#shadowlands — Public Fediverse posts
Live and recent posts from across the Fediverse tagged #shadowlands, aggregated by home.social.
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The Places in My Dreams
The world within, the world of my dreams, is similar to the one I walk through every day. But it is different.
The streets bend strangely. The rooms open where they should not. The people and places are often indifferent to me, and sometimes, they are even antagonistic.
They are not merely people and places. They are representations of emotions I have not yet worked through from the previous day. Sixteen waking hours are not enough to fully grasp all that I have experienced, endured, feared, desired, regretted, or misunderstood.
And so, in the night, these things come alive.
They take on faces. They become houses, roads, crowds, locked doors, ruined landscapes, familiar rooms made unfamiliar. They guide me through the shadow lands—not always kindly, but truthfully. They show me what I could not see while awake.
My dreams are not escapes from the day.
They are the day returning in another form, asking to be understood.Some nights I find myself back in places I have never been, and yet they feel older than memory. A school that was never my school. A church with hallways that keep multiplying. A childhood home rearranged by grief. A city I know by instinct, though no map has ever held it.
#ContemplativeWriting #creativeNonfiction #daVinci #dali #dreamCity #dreamJournal #dreams #dreamscape #emotionalGeography #Escher #Fear #gothicReflection #grief #Healing #Imagination #impossibleArchitecture #innerLandscape #innerWorld #KeithLyndaker #labyrinth #longing #MentalHealth #nightVisions #ProsePoem #regret #sacredImagination #selfReflection #shadowLands #shame #SpiritualReflection #subconscious #surrealArt #surrealism #symbolicLandscape #visionaryArt
In these places, I am often trying to get somewhere.
I am late. I am lost. I am looking for someone. I am trying to explain myself to people who will not listen. I am searching for a room, a door, a vehicle, a path, a way home. Sometimes I am carrying something fragile. Sometimes I have forgotten what I was supposed to carry. Sometimes I am responsible for a task I do not understand, surrounded by people who seem to know the rules but refuse to tell me.
This is the cruelty of the dream world: everyone else seems initiated.
They move through the strange landscape as if it is ordinary. They know which hallway leads out, which road is safe, which bus to board, which door not to open. I am the stranger in a world that somehow belongs to me. I am the dreamer, and yet I am not in control.
Perhaps this is why the places feel antagonistic. They do not hate me. They are simply unwilling to flatter me. They will not pretend I am finished with what I have not faced. They will not comfort me with easy explanations. They turn my emotions into architecture and ask me to walk through them.
Fear becomes a narrow bridge.
Regret becomes a house with too many locked rooms.
Anger becomes a storm on the edge of town.
Shame becomes a crowd that sees me before I am ready to be seen.
Grief becomes a road that always returns to the same place.
And longing—longing becomes a light in a window I can never quite reach.
I wake from these dreams with the feeling that I have traveled farther than my body could have gone. I have crossed cities, fields, stairways, basements, sanctuaries, ruins, and train stations. I have spoken with the dead and avoided the living. I have been judged by strangers and ignored by friends. I have wandered through the unfinished weather of my own soul.
Then morning comes, and the ordinary world returns.
The walls are where I left them. The floor is solid. The dog needs to go out. The coffee waits. The phone glows with its small demands. The day begins again, pretending to be separate from the night.
But I know better.
The dream has left its residue. A feeling follows me, sometimes faint, sometimes heavy. A hallway from the dream lingers inside the hallway of the house. A face from the night appears behind the face of someone I know. A mood clings to the morning like fog.
The shadow lands do not vanish when I wake.
They retreat.
They wait beneath the visible world, beneath errands and conversations, beneath sermons and chores, beneath the version of myself that knows how to answer when someone asks, “How are you?”
I say, “I’m fine.”
But somewhere beneath that answer, an entire city is still burning, or flooding, or rebuilding itself in the dark. -
The Places in My Dreams
The world within, the world of my dreams, is similar to the one I walk through every day. But it is different.
The streets bend strangely. The rooms open where they should not. The people and places are often indifferent to me, and sometimes, they are even antagonistic.
They are not merely people and places. They are representations of emotions I have not yet worked through from the previous day. Sixteen waking hours are not enough to fully grasp all that I have experienced, endured, feared, desired, regretted, or misunderstood.
And so, in the night, these things come alive.
They take on faces. They become houses, roads, crowds, locked doors, ruined landscapes, familiar rooms made unfamiliar. They guide me through the shadow lands—not always kindly, but truthfully. They show me what I could not see while awake.
My dreams are not escapes from the day.
They are the day returning in another form, asking to be understood.Some nights I find myself back in places I have never been, and yet they feel older than memory. A school that was never my school. A church with hallways that keep multiplying. A childhood home rearranged by grief. A city I know by instinct, though no map has ever held it.
#ContemplativeWriting #creativeNonfiction #daVinci #dali #dreamCity #dreamJournal #dreams #dreamscape #emotionalGeography #Escher #Fear #gothicReflection #grief #Healing #Imagination #impossibleArchitecture #innerLandscape #innerWorld #KeithLyndaker #labyrinth #longing #MentalHealth #nightVisions #ProsePoem #regret #sacredImagination #selfReflection #shadowLands #shame #SpiritualReflection #subconscious #surrealArt #surrealism #symbolicLandscape #visionaryArt
In these places, I am often trying to get somewhere.
I am late. I am lost. I am looking for someone. I am trying to explain myself to people who will not listen. I am searching for a room, a door, a vehicle, a path, a way home. Sometimes I am carrying something fragile. Sometimes I have forgotten what I was supposed to carry. Sometimes I am responsible for a task I do not understand, surrounded by people who seem to know the rules but refuse to tell me.
This is the cruelty of the dream world: everyone else seems initiated.
They move through the strange landscape as if it is ordinary. They know which hallway leads out, which road is safe, which bus to board, which door not to open. I am the stranger in a world that somehow belongs to me. I am the dreamer, and yet I am not in control.
Perhaps this is why the places feel antagonistic. They do not hate me. They are simply unwilling to flatter me. They will not pretend I am finished with what I have not faced. They will not comfort me with easy explanations. They turn my emotions into architecture and ask me to walk through them.
Fear becomes a narrow bridge.
Regret becomes a house with too many locked rooms.
Anger becomes a storm on the edge of town.
Shame becomes a crowd that sees me before I am ready to be seen.
Grief becomes a road that always returns to the same place.
And longing—longing becomes a light in a window I can never quite reach.
I wake from these dreams with the feeling that I have traveled farther than my body could have gone. I have crossed cities, fields, stairways, basements, sanctuaries, ruins, and train stations. I have spoken with the dead and avoided the living. I have been judged by strangers and ignored by friends. I have wandered through the unfinished weather of my own soul.
Then morning comes, and the ordinary world returns.
The walls are where I left them. The floor is solid. The dog needs to go out. The coffee waits. The phone glows with its small demands. The day begins again, pretending to be separate from the night.
But I know better.
The dream has left its residue. A feeling follows me, sometimes faint, sometimes heavy. A hallway from the dream lingers inside the hallway of the house. A face from the night appears behind the face of someone I know. A mood clings to the morning like fog.
The shadow lands do not vanish when I wake.
They retreat.
They wait beneath the visible world, beneath errands and conversations, beneath sermons and chores, beneath the version of myself that knows how to answer when someone asks, “How are you?”
I say, “I’m fine.”
But somewhere beneath that answer, an entire city is still burning, or flooding, or rebuilding itself in the dark. -
The Places in My Dreams
The world within, the world of my dreams, is similar to the one I walk through every day. But it is different.
The streets bend strangely. The rooms open where they should not. The people and places are often indifferent to me, and sometimes, they are even antagonistic.
They are not merely people and places. They are representations of emotions I have not yet worked through from the previous day. Sixteen waking hours are not enough to fully grasp all that I have experienced, endured, feared, desired, regretted, or misunderstood.
And so, in the night, these things come alive.
They take on faces. They become houses, roads, crowds, locked doors, ruined landscapes, familiar rooms made unfamiliar. They guide me through the shadow lands—not always kindly, but truthfully. They show me what I could not see while awake.
My dreams are not escapes from the day.
They are the day returning in another form, asking to be understood.Some nights I find myself back in places I have never been, and yet they feel older than memory. A school that was never my school. A church with hallways that keep multiplying. A childhood home rearranged by grief. A city I know by instinct, though no map has ever held it.
#ContemplativeWriting #creativeNonfiction #daVinci #dali #dreamCity #dreamJournal #dreams #dreamscape #emotionalGeography #Escher #Fear #gothicReflection #grief #Healing #Imagination #impossibleArchitecture #innerLandscape #innerWorld #KeithLyndaker #labyrinth #longing #MentalHealth #nightVisions #ProsePoem #regret #sacredImagination #selfReflection #shadowLands #shame #SpiritualReflection #subconscious #surrealArt #surrealism #symbolicLandscape #visionaryArt
In these places, I am often trying to get somewhere.
I am late. I am lost. I am looking for someone. I am trying to explain myself to people who will not listen. I am searching for a room, a door, a vehicle, a path, a way home. Sometimes I am carrying something fragile. Sometimes I have forgotten what I was supposed to carry. Sometimes I am responsible for a task I do not understand, surrounded by people who seem to know the rules but refuse to tell me.
This is the cruelty of the dream world: everyone else seems initiated.
They move through the strange landscape as if it is ordinary. They know which hallway leads out, which road is safe, which bus to board, which door not to open. I am the stranger in a world that somehow belongs to me. I am the dreamer, and yet I am not in control.
Perhaps this is why the places feel antagonistic. They do not hate me. They are simply unwilling to flatter me. They will not pretend I am finished with what I have not faced. They will not comfort me with easy explanations. They turn my emotions into architecture and ask me to walk through them.
Fear becomes a narrow bridge.
Regret becomes a house with too many locked rooms.
Anger becomes a storm on the edge of town.
Shame becomes a crowd that sees me before I am ready to be seen.
Grief becomes a road that always returns to the same place.
And longing—longing becomes a light in a window I can never quite reach.
I wake from these dreams with the feeling that I have traveled farther than my body could have gone. I have crossed cities, fields, stairways, basements, sanctuaries, ruins, and train stations. I have spoken with the dead and avoided the living. I have been judged by strangers and ignored by friends. I have wandered through the unfinished weather of my own soul.
Then morning comes, and the ordinary world returns.
The walls are where I left them. The floor is solid. The dog needs to go out. The coffee waits. The phone glows with its small demands. The day begins again, pretending to be separate from the night.
But I know better.
The dream has left its residue. A feeling follows me, sometimes faint, sometimes heavy. A hallway from the dream lingers inside the hallway of the house. A face from the night appears behind the face of someone I know. A mood clings to the morning like fog.
The shadow lands do not vanish when I wake.
They retreat.
They wait beneath the visible world, beneath errands and conversations, beneath sermons and chores, beneath the version of myself that knows how to answer when someone asks, “How are you?”
I say, “I’m fine.”
But somewhere beneath that answer, an entire city is still burning, or flooding, or rebuilding itself in the dark. -
The Places in My Dreams
The world within, the world of my dreams, is similar to the one I walk through every day. But it is different.
The streets bend strangely. The rooms open where they should not. The people and places are often indifferent to me, and sometimes, they are even antagonistic.
They are not merely people and places. They are representations of emotions I have not yet worked through from the previous day. Sixteen waking hours are not enough to fully grasp all that I have experienced, endured, feared, desired, regretted, or misunderstood.
And so, in the night, these things come alive.
They take on faces. They become houses, roads, crowds, locked doors, ruined landscapes, familiar rooms made unfamiliar. They guide me through the shadow lands—not always kindly, but truthfully. They show me what I could not see while awake.
My dreams are not escapes from the day.
They are the day returning in another form, asking to be understood.Some nights I find myself back in places I have never been, and yet they feel older than memory. A school that was never my school. A church with hallways that keep multiplying. A childhood home rearranged by grief. A city I know by instinct, though no map has ever held it.
#ContemplativeWriting #creativeNonfiction #daVinci #dali #dreamCity #dreamJournal #dreams #dreamscape #emotionalGeography #Escher #Fear #gothicReflection #grief #Healing #Imagination #impossibleArchitecture #innerLandscape #innerWorld #KeithLyndaker #labyrinth #longing #MentalHealth #nightVisions #ProsePoem #regret #sacredImagination #selfReflection #shadowLands #shame #SpiritualReflection #subconscious #surrealArt #surrealism #symbolicLandscape #visionaryArt
In these places, I am often trying to get somewhere.
I am late. I am lost. I am looking for someone. I am trying to explain myself to people who will not listen. I am searching for a room, a door, a vehicle, a path, a way home. Sometimes I am carrying something fragile. Sometimes I have forgotten what I was supposed to carry. Sometimes I am responsible for a task I do not understand, surrounded by people who seem to know the rules but refuse to tell me.
This is the cruelty of the dream world: everyone else seems initiated.
They move through the strange landscape as if it is ordinary. They know which hallway leads out, which road is safe, which bus to board, which door not to open. I am the stranger in a world that somehow belongs to me. I am the dreamer, and yet I am not in control.
Perhaps this is why the places feel antagonistic. They do not hate me. They are simply unwilling to flatter me. They will not pretend I am finished with what I have not faced. They will not comfort me with easy explanations. They turn my emotions into architecture and ask me to walk through them.
Fear becomes a narrow bridge.
Regret becomes a house with too many locked rooms.
Anger becomes a storm on the edge of town.
Shame becomes a crowd that sees me before I am ready to be seen.
Grief becomes a road that always returns to the same place.
And longing—longing becomes a light in a window I can never quite reach.
I wake from these dreams with the feeling that I have traveled farther than my body could have gone. I have crossed cities, fields, stairways, basements, sanctuaries, ruins, and train stations. I have spoken with the dead and avoided the living. I have been judged by strangers and ignored by friends. I have wandered through the unfinished weather of my own soul.
Then morning comes, and the ordinary world returns.
The walls are where I left them. The floor is solid. The dog needs to go out. The coffee waits. The phone glows with its small demands. The day begins again, pretending to be separate from the night.
But I know better.
The dream has left its residue. A feeling follows me, sometimes faint, sometimes heavy. A hallway from the dream lingers inside the hallway of the house. A face from the night appears behind the face of someone I know. A mood clings to the morning like fog.
The shadow lands do not vanish when I wake.
They retreat.
They wait beneath the visible world, beneath errands and conversations, beneath sermons and chores, beneath the version of myself that knows how to answer when someone asks, “How are you?”
I say, “I’m fine.”
But somewhere beneath that answer, an entire city is still burning, or flooding, or rebuilding itself in the dark. -
The Places in My Dreams
The world within, the world of my dreams, is similar to the one I walk through every day. But it is different.
The streets bend strangely. The rooms open where they should not. The people and places are often indifferent to me, and sometimes, they are even antagonistic.
They are not merely people and places. They are representations of emotions I have not yet worked through from the previous day. Sixteen waking hours are not enough to fully grasp all that I have experienced, endured, feared, desired, regretted, or misunderstood.
And so, in the night, these things come alive.
They take on faces. They become houses, roads, crowds, locked doors, ruined landscapes, familiar rooms made unfamiliar. They guide me through the shadow lands—not always kindly, but truthfully. They show me what I could not see while awake.
My dreams are not escapes from the day.
They are the day returning in another form, asking to be understood.Some nights I find myself back in places I have never been, and yet they feel older than memory. A school that was never my school. A church with hallways that keep multiplying. A childhood home rearranged by grief. A city I know by instinct, though no map has ever held it.
#ContemplativeWriting #creativeNonfiction #daVinci #dali #dreamCity #dreamJournal #dreams #dreamscape #emotionalGeography #Escher #Fear #gothicReflection #grief #Healing #Imagination #impossibleArchitecture #innerLandscape #innerWorld #KeithLyndaker #labyrinth #longing #MentalHealth #nightVisions #ProsePoem #regret #sacredImagination #selfReflection #shadowLands #shame #SpiritualReflection #subconscious #surrealArt #surrealism #symbolicLandscape #visionaryArt
In these places, I am often trying to get somewhere.
I am late. I am lost. I am looking for someone. I am trying to explain myself to people who will not listen. I am searching for a room, a door, a vehicle, a path, a way home. Sometimes I am carrying something fragile. Sometimes I have forgotten what I was supposed to carry. Sometimes I am responsible for a task I do not understand, surrounded by people who seem to know the rules but refuse to tell me.
This is the cruelty of the dream world: everyone else seems initiated.
They move through the strange landscape as if it is ordinary. They know which hallway leads out, which road is safe, which bus to board, which door not to open. I am the stranger in a world that somehow belongs to me. I am the dreamer, and yet I am not in control.
Perhaps this is why the places feel antagonistic. They do not hate me. They are simply unwilling to flatter me. They will not pretend I am finished with what I have not faced. They will not comfort me with easy explanations. They turn my emotions into architecture and ask me to walk through them.
Fear becomes a narrow bridge.
Regret becomes a house with too many locked rooms.
Anger becomes a storm on the edge of town.
Shame becomes a crowd that sees me before I am ready to be seen.
Grief becomes a road that always returns to the same place.
And longing—longing becomes a light in a window I can never quite reach.
I wake from these dreams with the feeling that I have traveled farther than my body could have gone. I have crossed cities, fields, stairways, basements, sanctuaries, ruins, and train stations. I have spoken with the dead and avoided the living. I have been judged by strangers and ignored by friends. I have wandered through the unfinished weather of my own soul.
Then morning comes, and the ordinary world returns.
The walls are where I left them. The floor is solid. The dog needs to go out. The coffee waits. The phone glows with its small demands. The day begins again, pretending to be separate from the night.
But I know better.
The dream has left its residue. A feeling follows me, sometimes faint, sometimes heavy. A hallway from the dream lingers inside the hallway of the house. A face from the night appears behind the face of someone I know. A mood clings to the morning like fog.
The shadow lands do not vanish when I wake.
They retreat.
They wait beneath the visible world, beneath errands and conversations, beneath sermons and chores, beneath the version of myself that knows how to answer when someone asks, “How are you?”
I say, “I’m fine.”
But somewhere beneath that answer, an entire city is still burning, or flooding, or rebuilding itself in the dark. -
Debra Winger more than holds her own next to Sir Anthony Hopkins in this eminently watchable tearjerker from Sir Dickie Attenborough.
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Debra Winger more than holds her own next to Sir Anthony Hopkins in this eminently watchable tearjerker from Sir Dickie Attenborough.
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150 proyectos de #lodelrol registrados en https://gwannon.com/mecenazgos/ y por fin he encontrado algo de #shadowlands entregado a tiempo.
Con lo que ha desaparecido su ☠️ de no haber entregado nunca nada a tiempo. También os digo que es un proyecto de 2022.
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150 proyectos de #lodelrol registrados en https://gwannon.com/mecenazgos/ y por fin he encontrado algo de #shadowlands entregado a tiempo.
Con lo que ha desaparecido su ☠️ de no haber entregado nunca nada a tiempo. También os digo que es un proyecto de 2022.
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150 proyectos de #lodelrol registrados en https://gwannon.com/mecenazgos/ y por fin he encontrado algo de #shadowlands entregado a tiempo.
Con lo que ha desaparecido su ☠️ de no haber entregado nunca nada a tiempo. También os digo que es un proyecto de 2022.
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https://www.europesays.com/ee/120339/ ENNE JA NÜÜD ⟩ Filmilegendidega ekraani jaganud näitlejanna Debra Winger kadus Hollywoodist nagu tina tuhka #ADangerousWoman #AnOfficerAndAGentleman #DebraWinger #EE #Eesti #EestiKeel #Entertainment #Estonia #Estonian #HollywoodiNäitlejanna #meelelahutus #NaisedHollywoodis #OscariNominatsioonid #RichardGere #RobertRedford #shadowlands #TermsOfEndearment #TimothyHutton #UrbanCowboy
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#Gameplay
#StarWars #KOTOR 1 - Soldier/Jedi Guardian
#Kashyyyk Lower #ShadowlandsPreview - https://youtube.com/shorts/sBkcBw1-uZU?feature=share
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#Gameplay
#StarWars #KOTOR 1 - Soldier/Jedi Guardian
#Kashyyyk Upper #ShadowlandsPreview - https://youtube.com/shorts/y0ghPyw9S9o?feature=share
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🚨 ATENCIÓ
Si sou subscriptors del newsletter de Shadowlands teniu un correu molt important!
Responeu a l'enquesta de quin material de Shadowlands voleu veure en català
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🚨 ATENCIÓ
Si sou subscriptors del newsletter de Shadowlands teniu un correu molt important!
Responeu a l'enquesta de quin material de Shadowlands voleu veure en català
-
🚨 ATENCIÓ
Si sou subscriptors del newsletter de Shadowlands teniu un correu molt important!
Responeu a l'enquesta de quin material de Shadowlands voleu veure en català
-
🚨 ATENCIÓ
Si sou subscriptors del newsletter de Shadowlands teniu un correu molt important!
Responeu a l'enquesta de quin material de Shadowlands voleu veure en català
-
🚨 ATENCIÓ
Si sou subscriptors del newsletter de Shadowlands teniu un correu molt important!
Responeu a l'enquesta de quin material de Shadowlands voleu veure en català
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Ya en marcha el mecenazgo de Call of the Sea: The Everhart Expedition, una campaña de rol que sirve como precuela del premiado videojuego Call of the Sea
#IndieGames #JuegosDeMesa #Noticias #Backerkit #CallOfTheSea #CallOfTheSeaTheEverhartExpedition #LaLlamadaDeCthulhu #OutOfTheBlueGames #Shadowlands
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Ya en marcha el mecenazgo de Call of the Sea: The Everhart Expedition, una campaña de rol que sirve como precuela del premiado videojuego Call of the Sea
#IndieGames #JuegosDeMesa #Noticias #Backerkit #CallOfTheSea #CallOfTheSeaTheEverhartExpedition #LaLlamadaDeCthulhu #OutOfTheBlueGames #Shadowlands
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Ya en marcha el mecenazgo de Call of the Sea: The Everhart Expedition, una campaña de rol que sirve como precuela del premiado videojuego Call of the Sea
#IndieGames #JuegosDeMesa #Noticias #Backerkit #CallOfTheSea #CallOfTheSeaTheEverhartExpedition #LaLlamadaDeCthulhu #OutOfTheBlueGames #Shadowlands
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Ya en marcha el mecenazgo de Call of the Sea: The Everhart Expedition, una campaña de rol que sirve como precuela del premiado videojuego Call of the Sea
#IndieGames #JuegosDeMesa #Noticias #Backerkit #CallOfTheSea #CallOfTheSeaTheEverhartExpedition #LaLlamadaDeCthulhu #OutOfTheBlueGames #Shadowlands
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Ya en marcha el mecenazgo de Call of the Sea: The Everhart Expedition, una campaña de rol que sirve como precuela del premiado videojuego Call of the Sea
#IndieGames #JuegosDeMesa #Noticias #Backerkit #CallOfTheSea #CallOfTheSeaTheEverhartExpedition #LaLlamadaDeCthulhu #OutOfTheBlueGames #Shadowlands
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Call of the Sea: The Everhart Expedition, la campaña de rol y precuela del videojuego Call of the Sea, abrirá su mecenazgo el 22 de abril
#JuegosDeMesa #Noticias #CallOfTheSea #CallOfTheSeaTheEverhartExpedition #JuegoDeRol #LaLlamadaDeCthulhu #OutOfTheBlueGames #Shadowlands
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Call of the Sea: The Everhart Expedition, la campaña de rol y precuela del videojuego Call of the Sea, abrirá su mecenazgo el 22 de abril
#JuegosDeMesa #Noticias #CallOfTheSea #CallOfTheSeaTheEverhartExpedition #JuegoDeRol #LaLlamadaDeCthulhu #OutOfTheBlueGames #Shadowlands
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Call of the Sea: The Everhart Expedition, la campaña de rol y precuela del videojuego Call of the Sea, abrirá su mecenazgo el 22 de abril
#JuegosDeMesa #Noticias #CallOfTheSea #CallOfTheSeaTheEverhartExpedition #JuegoDeRol #LaLlamadaDeCthulhu #OutOfTheBlueGames #Shadowlands
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Call of the Sea: The Everhart Expedition, la campaña de rol y precuela del videojuego Call of the Sea, abrirá su mecenazgo el 22 de abril
#JuegosDeMesa #Noticias #CallOfTheSea #CallOfTheSeaTheEverhartExpedition #JuegoDeRol #LaLlamadaDeCthulhu #OutOfTheBlueGames #Shadowlands
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Who put that hole there? #WoW #Shadowlands
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Who put that hole there? #WoW #Shadowlands
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Who put that hole there? #WoW #Shadowlands
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Who put that hole there? #WoW #Shadowlands
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Who put that hole there? #WoW #Shadowlands
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A wild Tim Russ appeared. #WoW #Shadowlands #Tuvok
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A wild Tim Russ appeared. #WoW #Shadowlands #Tuvok
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A wild Tim Russ appeared. #WoW #Shadowlands #Tuvok
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A wild Tim Russ appeared. #WoW #Shadowlands #Tuvok
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A wild Tim Russ appeared. #WoW #Shadowlands #Tuvok
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This Sunday at 2PM PST on https://youtube.com/@deadunicornclub we will be doing a live breakdown of the #l5r supplement book #shadowlands @ttrpg #ttrpg
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This Sunday at 2PM PST on https://youtube.com/@deadunicornclub we will be doing a live breakdown of the #l5r supplement book #shadowlands @ttrpg #ttrpg
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This Sunday at 2PM PST on https://youtube.com/@deadunicornclub we will be doing a live breakdown of the #l5r supplement book #shadowlands @ttrpg #ttrpg
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This Sunday at 2PM PST on https://youtube.com/@deadunicornclub we will be doing a live breakdown of the #l5r supplement book #shadowlands @ttrpg #ttrpg
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#паста #WorldOfWacraft #WorldOfWacraftShadowlands #Wow #games
Проблема #Shadowlands в том, что #Blizzard пошли на поводу у игроков. Все ныли, что хотят якобы хардкора, как в той самой классике (которую в итоге дали, но тут хехе такая интересная история, шо ппц). Уровни сжали, потому что игроки в #BattleForAzeroth ныли, что прокачка слишком долгая и душная, ради этого дали возможность качаться в том аддоне, что нравится — игроки опять ноют, что прокачка теперь казуальная, и теперь нет последовательности в истории мира. В прошлых аддонах было слишком легко качаться в актуальном контенте — пожалуйста, на первых парах в Тёмных Землях мобы кабины ломали только в путь, все заныли, что это душно и неинтересно. Жаловались на легкость хайлвл контента и малого отыгрыша за персонажа — пожалуйста, ковенанты, по сути RPG система, не попал в мету с выбором — страдай. И куча других примеров, когда Blizzard то что-то вводили, то от нытья комьюнити давали заднюю, весь сюжет по сути был на этом построен: "что-то всем не нравится, пох давай заднюю и закрываем лавочку".
Я не оправдываю лютейшие косяки геймдизайнеров и сценаристов. Но то что яиц не стало именно в Шадоулендс — факт. Та же Пандария — ныли все, плевались, ругались, но Близы тогда гнули свою линию до конца, выпустили всё, что хотели, планировали и в итоге что? Большинство сидит и ностальгирует "какой хороший аддон", а в пандарию ремикс толпой ломанулись. Слушать комьюнити — это хорошо, но порой важно и, не смотря на критику, довести заложенные идеи до логического финала. И как знать, если бы в первых патчах близы по сути бы сразу не поставили бы на ШЛ крест, то, доведя всю картину дополнения до задуманного, возможно что мы бы вспоминали вторую половину аддона только добрыми словами, а не... Ах блин, всё просто оперативно свернули всего-лишь двумя крупными контент патчами, как это было в Дреноре -
Out of the Blue y Shadowlands colaboran en una campaña de rol para la Llamada de Cthulhu, precuela del videojuego Call of the Sea
#JuegosDeMesa #Noticias #CallOfTheSeaTheEverhartExpedition #CampaaDeRol #OutOfTheBlueGames #Shadowlands
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Out of the Blue y Shadowlands colaboran en una campaña de rol para la Llamada de Cthulhu, precuela del videojuego Call of the Sea
#JuegosDeMesa #Noticias #CallOfTheSeaTheEverhartExpedition #CampaaDeRol #OutOfTheBlueGames #Shadowlands
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Out of the Blue y Shadowlands colaboran en una campaña de rol para la Llamada de Cthulhu, precuela del videojuego Call of the Sea
#JuegosDeMesa #Noticias #CallOfTheSeaTheEverhartExpedition #CampaaDeRol #OutOfTheBlueGames #Shadowlands
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Out of the Blue y Shadowlands colaboran en una campaña de rol para la Llamada de Cthulhu, precuela del videojuego Call of the Sea
#JuegosDeMesa #Noticias #CallOfTheSeaTheEverhartExpedition #CampaaDeRol #OutOfTheBlueGames #Shadowlands
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Tirant Lo Dau ha compartit la versió editable de la fitxa de personatge de Cthulhu D100 que ha fet en Hitman 666
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Tirant Lo Dau ha compartit la versió editable de la fitxa de personatge de Cthulhu D100 que ha fet en Hitman 666
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Tirant Lo Dau ha compartit la versió editable de la fitxa de personatge de Cthulhu D100 que ha fet en Hitman 666
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Tirant Lo Dau ha compartit la versió editable de la fitxa de personatge de Cthulhu D100 que ha fet en Hitman 666
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Jiggles sometimes carrying a slime/skeletal-version of Pepe on their head is killing me with cuteness!
Had I known this pet is so great in every aspect, I would have done the Necrolord-questline much earlier!
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Jiggles sometimes carrying a slime/skeletal-version of Pepe on their head is killing me with cuteness!
Had I known this pet is so great in every aspect, I would have done the Necrolord-questline much earlier!
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Here I was, minding my own business by killing the elites in the Theatre of Pain for the 250-Anima-daily, when suddenly something purple dropped.
I didn't even knew this mount was supposed to drop from those!
I love it. Fits my style (and pet!) perfectly.
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Here I was, minding my own business by killing the elites in the Theatre of Pain for the 250-Anima-daily, when suddenly something purple dropped.
I didn't even knew this mount was supposed to drop from those!
I love it. Fits my style (and pet!) perfectly.
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Here I was, minding my own business by killing the elites in the Theatre of Pain for the 250-Anima-daily, when suddenly something purple dropped.
I didn't even knew this mount was supposed to drop from those!
I love it. Fits my style (and pet!) perfectly.
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Here I was, minding my own business by killing the elites in the Theatre of Pain for the 250-Anima-daily, when suddenly something purple dropped.
I didn't even knew this mount was supposed to drop from those!
I love it. Fits my style (and pet!) perfectly.
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I never finished more than one Covenant (Night Fae) back when Shadowlands was a thing, because I really hated the Maw, Thorgast and a lot of other things. Had a long WoW-break back then.
But now I am having a blast finding out what great things the other Covenants have to offer and ... SLIME KITTY HARKING UP ETHERAL CRITTER CORPSE is so damn adorable!
Jiggles immediately barfed themselves up to the top of my pet-list!
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I never finished more than one Covenant (Night Fae) back when Shadowlands was a thing, because I really hated the Maw, Thorgast and a lot of other things. Had a long WoW-break back then.
But now I am having a blast finding out what great things the other Covenants have to offer and ... SLIME KITTY HARKING UP ETHERAL CRITTER CORPSE is so damn adorable!
Jiggles immediately barfed themselves up to the top of my pet-list!
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I never finished more than one Covenant (Night Fae) back when Shadowlands was a thing, because I really hated the Maw, Thorgast and a lot of other things. Had a long WoW-break back then.
But now I am having a blast finding out what great things the other Covenants have to offer and ... SLIME KITTY HARKING UP ETHERAL CRITTER CORPSE is so damn adorable!
Jiggles immediately barfed themselves up to the top of my pet-list!