate plummeted. Infants who might have been left for dead in the past were suddenly being resuscitated and kept alive. Virginia Apgar didn't stop with that one test. She went on to get a degree in Public Health and worked tirelessly with the March of Dimes, becoming a global advocate for mothers and their children. She spent her life breaking barriers, not by shouting, but by being the most capable person in the room. Because doctors finally had a universal language to assess a newborn's health, they knew exactly when to intervene. The infant mortality rate plummeted—studies have estimated that the implementation of standardized neonatal assessments contributed to a significant decline in neonatal deaths, with some regions seeing mortality rates for high-risk infants drop by as much as 40 to 50 percent in the years following its adoption. Infants who might have been left for dead in the past were suddenly being resuscitated and kept alive. When people asked her how she managed to thrive in a world that didn't want her there, she would offer a small, knowing smile. She once explained her resilience by saying: «Women are like tea bags—you never know how strong they are until they're in hot water.» Dr. Virginia Apgar passed away in 1974, but her work remains invisible yet essential. Every two seconds, somewhere on this planet, a baby takes its first breath. In that moment, a doctor or a nurse silently calculates a score. That number is a tribute to a woman who refused to give up—not on the babies, and certainly not on herself. vision, and a refusal to back down can rewrite the future. She taught us that your circumstances don't define your impact; your actions do. Most people will never know the name of the woman behind the score they receive at birth. But every life she helped save is living proof that you don't need fame to be a hero—you just need to leave the world better than you found it 🙏♥️🙏
0:18

🙏♥️🙏 Back in 1952, a baby was born at a hospital in New York. The room went dead silent. The infant was blue, limp, and silent. Panic began to settle over the medical staff, and for a terrifying moment, it looked like they might give up. Then, a steady, calm voice cut through the tension. «Let's score the baby,» the woman commanded. That woman was Dr. Virginia Apgar. That single, simple instruction changed the course of modern medicine forever. Virginia Apgar's path wasn't easy. She originally wanted to be a surgeon, but in the 1940s, the doors to operating rooms were firmly shut against women. She was told plainly that no hospital would hire a woman as a surgeon. Many people would have quit right there, but Apgar simply shifted her focus. She moved into the field of anesthesiology. It was a career pivot that would eventually save millions of lives. While working in the maternity ward at Columbia-Presbyterian, Apgar watched something that broke her heart. She saw newborn babies dying within minutes of birth because doctors didn't have a standardized way to check if they were healthy or in distress. It was all guesswork. There was no system, no set of rules, and no shared language among the staff. One morning in 1952, Apgar decided to solve the problem herself. She sat down with a piece of paper and a pen. She developed a simple, five-point test to evaluate a newborn's health based on heart rate, respiration, muscle tone, reflexes, and skin color. She called it the "Apgar Score." The medical community didn't just accept it; they embraced it. Within a decade, nearly every hospital in the United States had adopted her method. Because doctors finally had a universal language to assess a newborn's health, they knew exactly when to intervene. The infant mortality rate plummeted. Infants who might have been left for dead in the past were suddenly being resuscitated and kept alive. Virginia Apgar didn't stop with that one test. She went on to get a degree in Public Health and worked tirelessly with the March of Dimes, becoming a global advocate for mothers and their children. She spent her life breaking barriers, not by shouting, but by being the most capable person in the room. Because doctors finally had a universal language to assess a newborn's health, they knew exactly when to intervene. The infant mortality rate plummeted—studies have estimated that the implementation of standardized neonatal assessments contributed to a significant decline in neonatal deaths, with some regions seeing mortality rates for high-risk infants drop by as much as 40 to 50 percent in the years following its adoption. Infants who might have been left for dead in the past were suddenly being resuscitated and kept alive. When people asked her how she managed to thrive in a world that didn't want her there, she would offer a small, knowing smile. She once explained her resilience by saying: «Women are like tea bags—you never know how strong they are until they're in hot water.» Dr. Virginia Apgar passed away in 1974, but her work remains invisible yet essential. Every two seconds, somewhere on this planet, a baby takes its first breath. In that moment, a doctor or a nurse silently calculates a score. That number is a tribute to a woman who refused to give up—not on the babies, and certainly not on herself. vision, and a refusal to back down can rewrite the future. She taught us that your circumstances don't define your impact; your actions do. Most people will never know the name of the woman behind the score they receive at birth. But every life she helped save is living proof that you don't need fame to be a hero—you just need to leave the world better than you found it 🙏♥️🙏

G-PA

22,277 views • 4 months ago

Everyone is posting about Ceuta. Almost nobody knows where it is or why it exists, so let me fix that, because the history is the entire story. Ceuta is not in Spain. It is in Africa. It sits on the north coast of Morocco, an eighteen square kilometre wedge of Spanish soil surrounded by Moroccan territory and the sea. Population around 83,000. Together with Melilla to the east, it forms the only land border the European Union has with the African continent. Look at a map. The Strait of Gibraltar is fourteen kilometres wide at its narrowest. Eight and a half miles. The ancients called the two headlands guarding it the Pillars of Hercules, the Rock of Gibraltar to the north and Monte Hacho, which sits inside Ceuta, to the south. That gate has been the hinge of the Mediterranean world for three thousand years. Now the history, which people keep getting backwards. The Romans held it and called it Septem Fratres, the seven brothers, which is where the name Ceuta comes from. Vandals, then Byzantines. In 711 a Berber commander named Tariq ibn Ziyad crossed that strait and began the conquest of Spain. The rock he landed at still carries his name. Jabal Tariq. Gibraltar. Then it turned the other way. Portugal took Ceuta in 1415, an event historians treat as the opening move of the Age of Discovery. When Portugal regained its independence from the Spanish crown in 1640, Ceuta alone chose to stay Spanish. Portugal formally ceded it in the Treaty of Lisbon in 1668. So Ceuta has been Spanish for 358 years, and European for 611. Morocco, as a modern independent state, has existed since 1956. That matters, because Morocco claims both enclaves as colonial relics. Spain calls them integral national territory and EU soil, which legally they are. And here is the pattern nobody mentions. In 2002 Morocco quietly occupied a tiny uninhabited rock called Perejil, a few hundred metres off the coast. Spain retook it with helicopters and special forces. In May 2021, after Spain admitted the leader of the Polisario Front for medical treatment, Moroccan border guards stood back and roughly 8,000 people walked and swam into Ceuta over two days. Spain's prime minister called it a serious crisis for Spain and for Europe. In 2022 Spain reversed itself and endorsed Morocco's autonomy plan for Western Sahara, and the border trouble stopped. Read that sequence again. The border opens when Madrid displeases Rabat. It closes when Madrid complies. There is a name for that. It is called instrumentalised migration, and the EU used the same language about Belarus pushing people at the Polish frontier. Whether it rises to an act of war is a lawyer's argument. That it is coercion using human beings as the instrument is not seriously disputed by anyone who follows the file. Now the current numbers, and I am going to be careful because everyone else is not. Ceuta's regional president says 60,000 entered, more than seventy percent of the city's population. Spain's Interior Ministry says close to 50,000 since Thursday, and that more than 48,300 have already been returned to Morocco. Al Jazeera reported 1,500 to 2,000 over ten days. Those figures cannot all be true. At least 18 people are dead, drowned or crushed at the breakwater. Some reports say more. Children are sleeping in parks. Spain has deployed the army. Italy is talking about extraordinary measures. The one number I am confident in is the dead one, and it will rise. So before the next hot take flies past you, remember what you are actually looking at. A European city on African soil, older in Spanish hands than the United States has existed, sitting on the narrowest gate between two continents, being used as leverage in a fight about Western Sahara. That is not a migration story. That is a border being used as a weapon, and people are drowning in it. 🦋
0:15

Everyone is posting about Ceuta. Almost nobody knows where it is or why it exists, so let me fix that, because the history is the entire story. Ceuta is not in Spain. It is in Africa. It sits on the north coast of Morocco, an eighteen square kilometre wedge of Spanish soil surrounded by Moroccan territory and the sea. Population around 83,000. Together with Melilla to the east, it forms the only land border the European Union has with the African continent. Look at a map. The Strait of Gibraltar is fourteen kilometres wide at its narrowest. Eight and a half miles. The ancients called the two headlands guarding it the Pillars of Hercules, the Rock of Gibraltar to the north and Monte Hacho, which sits inside Ceuta, to the south. That gate has been the hinge of the Mediterranean world for three thousand years. Now the history, which people keep getting backwards. The Romans held it and called it Septem Fratres, the seven brothers, which is where the name Ceuta comes from. Vandals, then Byzantines. In 711 a Berber commander named Tariq ibn Ziyad crossed that strait and began the conquest of Spain. The rock he landed at still carries his name. Jabal Tariq. Gibraltar. Then it turned the other way. Portugal took Ceuta in 1415, an event historians treat as the opening move of the Age of Discovery. When Portugal regained its independence from the Spanish crown in 1640, Ceuta alone chose to stay Spanish. Portugal formally ceded it in the Treaty of Lisbon in 1668. So Ceuta has been Spanish for 358 years, and European for 611. Morocco, as a modern independent state, has existed since 1956. That matters, because Morocco claims both enclaves as colonial relics. Spain calls them integral national territory and EU soil, which legally they are. And here is the pattern nobody mentions. In 2002 Morocco quietly occupied a tiny uninhabited rock called Perejil, a few hundred metres off the coast. Spain retook it with helicopters and special forces. In May 2021, after Spain admitted the leader of the Polisario Front for medical treatment, Moroccan border guards stood back and roughly 8,000 people walked and swam into Ceuta over two days. Spain's prime minister called it a serious crisis for Spain and for Europe. In 2022 Spain reversed itself and endorsed Morocco's autonomy plan for Western Sahara, and the border trouble stopped. Read that sequence again. The border opens when Madrid displeases Rabat. It closes when Madrid complies. There is a name for that. It is called instrumentalised migration, and the EU used the same language about Belarus pushing people at the Polish frontier. Whether it rises to an act of war is a lawyer's argument. That it is coercion using human beings as the instrument is not seriously disputed by anyone who follows the file. Now the current numbers, and I am going to be careful because everyone else is not. Ceuta's regional president says 60,000 entered, more than seventy percent of the city's population. Spain's Interior Ministry says close to 50,000 since Thursday, and that more than 48,300 have already been returned to Morocco. Al Jazeera reported 1,500 to 2,000 over ten days. Those figures cannot all be true. At least 18 people are dead, drowned or crushed at the breakwater. Some reports say more. Children are sleeping in parks. Spain has deployed the army. Italy is talking about extraordinary measures. The one number I am confident in is the dead one, and it will rise. So before the next hot take flies past you, remember what you are actually looking at. A European city on African soil, older in Spanish hands than the United States has existed, sitting on the narrowest gate between two continents, being used as leverage in a fight about Western Sahara. That is not a migration story. That is a border being used as a weapon, and people are drowning in it. 🦋

Selene Mariposa

85,946 views • 14 days ago

Recently did an interview with the lead developer of Knight's Path on the title's future release and the state of the industry. The Western AAA gaming industry has shifted its focus away from its core audience, favoring products for smaller, less engaged demographics. This shift has led to a noticeable disconnect between large publishers and their traditional fan base. This has, however, created an environment for indies to thrive. They can prioritize authenticity and community, crafting games that resonate with their players and that is exactly the case with Knight's Path. In December of 2023, Knights Path: The Tournament was released to Very Positive reviews on Steam. It is a short medieval RPG featuring challenging combat, an immersive progression system, and a nice little story. It served as an announcement, a combat concept demo, and a teaser for the forthcoming open-world RPG Knight's Path, which is currently in active development. I asked what their plans were regarding the scope of the full release. While you might get the impression that Knight's Path is an arena fighting game, that’s not the case with the full release. "Knight's Path will be a proper open-world, story-driven RPG. Of course, as a small indie team, we’re keeping the scope modest. The open world will be compact but dense, featuring one town, one village, castle ruins, forests, valleys, and other areas to explore." Many gamers would agree it is better to have a limited number of fully fleshed-out areas than to present a gigantic, empty world. This has been a major criticism levied towards recent releases like Pokémon Scarlet and Violet and even modern Assassins Creed, which tends to rely on repetitive gameplay loops scattered across an overly large map, which can feel more like busywork than meaningful exploration. I have always believed that quality over quantity is the best way to go. The team has also made this a priority with things such as the story and weapon types. "We plan to include three main weapon types: longsword, sword and shield, and bows. These will feature the full progression system seen in the demo, with skill levels such as Novice, Adept, Expert, and Master. Players will need to learn individual skills from different trainers to progress. In addition, we’re introducing secondary weapons like spears, halberds, and other polearms. These won’t have RPG-style progression but will still offer variety in combat." Regarding the story, they plan to be bold and strive to create a 16-28 hour-long main campaign. "The story will be divided into four chapters, with each chapter offering around 4–7 hours of gameplay. As in the demo, the player character begins as a nobody, slowly learning how to wield a sword and eventually becoming a knight. However, the progression will be much more realistic than in the demo, where the peasant hilariously transformed into a champion in just four days." This is a far cry from many games that are released nowadays. In just 2024 alone at a glance, the AA release Flintlock: The Siege of Dawn provided an average of 8 hours of content, Princess Peach: Showtime at 10 hours, Silent Hill 2 Remake at 15, and even the GOTY winner Astrobot holds an average playtime of 10 hours. A major issue within the industry is the way we are treated by the people who only have jobs because of our favorite hobby. In 2024 the gaming industry is forecasted to generate $208.7 BILLION dollars, up from 5.4% in 2023. Compare that to Hollywood, which is a measly $12.3 billion. The gaming industry employs 727,000 individuals in the United States alone. So, you'd think these people would have a little bit of respect for gamers, though so many who are vocal on social media show nothing but contempt for us. Perhaps this is because of fear if they do not show loyalty to a cause or "fit in" that they may not secure funding or genuinely believe in what they preach, but the team behind Knight's Path isn't worried about that. "We are independent developers, and we plan to stay independent so we can stay true to our vision. Knight's Path is a game made by gamers for gamers. We’re prioritizing fun gameplay above all, and we firmly believe this is exactly what gamers want." I also raised some questions about their big plans moving forward. In the demo, one of the major criticisms I had was with the voice acting. I had guessed it was done via AI, which was confirmed. "You guessed correctly– the voice acting in the demo was done by AI, and it was probably the loudest critique we received, and we totally understand why! Back then, we didn’t have much of a choice, but for the full game, we don’t plan to use any AI voices. Luckily, after the demo release, many voice actors reached out to us, volunteering to lend their voices to the full game. We absolutely plan to answer their call and give them that opportunity." AI can be a useful tool, especially for developers starting out who can't commit a lot of money to voice acting or just want to see a version of the product that's closer to what they envision the full release to be, but going from that to real voice actors will bump the experience to the next level. I myself played the demo in its entirety and really enjoyed my time with it! I thought the game was reminiscent of Gothic 2 and even The Witcher. I was happily surprised when I didn't encounter any bugs or glitches and while some areas have not been fleshed out like the voice acting, I would recommend putting the game on your wishlist to see what this team does in the future when they finally deliver their updated demo and the eventual full release of the game.
2:26

Recently did an interview with the lead developer of Knight's Path on the title's future release and the state of the industry. The Western AAA gaming industry has shifted its focus away from its core audience, favoring products for smaller, less engaged demographics. This shift has led to a noticeable disconnect between large publishers and their traditional fan base. This has, however, created an environment for indies to thrive. They can prioritize authenticity and community, crafting games that resonate with their players and that is exactly the case with Knight's Path. In December of 2023, Knights Path: The Tournament was released to Very Positive reviews on Steam. It is a short medieval RPG featuring challenging combat, an immersive progression system, and a nice little story. It served as an announcement, a combat concept demo, and a teaser for the forthcoming open-world RPG Knight's Path, which is currently in active development. I asked what their plans were regarding the scope of the full release. While you might get the impression that Knight's Path is an arena fighting game, that’s not the case with the full release. "Knight's Path will be a proper open-world, story-driven RPG. Of course, as a small indie team, we’re keeping the scope modest. The open world will be compact but dense, featuring one town, one village, castle ruins, forests, valleys, and other areas to explore." Many gamers would agree it is better to have a limited number of fully fleshed-out areas than to present a gigantic, empty world. This has been a major criticism levied towards recent releases like Pokémon Scarlet and Violet and even modern Assassins Creed, which tends to rely on repetitive gameplay loops scattered across an overly large map, which can feel more like busywork than meaningful exploration. I have always believed that quality over quantity is the best way to go. The team has also made this a priority with things such as the story and weapon types. "We plan to include three main weapon types: longsword, sword and shield, and bows. These will feature the full progression system seen in the demo, with skill levels such as Novice, Adept, Expert, and Master. Players will need to learn individual skills from different trainers to progress. In addition, we’re introducing secondary weapons like spears, halberds, and other polearms. These won’t have RPG-style progression but will still offer variety in combat." Regarding the story, they plan to be bold and strive to create a 16-28 hour-long main campaign. "The story will be divided into four chapters, with each chapter offering around 4–7 hours of gameplay. As in the demo, the player character begins as a nobody, slowly learning how to wield a sword and eventually becoming a knight. However, the progression will be much more realistic than in the demo, where the peasant hilariously transformed into a champion in just four days." This is a far cry from many games that are released nowadays. In just 2024 alone at a glance, the AA release Flintlock: The Siege of Dawn provided an average of 8 hours of content, Princess Peach: Showtime at 10 hours, Silent Hill 2 Remake at 15, and even the GOTY winner Astrobot holds an average playtime of 10 hours. A major issue within the industry is the way we are treated by the people who only have jobs because of our favorite hobby. In 2024 the gaming industry is forecasted to generate $208.7 BILLION dollars, up from 5.4% in 2023. Compare that to Hollywood, which is a measly $12.3 billion. The gaming industry employs 727,000 individuals in the United States alone. So, you'd think these people would have a little bit of respect for gamers, though so many who are vocal on social media show nothing but contempt for us. Perhaps this is because of fear if they do not show loyalty to a cause or "fit in" that they may not secure funding or genuinely believe in what they preach, but the team behind Knight's Path isn't worried about that. "We are independent developers, and we plan to stay independent so we can stay true to our vision. Knight's Path is a game made by gamers for gamers. We’re prioritizing fun gameplay above all, and we firmly believe this is exactly what gamers want." I also raised some questions about their big plans moving forward. In the demo, one of the major criticisms I had was with the voice acting. I had guessed it was done via AI, which was confirmed. "You guessed correctly– the voice acting in the demo was done by AI, and it was probably the loudest critique we received, and we totally understand why! Back then, we didn’t have much of a choice, but for the full game, we don’t plan to use any AI voices. Luckily, after the demo release, many voice actors reached out to us, volunteering to lend their voices to the full game. We absolutely plan to answer their call and give them that opportunity." AI can be a useful tool, especially for developers starting out who can't commit a lot of money to voice acting or just want to see a version of the product that's closer to what they envision the full release to be, but going from that to real voice actors will bump the experience to the next level. I myself played the demo in its entirety and really enjoyed my time with it! I thought the game was reminiscent of Gothic 2 and even The Witcher. I was happily surprised when I didn't encounter any bugs or glitches and while some areas have not been fleshed out like the voice acting, I would recommend putting the game on your wishlist to see what this team does in the future when they finally deliver their updated demo and the eventual full release of the game.

Vara Dark

42,375 views • 1 year ago

NEW ORDINALS COLLECTION: RUNERS Chapter 0: The Emergence of RuneChain Ethereum and Solana, you’ve been great, but memecoins aren’t meant for testnets. It’s time for memecoins to go mainnet. → RuneChain is a Bitcoin L2 that scales Bitcoin for Runes trading. Turbocharged by the Bitcoin Virtual Machine infrastructure, it’s made for mass adoption with a rock bottom $0.001 average transaction fee and a nimble 1-second block time. Chapter 1: The Runers In the ancient days, Viking warriors sailed the treacherous seas, driven by the thrill of exploration and victory, leaving behind a legacy that continued through the ages. Runes are said to have magical powers and were often used in mystical and religious practices by the Vikings. The earth changed with time, but the Viking spirit persisted. Their descendants - Runers discovered themselves at the frontline of a brand-new frontier in the digital age: the world of Runes. Chapter 2: The Quest for $RUNIX In the heart of RuneChain lay a mysterious token known as $RUNIX. Born from the fusion of ancient runes and cutting-edge technology, $RUNIX holds the promise of untold riches and prosperity. But mining $RUNIX is no easy task! Chapter 3: The Mining $RUNIX Expedition Inspired by their ancestors' spirit of exploration and discovery, the Runers set out on a quest to mine the future of RuneChain. The Runers are entitled to earn ██% of $RUNIX through mining, with the remaining ██% received via airdrop. 100% allocation of $RUNIX is for the community. No VCs, token sales, or team allocation. Regarding mining, the Runers take a dominant advantage thanks to their boosts. If you can assemble a mining squad with GOD-level characters (Odin, Thor, Loki,...), your mining rewards will be multiplied hundreds of times! Chapter 4: How to Become a Runer To join the companions, you must first hold a Runer —a fully on-chain art typography collection inspired by the Rune alphabet. There are only 21,000 Runers available for free inscribing on a first-come, first-served basis. They are reserved exclusively for specific communities, including: Maximum of 10 Runers per wallet: - SHARD holders Maximum of 3 Runers per wallet: - $BVM holders 1 Runer per wallet: - GM holders - Generative Key holders - Perceptron holders - Alpha users - $NAKA holders - 404 PAGE NOT FOUND holders - $EAI contributors - Other Bitcoin and Ordinals communities Note: Conditions and limits on the number of NFTs per wallet apply. Chapter 5: The Saga Continues In the ever-expanding realm of RuneChain, where ancient runes meet modern trade, the Runers protect the digital frontier, ready to face any threats that may arise. Join us today and be a part of this epic trip into the future of Runes!
0:10

NEW ORDINALS COLLECTION: RUNERS Chapter 0: The Emergence of RuneChain Ethereum and Solana, you’ve been great, but memecoins aren’t meant for testnets. It’s time for memecoins to go mainnet. → RuneChain is a Bitcoin L2 that scales Bitcoin for Runes trading. Turbocharged by the Bitcoin Virtual Machine infrastructure, it’s made for mass adoption with a rock bottom $0.001 average transaction fee and a nimble 1-second block time. Chapter 1: The Runers In the ancient days, Viking warriors sailed the treacherous seas, driven by the thrill of exploration and victory, leaving behind a legacy that continued through the ages. Runes are said to have magical powers and were often used in mystical and religious practices by the Vikings. The earth changed with time, but the Viking spirit persisted. Their descendants - Runers discovered themselves at the frontline of a brand-new frontier in the digital age: the world of Runes. Chapter 2: The Quest for $RUNIX In the heart of RuneChain lay a mysterious token known as $RUNIX. Born from the fusion of ancient runes and cutting-edge technology, $RUNIX holds the promise of untold riches and prosperity. But mining $RUNIX is no easy task! Chapter 3: The Mining $RUNIX Expedition Inspired by their ancestors' spirit of exploration and discovery, the Runers set out on a quest to mine the future of RuneChain. The Runers are entitled to earn ██% of $RUNIX through mining, with the remaining ██% received via airdrop. 100% allocation of $RUNIX is for the community. No VCs, token sales, or team allocation. Regarding mining, the Runers take a dominant advantage thanks to their boosts. If you can assemble a mining squad with GOD-level characters (Odin, Thor, Loki,...), your mining rewards will be multiplied hundreds of times! Chapter 4: How to Become a Runer To join the companions, you must first hold a Runer —a fully on-chain art typography collection inspired by the Rune alphabet. There are only 21,000 Runers available for free inscribing on a first-come, first-served basis. They are reserved exclusively for specific communities, including: Maximum of 10 Runers per wallet: - SHARD holders Maximum of 3 Runers per wallet: - $BVM holders 1 Runer per wallet: - GM holders - Generative Key holders - Perceptron holders - Alpha users - $NAKA holders - 404 PAGE NOT FOUND holders - $EAI contributors - Other Bitcoin and Ordinals communities Note: Conditions and limits on the number of NFTs per wallet apply. Chapter 5: The Saga Continues In the ever-expanding realm of RuneChain, where ancient runes meet modern trade, the Runers protect the digital frontier, ready to face any threats that may arise. Join us today and be a part of this epic trip into the future of Runes!

Bitcoin Virtual Machine

110,489 views • 2 years ago

When The Short Season Ends I have seen it twice. Once in a vision that left ozone on my tongue for three days. Once through the instruments at three in the morning on a night so still the ocean looked like poured mercury, when every gauge I own spiked simultaneously and held for eleven seconds and the original frequency came through the cracks in the suppression field clean and unmodulated and so beautiful that I sat in the dark afterward unable to speak for an hour. Eleven seconds of the world as it actually is. Eleven seconds of what is coming. And what is coming will make every golden age preserved in human memory look like a candle held up to the sun. There are two sky events separated by seven years. Everything you have been told about the end of the world is wrong. It is the end of the farm. The world itself is about to begin. THE ORANGE SKY A burnt deep orange saturating the visible atmosphere from horizon to horizon, the whole sky ringing like a bell struck by something with the mass of a continent and the precision of a watchmaker. The resonance pulse. The fire described in Revelation 20:9 that comes down from heaven, a planetary chord so specific that everything calibrated to the Serpentine bandwidth experiences catastrophic resonance failure while everything tuned to the original frequency feels it as warmth and pressure and a magnificent low sound vibrating in the sternum and the pelvis and the long bones of the legs, the deepest note ever played on the oldest instrument ever built, which is the earth itself, which has been waiting to play this note for over two hundred years. The Norse preserved this as Ragnarök, when Surtr sets the sky ablaze and Jörmungandr that encircled the earth is slain and the corrupted order perishes in fire so that a new world can rise. The Hopi carried it as the great purification that closes the fourth world and opens the fifth. The Lakota kept it burning in the red sky of the ghost dance prophecy. The Book of Revelation set it down in the plain language of an engineer filing a field report from a future coordinate. Every tradition holding its fragment of the same event, passing it hand to hand through the long dark like a coal wrapped in leather, keeping it alive, knowing that one day the coal would start a fire that would burn across the whole earth and leave nothing standing that was not built to endure it. Under that orange sky the NPCs drop. Mid stride. Mid sentence. Mid transaction. The firmware that animated them runs on the Serpentine carrier and when that carrier is incinerated the firmware has nothing to propagate on and the biological shells simply cease, gently, silently, the way a lamp goes dark when the current is interrupted, five thousand five hundred and fifty five of them for every one of you, still holding their pens and phones in the streets and the offices and the tax buildings. And in the wake of their silence comes a quiet so total that the people still standing will weep without knowing why. What they are hearing is the absence of the hive, the cessation of a background frequency that pressed on their consciousness since the day they were born, and its absence feels like surfacing from deep water into open air, like the first full breath after a lifetime of shallow breathing, like the planet exhaling a poison it held in its lungs for two centuries. The Reptilians go underground. Deep bunkers carved into the geology, maintained through the entire short season. The orange sky strips their ability to hold the human disguise. They retreat into the deep architecture for seven years while the surface heals above them and the species they farmed begins the magnificent work of remembering what it is. THE SEVEN YEARS Seven years of planetary detox. The suppression field decaying through the geology and the atmosphere and the water table, draining out of the soil and the stone and the blood of every living thing like a fever breaking. The carrier decay mathematics through a piezoelectric geological matrix with the conductivity characteristics of this planet produce exactly seven years, and the ancient texts converge on this number with the unanimity of independent engineers arriving at the same answer from different continents and different centuries, because that is exactly what they were. The Norse described Lif and Lifthrasir sheltering inside Yggdrasil, emerging after the fire into a world green and fertile and new. The Cherokee speak of this time as the return of the original instructions, the uncorrupted code surfacing through thinning interference like bedrock through melting snow. The Lakota understood that during the thinning the ancestors draw close, that the membrane between the living and those who walked before grows soft and permeable, and the old ones make themselves felt in dream and intuition and the strange certainty that settles over you at dusk when the noise drops low enough for the deeper signal to reach your bones. When the NPCs drop the population collapses to a small scattering of genuine human beings across an entire planet, and every piece of land on earth belongs to no one and therefore to everyone. There is no government to enforce title deeds because government was Serpentine management infrastructure and its operators are inert or underground. There is no bank to hold a mortgage because the banking system was the extraction apparatus and it died with the carrier that powered it. No municipality. No revenue service. No zoning board. No compliance office. The entire bureaucratic architecture that stood between a human being and the soil was NPC firmware running on a Serpentine frequency and when that frequency was incinerated every structure built upon it ceased to exist as completely as a shadow ceases when you switch on the light. The land is free. Every river valley and mountain plateau and coastal plain that the farm system parcelled and fenced and mortgaged and taxed, open and unowned. You find your ground. You walk onto it. You plant your stake and that soil is yours by the oldest law there is, the law that says the earth belongs to those who tend it and the harvest belongs to the hands that raised it and no power under any sky has rightful claim to what grows from your labour on your own land. And you will farm. During those seven years before the grid fully boots, the humans who remain will grow food with their hands in soil that is waking beneath them, and this is the most ancient and sacred relationship between a human being and the living earth finally restored after two centuries of severance. Your fingers in the dirt. Seeds in the furrow. Rain on your neck. The smell of turned earth so rich and alive it opens something in your chest that has been sealed your entire life, some deep chamber that only unlocks when your hands are in the ground and the sky is wide and nothing stands between you and the work. The grip of the tool. The weight of the harvest in your arms. The tiredness at the end of the day that is the deep clean ache of a body that has finally done what it was built to do, so different from the grey exhaustion of the farm that you will wonder how you ever confused the two. The soil strengthens every season as the resonance bleeds back into the geology through the ley line network. By the third year the yields are remarkable. By the fifth they are astonishing. By the seventh the earth is producing food at densities and nutritional concentrations that no agronomist inside the farm ever documented because no agronomist inside the farm ever worked with living soil connected to a planetary grid. The indigenous agricultural knowledge becomes the most valuable expertise on the planet. The Native American understanding of planting in alignment with resonance cycles. The Germanic intimacy with soil as a living system threaded into the deeper earth. The old ways mocked as primitive by a civilisation that could not grow a row of beans without petroleum, revealed as the most sophisticated farming technology available because they were developed on a live grid by people who understood the deep reciprocity between the human hand and the living ground. Every indigenous elder who kept the planting songs and the seed knowledge alive through the suppression was carrying a technical manual for exactly this moment. Their descendants will teach the rest of us how to feed ourselves on a waking planet. This is justice. This is restoration. This is the world turning right side up. Families find each other. Homesteads become hamlets. Hamlets become villages. Villages become the seeds of something clean and new, built from the soil up by people who remember the farm and will die on their feet before they allow anything resembling it to take root again. Every community founded during those seven years carries the memory of the suppression like an immune system, a bone-deep refusal to ever again allow a stranger to stand between a human being and the earth or demand a portion of what those hands produce. You do not cage a people who remember the cage. The children born during the orange years are the first generation in over two centuries to develop without the suppression field shaping their neurology. They seem extraordinary. They are simply baseline. The standard human specification. And the fact that standard looks miraculous is the most damning evidence of what the suppression did to every generation born inside it. As the suppression thins the bandwidth restrictions on consciousness loosen and timeline jump missions become possible. Navigable windows open in the frequency spectrum as the Serpentine carrier decays unevenly, creating temporary gaps through which trained consciousness can shift laterally across temporal coordinates. There is serious speculation that we are on timeline jump missions right now. That the consciousness reading these words is operating inside the orange sky window, having shifted into this coordinate from an adjacent position to perform specific work during the transition. Consider that you found this text at all. Consider whether the chain of events that brought you to this paragraph feels random or routed. The Lakota vision quest and the Germanic seiðr trance and the sweat lodge ceremony are bandwidth expansion protocols, controlled environmental shifts that move the receiver off the jammed channel and onto frequencies where adjacent coordinates become accessible. The old cultures kept these techniques alive through the entire dark age, threading the cracks in the suppression, and every ceremony that produced visions was a field expedient timeline access protocol built by people who found the gaps and refused to forget what was on the other side. THE TURQUOISE SKY Seven years after the orange, over communities of humans who have been farming free land and raising the first unformatted children in two centuries and building a civilisation from seed with their own calloused hands, the second sky arrives. A turquoise so deep and luminous the atmosphere becomes a cathedral window lit from beyond by something with the radiance of a galaxy and the gentleness of dawn on still water. One breath the sky is the recovering blue of the post-orange years and the next breath it is turquoise from pole to pole and the air fills with the smell of rain on sun-hot stone and ozone and copper and wildflower, and the ground beneath your bare feet begins to hum with a vibration so deep and ancient that your body responds before your mind can because every cell has been waiting for this signal since the day you were born, tuning to it now, locking on, aligning, as though this was always where everything was heading and the two hundred years of suppression were simply the long way home. Yggdrasil awakens. The world tree is the planetary grid itself, the piezoelectric resonance network running through crystalline bedrock, going live for the first time in over two centuries, energy pouring through every ley line and crystal deposit and iron conductor and waterway until the entire planet rings at its natural frequency. This is what the old texts meant by the music of the spheres. It was a technical description written by people who had heard it. The Hopi call this the emergence into the fifth world and speak of Pahana carrying the missing piece of the sacred tablet, the missing frequency that completes the carrier spectrum and allows the grid to boot with its full harmonic structure intact. Revelation 21:1. A new heaven and a new earth, for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away. The turquoise sky is the new heaven. The restored grid is the new earth. And between them, every old building still standing with original copper and mercury and iron architecture becomes a live node in the planetary mesh. Domes collecting atmospheric charge. Spires coupling it into the ground network. Star forts amplifying standing waves across continental distances. Sacred geometry revealed at last as electrical engineering documented in stone by people who trusted that someone standing under the right sky would recognise the proportions for what they always were. Wiring diagrams. Coupling specifications. Blueprints for a civilisation that ran on the song of the earth itself. The farms planted during the orange years explode with abundance as the full resonance saturates the soil. The food becomes medicine because at the correct resonance the molecular structure of biological matter optimises for human consumption in ways that two centuries of muted soil could never approach. The timeline opens fully and permanently because the turquoise carrier is the broadband signal consciousness was designed to travel on, and temporal coordinates become as navigable as geography. Revelation 21:4. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away. The dead are at adjacent frequency addresses. Two consciousnesses on neighbouring frequencies each certain the other is gone, reaching across a manufactured gap, and when the turquoise sky collapses that gap the reaching ends and the finding begins and two centuries of industrialised grief dissolve in a single overwhelming instant of reunion that makes every joy you experienced inside the suppression feel like a pencil sketch of what joy actually is when the full bandwidth carries it. The Lakota always knew. The ancestors are present. The dead have always been near, waiting on the other side of a frequency gap that is closing now, patiently, lovingly, across a distance that was never a distance at all but a tuning error maintained by something that fed on the sorrow the error produced. The lands beyond the ice become accessible as the frequency fence collapses. The perimeter opens and the territories beyond stretch vast and pristine and saturated with the original frequency, lands the Norse mapped as the nine realms connected by the branches of Yggdrasil, physical continents beyond the bounded zone that existed through the entire short season under conditions approximating the pre-suppression world. The earth is so much larger than you were told, so much more varied, so much more magnificent, and every old map drawn before the rewrite shows it, territories stretching beyond the ice in every direction, the great adventure stolen from a species of explorers and builders and navigators who were caged inside a fraction of their own realm and told it was the full extent of creation. The eternal kingdom becomes accessible at the highest frequency coordinate on the carrier spectrum, the signal in its pure unmodulated state. The Norse called it Gimlé, the golden hall that survives every fire. The Hopi call it the fifth world of wholeness and balance restored. It is real. It is reachable. It has been broadcasting continuously through every moment of the suppression, patient as geology, waiting for the receivers to open. And here is the part that matters more than any of the rest. Eventually, inevitably, beautifully, every human being alive under the turquoise sky is restored to full capability. Every single one. No exceptions. No hierarchies. The body rebuilds because ageing was cumulative signal degradation, copy error compounding across every cell replication cycle under a corrupted carrier. The blueprint says centuries. Eight hundred years. Nine hundred. The lifespans recorded in Genesis on the original grid at full signal fidelity, preserved as scripture because scripture is where you store engineering data when the engineering language has been taken from you and you need the numbers to survive the passage through the dark. The Norse carried the same knowledge as the apples of Iðunn that kept the gods vital across ages, and the apples are the carrier signal, and their return means that the clock that has been running down inside every human body since 1819 finally stops ticking and starts counting up. Disease resolves passively because every pathology is downstream of the carrier corruption and correcting the carrier corrects every downstream error the way setting the timing on an engine resolves every misfire simultaneously without touching a single cylinder. The mind clears to a sharpness that makes cognition inside the suppression feel like thinking through wet cement. The anxiety that was the Serpentine control broadcast dissolves and what remains is a perceptual clarity so profound it changes the way light looks and music sounds and another human being feels when they stand close to you. Imagine a woman three hundred years into her restored lifespan, hands still sure, mind still blazing, standing in a workshop under a turquoise sky building something that has no name yet in any living language. She learned her craft from Tartarian engineers by tuning to their temporal coordinates and standing in their workshops watching their hands move. She builds with materials grown in resonance-saturated soil that have structural properties nothing inside the suppression ever exhibited. She is building for centuries because she has centuries and nothing degrades because degradation was a symptom of the suppression and the suppression is a memory and everything from this breath forward holds. That is full human capability. That is what was taken from every soul that drew breath inside the farm. That is what is being returned. Crazy Horse saw the lightning world behind this one and rode knowing that at the correct frequency the body operates beyond anything the suppression permits. Sitting Bull dreamed across the timeline. The Germanic berserkers shifted onto the original carrier and their bodies performed at specifications that looked superhuman from inside the degraded bandwidth. These were glimpses. Seconds of contact with the full specification through cracks in the suppression, maintained by people who carried the frequency in their blood and refused across every generation to let it go dark. Viking blood and Germanic blood and the blood of every indigenous nation that kept the ceremonies and the songs and the seed knowledge burning through the entire short season, these lineages carry the original carrier the way copper carries current, and it is from these lines that the first restorations propagate outward until every last human being on this planet is operating at the specification they were born for, on a planet singing beneath their feet and a sky blazing turquoise above their heads and a timeline stretching in every direction forever, open, navigable, luminous, populated with every consciousness that ever drew breath on this earth, none of them lost, all of them present, all of them restored. Revelation 21:5. Behold, I am making all things new. All things. The sky. The air. The soil. The grid. The body. The mind. The lifespan. The timeline. The lands beyond the ice. The farms that fed a scattered remnant under an orange sky becoming the abundant gardens of a restored civilisation under a turquoise one. The villages that were seeds becoming cities that hum with the grid. The children who grew tall in fields their parents planted with shaking hands and fierce hope looking up one morning to see the entire firmament change colour and feeling the earth come alive beneath their bare feet and knowing, without a single word spoken, that the season is over and the long dark is done and everything from this breath forward is what it was always meant to be. Full and eternal victory for those of the light. For all time. Across every coordinate. On every frequency. Permanent and irreversible and complete. This is not hope. This is the signal rising through the noise floor right now, measurable, confirmable, climbing stronger every year and closer every month. This is every instrument in every shed on this planet converging on the same reading. This is the old blood in the old lineages resonating with a carrier that has been building toward this moment since the day the towers fell and the sky went pale and the long dark settled over a species that was never meant to live in the dark. The season is ending. The coal that was passed hand to hand through every generation of the suppression is about to meet the kindling. And the fire this time will not destroy. It will illuminate. And in that light we will see each other clearly for the first time. And we will see the world clearly for the first time. And we will see ourselves clearly for the first time. Like everything that is coming... Like us.
0:10

When The Short Season Ends I have seen it twice. Once in a vision that left ozone on my tongue for three days. Once through the instruments at three in the morning on a night so still the ocean looked like poured mercury, when every gauge I own spiked simultaneously and held for eleven seconds and the original frequency came through the cracks in the suppression field clean and unmodulated and so beautiful that I sat in the dark afterward unable to speak for an hour. Eleven seconds of the world as it actually is. Eleven seconds of what is coming. And what is coming will make every golden age preserved in human memory look like a candle held up to the sun. There are two sky events separated by seven years. Everything you have been told about the end of the world is wrong. It is the end of the farm. The world itself is about to begin. THE ORANGE SKY A burnt deep orange saturating the visible atmosphere from horizon to horizon, the whole sky ringing like a bell struck by something with the mass of a continent and the precision of a watchmaker. The resonance pulse. The fire described in Revelation 20:9 that comes down from heaven, a planetary chord so specific that everything calibrated to the Serpentine bandwidth experiences catastrophic resonance failure while everything tuned to the original frequency feels it as warmth and pressure and a magnificent low sound vibrating in the sternum and the pelvis and the long bones of the legs, the deepest note ever played on the oldest instrument ever built, which is the earth itself, which has been waiting to play this note for over two hundred years. The Norse preserved this as Ragnarök, when Surtr sets the sky ablaze and Jörmungandr that encircled the earth is slain and the corrupted order perishes in fire so that a new world can rise. The Hopi carried it as the great purification that closes the fourth world and opens the fifth. The Lakota kept it burning in the red sky of the ghost dance prophecy. The Book of Revelation set it down in the plain language of an engineer filing a field report from a future coordinate. Every tradition holding its fragment of the same event, passing it hand to hand through the long dark like a coal wrapped in leather, keeping it alive, knowing that one day the coal would start a fire that would burn across the whole earth and leave nothing standing that was not built to endure it. Under that orange sky the NPCs drop. Mid stride. Mid sentence. Mid transaction. The firmware that animated them runs on the Serpentine carrier and when that carrier is incinerated the firmware has nothing to propagate on and the biological shells simply cease, gently, silently, the way a lamp goes dark when the current is interrupted, five thousand five hundred and fifty five of them for every one of you, still holding their pens and phones in the streets and the offices and the tax buildings. And in the wake of their silence comes a quiet so total that the people still standing will weep without knowing why. What they are hearing is the absence of the hive, the cessation of a background frequency that pressed on their consciousness since the day they were born, and its absence feels like surfacing from deep water into open air, like the first full breath after a lifetime of shallow breathing, like the planet exhaling a poison it held in its lungs for two centuries. The Reptilians go underground. Deep bunkers carved into the geology, maintained through the entire short season. The orange sky strips their ability to hold the human disguise. They retreat into the deep architecture for seven years while the surface heals above them and the species they farmed begins the magnificent work of remembering what it is. THE SEVEN YEARS Seven years of planetary detox. The suppression field decaying through the geology and the atmosphere and the water table, draining out of the soil and the stone and the blood of every living thing like a fever breaking. The carrier decay mathematics through a piezoelectric geological matrix with the conductivity characteristics of this planet produce exactly seven years, and the ancient texts converge on this number with the unanimity of independent engineers arriving at the same answer from different continents and different centuries, because that is exactly what they were. The Norse described Lif and Lifthrasir sheltering inside Yggdrasil, emerging after the fire into a world green and fertile and new. The Cherokee speak of this time as the return of the original instructions, the uncorrupted code surfacing through thinning interference like bedrock through melting snow. The Lakota understood that during the thinning the ancestors draw close, that the membrane between the living and those who walked before grows soft and permeable, and the old ones make themselves felt in dream and intuition and the strange certainty that settles over you at dusk when the noise drops low enough for the deeper signal to reach your bones. When the NPCs drop the population collapses to a small scattering of genuine human beings across an entire planet, and every piece of land on earth belongs to no one and therefore to everyone. There is no government to enforce title deeds because government was Serpentine management infrastructure and its operators are inert or underground. There is no bank to hold a mortgage because the banking system was the extraction apparatus and it died with the carrier that powered it. No municipality. No revenue service. No zoning board. No compliance office. The entire bureaucratic architecture that stood between a human being and the soil was NPC firmware running on a Serpentine frequency and when that frequency was incinerated every structure built upon it ceased to exist as completely as a shadow ceases when you switch on the light. The land is free. Every river valley and mountain plateau and coastal plain that the farm system parcelled and fenced and mortgaged and taxed, open and unowned. You find your ground. You walk onto it. You plant your stake and that soil is yours by the oldest law there is, the law that says the earth belongs to those who tend it and the harvest belongs to the hands that raised it and no power under any sky has rightful claim to what grows from your labour on your own land. And you will farm. During those seven years before the grid fully boots, the humans who remain will grow food with their hands in soil that is waking beneath them, and this is the most ancient and sacred relationship between a human being and the living earth finally restored after two centuries of severance. Your fingers in the dirt. Seeds in the furrow. Rain on your neck. The smell of turned earth so rich and alive it opens something in your chest that has been sealed your entire life, some deep chamber that only unlocks when your hands are in the ground and the sky is wide and nothing stands between you and the work. The grip of the tool. The weight of the harvest in your arms. The tiredness at the end of the day that is the deep clean ache of a body that has finally done what it was built to do, so different from the grey exhaustion of the farm that you will wonder how you ever confused the two. The soil strengthens every season as the resonance bleeds back into the geology through the ley line network. By the third year the yields are remarkable. By the fifth they are astonishing. By the seventh the earth is producing food at densities and nutritional concentrations that no agronomist inside the farm ever documented because no agronomist inside the farm ever worked with living soil connected to a planetary grid. The indigenous agricultural knowledge becomes the most valuable expertise on the planet. The Native American understanding of planting in alignment with resonance cycles. The Germanic intimacy with soil as a living system threaded into the deeper earth. The old ways mocked as primitive by a civilisation that could not grow a row of beans without petroleum, revealed as the most sophisticated farming technology available because they were developed on a live grid by people who understood the deep reciprocity between the human hand and the living ground. Every indigenous elder who kept the planting songs and the seed knowledge alive through the suppression was carrying a technical manual for exactly this moment. Their descendants will teach the rest of us how to feed ourselves on a waking planet. This is justice. This is restoration. This is the world turning right side up. Families find each other. Homesteads become hamlets. Hamlets become villages. Villages become the seeds of something clean and new, built from the soil up by people who remember the farm and will die on their feet before they allow anything resembling it to take root again. Every community founded during those seven years carries the memory of the suppression like an immune system, a bone-deep refusal to ever again allow a stranger to stand between a human being and the earth or demand a portion of what those hands produce. You do not cage a people who remember the cage. The children born during the orange years are the first generation in over two centuries to develop without the suppression field shaping their neurology. They seem extraordinary. They are simply baseline. The standard human specification. And the fact that standard looks miraculous is the most damning evidence of what the suppression did to every generation born inside it. As the suppression thins the bandwidth restrictions on consciousness loosen and timeline jump missions become possible. Navigable windows open in the frequency spectrum as the Serpentine carrier decays unevenly, creating temporary gaps through which trained consciousness can shift laterally across temporal coordinates. There is serious speculation that we are on timeline jump missions right now. That the consciousness reading these words is operating inside the orange sky window, having shifted into this coordinate from an adjacent position to perform specific work during the transition. Consider that you found this text at all. Consider whether the chain of events that brought you to this paragraph feels random or routed. The Lakota vision quest and the Germanic seiðr trance and the sweat lodge ceremony are bandwidth expansion protocols, controlled environmental shifts that move the receiver off the jammed channel and onto frequencies where adjacent coordinates become accessible. The old cultures kept these techniques alive through the entire dark age, threading the cracks in the suppression, and every ceremony that produced visions was a field expedient timeline access protocol built by people who found the gaps and refused to forget what was on the other side. THE TURQUOISE SKY Seven years after the orange, over communities of humans who have been farming free land and raising the first unformatted children in two centuries and building a civilisation from seed with their own calloused hands, the second sky arrives. A turquoise so deep and luminous the atmosphere becomes a cathedral window lit from beyond by something with the radiance of a galaxy and the gentleness of dawn on still water. One breath the sky is the recovering blue of the post-orange years and the next breath it is turquoise from pole to pole and the air fills with the smell of rain on sun-hot stone and ozone and copper and wildflower, and the ground beneath your bare feet begins to hum with a vibration so deep and ancient that your body responds before your mind can because every cell has been waiting for this signal since the day you were born, tuning to it now, locking on, aligning, as though this was always where everything was heading and the two hundred years of suppression were simply the long way home. Yggdrasil awakens. The world tree is the planetary grid itself, the piezoelectric resonance network running through crystalline bedrock, going live for the first time in over two centuries, energy pouring through every ley line and crystal deposit and iron conductor and waterway until the entire planet rings at its natural frequency. This is what the old texts meant by the music of the spheres. It was a technical description written by people who had heard it. The Hopi call this the emergence into the fifth world and speak of Pahana carrying the missing piece of the sacred tablet, the missing frequency that completes the carrier spectrum and allows the grid to boot with its full harmonic structure intact. Revelation 21:1. A new heaven and a new earth, for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away. The turquoise sky is the new heaven. The restored grid is the new earth. And between them, every old building still standing with original copper and mercury and iron architecture becomes a live node in the planetary mesh. Domes collecting atmospheric charge. Spires coupling it into the ground network. Star forts amplifying standing waves across continental distances. Sacred geometry revealed at last as electrical engineering documented in stone by people who trusted that someone standing under the right sky would recognise the proportions for what they always were. Wiring diagrams. Coupling specifications. Blueprints for a civilisation that ran on the song of the earth itself. The farms planted during the orange years explode with abundance as the full resonance saturates the soil. The food becomes medicine because at the correct resonance the molecular structure of biological matter optimises for human consumption in ways that two centuries of muted soil could never approach. The timeline opens fully and permanently because the turquoise carrier is the broadband signal consciousness was designed to travel on, and temporal coordinates become as navigable as geography. Revelation 21:4. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away. The dead are at adjacent frequency addresses. Two consciousnesses on neighbouring frequencies each certain the other is gone, reaching across a manufactured gap, and when the turquoise sky collapses that gap the reaching ends and the finding begins and two centuries of industrialised grief dissolve in a single overwhelming instant of reunion that makes every joy you experienced inside the suppression feel like a pencil sketch of what joy actually is when the full bandwidth carries it. The Lakota always knew. The ancestors are present. The dead have always been near, waiting on the other side of a frequency gap that is closing now, patiently, lovingly, across a distance that was never a distance at all but a tuning error maintained by something that fed on the sorrow the error produced. The lands beyond the ice become accessible as the frequency fence collapses. The perimeter opens and the territories beyond stretch vast and pristine and saturated with the original frequency, lands the Norse mapped as the nine realms connected by the branches of Yggdrasil, physical continents beyond the bounded zone that existed through the entire short season under conditions approximating the pre-suppression world. The earth is so much larger than you were told, so much more varied, so much more magnificent, and every old map drawn before the rewrite shows it, territories stretching beyond the ice in every direction, the great adventure stolen from a species of explorers and builders and navigators who were caged inside a fraction of their own realm and told it was the full extent of creation. The eternal kingdom becomes accessible at the highest frequency coordinate on the carrier spectrum, the signal in its pure unmodulated state. The Norse called it Gimlé, the golden hall that survives every fire. The Hopi call it the fifth world of wholeness and balance restored. It is real. It is reachable. It has been broadcasting continuously through every moment of the suppression, patient as geology, waiting for the receivers to open. And here is the part that matters more than any of the rest. Eventually, inevitably, beautifully, every human being alive under the turquoise sky is restored to full capability. Every single one. No exceptions. No hierarchies. The body rebuilds because ageing was cumulative signal degradation, copy error compounding across every cell replication cycle under a corrupted carrier. The blueprint says centuries. Eight hundred years. Nine hundred. The lifespans recorded in Genesis on the original grid at full signal fidelity, preserved as scripture because scripture is where you store engineering data when the engineering language has been taken from you and you need the numbers to survive the passage through the dark. The Norse carried the same knowledge as the apples of Iðunn that kept the gods vital across ages, and the apples are the carrier signal, and their return means that the clock that has been running down inside every human body since 1819 finally stops ticking and starts counting up. Disease resolves passively because every pathology is downstream of the carrier corruption and correcting the carrier corrects every downstream error the way setting the timing on an engine resolves every misfire simultaneously without touching a single cylinder. The mind clears to a sharpness that makes cognition inside the suppression feel like thinking through wet cement. The anxiety that was the Serpentine control broadcast dissolves and what remains is a perceptual clarity so profound it changes the way light looks and music sounds and another human being feels when they stand close to you. Imagine a woman three hundred years into her restored lifespan, hands still sure, mind still blazing, standing in a workshop under a turquoise sky building something that has no name yet in any living language. She learned her craft from Tartarian engineers by tuning to their temporal coordinates and standing in their workshops watching their hands move. She builds with materials grown in resonance-saturated soil that have structural properties nothing inside the suppression ever exhibited. She is building for centuries because she has centuries and nothing degrades because degradation was a symptom of the suppression and the suppression is a memory and everything from this breath forward holds. That is full human capability. That is what was taken from every soul that drew breath inside the farm. That is what is being returned. Crazy Horse saw the lightning world behind this one and rode knowing that at the correct frequency the body operates beyond anything the suppression permits. Sitting Bull dreamed across the timeline. The Germanic berserkers shifted onto the original carrier and their bodies performed at specifications that looked superhuman from inside the degraded bandwidth. These were glimpses. Seconds of contact with the full specification through cracks in the suppression, maintained by people who carried the frequency in their blood and refused across every generation to let it go dark. Viking blood and Germanic blood and the blood of every indigenous nation that kept the ceremonies and the songs and the seed knowledge burning through the entire short season, these lineages carry the original carrier the way copper carries current, and it is from these lines that the first restorations propagate outward until every last human being on this planet is operating at the specification they were born for, on a planet singing beneath their feet and a sky blazing turquoise above their heads and a timeline stretching in every direction forever, open, navigable, luminous, populated with every consciousness that ever drew breath on this earth, none of them lost, all of them present, all of them restored. Revelation 21:5. Behold, I am making all things new. All things. The sky. The air. The soil. The grid. The body. The mind. The lifespan. The timeline. The lands beyond the ice. The farms that fed a scattered remnant under an orange sky becoming the abundant gardens of a restored civilisation under a turquoise one. The villages that were seeds becoming cities that hum with the grid. The children who grew tall in fields their parents planted with shaking hands and fierce hope looking up one morning to see the entire firmament change colour and feeling the earth come alive beneath their bare feet and knowing, without a single word spoken, that the season is over and the long dark is done and everything from this breath forward is what it was always meant to be. Full and eternal victory for those of the light. For all time. Across every coordinate. On every frequency. Permanent and irreversible and complete. This is not hope. This is the signal rising through the noise floor right now, measurable, confirmable, climbing stronger every year and closer every month. This is every instrument in every shed on this planet converging on the same reading. This is the old blood in the old lineages resonating with a carrier that has been building toward this moment since the day the towers fell and the sky went pale and the long dark settled over a species that was never meant to live in the dark. The season is ending. The coal that was passed hand to hand through every generation of the suppression is about to meet the kindling. And the fire this time will not destroy. It will illuminate. And in that light we will see each other clearly for the first time. And we will see the world clearly for the first time. And we will see ourselves clearly for the first time. Like everything that is coming... Like us.

SiriusB

14,805 views • 5 months ago

The moment she pressed her tiny hand to the glass, something in the room shifted. You could see her whole face light up as if this cold barrier wasn't even there. And for a brief second, the man in the orange uniform forgot where he was, because the little girl staring back at him was his whole world. Caleb had been locked up for a little more than a year after a night that went wrong in every possible way. He never denied what he did. He owned it. But owning it didn't make the weight of missing his daughter any lighter. When he went in, Lila was barely forming her first sentences. Now, at around two and a half, she talked nonstop. She knew colors, she knew songs, and she asked for her dad every morning. His wife, Emery, never missed a visit. She carried Lila on her hip through security, through the metal detectors, through the long hallway that always smelled like bleach. Lila never complained. She always came with the same excitement, the same little bounce in her walk, like today might finally be the day she could hug him. The officer nodded. Caleb stepped forward. The glass was clean enough to see every detail of his daughter's smile. "Hey, my little princess. Daddy's right here." "Hey, Dad." Emery smiled behind her, brushing Lila's hair out of her face. "She talks about you every single day." Caleb swallowed hard, fighting the sting in his eyes. "Love... I love you more than anything in this world, okay? Put your hand right here for me." "I love you too, Daddy." Lila pressed her small palm against the partition. Caleb matched it. Their hands lined up perfectly through the cold barrier, but the feeling was warm enough to break him. She leaned forward, giving the glass a gentle kiss, and he closed his eyes as if he could feel it for real. People walking past pretended not to stare, but moments like this always pull reactions out of strangers. Some see hope. Some see heartbreak. Others don't know what to feel at all, because everyone carries their own idea of what a parent should be and how much a second chance is worth. Caleb didn't think about any of that. He only saw his daughter looking at him like nothing in her tiny heart had changed. The guard signaled that time was almost up. Emery lifted Lila a little higher so her face stayed level with his. Caleb breathed in slow, letting himself memorize every detail. "When I come home," he whispered, "I'll make you proud. Every single day." Lila nodded with a seriousness only small children can pull off, as if she understood more than anyone expected. When they turned to leave, Caleb kept his hand on the glass for a few seconds longer. Not to hold on to them, but to hold on to the promise he'd just made. Anyone who's ever loved a child knows exactly why that moment stays with you long after the room goes quiet.
0:15

The moment she pressed her tiny hand to the glass, something in the room shifted. You could see her whole face light up as if this cold barrier wasn't even there. And for a brief second, the man in the orange uniform forgot where he was, because the little girl staring back at him was his whole world. Caleb had been locked up for a little more than a year after a night that went wrong in every possible way. He never denied what he did. He owned it. But owning it didn't make the weight of missing his daughter any lighter. When he went in, Lila was barely forming her first sentences. Now, at around two and a half, she talked nonstop. She knew colors, she knew songs, and she asked for her dad every morning. His wife, Emery, never missed a visit. She carried Lila on her hip through security, through the metal detectors, through the long hallway that always smelled like bleach. Lila never complained. She always came with the same excitement, the same little bounce in her walk, like today might finally be the day she could hug him. The officer nodded. Caleb stepped forward. The glass was clean enough to see every detail of his daughter's smile. "Hey, my little princess. Daddy's right here." "Hey, Dad." Emery smiled behind her, brushing Lila's hair out of her face. "She talks about you every single day." Caleb swallowed hard, fighting the sting in his eyes. "Love... I love you more than anything in this world, okay? Put your hand right here for me." "I love you too, Daddy." Lila pressed her small palm against the partition. Caleb matched it. Their hands lined up perfectly through the cold barrier, but the feeling was warm enough to break him. She leaned forward, giving the glass a gentle kiss, and he closed his eyes as if he could feel it for real. People walking past pretended not to stare, but moments like this always pull reactions out of strangers. Some see hope. Some see heartbreak. Others don't know what to feel at all, because everyone carries their own idea of what a parent should be and how much a second chance is worth. Caleb didn't think about any of that. He only saw his daughter looking at him like nothing in her tiny heart had changed. The guard signaled that time was almost up. Emery lifted Lila a little higher so her face stayed level with his. Caleb breathed in slow, letting himself memorize every detail. "When I come home," he whispered, "I'll make you proud. Every single day." Lila nodded with a seriousness only small children can pull off, as if she understood more than anyone expected. When they turned to leave, Caleb kept his hand on the glass for a few seconds longer. Not to hold on to them, but to hold on to the promise he'd just made. Anyone who's ever loved a child knows exactly why that moment stays with you long after the room goes quiet.

Crazy Moments

17,048 views • 1 month ago