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Columnist: Sean Gilman
Resume: Writing: Seattle Screen Scene, The Chinese Cinema, The End of Cinema. Podcasts: The George Sanders Show/The Frances Farmer Show and They Shot Pictures. SFCS.

7,3 / 10 star resume - Factory and construction workers, farmers, commuters, miners, students. The director captures the state of his nation, by static filming one or more people in more or less motionless poses. No narrative, just portraits Release Year - 2018 Runtime - 79 minute Country - China. Tu pourras nous faire une petite vidéo sur l'équitation. Por luisito 😁. MY ABSOLUTE FAVORITE FILM OF THE PAST 5 YEARS. SUBLIME FILMMAKING.

Zazie! Yayyy.

Cinematography is just stellar

-Italie -panda -je sais pas mais imagine dragon😂 -mondo et autres histoires -Charlie et la chocolaterie -gerbera -sauce piquante. Watch full length retrato chin c3 aas form.

Hi master their tutorials are magnificent, what kind of paper you use. Watch full length retrato chinês movies. Oor: You might be reading this out of order. This one was first, here's the follow up (and conclusion). This chamber is kept at average room temperature, 23 Celsius. The chamber is round like a globe and built on moss covered cobblestones. The floor beneath this pedestal is obscured by several inches of water, and if you were to fall over the protective railings you would awaken from the dreams granted by Book by means of drowning. All around there are unlit candles. This chamber is consecrated every time someone reads the Book, to cleanse the reader of sins they may have committed whilst reading. If you've sinned intentionally in your explorations of the Books contents you weren't aware of it, but its good to have them anyway. They're like a spiritual anchor when they're lit, meant to help you make sense of what is and isn't real upon emerging from the PHV. Call them Maria's outstretched hand, call them plain old smelling salts, but they ease your shell shocked brain. The Book itself is not a book, but rather four very strange lights in each cardinal direction. Given that this building faces diagonally away from the north, they're not aligned the way you would expect them to be. When you step onto the gently glowing platform in the center of the pedestal, your body is held in place by an unseen force until you either jerk yourself away out of it by your will alone or the Book is closed. Upon the touching of the glowing platform, the lights on all sides of the room begin to spin very slowly and increase in speed, eventually traveling so fast they blur together. When they're this fast they too light up, light blue, and the world floods with information. You see the Book's index, a glowing display marked with letters and numbers. Eventually these are cycled in a predetermined manner alien to you and you see the page that says WILLKOMMEN in blocky capital letters you can only barely read. Without moving, you decide on the floating brick of text reading 'Unser Auftrag' and select from an option from another page of the book. The first in line is You know not what a PHV is though you have some idea that Ozymandias hated them and did all he could to rid himself of them, but you know naturally to select it. You are prepared to read Unser Auftrag. From the depths of what your soul you are ready. The PHV plays. The lights around you stop spinning deep blue and numbers and numbers and letters. Instead it spins greens, browns, blues, blacks, silvers... unserauftrag ABSPIELEN You are Ogden de Soya, proud to serve in the Survey Corps the 101st Unit under Commander Tritan in the year of our ladies 847. You and your unit are deep past Maria now, maybe even bordering what they called the Sea if your Commander will dare take you that far into the countryside. You're tracking the big one. Fucking huge this guy is. Tracks indicate a 17 meter, and that's the biggest you've ever even heard of. Old timers talk about the thirty meters from the old world, but that was then and this is now. The biggest you've ever seen was just over ten meters. You creep through the underbrush covering your scents with mud. In this where and when that's the only thing that really works to keep you safe, the thick trees and the mud facials. Your Team Leader, man named Solomon, spots something. He raises his hand and flicks his finger forward, 'group up. ' You all gather around and one by one he beckons each of you to have a glimpse through the trees he's found. He points and makes the same motion, pointing out through the trees into the distance. There the big bastard is. Easily 17 or more meters and strangely covered in fur like a dog. He's exploring an abandoned mining town. Now and then he casts his gaze yonder towards Wall Maria. You don't like the way he's looking at it. Its not the usual dull grin of a titan sniffing out prey but something greater. Those eyes betray hate, accentuated by his wrinkled lip. You are so captivated by his eyes that you fail to notice the shifting in the muscles of his legs and back that signal he's about to turn in your direction. Your TL throws his arm around your neck and pulls you backwards and throws you on the ground. " What part of get down did you not understand Corporal? Ready for combat boys. " You scramble to full height and you all simultaneously attach pairing swords to your triggers and draw, at the same time choosing flight vectors through the trees. You hear his pounding footsteps from across the field through the streets of the mining town towards your tree line. Doesn't matter how much hair he's got, if he's walking straight into a treeline hiding a half dozen Corpsmen he's doomed. The forest is practically your natural habitat. "When he's close enough, Siegfried, Roberta, and de Soya will go left. Holmes, Hatter, and Malkovich go right. I'll blind him, Holmes and Siegfried will go for straight cuts left and right, half second delay. " For the next fifteen seconds, this entire team is one big spring load bear trap for the doomed 17 meter freak of nature. He's taking on six of you. He's going to die and you're all one assist and change closer to promotions. He takes the last step and you all come flying out of the forest. Siegfried, Roberta, and yourself fly left, you in the lead at the bottom and Siegfried in the back of the formation at the very top on an axis with the upper part of the beasts neck. Holmes, Hatter, and Malkovich are in the exact same formation on the right side, Holmes at the top ahead of Hatter and Malkovich. That way Holmes will cut first at the lower half of the neck, his men will fly past the beast and knick its shin and ass, and Siegried will follow up with the cut at the high up mark and you and Roberta will give it little goodbye kisses before it turns into a puff of smoke in the wind. None of that happens. Instead the beast catches Holmes' line and throws him away like a paper cup at a party. He goes sailing into the distance on that momentum and you can faintly make out a little blotchy red line where his vitals are leaking out of his mouth. A split second after that you've crossed the beasts ankles and he brushes you aside violently. You cartwheel into a field. All he has to do to kill Malkovich and Hatter is bring his leg into their way. You hear them turn into red splotches on his shin and thigh. Meanwhile on his other leg, the motion of the movement has no doubt jerked Roberta and Siegfried, who came just after you, around like ragdolls. When you glance up, Roberta's limbs have all snapped backwards at unnatural angles and he flies into town dead while Siegfried's uncontrolled momentum sends him crashing into the ground, where the beast stomps him into the earth viciously. Its been about seven seconds. You hurt worse than you've ever heart before. Everything is broken, probably a lot of internal bleeding. If you somehow ever managed to survive this, you'd be passing blood for weeks. You hear him walking towards you. Suddenly he's right above you, damn legs must carry him fast like a grasshopper. He grins at you. He really grins. You close your eyes. "What are these weapons? ".. You must have said as much. Your eyes go wide and you see him again. "The one on your hips that allows you to jump about I mean. " His voice echoes across the fields and through the forest. You hear it resonate within the mine shafts. "Funny, I thought we spoke the same language. Some kind of homogenized Germanic conlang facilitated by the aristocracy I thought. " You stare blankly at the speaking titan. You've forgotten all about how much your body hurts. "Or perhaps you're so frightened that you can't speak? " With all the strength your arms can summon you draw a sword. You won't die hallucinating, you want to go with dignity and raise your blade one last time. "I see, that almost looks like a sword. Then you have no idea what is in our necks? " "D-d-doesn't matter. All the same to me. " "Mmm. More or less. You can speak then? Entertain me. How does this little contraption on you work? " He gently bends down and nudges the blade reservoir on your hip with his fingernail. "Government keeps it a s-s-s-secret. Only know how to field strip and clean, not fix. " " Really? Wonder why they'd do that? Oh well. Pleasure meeting you. " He toddles off one lumbering gargantuan step at a time and you feel the sun hit your face from where his body blocked it. It is hot like the sun on you like an August dry heat. "All yours boys. Enjoy. " Three titans you hadn't noticed swarm around you and you can see the misery on their faces. They were like dogs waiting for you to pour the kibble in their bowls during this whole affair. They creep closer from all sides now, circling around you. "WAIT! " you cry. The titan ignores you. "I'M MARRIED DAMN IT! " "Me too. " his voice bellows back across the horizon. "I CAN FIND OUT! " He stops in his tracks. "About the weapons you mean? " "..! Yes about the weapons! Whatever you want! Just let me live! " ".. down children. We've made a new friend. " The titans moan in unison and back off. The beast wanders back towards you and brushes the lesser titans away with the heel of his foot in a gesture that would be considered either adorable or abusive if he were humans and they were young children. "You can do more. " He picks you up and the world loses focus, drains of colors, twists and contorts. The world has lost consistency in its entirety. The treeline and silhouetted mining outpost and the monsters are all opaque and you can just barely make out the real world, the one of a hallowed chamber and blinking lights. YOUR head begins to pound and you can hear everything, even things you should not be able to. A snapped twig is like a crack of lightning. Rushing water may as well be some kind of cataclysmic Ragnorok-esque event. The real you, the one who is not Ogden de Soya in 847, begins to scream in utter agony, the sound of which echoes in the chamber around you and reverberates wildly in the halls of your mind in a feedback loop of misery. There are footsteps splashing through water. Father Bishop enters the frame, his feet splashing through earth and often at odds with the geometry observed by de Soya's lolling shaking vision. It's like he's walking at 20 or 30 degree vectors on a path that should take him through the earth itself. This phenomenon heaves your stomach and throws your mind for a loop. " Breathe Initiate. " You try, but damn it its hard. Ozymandias is somehow firing every synapse in de Soya's head at once, filling it with junk data. He must be trying to keep people like you from observing this scene. The Father splashes his way back into your nightmare again. In real time you feel a damp cloth brush your head. "A kind of interference. Something he did with his ape body that even we don't kin with our more advanced understanding of old world playthings. Our ancestors confusingly likened it to 'snow upon a tell of vision', if that helps at all. You can pull through if you try. " Have others pulled through this segment of Unser Auftrag and lived to tell about it? You have the sneaking suspicion that those people are fed intravenously and communicate by tapping; 'once for no, two for yes', but you're apparently a prodigy at the navigation of these things, so you grit your teeth and try very hard not to cry. Whatever Ozymandias and de Soya discuss, whether or not de Soya is awake and paying attention or hearing it subliminally in a screaming dream the way you are, you do not know. It goes on for something like half an hour. You come to on a horse. Things are mostly back to normal, but light, sound, and space are still not completely synced. Your horse is as fast as a shooting star. The Walls approach you as if theyare aberrant titans coming to gobble you and horsey up. The sensory input is too much and you black out now that you don't have anything else to prove, although you suspect its actually Ogden that blacks out and you are only playing the part. The next weeks are a blur. You are a decorated veteran, only survivor of the expedition. Your wife stays with you long enough to make you stop drooling and then goes to stay with her mother and think about things. Your parents have you over for dinner in Trost, and for a while it goes smooth, but nothing can clean you of the survivalists taint in their eyes. As far as you know, your meeting with the beastly titan went unrecorded by the authorities. Nevertheless you are becoming paranoid. The opiate addiction you succumbed to while in intensive care does nothing to help the situation, in fact exacerbating it to nearly hallucinogenic levels. You see the beasts face in mirrors for a split second, wake up on the floor, walk over about four times as many cold spots as you ever did before. When your flat groans in its foundation, when the wind howls through the chimney, when the fog roles over Karanese, you feel his gaze on the back of your neck and know that his will for you is not yet done. Because talking to that thing, its hands or paws or whatever still spattered in the organs of your friends, was equivocally selling your soul to the devil himself. You made a deal for your survival, and all you can do is speculate when that debt comes due. There's a monkey on your back as the saying goes. One day you pass a doomsday shouter on your through Karanese, coming back from a days stint with a temp agency waiting tables, going to see your guy who knows a guy. He's preaching about the end of the world like they always are, except now he's got a literal cult following. Back in the day, wandering Karanese, this guy was like every other Wallist in the country. Ever since you were a kid you can remember the way you and the people in your circles looked down on nutters like these. The Goddesses were not pleased, repent, purchase an indulgence today and so on and so forth. Then one day the world really did almost end. One Spring day in 845 in District of Shigansina, he sent his Colossal and Armored Titans to destroy humanity. Were it not for some very quick work on behalf of the Rosean governors, Parliament, and the Garrison, it would have been curtains for the whole damn human race. The event that launched a generation of youths into the state military to fight back, and you were one of them. Now you are disillusioned with that idea of 'taking the fight to them', but that hasn't stopped anybody else. The second consequence of the Fall of Shigansina was the meteoric rise of guys just like this on street corners with their sandwich board suits inscribed with new renditions of the ten commandments. They've been doing pretty gosh darn well in light of the influx of Marians into Rose. When the state couldn't get enough crops growing and tents built to stop a locust-like phenomenon from eating up major cities, they turned towards the Wall Cult. It turned out they had stockpiled resources for years ahead of time to prevent calamities such as this from causing an utter breakdown. That was when King Wilhelm and Parliament decided to take the sandwich board gospel a little more seriously. So if they could feed and house random displaced assholes still bitching two years on about the loss of their oxen and yams or whatever, they could probably spare a little extra for you. What was that saying? Something something opiate of the masses? In 848 your life has changed. You never realized how closely you came to eternal damnation. Your turnaround has been monumental. Before, you were crying into your cereal every morning, sleeping on the couch hallucinating about some kind of primate monster watching your every move, pleading with your wife to come back and love you, getting truly wasted to keep the nightmares at bay. You began your conversation with what you were thinking of as a con artist that day by asking if he had any work. That was supposed to just be a temporary job to churn up enough cash to for the next hit. He told you to come back later that evening during a sermon (dozens of losers sitting there Indian style on the street corner blocking carriages trying to get their Shangri-La on, what a bunch of jokers right? ) and you came back full up on your vice hoping they would just hand you a bowl of carrot stew and let you roll off on your merry. But no, bastards made you work for it! Their condition for dolling you out some stew was that you return the favor for those dopes on the street and dole them some stew. And, because god damn it everybody's got a paternal instinct, the faces of starving children that had once lived honestly on homesteads in Maria killed you. In their eyes you saw something you'd forgotten what it looked like. They looked at you with real hope, reverence. You in your dirty apron with a bent out of shape tin dipper and mystery meat stew... you were angelic to them. No one had ever looked at you like that save for the first time you were involved in an expedition after Shigansina during that wave of patriotic fervor in which people still thought it was possible to re-take the third Wall. The next day you quietly insinuated yourself into the cult gathering around the sandwich board preacher and this time instead of work or food, you used the word 'help' without meaning to. His eyes lit up at you, like he knew he'd caught you like a fish. It was all... 'downhill' was the wrong word, uphill didn't quite do the cleansing of a mind and body justice. But things got better so quickly your head spun. You were for those next months harmonized with the ebb and flow of God's will. Your speech patterns softened and people started calling you brother. You had a family thoroughly unlike your bitch of a mother and father, whom you would never disappoint. By Jove you even caught yourself hymning and making beads into tacky jewelry to sell at a bake sale at one point. You start becoming involved in the politics of the church in 849. Your perspective as a cast off veteran, recovering alcoholic and drug addict, and former atheist is much appreciated at round table meetings. It is then, once you have acquired a modicum of respect and authority within the structure of the church, that you see his face in the mirror again. Nothing stops your rage at that point, and you've broken most of the wooden furniture in your apartment before you calm down. That night you fall asleep on the couch in the frock your tore apart in your rampage, wasted on some real hard shit you hadn't touched in nearly a year and change. It is time to pay your dues, and this time there will be no recovering unless you do so. You'll sink back into that pit of hopelessness and grievance where you're strange and nobody knows your name again, and this time it'll be permanent. You'll choke to death on bile in a ditch. Much like for the Wall Church, you must pay an indulgence to Lord Ozymandias if you want to remain sane and live a happy life. In your dreams he reaches out. You can't tell if he's actually sitting down for a communion with you out in the wastes somewhere or if this is all stuff he left in your head last time, set to go off the moment you were in a position of usefulness. That night you walk with him through a verdant garden in Karanese, reclaimed by nature. Small animals skitter up and down trees, while the large ones sip languidly from pond where there should have been a bakery. "Karanese is beautiful, isn't it? " The skeptic in you says no, that this is all unnatural bullshit. The Goddess fearing man in you agrees wholeheartedly. "But this is not the way of things, is it Ogden? " No you think. That pond actually outputs hundreds of donuts a day. The treeline is actually the Military Complex. "But we can make it beautiful Ogden! As nature intended! " You can! It is as the book says! "That which is called progress encourages extravagance. " Yes. "That which is called civilization devastates the spirit of man! " Yes! "That which is called science perverts providence! " Yes! It is as the good book said! The ancients abandoned the thinking machines and the steel horses whence the titans came! It was their salvation! Man must live simply in harmony with nature! "Yes Ogden! " Man approaches that extravagance! The Roseans distance themselves from the suffering of the Marians as you once did! "You must equalize them all Ogden! " How? HOW? Ozymandias, King of Kings, grins. "The Gates my son. " Every ideology has a radical element you suppose, and the Wall Church has at least two or three after one hundred years as the most successful religion in human history. Some of them like to capture and kill non-believers. Some of them trade in slaves. Some of them were far worse. Its much easier to justify it that way. In 850 you are granted a preaching license and begin a different kind of sermon in smaller circles. You are devilishly good at it too, real energy pours into your word and your followers pay attention. In your gospel you try to convey the general impermanence of things, something you think Ozymandias would endorse for some reason intangible to you. Nothing lasts for ever. We are made of stardust or sea foam and to stardust or sea foam we shall one day return, so you say. The Walls are a 3D manifestation of fourth dimensional Goddesses who choose to take shape long enough to help humanity survive the onslaught of titans and one day they shall dissipate and return to their realm while their bones rot into nothingness. Its a strange sort of nihilistic idea but it picks up steam. It has its roots in the actual teachings of the Wallists, who do believe much the same but don't stress it. The key difference is that only a few people have the luxury of attending your speeches. People you trust. And those people begin to make the foundations of your conspiracy to destroy Karanese. The problem is that Karanese is well defended by not only the Garrison but the Survey Corps itself. It is after the rioting of 852 where the Survey Corps stopped some of your brothers from storming the gate that your fellow Churchgoers begin to question your teachings. An inquisition makes a brief appearance but you brush them off like mosquitoes with calm reassurances. You sweet talk so well that nobody can possibly connect you to the incident. Two weeks later you have manipulated things in Karanese to turn one Commander on another. Connor Adams only needs an excuse at this point to turn on his fellows. When the time is right, you send a note that can only be read with your own cypher telling your brothers to kill the nightwatchmen that man the gates and open the gate of Karanese. All of Rose will be pacified and returned to nature as the Goddesses intended. One day so will Wall Sina. Your debt will soon be repaid. You wake up in a dark place in 853, upside down, held to the ceiling by a length of rope and gagged. Your fingers are missing. You've been burned in places. You persist on little tins of water and paper plates of some indeterminable shit packed with just enough nutrients to allow you to live a little longer. You have lost track of time completely. All for the efforts of Tritan. At least in the end you know Adams did kill him. The door opens and your captors enter. The Bishops of Maria, Rose, and Sina, as well as the master of the dungeons. One of them speaks to you, something about being ready to divulge your plans. All you can do is mutter the names of the damned. The ones that stopped you. " Tritan, Friday, Hauer, Shade... "ENOUGH! I'm busy, so if he has anything useful to say we better hear it quickly. At that the dungeon master brandishes a pair of pliers. " Schulz, Mayer, Fyer... " The dungeon master begins to do things to you. You're getting a little used to the pain, but he's an inventive motherfucker if ever there was one. " B-B-Beaumont... R-Roberts... lverman... " "Perhaps I should sew his mouth shut sirs? " All three bishops object. By virtue of shotgun jury democratic vote they agree that you are no longer useful in your nearly catatonic state. All you've done in the time you've been in this cell being picked to bits by these men is repeat the names of the soldiers that stopped you in Karanese. A prayer to Ozymandias to administer justice. The next day you are brought into a brightly lit room and laid out on a metal slab. You are slid wholesale underneath some kind of metallic contraption with a lot of needles and wires attached. It begins to shine a very bright light into your eyeballs. Someone injects you with something and you rapidly lose yourself in dreams. You dream of the last five or so years. You relive the moment when your comrades were killed by Lord Ozymandias and then your subsequent meeting with him. You relive those horrible months in which you were a lost soul, devoid of purpose. You relive working in the soup kitchen for the sandwich board pastor and making a difference in those lives. You relive smashing your apartment apart when the visions return. You relive writing an encrypted note to your followers. You relive when the Beast Titan (the one that is not your Lord Ozymandias but some kind of Interloper) smashes through the Complex and the soldiers turn the tide of the battle. You relive being tortured just a few days ago. You relive right up to now, being slid up under this thing and made to sleep. Hours later the dungeon master walks into your cell casually and cuts your throat. You die envisioning his visage and the faces of those children you fed when you thought life still had purpose. "I could go into depth on the threats posed by Ozymandias, but I am nowhere near as poignant as the authors of Unser Auftrag. " says Father Bishop as you wring the flesh of your neck to ensure that, yes, there is no gash there. You manage to get down a bottle of herbal tea freakishly fast while he talks. "What you've just seen was the first addition to the Book since its creation long ago when the Prophetess built the Walls. Fairly recent history at that. It showcases the way he manipulates people. With minimum interference he corrupted the yet unwritten pages of the Book and implanted ideas in de Soya's mind that had a will of their own. But... I forget myself. As I told you, the pages ahead are the last ones you must read, though they are by no means the end of the Book. " What? What did that mean? Where there others? The options in the menu only explicitly point to four memories, some of which are split into pieces. Your confused expression is noted by the Father. "There is... one more chapter of the Book. The T-Y-2-K. It is inaccessible to all but the Readers, none of which has ever opened it. It is meant to be read during the end times either if Ozymandias is defeated in battle or dies of entropy. When you finish Unser Auftrag very soon now, you will be a Reader, the first in a long time. At that point the choice is yours. " You nod. The only way to access the TY2K would be to finish Unser Auftrag. You brace yourself. unserauftrag ABSPIELEN This is not like the other chapters of the Book. You feel that immediately in your gut. The other chapters begin with a loss of self as you enter the mind and thoughts of another person. When you were reading about those people, you were those people, Mr. and Mrs. Straus, the nameless Warrior, Ogden de Soya. If those chapters were a first hand account of a great war, this is a theatrical performance of the war prefaced with a theatre major telling the audience that it is 'based on a true story'. Its evident visually as well, the others were clouded by the limitations of human perception. Sights and sounds were marred by peripheral bias. The Warrior didn't hear the titan that kicked him across the field because he was awestruck by the Colossal Titan ahead of him, for instance. There is serious production value in what you are shown. It starts with a fade in to ultra high resolution footage of the ruins of a major city. The voice of Mrs. Straus speaks, and her voice work is professional. She has rehearsed this. " Circa 2100, a grand civilization collapsed. " Shot after shot of smouldering cities. Mountains of dead people. The treads of some bloody great machine rolling over a human skull and crushing it like a cereal puff. Wars on a scale you never imagined. "The exact causes are unknown to us. Currently its thought to have been a culmination of dozens, perhaps hundreds of factors. It was a time of great innovation and also great societal devastation. Industrial byproducts were destroying the earth, countries fought over land and wealth, there were far, far too many people and not nearly enough space or resources, and finally they used their worst weapons to eradicate each other. Other scholars suggest advances in thinking machinery or contact with extraterrestrial life, but these are highly unlikely. Footage of a cylindrical metal tube cresting a wave of fire out of a silo is shown to you. There are huge storms of grey dust that eats all that it touches and renders the land nearly flat and completely dead. "Society in the most populous parts of the world collapsed and would not be able to reestablish itself for nearly four hundred years. The survivors scavenged the miraculous technologies and foodstuffs of the old world and fought viciously to keep them. The next shot is of one group of men attacking another group with spears and stones, graduating to peculiar handguns and rifles, and worse. "In the 400s, one so called chateau tribe established dominance in the place called Europe and united the peoples there into one nation with the goal of surpassing the height of the old world. This was the line of Wilhelm. " A man in a sharp black suit sitting at a conference table stroking his thick mustache and looking at a blue wireframe projection of something indistinguishable, perhaps a plan for a city or some topographical map. The next shot is of Ian Wilhelm, who has inherited his forbears mustache, viewing a very similar projection of Wall Sina which will become the seat of his families power. Then his granddaughter Queen Anya on the throne in Mitras. "They succeeded in rallying like minded individuals into restoring the European mainland and parts around the world to much of their former glory. It was an incredible era in human history. " Heinlein Wilhelm shaking hands with the Trade Minister of the Northern British Kingdom upon making peace. A family portrait of the Wilhelms circa 660 PCE including not one but five CEOs of various Korean and Chinese bunker tribes. "In 620s the Wilhelms occupied much of South America under the pretense of revitalization. What they encountered was a similar minded city-state of heavily armed indigenous peoples that were already rallying their neighbors to do much the same thing across the Americas. This was the first time Europe under Wilhelm met a power capable of challenging them. Peace could not be easily made and a war broke out. The war itself is one we consider insignificant when compared to truly ancient wars like the World Wars, the Collapse, the Trojan War, or Alexander's conquests. It is simply that it was the first war between two new nations that disturbed so many people. They had never experienced war on such scale. " There is an array of ditches and trenches where, on one side, Brazilian fighter pilots fire coil weapons en masse at European zeppelins, the event that apparently sparked the war. "Wilhelmist Europe was not made for war. Its policies shifted drastically to allow for the development of weapons technologies that had been lost for centuries. Some you saw in the previous PHVs, such as flechettes and flash forged blades. As the hostility in this silly conflict grew and the Wilhelms lost control over their people's nationalism, private corporations funded their own solutions. One of which was the research of Dr. Johannes Straus, my husband. " "To quickly end the war with the South Americans, he created the titans, artificial beings that could rearrange the matter around them into large bodies built for war. These are the creatures you no doubt live in fear of daily in your time Reader, but know that in our time they were used for greater things. The same footage of Straus viewing the seeder hauling a wrecked tank to a recycling plant is played. "If you have viewed the PHVs up to this point there's no need for me to go into details about the events themselves. The world ended again but one last act of unity shared by all peoples allowed us to build one structure that could withstand the advancing titans. What they really want me to record is this... You need to know about my husband. When I knew him, he was Jo Straus. He was a sweet man, doting father, and a devoted husband. I don't know when the change occurred, but he lost his mind. " Footage showing the man himself cheerfully playing the piano with his daughter, submerged in a glass tube filled with luminescent green fluid, holding his outstretched hand to gingerly shake the pinkie finger of a four meter titan, then finally footage of his titan body striding through a forest as seen from atop the Wall itself. "He orchestrated the downfall of the human race and took the title of Ozymandias. Since then he has divided his time between attempting to breach these Walls, hunting for other bastions of humanity outside, and running experiments with what little resources left to him. Thankfully he no longer has access to the retrovirus and will never create another abomination again. " A voice from behind the camera (which comes eerily from behind you) calmly interrupts. "Ma'am, the PHV player doesn't process this kind of codec very well so its best if we keep this short. Can you tell us about Ozymandias' great weakness? " "Certainly. " She clears her throat. "Prolonged exposure to the earliest strains of the titan retrovirus rapidly degrades the central nervous system of titans. Its the difference between normal titans and shifters. The shifters maintain their sentience and never allow the titan body to get the better of them, while the other titans are people who could not seperate themselves from their titan bodies. They lose their minds and can't stop themselves after a point. As dangerous as they are, without the influence of Ozymandias to steer them into attacking people, they are simple animals. The only desire they have is to satiate themselves and sleep during the night. This means that there is a solution. "TY2K is a protocol that authorizes the Reader to carry out what you might call the third great collapse of human civilization, though its probably less ominous than that makes it sound. If the Reader accesses TY2K, it should be because the situation in which victory over Ozymandias has either been achieved or rendered impossible, meaning that humanity is either ready to recolonize the planet or must flee to another location. Once triggered, there's no going back. It is either a victory condition or a loss condition, but in the end the distinction between the two lies in the hands of the Reader and the people he or she surrounds themselves with. " "Thus the final chapter of the Book is addressed to our descendants circa 2700 Post Common Era. If Ozymandias by chance breaches the Walls and threatens the human race to such an extent that he can not be killed by the nation's three military branches, the decision to awaken the Mauerarchitektur titans lies with the Reader, whoever he or she may be. Kimberly Straus giggles girlishly, the kind of sound you would think her old body shouldn't be able to produce anymore. "It almost sounds like the Osterhagen Key from those ancient Pre Collapse sci-fi soaps. Did you ever watch Doctor Who, mister Paxton? " The camera man says no, he's never even heard of it. Kimberly shakes her head. "But anyway, that is who we are. We're the protectors of the Walls. It's up to us whether we want to use our parabolic Osterhagen Key or not. All we have to do to survive as a people is wait for my husband to die in the wasteland and then the titans will be leaderless. That's what the Walls were built for and I pray that they last that long. If you're watching this, you're a part of our legacy in the future, the last and best hope for us all. Whether or not you read the final chapter of this so called 'book' is your choice. We entrust you to make the best decisions and safeguard our children and grandchildren. " She pauses for a moment. "Is that everything Mr. Paxton? " "Yes Ms. Straus, that's it. " The video ends. No headache or vomit or tears this time, the lights just shut off and spin down.

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