Quotent Quotables

Holy shit! I get a tagline?

1 note

Anonymous asked: So you haven't blogged in quite some time. What has been happening in the life of The Destroyer? Also, thoughts on Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter

Fuck, dude I don’t know. Fuck this blog bullshit. It’s essentially just hipsters professing their undying love for each other through reblogging shitty pictures with even shittier filters on them. Then some shitty quote, shittily stolen from some actually good author, pasted in shitty helvetica on it. Fuck. Ok, well that’s only a couple people, but Jesus, I can’t fuckin’ stand it. Also, I feel that I don’t have anything worth saying on here. I think I’m kind of “over” blogging. I’ll just write nonfiction and that’s good enough I guess. Maybe I’ll promote myself on here or whatever. Anyway, I’m not getting rid of my account because I still follow videogame blogs and shit, so I can stay up to date on that news.

Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter looks like it’s fuckin’ terrible. Just a total shitpile. I mean as much as I’d like to enjoy it, I can’t go into a theater playing it with an open mind. It just looks stupid.

0 notes

kylegrbwsk asked: Bethesda recently put out a patch for Skyrim on Steam that allowed for mounted combat. Presumably this patch will eventually come to consoles as well. Are you excited for this? Will it be cool or just a hindrance?

Bethesda is pretty awesome, so mounted combat will probably be pretty solid. That last patch they put through to consoles that had more kill cams, kill cams more often, and ranged kills was totally badass. I got back into Skyrim for a while again because of that. I will keep going, of course, but I enjoyed it. I don’t ever ride a horse, however. There is really not a point in doing so, and I’d rather be a lone wanderer of the lands, roughing it with naught more than I carry with me. There’s some simple dignity in that. I guess I didn’t ever ride a horse because it was a pain in the ass, what with having to get off the damn thing every time a damn dragon or troll or bandit shows up. The mounted combat may see me riding a horse a little more than usual to try it out, but I think my time traveling from city to town to city carrying out tasks for the people of Skyrim will be largely unchanged.

0 notes

friedmoonpies asked: What's your favorite sandwich?


I mean is there any other kind? If there is, don’t tell me, I’ll just be disappointed. Anyway, I think you meant to say “sammich” and I will answer with that assumption. My favorite sammich is not an easy question to answer. There a so many that are so great. Chicken finger is pretty damn good. Oh shit. Dave showed me this place in Fort Collins that had just this wacky ass food. The sammich I had was like chicken strips, mozzarella sticks, fries, onion rings, and honey mustard sauce. It was one of like 12 sandwiches they had. It was like, total stoner food. It was delicious nonetheless. Turkey is another variety of sammich I enjoy as well. With, like, lettuce and mayo. Damn. I want a sammich now. I need to go to bed though.

1 note

Anonymous asked: i made $150 today on tumblrtasks(.)com check it out but dont tell anyone about it

Dude, WHAT? I’ll go there right now and enter my credit card info, Social Security number, and all my passwords to everything. What’s the worst that could happen?

0 notes

Anonymous asked: Are you going to "The Beatles: The Lost Concert" movie premier in a few weeks?

Is that a thing? I don’t even know what that is. I probably won’t.

3 notes

Number of Fucks Given and Friendzone Level

I’m tired of everyone talking about the number of fucks that a given person gives out on a daily basis. It’s always none. Nobody ever gives any fucks. If this is supposed to be a valid system of rating how much someone cares about something, there has to be a standard. Of course, zero is not caring at all. What’s a good amount of caring, though? I would like to stay away from a scale of one to ten. That doesn’t give you enough room to maneuver. Everyone ends up going on about 5.5 and such. This makes me want to do a percentage system. 100 is the most amount of fucks that you can give. Don’t give me any of this bullshit about 110%. That is literally not possible. So 100 fucks is you care about this particular thing more than you have cared about anything in your life. 50 fucks is you kinda care, but it really doesn’t matter. You can guess about it from there. So, I don’t want to hear about someone giving no fucks at all times. You can say “she gives, like, 8 fucks” that’s still a really low amount. That’s still less than 10% caring.

Now, onto friendzone levels. I have been seeing a bunch of pictures of stupid guys doing things for girls and it seems that they are not going to get laid despite their efforts. This is a basic friendzone dynamic, and seeing it happen to other people is kinda funny sometimes. These captions also make a mistake, but they go the other way. Every friendzone guy is way over leveled. It’s always like level 9000 or level 120. There needs to be a standard here again. I can only assume that the 9000 one is a reference to DragonBallZ, which is fine, I guess, but it’s unrealistic again. In the history of RPGs, I can say with some confidence that nobody has ever reached level 9000. The way that levels work in most RPGs is that the next level requires an exponential raise in experience from the last level. The first 10 or so levels go by pretty quickly, but then you have to really work to get to the next. Usually, levels cap out at about 80 or 100. Somewhere in here is a good place to call it good. If you really want to be a dick about it, we can say that the level cap is 100. Now, it would be ridiculous to think that anyone could actually reach friendzone level 100. That is a crazy amount of work and even the most tenacious friendzoner would give up after a certain point. “Man I just got to level 82. I just don’t think that putting the time and energy into level 83 is even worth it.” Seriously though, after a while, the jump in experience from one level to the next would just get stupid and there would be no possible way to get enough experience. You would have to complete every side quest in friendzoning and probably defeat every foe on the face of the planet to get enough experience. That would take too long to defeat 7 billion other people, and by that point, some younger, more lonely guy would come along and defeat you. It’s just not realistic to think anyone could reach level 9000 in anything. And we’re not even considering different classes in friendzoning… What about the archer/thief? What about the barbarian? I mean, every RPG is at least a little diverse. We can’t just lump everyone into a single category and say “Friendzone level:38” that’s stupid. What if he specialized in picking her up from parties and bars. He’d be a level 38 Driver, rather than a level 38 Emotion Sponge, or a level 38 Courier. We must diversify this bullshit about friendzone levels, and we can’t use hyperbole in every situation, or it loses it’s impact. If everyone is at level 87, then level 87 doesn’t mean shit. Some guys won’t advance very far before calling it quits, and they are essential to any higher levels meaning a damn thing. So, not everyone will reach the max level. Only a select few will and we need to illustrate that.

          -Erik The Destroyer

Friendzone Level: 26 (and I worked pretty damn hard to get there)

# of fucks given? About 80. Yeah, I care about this shit, or I wouldn’t create a post about it.

Filed under Friendzone level IDGAF zero fucks given

1 note

friedmoonpies replied to your post: A Few Caffienated Wonders

When I read what you write, I hear your voice in my head, and I laugh because you make me laugh all the time. You write like you speak, and it’s cool.

Are you somebody I know maybe? You make it sound like someone I know, but your Tumblr is, like, way too skimpy on the biography part, and your thumbnail picture is too small for me to recognize you.

Filed under friedmoonpies

2 notes

oiseauxnoirs-deactivated2012050 asked: Uh, the shoes I want to get last years, dude.

Yeah, my shoes would last for years if they were that ugly, too. I’d never wear them is the point.

3 notes

A Few Caffienated Wonders

-I wonder if my ex still reads my blog. She used to, and when I would talk shit about her, or mention her in any way, I would hear about it. I saw her just last night. Words weren’t really exchanged. A friend of mine said that she’s just the first and only person that I’ve slept with, so there’s naturally going to be weird feelings there. I guess I just needed to hear that from someone again. The last time we talked, she was being all weird trying to have a relationship again and I was all, “OMG did you forget you dumped me?” and she was all like, “Like, can’t we forget abt all that?” I was like, “lol no”. She knows who won that one. I haven’t talked to her since.

-I wonder why it is that we think that the opposite sex has intimate knowledge of every other member of that same sex, just by association. I mean, I think of women as knowing things about every other woman. That’s just ridiculous, Goddamn it. Ridiculous.

-I wonder why naps are better than sleeping at night. I feel that there is something about the fatality of the nap. The fact that it will end at some point. Sure, when we sleep for the night, we know it will end, but it’s at a set time and it happens every night. Naps happen sporadically and the doomed nature of them make them so much sweeter. Isn’t that the same thing with life? The fact that it has some unknown endpoint makes it that much more important than if it conformed to a rigid schedule.

-I wonder if I’m actually a terrible writer and nobody has the cajones to tell me. I guess I won’t be satisfied until someone comes along and tears me down and shows me exactly what is shit about my writing. I guess I feel that the only way to get good at things is to have the shit stomped out of you. That’s how I got to be a kickass Halo player. People killed the ever loving piss out of me and, I learned. Just last night my friend Casey and I stomped some kids and won $40. I wish someone would just tell me my writing sucks and why, rather than saying “good job”, “No, it’s great”, and “You’re amazing”. Don’t worry about offending me. In fact, offend me. Tell me every nitpicky little detail that you didn’t like about any story I pen. Tell me; I want to improve.

In closing, I will introduce this piece. How deliciously absurd. Anyway, I drank a mug and a half of coffee this morning, and it must have been, like, extra powerful or something. Did any of you ever see that Hidalgo movie? Well, there’s this line that Viggo Mortenson says when referring to strong coffee that I always think of “Back home, we’d throw a horseshoe in the pot. If it stays standing, the coffee’s done”. That must be the sludge I ingested this morn. Hmm.

           -Erik The Destroyer

3 notes

Ok, so I had a pretty weird dream this morning.

I sit in my parent’s house in Bailey. There is some large party I threw and a lot of the Americorps girls are there. My parents had hired a guy to come over and renovate the south wall of the house while they were gone. I think he was contracted to put in a sliding glass door. He shows up drunk at midnight on a bright, moonlit evening with 3 elephants. He attaches ropes to a wall in my room and I watch this spectacle through my window. The elephants are ordered to pull and the wall rips clean off. A jagged hole is left behind. Apparently, this man is some wacky construction worker that uses zoo animals to do his work. I half expect a woodpecker to be drilling holes in 2-by-4s. The zoo carpenter apologizes, saying he was unaware there were people in the room. I smell cheap whiskey on his breath. I look over and recognize a cute girl I saw at the local coffee shop yesterday. She is apparently my parents neighbor now. She is naked, skinny dipping in her hot tub. I look away, embarrassed. I find myself reading David Sedaris on a stool outside and it is now morning. I finish a story and decide to move back inside. I walk through the giant ragged hole in my parent’s house and glance back toward the ‘neighbor’. She is fully nude and walking around. I looked away again and walked back inside. One of the Americorps girls was doing Tai Chi on a yoga mat, and the others were bustling around the house making coffee, cooking eggs, and heading for the shower, but they were all topless… Then Dave fucking called me and woke me up. Dick.

I fell back asleep and I was at a different party setting. The girls were there again and there were a bunch of my friends from high school. One guy in particular has forever had a reputation of being a total hound doggie. I felt responsible for all these girls and it was my duty to cockblock the hell out of this guy. Then I woke up again and told Dave he’s an asshole for taking away boobs. It’s been so long since I’ve seen boobs.

Anyway, that’s how my day has been. Weird, I know. Don’t psychoanalyze me, by the way. I’ll destroy you.

         -Erik The .. Come on, you should know by now…

1 note

Skyrim Chronicles Part 1. Eastmarch

I’ve heard rumors of bandits kidnapping locals and whisking them away, never to be seen again. The only abandoned tower that would be practical is Mistwatch Keep. It sits at the southern end of the Eastmarch. I break camp just north of Eldergleam Sanctuary.It has taken a day’s walk east from Whiterun, and I expect half a day to make it the rest of the way.

Geothermal pools sit between me and my destination. They aren’t more than waist deep, and they feel like a warm bath. Despite their temperature, the water meets the cold, northern air and a thick haze hangs in the air. Across the closest lake, I can see tall pine trees. A half submerged mammoth carcass lies in the middle of the mineral water. Skin and rancid meat hanging off the ribcage. I kick dirt on the fire and set out to find a path around this lake.

Thousands of years of volcanic activity have formed these pools in a terraced manner. As I climb to the top of this “hill” I hear a low, guttural, almost musical tone. A wide shadow moves in the distance. The dragon spots me and I feel his gaze upon me as if the creature sees through my physical body and recognizes my dragon soul. There is no cover. He catches me in the open and I can’t outrun it.  I pull my bow off of my back and take out an arrow. I balance it on my left hand and fit the notch in the bowstring. My fingers slide over the raven feather fletching and I pull the string back to my cheek. The ebony, obsidian-tipped projectile flies from my hands. I let the nerves get the best of me and the arrow flies about ten feet wide to the left.

The dragon flattens its wings to its back. A small blizzard shoots at me from the beast’s mouth. I put my forearm up to protect my face. A large, circular area is covered with a thin layer of ice a moment later, with me at the center. The dragon spreads its wings and pulls up at the last second, but still whips me with its tail. I break free from the ice and tumble to the right into the pool. I shake the slush off of my black leather armor and fit another arrow. The dragon banks hard right to come back around for another pass. I can’t afford to make another mistake with the dragon bearing down on me for the second time. The great creature opens its maw to release another barrage of ice and I fire. The arrow is sent into the dragon’s right shoulder, and the beast wails in pain. The unexpected strike interrupts the dragon’s flight and it falls toward me. I dive back into the water to avoid being pummeled by the horned brute.  

As I stand, my hood falls from my head and I drop my bow. The cold air meets me with a bite, but the adrenaline keeps it in check. I draw Brannsverd. Fiery orange runes light up along it as I unsling my shield. I set off at a dead run through the small valley of knee high mud and water the dragon left as it crashed.  It recovers and whips around sending another barrage of ice and wind. I raise the enchanted buckler. A thick layer of ice forms on it, but the rest of the dragon’s breath flows around me. I close the rest of the distance as the creature inhales, but I am blindsided by its tail again.

Before I can stand, it places a claw tipped wing on my shield, pinning me underneath. Struggling and splashing in the shallow water, I feel a rib crack. I can barely make out the beast’s mouth open to a maw of teeth and flesh. I strike out with my sword and catch it right below the eye. A smoking wound is left behind and the creature recoils. I stand, steam rising from my body and drop my shield. With both hands, I plunge the fire-sword into the creature’s chest. Thick, half-cauterized blood flows from the wound and over my hands. The dragon stumbles and moans. I step back and it looks through me again.

I raise my sword for the killing blow, but for a moment I recognize fear and remorse. Lowering Brannsverd, I place my hand on its forehead in comfort, but I cannot finish it. The great beast becomes drowsy and weak. I fall back with the dragon’s head in my lap. I watch the life leave its great eye, and I sit for a moment. I unwedge myself from under the creature’s head and whisper a prayer to the Nine.

A moment later a hot wind blows from the hole in the dragon’s chest. It whirls around me, semi-transparent. I inhale and feel the dragon soul flow into my body. Reinvigorated, I sheath my sword and find my shield nearby. I hike back to where I abandoned my bow and find it floating idly, bumping against a fallen tree in the water. Soaked with mineral water and oily dragons blood, I trudge on toward Mistwatch Keep.

Filed under Skyrim Flash Fiction Original

2 notes


I’m prefacing my next post with this one. So, a while ago, my dear friend, Joe York told me that I should play videogames and write about my experience to keep myself writing and keep my brain sharp. He read it somewhere or somebody told him of this strategy. I’m left to wonder if my brain being sharp is a good thing, but the point is this: look out for my Skyrim chronicles episode 1 soon. I jotted them down when I was at work today and I feel like it went pretty well. Ok, well I’ll probably type it up when I get home, so be excited.

          -Erik The Destroyer

1 note

Your wacky picture does nothing to the validity of arguments, specifically, mine.

Ok, well this one is probably long overdue. This bullshit meme has been running amok on the “internetz” for far too long.

Let me start with a history lesson. This attacking of validity of arguments started with ad hominem attacks. Terrible logicians have been using this to try and win arguments for a long time. As early as 2008 someone found a weird picture and posted a caption on it in all caps, plain white. Nobody actually knows what the first one was, but it has been a plague ever since. I think that these lame captions started with the demotivational posters. They were a rip on the motivational posters that are oh so popular with office managers. Of course, it blew up and everyone found pictures to put captions to and all the jokes were used up in seconds. This didn’t stop the semi-educated teens from posting every combination of letters they could get their grubby little brains onto every picture that grazed their optic nerves.

Now, I want to say that I appreciate strange pictures. I see a picture of a grenade that has a red “#1” ticket attached to the pin. There is a sign above it that reads “COMPLAINT DEPARTMENT: Please take a number”. I chuckle to myself and move on, having experienced something that I normally wouldn’t have if someone hadn’t had the foresight to post this picture to the internet. The picture itself tells a story. It tells many, in fact. It could be a cranky, Vietnam veteran that has taken to running an office, and doesn’t take criticism well. Who knows, the possibilities are nigh infinite. Someone else finds it extremely appropriate to post a caption that ruins the subtle balance of the picture. “Take a number… and run like hell!!1!” Some pockmarked, pre-pubescent fool found this quite titillating and thought this needed to be seen by any and everyone that finds themselves looking at a computer screen. They ruined the implications, and ruined the joke by explaining it.

With that out of the way, I will continue on to my main point, and, oddly enough, the title of this post. Your wacky picture does nothing to detract from validity of any argument. It just doesn’t. I can think of no situation where a picture destroys the logical progression of premises to a necessary conclusion. Nicolas Cage’s hair shaped like a bird does nothing. It’s misdirection at best, mindless, shitty photoshop at worst. Whenever you post some picture of a velociraptor holding an RPG riding a shark that is shooting lasers out of it’s eyes, and think that this picture, crudely slapped together as it is, detracts from an argument, you are taking away from the sum of all mankind’s intelligence. This mayn’t seem like anything large, but it cannot be taken lightly. Your puny brain may not comprehend it, but it is something that must be fixed. You are the sum of millions of years of evolution. Start acting like it.

                      -Erik The Destroyer