Post by Zerathine on Oct 25, 2020 5:53:35 GMT
I apologized for screwing up our Charge Boost in the Tower by scarf hugging my companion into a pile of cloth, running divots into the snow.
Instead of turning around to re-enter the hall to warm up and fly Out of Bounds from the entrance, we trudged forward, the snow crunching underfoot as we visited each of the fallen Carpets and chirped to warm up their tails. As we crossed under the first bridge, the War Machine struck more Carpets in the sky. Not too concerned, we climbed the large rock to meditate, the upper balcony and the Mountain looming over us.
We leapt down from the rock and entered the mouth of the crevice, wind howling through the holes in the pillars. We didn’t fly, we didn’t drop shoot through the pass, we didn’t rush. We walked, hunkering down behind the whistling stones, chirping encouragement as we pushed through the wind between its violent gusts.
Tedious, arduous, cumbersome…a struggle. And well worth it for the emotional impact.
We arrived at the other side without mishap and trudged through the snow to the first War Machine segment where a Carpet hid, shivering. Chirping to warm it up again, we followed it to the next unearthed segment, where it obstinately huddled.
We pressed on, wary of the War Machine snaking through the sky toward the far gate, using the weight of our steps to hoist us up the stairs. From the top step, we hastened to reach the lamp heater. It was a struggle to perch atop the lamp, but once we did, we sat to listen to the Flyers.
Meditating side-by-side here isn’t easy because usually people land facing each other, but we managed it and took advantage of this for all it was worth before we used the Flyers to enter the attic. The glyph of the war, a glyph that neither of us will ever see the same.
I forgive you.
We chirped about it, “chatting” about the war and what we think happened. We took a step back like one might do to appreciate a painting or a sculpture, and I had my companion sit again so I could smother him in more sentimental scarf hugs.
When I was finished, I took a seat next to him.
His scarf draped itself around my neck, as if in consolation, as if to say, “Thank you.”
We stood, and I hugged the right wall until my music stopped playing, approaching the edge that would let us drop down into the warmth of the lamp room, where I paused to ask my companion if his music had stopped as well. It hadn’t, so I explained to him how to hit the trigger, and after his music faded, too, we leapt down to once again meditate on the lamp, this time for different reasons.
Not only does the lamp emit a hum that can’t be heard unless there’s no music, it will also chime when exiting from the screensaver, a detail that most other players likely miss.
We hopped off the lamp but hesitated at the threshold, uneager to leave the warmth behind to brave the harsh cold and the fierce wind, but we needed to if we wanted to reach the next glyph without exiting into Out of Bounds.
With a few preparatory chirps, we ducked into the chill and walked across the bridge, chirping loud enough to lower the ribbon, and then falling onto its lower half so we could wiggle up it. We fought through the gusts into the first patrol field, hugging the left cliff wall to avoid the War Machine and to reach our next goal: the final glyph.
This glyph isn’t as memorable for me as it is for my companion, but I suppose it has become more important to me over time because of my companion.
We chirped about the Ancestor’s ascent toward the Mountain. Were they trying to repent for their folly? What compelled them to halt the war instead of obliterating each other entirely? Did they realize their deaths were inevitable and so chose to return to the Mountain what they themselves had stolen?
We sat, pensive.
Behind us on the other side of the wall, the War Machine’s purred growl echoed, but it was in for a disappointment.
We stood and entered the Out of Bounds using the right corner of the wall adjacent to the glyph, doubling back to the entrance of Snow to warm up in the hallway, which meant we had to jump off the snow “cliff” onto the lower level, plummeting like a frozen wad of cloth. It’s a good thing broken bones aren’t a thing because otherwise we would’ve probably shattered.
I led my companion along the bottom of the snow cliff, up a small set of hills into the Tower hallway to restore our warmth and the ability to fly. Of course, we used this chance as an excuse to wiggle chirp before flying out the east side and climbing the snow hill back to the heater room to initiate the silence.
Flying south, away from the Mountain, we chirped to fly in tandem, circling around the southern snow field back toward the sheer snow cliff. We angled west, flying close to the wall of snow, passing a snowdrift on our left before the cliff-side glitched black.
Since it had been a while since we’d performed any kind of beam-down, we stopped while the snow was still black and did beam-down #32.
We dropped out of it often and had to realign ourselves to begin anew, but after a few breath-holding tries, it stuck.
Our feet punched through the snow as we landed, and we stood there for a time to relish the silence, eventually sitting automatically. I stood while my companion wasn’t paying attention, when he had dipped a little deeper into the snow, and, on a whim, scarf hugged him.
He noticed me eventually and stood to join in on the scarf hugging while we started approaching the vertical snow rise looming over us.
We scaled it to the summit, invisible snow crunching under pointed feet as we walked north to the Mountain and toward solid land again. The rustling of our cloaks, the shuffling of our feet, and the chime every time we touched were the only sounds we heard with the music absent.
We hit a shadow field that drove our scarfs into a frenzy, our silhouetted heads twitching like ones possessed. My companion’s scarf whipped around in an unstable helicopter motion until we left the shadow and regained our white cloaks.
We arced east toward the silver ice falls, clamoring along those on our journey to the Death March slope. Except we weren’t ready to proceed onto Paradise, oh no, not quite yet.
I may not know the Snow level that well compared to other Out of Bounds, but I’m aware of a few tricks and awe-inspiring sights.
At the summit, we flew out toward the Shadow Carpets, chirping for the first time in several minutes. It was jarring, like a long silence broken on the phone. Below us the War Machine glided along lazily chasing some solid Carpets.
Passing through the Shadow Carpet loop, we flew toward the courtyard window, hitting a wind wall on the way that made me question whether or not we’d have to fly closer to the entrance before we could pass into Out of Bounds again. Luckily, we bypassed the wind wall and continued Out of Bounds close to the window, which we halted at to watch the War Machine pass.
Not trusting myself to find a peak high enough that wouldn’t trigger the Death March from the eastern side of the mountain, I led my companion back to the entrance of snow, but we were too low to return Out of Bounds after accidentally re-entering, so we flew to the hole above the rock just to the right of the entrance as you’re facing it and popped into Out of Bounds from there.
Just in case, even though we still glowed a pure white when our cloaks and scarves were lit, we returned to the antechamber for a brief respite. It also allowed me to take a deep breath in preparation for trying to find the windy balcony column that would let us charge boost above the clouds and snow thunder. The last thing I wanted was to get my companion or myself stuck somewhere and have to restart the level. That would have been a nightmare of disappointment that would have soured our experience, and it’s not something I’m convinced I would have forgiven myself for immediately.
I had to try though. I wanted to show my companion the War Machine flying above the clouds of the Death March, and the best way to do so was if we first flew to the summit of the Death March from the western side of the mountain and circled around from high in the air to the final gate of the upper balcony.
So, we did.
I kept a close eye on the area below us, wary every time I heard the wind gusts howl around us, biting my lip when we hit an invisible wall that kept us from flying further east. Had I screwed up? Cursing silently to myself, I led him further south until we could break through the invisible wall, and voila, we made it to the watch tower next to the final gate and the charge boost spot that would shoot us up into the sky.
Lightning flashed around us, the thunder cracking in our ears as we dashed against the invisible wall silently. I chirped when I was ready to take off, and my companion understood me, for as soon as I reversed direction, he did the same.
We met at the apex of our boost and flew again toward the upper balcony, this time high above the clouds to catch a good look of the War Machine flying in figure eights.
Beam-down #33 allowed us to observe this War Machine as clouds streamed past and darkened the sky.
We touched down on the same watchtower and sat to observe the lightning strikes lighting up the silhouette of the War Machine.
Although tempted to do another charge boost and try for round two, I decided it would be better for us to return to the normal level and progress the rest of the way as two companions normally would.
So, we stood and flew back to the War Machine patrol field, beam-down #34, one of the shakiest ones yet.
Some normal Carpets glided by us during our beam-down, and it landed us just past the second War Machine and in front of the gate that would lead through the mountain pass into the Courtyard. Frost seeped into us and snow caked our cloaks.
We trudged through the mountain pass and into the courtyard, taking the straight shot up the kelp ribbons to the top of the cliff overlook. We were on a mission to reach the end.
Climbing up the stone stairs, we walked out onto the windy balcony, pausing at the first railing to wait for the wind to calm before dashing for the boulder ahead of us, timing the next dash so we could skip the second one that pretends to shield you from the wind. We reached the railing and waited for our next chance to scurry forward to the foot of the stairs, our mad dash taking us safely to the slender ribbon bridge and out through the gate to the Death March.
We tumbled from the blasts of wind, the snow whipping around us like a snow cyclone. Somewhere far above us, the War Machine howled.
Chirping encouragement, we pressed on until the wind calmed, our cloaks stiff, ice cracking off as we flapped.
Beyond the final gravestone we stopped.
And danced.
Twirling, spinning, dancing in mockery of death via the Death Waltz as the Mountain vanished behind burgeoning clouds, the cold sapping us of warmth and movement until we collapsed.
Instead of turning around to re-enter the hall to warm up and fly Out of Bounds from the entrance, we trudged forward, the snow crunching underfoot as we visited each of the fallen Carpets and chirped to warm up their tails. As we crossed under the first bridge, the War Machine struck more Carpets in the sky. Not too concerned, we climbed the large rock to meditate, the upper balcony and the Mountain looming over us.
We leapt down from the rock and entered the mouth of the crevice, wind howling through the holes in the pillars. We didn’t fly, we didn’t drop shoot through the pass, we didn’t rush. We walked, hunkering down behind the whistling stones, chirping encouragement as we pushed through the wind between its violent gusts.
Tedious, arduous, cumbersome…a struggle. And well worth it for the emotional impact.
We arrived at the other side without mishap and trudged through the snow to the first War Machine segment where a Carpet hid, shivering. Chirping to warm it up again, we followed it to the next unearthed segment, where it obstinately huddled.
We pressed on, wary of the War Machine snaking through the sky toward the far gate, using the weight of our steps to hoist us up the stairs. From the top step, we hastened to reach the lamp heater. It was a struggle to perch atop the lamp, but once we did, we sat to listen to the Flyers.
Meditating side-by-side here isn’t easy because usually people land facing each other, but we managed it and took advantage of this for all it was worth before we used the Flyers to enter the attic. The glyph of the war, a glyph that neither of us will ever see the same.
I forgive you.
We chirped about it, “chatting” about the war and what we think happened. We took a step back like one might do to appreciate a painting or a sculpture, and I had my companion sit again so I could smother him in more sentimental scarf hugs.
When I was finished, I took a seat next to him.
His scarf draped itself around my neck, as if in consolation, as if to say, “Thank you.”
Thank you.
We stood, and I hugged the right wall until my music stopped playing, approaching the edge that would let us drop down into the warmth of the lamp room, where I paused to ask my companion if his music had stopped as well. It hadn’t, so I explained to him how to hit the trigger, and after his music faded, too, we leapt down to once again meditate on the lamp, this time for different reasons.
Not only does the lamp emit a hum that can’t be heard unless there’s no music, it will also chime when exiting from the screensaver, a detail that most other players likely miss.
We hopped off the lamp but hesitated at the threshold, uneager to leave the warmth behind to brave the harsh cold and the fierce wind, but we needed to if we wanted to reach the next glyph without exiting into Out of Bounds.
With a few preparatory chirps, we ducked into the chill and walked across the bridge, chirping loud enough to lower the ribbon, and then falling onto its lower half so we could wiggle up it. We fought through the gusts into the first patrol field, hugging the left cliff wall to avoid the War Machine and to reach our next goal: the final glyph.
This glyph isn’t as memorable for me as it is for my companion, but I suppose it has become more important to me over time because of my companion.
We chirped about the Ancestor’s ascent toward the Mountain. Were they trying to repent for their folly? What compelled them to halt the war instead of obliterating each other entirely? Did they realize their deaths were inevitable and so chose to return to the Mountain what they themselves had stolen?
We sat, pensive.
Behind us on the other side of the wall, the War Machine’s purred growl echoed, but it was in for a disappointment.
We stood and entered the Out of Bounds using the right corner of the wall adjacent to the glyph, doubling back to the entrance of Snow to warm up in the hallway, which meant we had to jump off the snow “cliff” onto the lower level, plummeting like a frozen wad of cloth. It’s a good thing broken bones aren’t a thing because otherwise we would’ve probably shattered.
I led my companion along the bottom of the snow cliff, up a small set of hills into the Tower hallway to restore our warmth and the ability to fly. Of course, we used this chance as an excuse to wiggle chirp before flying out the east side and climbing the snow hill back to the heater room to initiate the silence.
Flying south, away from the Mountain, we chirped to fly in tandem, circling around the southern snow field back toward the sheer snow cliff. We angled west, flying close to the wall of snow, passing a snowdrift on our left before the cliff-side glitched black.
Since it had been a while since we’d performed any kind of beam-down, we stopped while the snow was still black and did beam-down #32.
We dropped out of it often and had to realign ourselves to begin anew, but after a few breath-holding tries, it stuck.
Our feet punched through the snow as we landed, and we stood there for a time to relish the silence, eventually sitting automatically. I stood while my companion wasn’t paying attention, when he had dipped a little deeper into the snow, and, on a whim, scarf hugged him.
He noticed me eventually and stood to join in on the scarf hugging while we started approaching the vertical snow rise looming over us.
We scaled it to the summit, invisible snow crunching under pointed feet as we walked north to the Mountain and toward solid land again. The rustling of our cloaks, the shuffling of our feet, and the chime every time we touched were the only sounds we heard with the music absent.
We hit a shadow field that drove our scarfs into a frenzy, our silhouetted heads twitching like ones possessed. My companion’s scarf whipped around in an unstable helicopter motion until we left the shadow and regained our white cloaks.
We arced east toward the silver ice falls, clamoring along those on our journey to the Death March slope. Except we weren’t ready to proceed onto Paradise, oh no, not quite yet.
I may not know the Snow level that well compared to other Out of Bounds, but I’m aware of a few tricks and awe-inspiring sights.
At the summit, we flew out toward the Shadow Carpets, chirping for the first time in several minutes. It was jarring, like a long silence broken on the phone. Below us the War Machine glided along lazily chasing some solid Carpets.
Passing through the Shadow Carpet loop, we flew toward the courtyard window, hitting a wind wall on the way that made me question whether or not we’d have to fly closer to the entrance before we could pass into Out of Bounds again. Luckily, we bypassed the wind wall and continued Out of Bounds close to the window, which we halted at to watch the War Machine pass.
Not trusting myself to find a peak high enough that wouldn’t trigger the Death March from the eastern side of the mountain, I led my companion back to the entrance of snow, but we were too low to return Out of Bounds after accidentally re-entering, so we flew to the hole above the rock just to the right of the entrance as you’re facing it and popped into Out of Bounds from there.
Just in case, even though we still glowed a pure white when our cloaks and scarves were lit, we returned to the antechamber for a brief respite. It also allowed me to take a deep breath in preparation for trying to find the windy balcony column that would let us charge boost above the clouds and snow thunder. The last thing I wanted was to get my companion or myself stuck somewhere and have to restart the level. That would have been a nightmare of disappointment that would have soured our experience, and it’s not something I’m convinced I would have forgiven myself for immediately.
I had to try though. I wanted to show my companion the War Machine flying above the clouds of the Death March, and the best way to do so was if we first flew to the summit of the Death March from the western side of the mountain and circled around from high in the air to the final gate of the upper balcony.
So, we did.
I kept a close eye on the area below us, wary every time I heard the wind gusts howl around us, biting my lip when we hit an invisible wall that kept us from flying further east. Had I screwed up? Cursing silently to myself, I led him further south until we could break through the invisible wall, and voila, we made it to the watch tower next to the final gate and the charge boost spot that would shoot us up into the sky.
Lightning flashed around us, the thunder cracking in our ears as we dashed against the invisible wall silently. I chirped when I was ready to take off, and my companion understood me, for as soon as I reversed direction, he did the same.
We met at the apex of our boost and flew again toward the upper balcony, this time high above the clouds to catch a good look of the War Machine flying in figure eights.
Beam-down #33 allowed us to observe this War Machine as clouds streamed past and darkened the sky.
We touched down on the same watchtower and sat to observe the lightning strikes lighting up the silhouette of the War Machine.
Although tempted to do another charge boost and try for round two, I decided it would be better for us to return to the normal level and progress the rest of the way as two companions normally would.
So, we stood and flew back to the War Machine patrol field, beam-down #34, one of the shakiest ones yet.
Some normal Carpets glided by us during our beam-down, and it landed us just past the second War Machine and in front of the gate that would lead through the mountain pass into the Courtyard. Frost seeped into us and snow caked our cloaks.
We trudged through the mountain pass and into the courtyard, taking the straight shot up the kelp ribbons to the top of the cliff overlook. We were on a mission to reach the end.
Climbing up the stone stairs, we walked out onto the windy balcony, pausing at the first railing to wait for the wind to calm before dashing for the boulder ahead of us, timing the next dash so we could skip the second one that pretends to shield you from the wind. We reached the railing and waited for our next chance to scurry forward to the foot of the stairs, our mad dash taking us safely to the slender ribbon bridge and out through the gate to the Death March.
We tumbled from the blasts of wind, the snow whipping around us like a snow cyclone. Somewhere far above us, the War Machine howled.
Chirping encouragement, we pressed on until the wind calmed, our cloaks stiff, ice cracking off as we flapped.
Beyond the final gravestone we stopped.
And danced.
Twirling, spinning, dancing in mockery of death via the Death Waltz as the Mountain vanished behind burgeoning clouds, the cold sapping us of warmth and movement until we collapsed.
