Research Article: The Impact of Orochi Main Gameplay on Mental Health

Abstract

This study, conducted by Dr. G. Smith, investigates the potential correlation between playing Orochi in a popular online game and the likelihood of mental disability. The research aims to provide insights into how specific gaming behaviors might influence mental health. The study found that individuals who main Orochi have an 87% increased likelihood of developing mental disabilities compared to non-Orochi players.

Introduction

Video gaming is a widely popular activity with varying impacts on mental health. While some studies have shown positive cognitive benefits, others have raised concerns about potential adverse effects. This study focuses on players who main Orochi, a character in the game "For Honor," to assess the association between this specific gameplay and mental health outcomes.

Methods

Participants

A total of 1,000 participants were recruited for the study through gaming forums, social media platforms, and online gaming communities. The participants were divided into two groups: - Orochi Mains (n=500): Individuals who exclusively or predominantly play as Orochi. - Non-Orochi Players (n=500): Individuals who play other characters or diversify their gameplay.

Inclusion Criteria

• Participants must have at least 200 hours of gameplay.
• Ages between 18 and 45 years.
• No prior diagnosis of mental disability before the onset of playing "For Honor."

Exclusion Criteria

• Participants with a history of mental disability prior to playing the game.
• Participants who play multiple characters equally.

Data Collection

Data were collected using a combination of self-reported surveys and psychological assessments. The survey included questions on gaming habits, frequency, duration, and character preference. Psychological assessments were conducted using standardized tools, including: - The General Health Questionnaire (GHQ-28) - The Beck Depression Inventory (BDI) - The Spielberger State-Trait Anxiety Inventory (STAI)

Procedure

1. Recruitment: Participants were recruited online and provided informed consent.
2. Survey and Assessment: Participants completed the initial survey and psychological assessments.
3. Follow-up: Assessments were repeated after six months to monitor changes in mental health status.

Statistical Analysis

Data were analyzed using SPSS software. Logistic regression was used to determine the likelihood of developing mental disabilities in Orochi mains compared to non-Orochi players. Odds ratios (OR) and 95% confidence intervals (CI) were calculated. A p-value of <0.05 was considered statistically significant.

Results

The logistic regression analysis revealed that Orochi mains have a significantly higher likelihood of developing mental disabilities (OR: 1.87; 95% CI: 1.50-2.34, p < 0.001) compared to non-Orochi players. The primary mental health issues identified were increased levels of anxiety and depression.

Discussion

The findings suggest a strong correlation between maining Orochi and an increased likelihood of mental disabilities. Several factors may contribute to this correlation: - The competitive and stressful nature of playing Orochi. - Potential social isolation due to intense gaming habits. - In-game experiences and interactions that could negatively impact mental health.
Further research is needed to explore the underlying mechanisms and to establish causation. It is also important to consider other confounding factors such as personality traits and pre-existing conditions.

Conclusion

This study highlights a significant association between playing as Orochi in "For Honor" and an increased likelihood of mental disabilities. These findings underscore the need for awareness and preventive measures in the gaming community to mitigate potential mental health risks.

References

• Beck, A. T., Steer, R. A., & Brown, G. K. (1996). Beck Depression Inventory-II. Psychological Corporation.
• Goldberg, D. P., & Hillier, V. F. (1979). A scaled version of the General Health Questionnaire. Psychological Medicine, 9(1), 139-145.
• Spielberger, C. D. (1983). State-Trait Anxiety Inventory for Adults. Consulting Psychologists Press, Inc.

Over the last few weeks I shifted my Cybersecurity Governance, Risk, and Compliance consulting company into an AI Governance consulting company and man !! What a solid idea. I recommend all AI and tech pro's hop on the wave now.. AI is only getting stronger and you do not want to fall behind on the latest trends & advancements. And for those of you who own an AI company that uses AI/ML systems, if you want to really take your business to the next level BECOME COMPLAINT WITH NEW REGULATIONS/FRAMEWORKS!! Not only does it grant you and your company safety and ethical posture, but it shows your costumers you care about being a trusted and high quality company. I am open to discussion about this topic.

I'm looking at buying a laptop for uni use for at least the next 4 years and occasional light gaming, I've shortlisted the HP Envy x360 14t-fc000 and the new Zenbook 14. I can only afford the HP with a Core 5 Ultra and its at the very limit of my budget at 750 USD, the Zenbook 14 with a Core 7 ultra is slightly out of my price range but box opened from best buy is cheaper than the HP but I'm hesitant to buy box opened just in case there's some issues even though generally all I've seen is mostly positive cause I wouldn't be able to return it as I don't live in the states and someone would bring it from there to where I live once I've bought it. I'm just trying to assess whether the upgrade is worth the risk, or is there a better machine I could get for my needs than those 2? Preferably new or box opened if its trustworthy cause I don't really trust used.

Choosing the right four-wheeler insurance policy online can be a daunting task, especially with the myriad of options available. Whether you’re a first-time car owner or looking to switch providers, understanding the nuances of car insurance can help you make an informed decision. Here’s a comprehensive guide to help you choose the best car insurance policy online.

Understanding Car Insurance

Car insurance is a policy that provides financial protection against physical damage or bodily injury resulting from traffic collisions and against liability that could also arise from incidents in a vehicle. It’s essential to understand the different types of car insurance policies available:

1. Third Party Insurance: This is the most basic type of motor insurance and is mandatory by law. It covers damages caused to a third party but does not cover the insured vehicle.
2. Comprehensive Insurance: This covers both third-party liabilities and damages to your own vehicle due to accidents, theft, fire, and natural disasters.

Steps to Choose the Best Car Insurance Policy Online

1. Assess Your Needs

Before purchasing a car insurance policy, assess your specific needs. Consider factors like the age of your car, how frequently you drive, and your budget. If you drive an older vehicle, third-party insurance might suffice. For newer or more expensive cars, comprehensive coverage is advisable.

2. Research and Compare Policies

With numerous options available online, it’s crucial to compare different car insurance policies. Look at the coverage, benefits, and exclusions of each policy. Many websites offer comparison tools that can help you compare car insurance online from different providers. Pay attention to the following aspects:

• Coverage: Ensure the policy offers adequate coverage for both third-party liabilities and personal damages.
• Add-ons: Check for additional cover options like zero depreciation, roadside assistance, and engine protection.
• Claim Settlement Ratio: This is a key indicator of an insurer’s reliability. A higher ratio suggests a better likelihood of claims being settled efficiently.

3. Check the Insurer’s Reputation

Research the reputation of the insurance company. Read reviews and ratings from other customers to gauge their experiences. An insurer with a strong track record and good customer service can make a significant difference when it comes to claims processing.

4. Understand the Car Insurance Price

While comparing policies, don’t just look at the premium. The car insurance price should reflect the value and extent of coverage provided. Sometimes, cheaper policies might have hidden costs or inadequate coverage. Balance the cost with the benefits offered.

5. Read the Fine Print

Carefully read the policy documents to understand the terms and conditions. Pay attention to exclusions, deductibles, and the claim process. Understanding the fine print can prevent unpleasant surprises later.

6. Utilize Discounts

Many insurers offer discounts for various factors such as:

• No-claim bonuses
• Installing anti-theft devices
• Bundling multiple policies (like car and home insurance)

Make sure to inquire about these discounts to reduce your premium.

7. Consider Customer Support

Good customer support can make a big difference. Choose an insurer with a robust support system that can assist you in times of need. Check if they offer 24/7 support and how accessible they are through different channels (phone, email, chat).

8. Make an Informed Decision

After thorough research, choose a policy that best meets your requirements and budget. Ensure that the policy provides comprehensive coverage and is from a reputable insurer with good customer service and a high claim settlement ratio.

Conclusion

Choosing a car insurance policy online doesn’t have to be overwhelming. By assessing your needs, researching and comparing options, understanding the car insurance price, and considering customer reviews and support, you can find the best car insurance policy for your vehicle. Remember, the right policy not only offers financial protection but also peace of mind, knowing that you and your car are well-covered.
By following these steps, you can navigate the complexities of motor insurance and make an informed decision that ensures your four-wheeler is protected on the road. Happy driving!

Side Effects of Insulin During Pregnancy
Insulin is a crucial hormone produced by the pancreas to regulate blood glucose levels. During pregnancy, managing blood sugar becomes even more critical to ensure the health of both the mother and the growing baby.
1. Why Is Insulin Needed During Pregnancy?

• Gestational Diabetes: Some pregnant individuals develop gestational diabetes, a condition where blood sugar levels rise during pregnancy. Insulin helps control blood glucose and prevent complications.

2. Types of Insulin:
There are several types of insulin, each with different characteristics:

• Rapid-acting insulin: Starts working about 15 minutes after injection, peaks one to two hours afterward, and lasts for about two to four hours.
• Short-acting insulin: Begins working within 30 minutes of injection, peaks two to three hours afterward, and remains effective for three to six hours.
• Intermediate-acting insulin: Takes effect two to four hours after injection, peaks around four to 12 hours afterward, and works for 12–18 hours.
• Long-acting insulin: Begins working several hours after injection and lowers glucose levels for up to 24 hours.
• Ultra long-acting insulin: Starts working in six hours, never peaks and lasts 36 hour or longer.

3. Safety of Insulin During Pregnancy:
Insulin does not cross the placenta, making it safe for both the mother and the baby.

• Complications with high blood sugar: Uncontrolled blood sugar during pregnancy can lead to birth defects, large fetal size (large for gestational size) increased during risk of C-section, preeclampsia and even pregnancy loss.

4. Potential Side Effects:
Injection Site Reactions: Redness, swelling, itching, or skin thickening near the injection site.

• Hypoglycemia (Low Blood Sugar): Insulin can cause low blood sugar if not balanced properly. Symptoms include dizziness, shaking, sweating, racing heart, and tingling in the tongue and lips.
• Lumps at Injection Sites: To prevent this, avoid injecting in the same spot every time.
• Puffiness in Lips, Tongue and Throat: Rarely, insulin may cause localized swelling. Monitoring and Care:
  
• Regular monitoring of blood sugar levels is essential during pregnancy.
  
• Work closely with your healthcare provider to adjust insulin doses as needed.
  

Managing insulin during pregnancy:
1.Change Insulin Injection Sites.
2.Consistent Timing.
3.Consult Your Doctor for Diet.
Uncontrolled insulin risks during Pregnancy:
1.Large Fetal Size.
2.Difficult Delivery.
3.Increased risk of Future Diabetes
4.Health problems for the Fetus.
5.Premature Delivery.
6.Preeclampsia and High Blood Pressure.
7.Risk of death for Fetus.
Remember that insulin plays a vital role in maintaining a healthy pregnancy. If you experience any side effects or have concerns, consult your doctor immediately. Proper management ensures the well-being of both you and your baby.
In summary, insulin is a valuable tool for managing blood sugar during pregnancy. While it has some potential side effects, its benefits far outweigh the risks. Always follow your healthcare providers guidance to ensure a safe and healthy pregnancy.

My husband and I have been trying forever for a baby. And a few months ago I finally got the two lines that indicated our dreams were becoming a reality. I knew it would be high risk but I didn’t care about the risk, this was a dream I would regret not at least trying absolutely everything to fulfill.
The first few months my husband was extremely supportive. Waiting on me hand and foot, massages even though I wasn’t even showing yet. As the second trimester marched on his excitement only grew, slowly watching the baby grow at doctor’s appointments with me.
On the way out of a doctor’s appointment I tripped and landed terribly. Luckily we were right outside the doctor’s office so we could get help immediately. I faint at the sight of blood, so I don’t remember much after touching between my legs and finding crimson stains on my fingertips. When I woke up I was dazed but was so happy to feel my baby still doing gymnastics in my stomach.
My husband, however, must have become frightened that something would happen and slowly started to detach himself from my whole pregnancy. He only offered grunts in support as I picked out colors for the nursery. We had a late term pregnancy loss before so he was just scared of losing a baby again. It was easier to detach than accept something may happen. But you can’t live in the what if’s.
As I began to unpack the furniture for the nursery and set up the cameras for the baby monitor, I could see my husband's discomfort grow. His physical demeanor only got worse the more I progressed with the furniture.
Finally he stood up and shouted what he apparently had been holding in the last two months. “You aren’t pregnant anymore Liv! You lost the baby with the fall, there was nothing the doctor could do! A therapist told me to let you grieve how you saw fit but I can’t do this anymore! It is torture to watch you decorate our dead child’s nursery.”
I didn’t say a word, and just put his hand on my stomach because as I explained to him, I don’t care what the doctor says. I know my body and my baby. As he began to roll his eyes and was just about to lift his hand the baby kicked hard. My husband's face went from disbelief to horror.
All he could mutter as tears of true depression and fear began rolling down his cheeks was, “Liv, I saw them remove our poor sweet baby with my own eyes.”
As his last word slipped out, I could feel a searing pain. I was going into labor, and for the first time I was worried what that meant.
When I wake up I realize I am no longer home. In between bouts of unconsciousness, I take in the scene around me. The doctor screaming “WE HAVE TO SAVE IT!” and it all comes rushing back. I got told I was not pregnant by my husband and immediately went into labor. Which in my haze is a very hard sequence of events to process, hell even in my right mind that would be a difficult one.
I start stirring and the doctor notices and looks down at me, beaming with pride. My husband in a chair clearly drugged also is starting to rouse and try and piece together what happened. All he can keep repeating is, “what is it?” in a stupor. Like he truly couldn’t process what happened and what was currently happening.
As I become more aware, I try and find my voice. While raspy I am able to gasp out the words, “Where is my baby?!”
The doctor looks at me the pride evaporating and a cold expression taking over his face. “Your baby died months ago. Your husband watched us remove it. However, he did not see that I went on to take advantage of your willing and ready womb by implanting something much more important than you or your child would ever become.”
I blink taking in this information. I felt this thing grow in me, thought it was a part of me, loved it more than I loved myself. But that’s when I thought it was my child, my stomach begins turning and bile begins to raise into my throat.
“Would you like to hold what you brought to life, what you birthed?” The doctor said with a look of pure curiosity crossing his face.
“Yes..” I gasp before I can rationally consider his proposition.
Walking over with a bundle, he places it into my arms, and I look down with severe trepidation. Even though I have never seen it, I know it’s the thing I felt so connected to and somehow still do. Pulling the blanket away I see what could only be described as an abomination.
It was three different children stitched together to almost become one but not quite. Clearly in pain and not meant to exist. As a look of horror crosses my face the doctor sighs.
“I was hoping for a better reaction, that maternal instinct may win out. Too bad. Considering one of those babies IS yours. These three babies couldn’t make it on their own but together they could. I tried many times, but you are the first one to actually be able to last full term and have the baby survive. I hoped maternal instinct would have won over, it would have been easier.”
The bile rises again and I listen on in terror.
The doctor continues, “Since you’re the only one this has been successful with, there will be many more attempts we will require your hospitable womb for.”

TLDR: in a generally chaotic lifestyle, I'm going through an extra chaotic period. I think having my own hangboard setup may help me create more consistent training conditions, but I need help identifying the proper routine before I can pick the setup.
My specs:

• Lifestyle: high variance in workload. I live between two cities and regularly travel elsewhere for work. On top of that, I'm currently traveling non-stop for 5 months.
• 6 years climbing on-and-off, experimenting with a diversity of disciplines. Bouldering is my favourite.
• V5-V7, 6b sports plateau indoor. Outdoors: I have no idea, I haven't been outdoors in 18 months. But I'd like to change that.
• Strengths: good technique basics, strong large muscle groups, flexibility
• Weaknesses: coordination, hip placement in upward dynos, finger strength due to lack of consistency
• Training environment: a wide diversity of gyms depending on where I am, with little to no consistency in setups - including hangboard setups.

Goals:

• Clear 4 tops in Moonboard V4 benchmarks by August 2024 (progress with that one's going faster than expected, though my fingers still can't take more than 4-5 tries at a time, when I do stumble upon a Moonboard)
• Send Bonne Mine and Meilleure mine in the Fall of 2024 - two 6C Font roof borders, with lots of upward edges. I can't visit before mid-September, but then I'll have opportunities to come back at least once a month.

Current training (started 2 months ago, great results so far):

• 3-session rotation // 1. Power and Limit on big holds + general conditioning // 2. Hangboard repeaters + volume bouldering // 3. Single-session projects
• Ideally on a 7days cycle, but I'm traveling for with my non-climbing partner, so closer to a 9days cycle if I'm being honest.
• 20min yoga session and a basic core module every 2-3 days, in the morning.

Hangboarding specifically:

• This is new for me, I'd never used a hangboard before the current cycle.
• Repeater routine: 7s on, 3s off, 6 reps per set // 1 set on jugs (warm up) // 2 sets BW on 40mm // 3 sets with largest resistance band available on 20mm.
• I complete it every time, though the last reps of the last two sets on 20mm feel like max and my form is probably less than stellar then.

My questions:

1. Am I correct in my assumption that hangboarding sessions, combined with traditional bodyweight conditioning, can be somewhat of a substitute for a session when my lifestyle prevents me from going to the gym/crag ?
2. If yes, I feel like a portable hangboard may be a good first investment. I do however worry that most (all?) of them offer thin edges that may be inappropraite for my current finger strength. Any concerns about using one as a primary hangboarding tool due to edge size or holds spacing?
3. How concerned should I be about my inability to maintain perfect form for the very last reps of my current routine, considering I'm still seeing progress after two months? If there is indeed a concern, does that feed into the question above?
4. Final question: should I have a fixed setup in my primary home to use as a more stable training environment when I'm there, considering I intend to hangboard once a week regardless?

Thanks a lot!

First/Previous
The travel took on a less gloomy quality in the day that passed since Gemma’s self-reflection and although there remained a queer distance in her eyes, she seemed in better spirits in losing the weight of the words.
It was a night just beyond Wabash Crevasse that we pushed on till sunset was almost upon us and we were each tired and the food stocks ran low and so we found harbor in a half collapsed cellar where a home once stood; it was only after examining the slatted, rotted boards of the old place, fallen over, tired with decay, that we spied the cellar doors intact; sheets of door metal plied us with safety from the outside world and the interior of the place stank of mold and the deeper recesses were collapsed, but there was a cradle to crossbar the stair hatch and I put my prybar there for the night. We finished the water and canned tomatoes, and I smoked a cigarette, staving off the inevitable doom which would come with the dwindling of our supplies.
I’d peeked through the space where the doors met at the cellar’s entry and watched the full darkness there while the youngins spoke of life and the trivial pursuits of it and I hardly said a word besides.
Sitting on the lowest step with Trouble dumbly maintaining her station by me, by the low glow of the space in the threshold, I saw they’d pushed their bedrolls together and Andrew had fallen asleep with his arm over Gemma’s shoulder and her eyes glowed with shine from the crack, blinked a few times while seeing me; she too eventually drifted to sleep, and I spent time by the secured door.
Gunshots rang across the stillness, and they stirred from their quiet slumber and Gemma asked, “Harlan, is it alright?”
I moved to the space there at the doorway again and listened and watched what I could through that crack and nothing beyond came. “It’s safe. I’ll be up a bit longer. I’ll watch.”
Andrew asked, “Can’t sleep?”
“I’ll sleep in a bit. Don’t worry about me. Rest. Sleep good and we can put more behind us.
They sat up, legs crossed triangle-wise, and Gemma spoke again, “Why do you have such a hard time sleeping? It seems I’m asleep after you and only awake after you too.”
“Yeah,” said Andrew.
“It’s cool at night. I can listen to the wind.” I shrugged.
“You should be the one that tries to get some sleep,” said Andrew.
I said nothing.
They reached out their arms and I shook my head.
“Here,” Gemma said, “Move your bedroll closer.” She reached across the dirt floor of the cellar and dragged my splayed roll so that it sat beside hers.
“I’ll sleep later.” I turned my attention back to the door and ignored them till their sounds of sleep could be heard. The Alukah was nowhere and did not tap on the door that night and when I moved to sleep, I shimmied onto the roll beside them, facing away on my shoulder; the dog followed, laid on the bare dirt beside me and I held the mutt.
Though I refused a noise as they stirred in the absolute darkness, I felt Gemma’s arm fall over my own shoulder and felt Andrew’s hand touch my back, and water traced the bridge of my nose and I slept deeply thereafter.
There was no breakfast without food, and the water was gone; I felt the eyes of the dog on us as we packed up our belongings that next morning and I tried not to imagine the poor animal skinned over fire. I smiled at Trouble, patted its head, scratched its chin; she sniffed my hand like she was looking for something that wouldn’t be found.
We went west again, ignoring roads and pushed through straight wasteland where nothing was and no one was, and with every dry footfall on the dry hard ground, I wished for rain, and I wished that when it had rained, as infrequent as it was, that I had been wise enough to save what we could from the sky; that sky was red and swollen and refused to burst. We pushed on through strange dead thickets where grayed and twisty yellow branches lurched from the ground into the sky like even they too wished for an end to all the suffering. It was days more till we would see Alexandria and though I could stave off hunger (thirst too, if necessary), I was not so certain that the children would be able to push on without it; they did not complain and watched the ground in our march and maintained higher spirits than I could’ve imagined from them.
Early in the day, they spoke often, and I listened and as they wore on, their words came less and even the dog seemed in a lower mood for the unsaid predicament; me too.
Gemma broke the silence on the matter by saying, “What are we going to do about food? Water?”
“We’ll push on.”
“We could turn back?” asked Andrew.
“The more time we spend out in the open, outside of a city, the more likely it is that the Alukah will catch us unawares. Tighten your belts.” Our feet took us around a dilapidated truck, an old thing with a rusty hook which dangled off a rear arm. “Save your urine.”
They made faces but did not protest.
“Does that work? You ever drink pee?” asked Andrew.
I laughed, “I thought we’d be there by now. I took us too long by trying to drop the scent of the Alukah. That thing’s hunted us for days—last night was the first time it ain’t bothered us. It’s got me wondering why.”
Gemma piped up, licking her dry lips before speaking, “Do you think that monster ran into those scavengers we saw?” Then I caught her shooting a look at Andrew, “At least we warned them.” Her smile was faint and almost indiscernible as one.
I shrugged. “Can’t say. Don’t think it’s smart to turn back. Won’t be long and we’ll touch the 40 and then it’ll be a straight on to Babylon—couple of days—can’t turn back though. Maybe without food; that’s doable. Water’s the worst, but if it comes to it,” I paused and looked on the weathered faces of the children, on the lowered head of Trouble which followed her nose across the ground (it searched just short of frantic), “Like I said, ‘save your urine’.”
The first pains of hunger held within me brought up some reminiscence and I wished for nothing more than to hold Suzanne; I could nearly smell them and in the swaying walk which took us on past toppled townships, I held long blinks where I could nearly make out their face and if I really pushed the limits of my imagination, I could feel them. In those moments, as we passed dead places, rotted pits of despair, I could think of little more than their presence. Though I knew it was a dangerous game, hoping for more than I was worth, I hoped for Suzanne then and I wished that I’d taken them up on their offer to travel to Alexandria with them; it could’ve been home—it never was in all the times I’d gone there, but who knows? The thoughts of Babylon brought forth their gardens; the wild gardens and the water which flowed freely through their pipes. I wished I was a different person entirely and that too would’ve been better for Suzanne; how it was that they’d seen anything in me, I don’t know. How it was that they could stoop to the level of being with someone like me—I warded off that thought, because to place the blame there would certainly be unfair. I thought of my love plainly and wanted a different life more suited to them.
Imaginations played more furiously, and I remembered the evening when Dave stopped me from leaping from that roof—it’s doubtful that he even realized that he’d slowed my demise; perhaps he did know—I wished then that I could ask him. Too kind for the world. People too kind for the world were scarce and hardly worth the trouble. Yet, there I was, chaperoning those two across the wastes.
Gemma was a broken person when I’d found her, tortured in Baphomet’s well; Andrew was a dullard boy who’d lost his hand. What a silly predicament.
I stopped in my movements and swiveled on my heel to catch Andrew by the shoulder. “You still got your hand, don’t you?”
In good humor, the boy grinned, lifted the nub on the end of his left forearm to show me, “Nope.”
“Dammit, no! The hand in the jar!”
Andrew raised his eyebrows. “In my pack.”
“Stop,” I commanded Trouble; the dog hardly recognized my words and continued a way then circled back, sad eyes looking up from where she took to sit by my side. Gemma, both arms dangling loosely from her own pack’s shoulder straps, took into the circle we’d formed.
The girl asked, “What about the jar? It’s nasty, but I guess it’s his.”
“I think that’s it,” I said. I took Andrew by his shoulders, looked him in his eyes, “We could use it!”
“What?” The boy almost laughed in the display of our concern. “What’s that got to do with anything?”
“I think I’ve got it! It’s good for a trap.” I shook him; maybe too hard. I almost smiled. “It’s worth a shot!”
“It’s mine.” He bit his top lip, withdrew from me.
“You’ll feel differently about that,” I said.
Gemma placed a hand on Andrew’s pack and tried ripping it open. “Give it to him!” shouted the girl.
The boy whipped from her grasp, and he spun on his feet, and panic stood on his face. “It’s mine, isn’t it?”
I took a step forward, “No, not anymore.” I put out my palm, “Give it.”
Andrew nearly flinched at the thought of it and shook his head a little. “Why?”
“I told you why,” I said.
“You don’t even know if it’ll work, do you?” his words were long in protest.
The girl started again, “Andrew, please.”
He locked eyes with Gemma and once again, his bottom teeth came up to meet over his top lip and he moved his jaw methodically with contemplation.
“What does it even matter?” she asked.
“It’s mine. You don’t know what it’s like.”
“Don’t be ridiculous!”
“C’mon,” he said, but his pack straps fell from his shoulders, and he hunkered down on the ground and opened his bag; his right hand plunged into the recesses therein and withdrew the jar with his severed left hand. He held the object up, refusing to come up from his open pack, keeping his eyes on the ground. “Take it then.” He shook the jar; its contents sloshed with liquid decay.
I grabbed the thing, held it to skylight; the remains within had congealed and rotted and lumps nearly floated in the brownish liquid which had formed in the base of the container. I shook it and stared for a moment at the miniscule debris which floated alongside the hand; each of its digits had swollen and erupted to expose bone; some had come away in pieces. “Tomorrow,” I said and nodded.
We gathered ourselves and Andrew pulled his pack on again and we moved, Trouble still looked sorry and the boy remained quiet while the girl chattered on with questions while we took through the dying ground in a formation with the dog on point then me then the children.
“What will you do with it?” she asked me.
“Not sure yet.”
Andrew made a noise like he wanted to say something but didn’t.
“You think it will work?” asked Gemma.
“Nothing’s a guarantee. They’re smart—Alukah.”
“Smart enough to figure out a trap?”
I shrugged. “We’ll find out.”
“We could put stakes in a pit.”
“Keep on the lookout for a building. Something with multiple floors.”
With that, we moved on, found a worn, mostly destroyed road and we fell into a travelling quiet and the thought of hunger or thirst arose again, and I pushed it down—though I knew the uneasiness could only last so long before savagery would overtake the human condition; the kids seemed strong enough, but I kept an eye on the dog too. Savagery belonged not only to humans, after all.
The ground of the wastes was harder when it was quiet, and it was flatter further west. The sky—red and full of thin and transparent drifting clouds—seemed an awful sight when stared at for too long; it was the thing which stretched as if to signal there wasn’t an end in any direction, as if to declare we had much more to go till safety. Wanderlust is a thing that I believe I’ve felt before, but under that sky, with those two and the dog, I didn’t feel it at all. It was doom that I felt. Ignorance and doom. And it was all because I was certain I’d made all the wrong mistakes, and it was coming back to me. I was experienced. We should’ve had food and water. Perhaps there was some deep and nasty part inside of me that had intended to sacrifice them along the way. The words of the Alukah might have rung true: You say you make no deals, but I smell it. I think you’d deal.
Surely, I felt differently. Surely.
“Getting darker,” called Andrew as we came to where signposts—worn and bent and barely legible—told us of a place once called Annapolis and the buildings were nearly gone entirely; places, maybe places that were once homes, were leveled—I was briefly caught in imagining what it might’ve been like all those ages ago. As are most places, it was haunted like that and when we came to a long rectangular structure of metal walls—thin walls—we took it as a place for rest for the night.
It once served as an agricultural station, for when we breached its entry, there were a line of dead machines—three in all—cultivators or tillers which stood higher than any of our heads and Gemma asked what they were, and I told her I thought they were for farming. The great rusted bodies stood in quiet shadow as we came through a side passage of the building and the great doors which had once been used to release those machines from the building stood frozen in their frame. I approached the doors, lighting my lantern and motioning for the children to shut the door we’d entered through.
Upon closer inspection, it seemed the doors would roll into the ceiling and the chains which held the doors in place were each secured with rusted padlocks—I removed my prybar from my pack and moved along the wall of doors, giving each old lock a smack with the weapon; each one held in place, seemingly fused there through years of corrosion, and I rounded the cultivators once more, back to the children, near the side door where they’d discovered a rickety stair frame which crawled up the side of the wall to a catwalk; along the catwalk, a levitated box stood at the height of the structure, stilted by metal legs, and we took the stairs slowly with the dog following close behind; the poor mutt was mute save the sound of its own shuffling paws.
The metal stairs creaked under our weight and Gemma held her own lantern high over her head so that the strange shadows of the place grew longer, stranger, and suddenly I felt very sure that something was in the dark with us, but there was no noise except what we made. My eyes scanned the darkness, and I followed the children up the stairs till we met the overhang of the catwalk and I peered into the shadows, the blades of the cultivators—far extended on foldable arms—struck up through the pool of blackness beneath us and I felt so cold there and if it were not for the breath of my fellow travelers, I might have been lost in the dark for longer than intended—lost and frozen and contemplative.
“There’s a room,” said the boy, and he pushed ahead on the hanging passage, and he was the first to the door. “Boxes,” he said plainly.
Upon coming to the place where he stood, Gemma pushed her lantern over the threshold, and I saw what he’d meant as I traced my own lantern to help; the room was crammed with plastic totes and old metal containers of varied sizes. There seemed to be enough empty space to maneuver through the room, but only if one watched their feet while they walked. Carefully.
We moved to the room, and I found a stack of crates to place my lantern then motioned for Gemma to douse hers. In minutes, the place was rearranged so that we could sit comfortably on the floor; crates lined the walls precariously and we breathed heavy from the work done, but we began to unpack and upon watching the children while I rolled a cigarette, I felt a pang of guilt, a terrible summation—all choices in my life had led me here and with them and perhaps it would have been a better world for them without me.
Mentally shrugging this thought away, I lit my cigarette, inhaled deeply, and then withdrew the jar which Andrew had handed over. I held it to the lantern to examine it. The grotesqueness of it hardly phased me and I watched it more curious and hopeful than disgusted.
“I hope it’ll work,” said the boy, “Whatever it is that you plan on doing with it.” He grimaced and maintained a further silence in patting his bedding for fluff. The dog moved to him, and she pushed her forehead against him where he squatted on floor. The boy scratched Trouble’s chin and whispered, “Good girl,” into the top of her head where he’d pushed his own face.
“I’m hungry,” said Gemma; she placed her chin in her arm while watching Andrew with the dog. She sat on her own flat bed there on the floor and stated plainly the thing that I’d hoped to ignore for longer.
“I know.” I took another drag from the cigarette and let the smoke hang over my head. “The dog?”
Andrew recoiled, pulling Trouble closer into his arms.
I smiled. “It was a joke.”
Andrew relaxed, but only a moment before Gemma added, “Maybe.”
The boy narrowed his eyes in the girl’s direction, and she shrugged. “If it’s life or death.”
He didn’t say anything and merely continued stroking Trouble’s coat.
That night, we slept awfully and even in the complete darkness, I felt the cramp of the storage room and the angled shapes of the tools that protruded from the containers on all sides remained permanent well after we’d turned the light off and it felt like those shapes were the teeth of a great creature like we were sitting inside of its mouth, looking out.
Trouble positioned herself partially on my chest, her slow rhythmic breathing brought my thoughts calm and I whispered to her in the dark after I was sure the others were asleep, “I promise it was a joke.” And I brushed the back of her neck with my hand and the animal let go of a long sigh then continued that deep rhythmic breathing.
Still without food or water, the following day was the true indication of the misery to come. Gemma’s stomach growled audibly in waking and Andrew—though he kept his complaints to himself—smacked his lips more often or protruded the tongue in his mouth in a starvation for water. The room, in the daylight which peered through pinpricks of its half-decayed roof, seemed another beast altogether from its nighttime counterpart; it was not so frightening. Again, I admonished myself for the lack of preparation, but there was another thought that brought together a more cohesive feeling; we had a possible plan, a trap for the demon that’d been following us.
We went into the field to the west of the building where there was only dirt beneath our feet in the early sunlight and in the coolness of morning air, I nearly felt like a person. The sun crested the horizon and brought with it a warmth that would quickly become overwhelming—in those few minutes though—it felt good enough. I wished for the shy dew and saw none. The weirdness of holding Andrew’s rotting hand in a jar momentarily caught me and I almost laughed, but refrained and the dog and the children looked on while I held the container up and suddenly, seeing the congealed mass of tissue floating in its own excretions, I was overcome with the urge to run, the urge that nothing would ever be right again in my life, and that I was marked to be that way.
I blinked and tossed the jar to Andrew. “Say goodbye,” I said. He fumbled after it with his right hand and caught it to his chest.
“It’s strange you care so much anyway,” said Gemma, shrugging—her eyes forgave a millisecond of pity and when Andrew looked at her, still holding the jar in his right hand, she smiled and stuffed her hands into the pockets of her pants.
“We’ve enough oil, I think,” my voice was raspy from it being early, “Enough for good fire, but if we use it, it’ll mean a few more dark nights on our way.”
“We’re going to set it on fire?” Andrew pondered, keeping his eyes to the contents of the jar. “It worked good enough last time. It’ll work,” I nodded, “I has to, doesn’t it?”
His dry lips creased into a brief smile, and he tossed the jar back to me and I caught it.
“Let’s dig,” I said.
Without much in the way of proper tools, we began at the ground under us with our hands, then taking turns with my prybar till there was a hole in the ground comfortably large enough to conceal a human head and I uncapped the jar and spilled it contents there and we covered it back and I lightly tamped it with my boot. My eyes scanned the outbuilding we’d taken refuge in the night prior and then to the street to the north then to the houses which stood as merely rotted plots of foundation with frames that struck from the ground more as markers than support. “I’ll take up over there across the street when it gets dark. I want you two in that storage room before anything goes off.”
“We can’t help?” asked Gemma.
“You can help by staying out of the way—the mutt too,” I said; the words were harsh, but my feelings were from worry.
“Wouldn’t it be better if we stuck together?” asked the girl.
I shook my head. “You stay in the room and keep quiet. No matter what you hear, you stay quiet and safe.”
“That’ll put you at a bigger risk,” Gemma furrowed her brow at me and shifted around to look out on the houses across the street, “There’s hardly any cover over there.”
The boy nodded, smacked his lips, and rubbed his forearm across his mouth then audibly agreed with her.
“Doesn’t matter,” I said, “No matter what you hear happening outside, no matter, you don’t open the door and you don’t scream—don’t make a noise at all. Alright? Even if you hear me calling you, you don’t do it.”
“Pfft,” Gemma crossed her arms and kicked her foot against the ground. The way her eyes seemed hollowed with bruising showed that the irritation would only grow without food. “Alright,” she finally sighed.
Andrew looked much the same as she did in that; he swallowed a dry swallow then stuffed his hand into his pocket and looked away when our eyes matched.
We gathered our light oil. Altogether, it seemed enough; rummaging through the room of the outbuilding we’d earlier taken refuge within, we managed three intact glass containers—the only ones found that wouldn’t leak with liquid; two were bottles and the third was the jar that’d once kept Andrew’s hand. With that work done, we sat with three Molotov cocktails within our huddled circle of the storage room.
“Is it enough?” asked Gemma.
“We’ll see,” I began rolling a cigarette to ignore the hunger and the thirst.
Andrew took to the corner and glanced over his shoulder only a moment before a steady liquid stream could be heard and when he rotated from the wall once the noise was finished and he held a canteen up to his nose, sniffed it and quivered and shook his head.
As the sun pushed on, I scanned the perimeter outside, and they followed. Far south I spied a mass of shadow inching across the horizon and Gemma commented, “What’s that?”
I pushed the binoculars to her and let her gaze through them.
“A fiend—that’s what we called it back in the day anyway. A mutant.”
She held the binoculars up and frowned. “A mutant? So, it was once human?”
“A fiend was once many humans.” I pointed out to the horizon though she couldn’t see me doing so and continued, “If you look at the edges of its shape, you’ll see it’s got limbs galore on it. Sticking up like hairs is what it’ll look like at this distance. Those are arms and legs. It’s got faces too. Many faces.” I shuddered.
“I can barely see any details,” she passed the binoculars to Andrew, and he looked through them, “What’s it do?”
“What?” I asked.
“What’s it do if it catches a person?”
“It pulls people into it. Makes you apart of its mass. Nasty fuckers.”
Andrew removed the lenses from his eyes and held them to his chest and asked, “It won’t mess up your trap, will it?”
“We’ll keep an eye on it,” I said, “You don’t want to mess with a fiend unless you have to.”
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Unleash your hidden talents with the help of career specialists to discover your full potential.
Beginning a career is similar to embarking on a journey, full of opportunities for personal growth, overcoming obstacles, and experiencing new things. Achieving success in your career involves discovering a path that aligns with your interests, talents, and decisions. It can be daunting for individuals to determine the ideal career that suits their abilities and passions, resulting in less-than-ideal choices. This is where career counseling becomes crucial, as it plays a significant role in assisting individuals in recognizing their strengths, interests, and capabilities, enabling them to select the most suitable career path from a diverse range of options.
Exploring the Importance of Career Counseling: Expanding Horizons
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is a technique used to categorize applicants into groups based on their predicted job performance. These bands ae established by comparing applicant scores on a selection tool, such as a job test or assessment center, to a reference group's performance data.

Investmarkets.com is, unfortunately, a scam site that has been preying on unsuspecting individuals looking to invest their money in the market. The site promises high returns on investments with little to no risk, but in reality, it is nothing more than a scheme to take money from individuals with the promise of false profits. Many users have reported losing significant amounts of money after investing through Investmarkets.com, only to realize too late that they had fallen victim to a scam.
One of the tell-tale signs of Investmarkets.com being a scam is the lack of transparency and regulation. Legitimate investment platforms are required to be registered with regulatory bodies and follow strict guidelines to protect investors. However, Investmarkets.com operates with no oversight or regulation, making it easier for them to deceive individuals and run off with their money. Additionally, the site lacks basic information about its team and operations, further raising suspicions about its credibility.
Investing in the market can be a lucrative venture, but it is essential to do thorough research and avoid falling for scams like Investmarkets.com. It is important to always verify the legitimacy of investment platforms, check for regulatory approval, and never invest more money than you can afford to lose. By staying vigilant and informed, individuals can protect themselves from falling victim to scams and ensure their investments are secure.
REPORT ON SKYLINE RECOVERY CO

Disclaimer: this is very speculative and only one of the many possible interpretations of DFV's tweets so far.
Over the past few days we have witnessed the overture, the beginning, distraction, made you look phase of the plan. Everything panned out like our heroes wanted. MSM was baited in, all the bots got activated, shillery for different tickers etc. Hopefully the DOJ and SEC paid close attention.
This morning I ran into this post from 5 months ago:

QUOTE

https://twitter.com/DominosJack/status/1731032291244146806
---
In January of 2021 #GME ruffled a lot of feathers, triggering an event that posed a systemic risk to the global financial system, a risk equal to the corruption that facilitated its emergence.They haven’t forgotten, nor has Ryan Cohen, neither has the discerning retail investor, the SEC, the DOJ, Congress, Carl Icahn, Mark Cuban, Larry Cheng, Elon Musk and many more.You don’t expose a criminal’s greatest weakness to the world and expect them to fall for the same gambit again. The sequel has to be exponentially more calculated than the original.And there was Bed Bath and Beyond, another sitting duck retailer with a bought and paid for CEO, enormous short interest, pandemic fatigue and a prime candidate for cellar boxed tax free gains.GameStop 2.0 was never the play here. They were caught off guard the first time, this would have to be a ground breaking market maneuver and it would require a retail presence far more risk tolerant than anything seen before. The only way to collectively synthesize that level of risk tolerance is by building, brick by brick, an information devouring juggernaut capable of jumping from one social media platform to the next without skipping a beat.The brilliance of this play can be summed up in fairly simple terms.Every single corporate action from the moment Ryan Cohen sold his shares resulted in two diametrically opposed results:

1. Signal the algos to short
2. Speak to the retail investor in language AI is yet to comprehend. Speak not in white lines but in the spaces between. Distract AI with the Woman in the Red Dress, keep Retail focused on every move Mr. Smith makes.

There it is in black and white. If you think the Matrix reference is hyperbolic, you’re not paying attention. To say the gamification of the markets is an issue is the understatement of the century.They turned the markets into a real time videogame by handing the keys over to the algos with no way of getting them back. Ryan Cohen and company, along with the select group of retail investors wise enough to read between the lines, are in the process of returning the markets to the collective unconscious which, when challenged, has embedded within it a wealth of resources far superior to any binary code system built to transfer wealth from the masses to the corrupt, unworthy few.They built a global financial video game and somehow missed the fact that a generation of gamers would be their opponent. That is why they are the Dumb Stormtroopers.And so what you have here is a necessary hack into a system that not only imbues almost no inherent value to society but will continue to metastasize until it creates a true dystopian reality. That shit is not gonna happen on Ryan Cohen’s watch or on ours. This is a team effort against a singular minded machine.The importance of the #BBBYQ play cannot be overstated. They must be stopped, they will be stopped and the power will be returned to the players 🏴‍☠️

END QUOTE

The 'no fighting' meme stood out to me. Warning the communities against internal strife perhaps? Should we expect there to be a reason for strife?
There was also braveheart dying, shouting GameStop. A meme where we were told not to fear the reaper (song). Lots of references to mirroring and reversal everywhere. There's two of them talking to each other (there's two stocks in play?). With the hindsight of these memes it does seem plausible that the real plan will involve Bobby as the main gambit. I do think Jimmy will run, but I also think the main offense might originate from Bobby.
The Jason Bourne tweet mentions 'i can't run with you, they know who I am' (Jimmy is controlled, all eyes are on it). He says this to the actress who also plays the lead in the Run Lola Run movie. The color on the mini was edited to red with the steering wheel saying "I'm In". But they park the red car and get out. The car is now black (Jimmy profitable in the black) as Ryan gosling exits and blends in with the crowd.
The quoted post even mentions "keeping everyone focused on the woman in the red dress" and we have a meme with Emma stone attracting everyone's attention while wearing a GameStop logo. GameStop is the woman in the red dress.
It feels right to me; these past days short term profiteers with capital have jumped on Jimmy. These are not the kind of people RC wants to reward. Bobby is inaccessible, only available to our crazy lot who dug into the paperwork and went through the bankruptcy deathspiral. There's no possibility for FOMO. The bad guys are all locked in here with us, without an exit.
TLDR; memes warming us up to the idea that bobby is the main play? Jimmy will become a forever hold, being very valuable and worthwhile but not nessecarily giant moass numbers?

So this is for a senior undergrad course.
How do you stay focused in your literature review while ensuring you're covering enough of the landscape? I've seen some that are quite terse and uninformative and others with sweeping scale in both depth and breadth... it's so easy to get lost. Example, for neuro - how much should be devoted to neuroanatomy, and then abnormal neuroanatomy?
When describing tasks and procedures, how much detail do you need to go into? Eg do you need 6 sources for normed assessment tools (to cover different populations) or is one really enough? Every single step of every moment of the procedure, literally (have seen this) or top level info?
There have been SO many studies of every persuasion on every structure, network, and function, how can you even start to summarize it, even for one little piece of neuroanatomy?

I used to take methylphenidate for work and school and it helps quite a bit. You can see the increase in my GPA and the tips I make at work whenever I take it. When I take my medication I can get things done more efficiently, but I can't feel anything. I don't feel happy, or angry, or sad just empty. Food doesn't taste good, it's to the point where eating makes my physically sick. I can't smile or express any emotion at all. All I can feel is this vast emptiness and it makes me feel awful, like life isn't worth living. I had to stop taking my medications because it made me suicidally depressed. I've been off my medication for about 6 months now and things have been going down hill from there. I've been falling behind at school and I'm at risk of being suspended because of my poor academic standing, and my performance at work has been getting worse. I don't know what to do.