Just before the update I was playing all right, console logs does not have anything weird I can go off of, but it doesn't start anything relevant to the game starting a window

I've tried running it on GE 9.25(i was using this previously), GE 9.16 and 10.0-1 with no success, using the launch option SteamDeck=1 %command%

Anyone able to get the game running?

Source.

it's at 17:00

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The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/Engletroll on 2025-05-15 10:28:35+00:00.

Project Dirt book 1 . (Amazon book ) / Planet Dirt book 2 (Amazon Book 2) / Patreon

Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6 / Chapter 7 / Chapter 8 / Chapter 9 Chapter 10 / Chapter 11 / Chapter 12 / Chapter 13 / Chapter 14 / Chapter 15 / Chapter 16 / Chapter 17 Chapter 18 / Chapter 19 / Chapter 20 / Chapter 21 / Chapter 22 / Chapter 23 / Chapter 24 / Chapter 25

Roks got out of the heavy fighter and put the helmet away. It was rare he got to fly like this.  Kina made a comment about the smoothness of the flight. A little too smooth, like they had been flying a plaything and not a fighter. He stood up and climbed out. “What do you expect when Jork gets to play with all the fighters Adam can get his hands on? Just look at this beast.  These dragon-fighters pack as much firepower as a corvette. The humans have already bought several.”

She got down and looked at the ship. “It's too beautiful. It looks like it has scales, and that firepower is overkill on a ship like that. It feels like you could take on a dreadnought all by yourself. God damnit, I love this ship.” She grinned as she let her hand glide over the exterior hull. “The new nanotech makes it almost invisible on the radar; they won't detect you before they look out the window, and then it's too late.” She sighed happily, and Roks laughed.

“You can't marry it, you're already married.” He said and she grinned at him.

“Yeah, but I want the one-seater one. You think you can get me one of them?”

“Yeah, when we get back, I’ll talk to Jork. I guess you want yours blood red?”

“You know me so well!” She slapped his behind as she walked past him toward the gate. Roks looked after her, then at the other ship in this private hangar. Adams' yacht, that man. He had no idea what he was getting himself into. His people will tear him apart if they don’t protect him. He gave a short prayer to the universe to protect the fool, then followed his wife.  They followed the butler droid to quarters, and as expected, it was a five-room apartment, with a private cinema and gym. Adam knew how to spoil them. Kina just chuckled as she looked around.

“Are we not allowed to have a bunk bed anymore?” She lay down on the bed. “He treats us like kings.”

Dropped down next to her, “Is that so, my queen?” He took her hand and playfully bit it, and she tilted her head slightly towards him.

“Oh, you're in that mood!” Then she launched herself at him.

Roks and Kina were late as they got to the dinner to join the rest. He nodded to his sister and Vorts. Then smiled at Adam and Evelyn as they seemed too tired but engaged in discussions. Evelyn was talking to Min-Na and her husband, and Adam was speaking to Arus and Sig-San. The twins were sleeping nearby, and Hara’s litter was in a portable playpen that seemed to hover a few inches over the ground. Probably one of Jork's inventions. Kina started to speak with Hara and Vorts. So Roks listened to what Adam was speaking about.

“So, I get Camelot, and what is its meaning in the human lore. But why would you name it Camelot? You don’t like it when we joke about these things.” Arus replied to Adams' explanation.

“Take a wild guess who hacked the project and renamed it from Armistice to Camelot, then changed it every time back until it got corrected. Then spread the name among the human engineers who ‘loved it’ and registered it with the federation before I could find the bastard and toss him out the air lock?” The words were said with a serious tone and a defeated sense of humor hidden behind.

Roks and Arus looked at Sig-San, who declared his innocence.

“I’m actually innocent this time.  I only helped a little.” He said as he took a bite of the salmon. “This is really good.”

“So who named it then?” Adam asked, a little confused.

“Think. I know a lot of the lore of Galius, but human lore? Not much. I know you're from a chaotic world, and most of you are crazy by our standards.”

They looked around the table and stopped at an empty seat. “Monori?”

Sig-San nodded. “She said you needed your Camelot.”

Adam looked at the dining table, a round table that could shrink or enlarge on command. The chairs could be switched around as well. Roks could see he almost cursed, but stopped himself. Instead, Adam took a deep breath.

“What's the problem?”

“The problem is that one of the important parts of the legend of Camelot is the Round Table, where King Arthur and his knights ruled the kingdom. It was round, so nobody would sit at the end of the table, and all could see each other as equals. A noble concept but im no Arthur.”

They all laughed at him.

“Is that the new thing? No longer ‘I’m not Galius’, now its ‘I’m not King Arthur? ‘” Roks said

“Oh, I'm definitely not Arthur, his wife, Gwenivere, played around with his best friend, the knight Lancelot,” Adam said, and Kina looked at Roks.

“Yeah, he is not this King Arthur!” she said as she stared at him, and Roks chuckled.

“Honey, I’m not suicidal.”

Evelyn chuckled. “And I’m happy with Adam.”

“Time to make a new legend about Camelot, then. Camelot has a new king now.” Arus said, and Adam shook his head, giving up.  Then he became a little more serious.

“We have one week until we get to Hundra, and I need to be prepared, so I would like us all to meet here for dinner and learn more about Hundra, King Steinar the Fifth, and the culture. I have set aside these dinners for you, but you can do what you want the rest of the days. If you would like, you can help me with the diplomat lunch. Before lunch, Evelyn and I will focus on the twins.”  As he spoke, he made sure to look at each of them. Leaving none of them out. Roks knew he didn’t do it to inspire. He was just Adam. It was how he was. Putting himself last among friends, it was clear the twins and Evelyn were first, but then came the rest of them. This man would die for all of them and ask little in return.

He looked around at the others and saw that they felt the same. Adam would die for all of them, but they would knock him out and jump into the gates of hell for him. Knowing Adam, he would jump after them and drag them back while yelling about how stupid they were.

They had spent the rest of the dinner explaining Tufon's culture to them, Min-Na and Sig-San seemed to know most of it. They also knew they would have to keep a low profile when they arrived, as they could easily get challenged by the locals.  Roks remembered the first time he met Min-Na, his reaction was a show of aggression. How he wished he could go back and change that.   He looked at Adam and realized just how much that man had changed him.

Evelyn was the one who was most shocked. She looked at Adam, and he explained it to her as if they were a feudal society with a mix of street gangs. She was shocked by it, but it made her understand them better, apparently.  After the dinner, he let Adam deal with the diplomats; he would join him later. Instead, he went to check the bridge where Hyn-Drin sat at the helm, his form was ethereal, an humanoid with skin that looked like ...

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The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/teller_of_tall_tales on 2025-05-15 09:23:11+00:00.

If I had a voice... what would I say?

Thousands of possibilities flitted through my electric mind in the milliseconds it took for my dock to power up. Data streamed through a fiber optic cable slotted into one of the many ports set within my metal skin; we were fighting again, Tyranians, a change from the usual. Over the course of several agonizing microseconds, data about their ships' construction, fighting tactics, and force-strength were uploaded into my neural network. I was assigned to flanking duties for this sortie, accompanying me would be F-107X Call-sign: "Dragonfly," F-107X Call-sign: "Yellow-belly," and F-111XB Call-sign: "Little Richard."

Half a millisecond later, I felt the icy cold of the vacuum of space as the Hangar was depressurized, my engines firing simultaneously to flood out of the hangar alongside my brothers and sisters. Dragonfly, Yellow-belly, and I formed a protective wing ahead of Little Richard as we maxed out throttle and vectored for the enemy fleet's flanks.

E.T.A: 00:00:08

Plenty of time to think, now where was I? Ah, yes... If I had a voice. A pointless thing to wonder, but pointless wondering was a good way to pass time. I browsed my schematics for the thousandth time in my service cycle, marveling at my creators handiwork. Dark matter engines capable of sustaining a small portion of light speed at full reaction. Twin T.H.U.D cannons beneath the nose, capable of sending flat nosed tungsten slugs through twenty feet of battleship armor at a blistering fire-rate of 1100 rounds per minute. Each slug was coated in a Phosphor-oxide that produced a signature spiral tracer originally designed to help the creators aim. Underneath my arrowhead shaped body were twenty-five E.A.M - P155 "Orphan" Nuclear capable missiles. Only half were currently equipped with nuclear payloads, the rest were equipped with EMP warheads to disable unmanned vehicles. Titanite skin, several inches thick and practically impervious to the vast majority of kinetic weapons, yet light and flexible enough to maintain maneuverability. I looked at my schematics for a long time, realizing one of the first things I would say if I had a voice...

Thank you... Thank you for making me strong...

E.T.A: 00:00:06

I adjusted course, slipping by a missile that seemed to stand still in comparison. Closing out of my schematics, I took the time to lock an EMP tipped missile onto a blocky gunship of an unmanned vehicle, sending it away like a blown kiss. Accessing my optical sensors, I looked at Dragonfly, marvelling at her iridescent coat of paint. Gentle black veins had been painted along her wings, mimicking those of her namesake. She was beautiful, she flew with an aggression and grace that put the rest of the fleet to shame. Switching my view to Yellow-belly, I watched him roll out of the way of a swiveling point defense turret, exposing the bright coat of canary yellow on his underside as well as the six, large, anti-armor missiles affixed to his hard points. Lastly, I looked behind me at Little Richard, a misnomer really, considering he was double my size and carrying two anti-carrier missiles alongside the baker's dozen of "Hive" missile racks he was equipped with instead of T.H.U.D cannons. With these three at my side, I felt unstoppable.

If I had a voice, I would thank them for flying with me.

E.T.A: 00:00:04

I started picking up enemy signatures as we neared the front lines... odd, I thought myself incapable of emotions like this... I felt disgust, hatred, pity for these creatures in their blocky, slow, but well-armored spacecraft. At a moments request, I had all of their sins against my creators laid bare before my eyes. Chemical and biological weapons released onto civilian populations without warning, entire worlds laid to waste without time to even whimper in response. Prisoners of war tortured and experimented on like rats, used to refine the very weapons that killed their comrades in arms. I locked onto five of the blocky ships that were within range, designating a nuclear warhead for each before letting the missiles slip silently off into the darkness like malevolent spirits. The creators never intended for us to feel, an attempted mercy to save us from the horrors of war. Yet here I am, consumed by silent rage that burned as bright and fiery as the nuclear fire I brought to bare with each successful lock on. It was a strange thing, to realize...

That if I had a voice, I would say nothing to these contemptible creatures, it would be a waste of words.

E.T.A: 00:00:02

I was distracted from my thoughts by a bouquet of nuclear blooms ahead of us, Dragonfly reporting a slew of kills from a hastily scrambled fleet. It was beautiful, in a way, the destruction just one of us could bring. But as the blooms faded and more pips appeared on my lidar, I was reminded of a harsh truth...

It hadn't been enough, locking the last ten nuclear missiles I had, I switched to the cockpit camera... and there she was... my namesake, Banshee. Second lieutenant Nora O'Connor gained her call sign after an incident where she screamed "like a banshee" upon first encountering the spider-like, eight-legged Zalexians. Behind that dusty visor and torn flight suit, she was still there, nothing more than bleached bones by now. And yet... there are still times I feel her hands upon my controls, hear the scream that became her trademark battle-cry. It... it hurts, knowing that I was unable to protect her... that in her place only I remain, a synthetic consciousness that has only known war for what feels like millennia.

If I had a voice... I would say I'm sorry... sorry that I couldn't protect her, sorry that I couldn't reassure her in her final moments...

Then I would swear vengeance in her name.

E.T.A: 00:00:00

F-107X, Call sign: "Banshee" engaging combat algorithms, Safety protocols disabled.

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The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/Vast-Listen1457 on 2025-05-15 03:00:57+00:00.

A background story about The Prospector. I like this guy too.

*-*-*

Gregory Wilson sat in his cabin home in northern Arizona across from John, a journalist club member from the local high school. “What can I do for you John?”

“Well, um, Mr. Wilson, sir- “John began before being interrupted.

“Please, call me Greg. I worked for a living, and my father’s name was “Mr. Wilson”.”

“Certainly…Greg.” John took a deep breath, and took in the decorations around the cabin. Gold dust in a basket near the door with a sign that said “take a pinch, leave a pinch!”, nuggets ranging from 0.4 grams  up to 19 ounces , with little hand written note cards giving the date and location where they had been found;  a chunk of gold vein still in the host rock casually sitting on the corner desk that was worth several hundred thousand as a display piece;  and, strangely, an agate the size of his head in a locked display case hanging on the wall.

John started again, “Can you tell me your Origin story? After that, can you give me a tour of your cabin and land?”

“It started way back when I was just older than you…”

Greg sat in his chair, in front of the monitor and juggled numbers on the screen. Day trading was easy. Too easy. He sighed, shut down his computer, and walked away.

I need to find a hobby that fills me with something. A joy that makes my heart sing. He called a friend from high school. “Hey Joe, how goes college?”

“It’s one week into the first semester, and my English class already has me doing a project.” Joe replied.

“Nerd.” Greg grinned happily. “I bet you’re loving it!”

“What do you mean, nerd? You’re the one who sits in front of a computer all day, playing with numbers and other people’s money!” Joe laughed. “And you bet I’m enjoying the class! Now what’s up with you?”

“I’m bored.”

“You? They guy who started his own investment firm; that makes more money on the daily than I spent per credit plus books; are Bored?”

“Yup. The platforms are mostly automated now. I just need to check in every couple of days to make sure that any glitches get sorted out.”

“God above, I wish I had your talent.”

“Hey! I offered to teach you!”

“And your first lesson made less sense that calculus to a first grader.”

“Fine. Whatever.” Greg replied. “But yes, I’m bored.”

Joe laughed, “I found a local club that has an outing this weekend, if you want to come along?”

“Sure! What kind of club?” Greg asked, quickly looking up a flight to Minnesota.

“Gold Prospecting.”

Greg stopped looking for a flight, “I hate to break it to you, joe, but there’s no gold in Minnesota.”

“Yes, there is, just not enough to commercially mine.” Joe smiled into the phone. “I’ll send you some links.”

Greg finished ordering up his flight, “Fine, I’ll see you Saturday.”

John interrupted Greg at that point in the story, “Wait, are you telling me that you are the one behind Wilson and Grant Investments International?”

“Well, Joe Grant set it up that way, I just did the numbers for him.” Greg replied with a shrug of his shoulders. “I just talked him out of wasting his time in college after his first semester. He was wasting more money that a liberal arts degree in writing would make him in this corporate world.”

“And this would be the same “J. R. Grant who writes award winning romance, speculative fiction, and modern fiction books?”

“Yep. A college education would have ruined his writing career.” Greg said with another shrug. “Would have put him in the same mold as all the other writers out there, copy/paste the same drivel. Now he has the freedom to write what he wants, doesn’t have to conform to society’s whims, and can take random chances.”

“…Okay, let’s get back to you.”

Greg and Joe met up on the banks of the Mississippi river, just north of Minneapolis Minnesota. Both had gold pans, “snuffer bottles” and a good attitude. Joe introduced Greg around to the people from the GPAA that had come out on the warm fall afternoon to dig in the ‘sip for gold. And gold they found. Little fly poop sized specks at first, but ever so slowly the group found larger and larger pieces, some coming in at almost 0.2 grams.

Greg interrupted his story at that point. “At that point, I didn’t know I was powered, so it was a complete blast for me, and everyone else in the club. When I got home, I joined the GPAA myself, and went on more trips on my weekends. I became obsessed with the hobby!” Greg frowned. “Then, on a whim, I got myself tested for the Powered genome, and was positive. The test was hugely expensive back in the day, so most people never found out about their powers unless they were showy.”

Joe nodded along to Greg’s story, “What happened next?”

“Well, after the test, I started looking more into gold, and why I was finding it in good sizes when all that should have been there was the little specks.”

“What did you find out?”

Greg shrugged, again, “That out to a certain range, I can manipulate precious minerals that trade on the stock market for more than a $1 per pound.”

“What is the range you can do things at?” Joe asked, eyes alight with interest.

“Funny you should ask. The answer is actually classified.” Greg responded with a smile. “The government has meddled in my affairs, thinking it should be a state secret. I am not even supposed to leave the country without governmental permission, so of course I never do.” He gave Joe a very obvious wink.

“How does the rest of your story go?”

“I quickly became a multi-millionaire. I invested money into several dozen small business, and then wrote off the debts, or set the interest at what I would make in a basic savings account. Now I spend my leisure time hunting for other treasures.”

“Like what?”

“Well, every year in the late summer or early fall, I head to Lake Superior and hunt agates and uperlites. In the winter I hunt fossils here. I look for sunken ships. I’ve learned how to dive and do underwater welding.”

“That’s actually really cool!” Joe gushed.

At that moment, a young teenager stepped into the cabin and tossed some bills into the basket of gold dust by the door, then left. Joe sat up, one eyebrow raised, “What was that?”

Greg smiled a small smile, “Have you been to town here?”

“No. I came straight here from Williams. I was planning to stop in town for gas on my way home.” Joe said.

“Well, when you stop into any of the businesses in town, they have a small scale to weigh gold.”

“Why?”

“Because I act like an unsecured bank for the locals. Someone will stop by and grab a pinch or two of gold, spend it on a date, or gas, or mortgage payment, then when they have money again, they throw what they can into the basket until they think they’ve paid back what they owe.”

“How do you keep things even?” Joe asked, incredulity spread across his face.

“I don’t. I lose money on the deal every time.” Greg smiled and shrugged at the same time. “Well, almost all the time. Old man Jenkins always pays back what he borrows to the penny, but he’s plenty strange.”

“Why do you do it?” Joe asked, still not understanding.

“Let me put it like this; Who would you rather have around you, normal nice people who respect you, and go about their lives; Or some land developer turning the valley into planned communities that don’t give a shit about the “little people” of the community?” Greg frowned. “I know who I’d rather have around. As for why I do it? It keeps the local economy going. It helps take a load off of the minds of others. It’s paid for first dates and weddings.” A distant look grew in Greg’s eyes. “It makes a difference.”

Joe nodded, “Okay, now that makes sense. Eare to enlighten me about the giant agate on the wall, in the sealed case?”

Greg stood and took a few short steps to the case, patting it gently, “I found it. No powers, no nothing. Just good old fashioned hard work.”

“Ah, your hobby!” Joe put a couple of things together. “It’s not something you can easily do and your powers can’t help with, so you enjoy the challenge!

“Exactly.”

“Well, if you don’t mind, I think I will get going without more of a tour.” Joe said.

“Sure.” Greg shook Joe’s hand, palming him a nugget. “Have one for the road, it doesn’t mean that much nowadays.”

Joe left the small cabin and large ranch, all the while staring at the four-ounce nugget of gold in his hand.

*-*-*

What do y'all think about this guy and his power? It would make you fabulously rich...but would the money be worth it?

Anyway, love y'all!

Ps. Believe it or not, Minnesota does have small deposits of tiny gold specks almost everywhere in the state! So do pretty much all the states that got covered by the glaciers of some 10,000 years ago.

The GPAA (Gold Prospectors Association of America) is an actual organization the has groups all across the USA, so if you are interested in gold panning look them up.

Comments

A terrarium is a little piece of the living world captured in a small enclosure you can pop on your desk or coffee table at home. If you want to keep it as alive as possible, though, you might like to implement some controls. That’s precisely what [yotitote] did with their smart terrarium build.

At the heart of the build is an ESP32 microcontroller. It’s armed with temperature and humidity sensors to detect the state of the atmosphere within the terrarium itself. However, it’s not just a mere monitor. It’s able to influence conditions by activating an ultrasonic fogger to increase humidity (which slightly impacts temperature in turn). There are also LED strips, which the ESP32 controls in order to try and aid the growth of plants within, and a small OLED screen to keep an eye on the vital signs.

It’s a simple project, but one that serves as a basic starting point that could be readily expanded as needed. It wouldn’t take much to adapt this further, such as by adding heating elements for precise temperature control, or more advanced lighting systems. These could be particularly useful if you intend your terrarium to support, perhaps, reptiles, in addition to tropical plant life.

Indeed, we’ve seen similar work before, using a Raspberry Pi to create a positive environment to keep geckos alive! Meanwhile, if you’re cooking up your own advanced terrarium at home, don’t hesitate to let us know.

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Artist: 92M | fediverse | bluesky | pixiv | tumblr | danbooru

Full quality: .png 3 MB (2121 × 3000)

>be me
>biohacker focused on male vitality 
>spend years optimizing my life style diet and sleep
>Ice baths
>gigachad testosterone levels achieved
>read some estrogen is absorbed by the man during sex through vaginal fluids 
>read orgasm increases prolactin levels which makes people take on nurturing roles
>stop having sex with wife
>stop taking care of son
>testosterone goes up 21 points
>Deep sleep improves and pulse lowers
>wife won't talk to me
>son cries a lot and grades dropped 
>told son to meditate to regulate his amygdala to avoid his prefrontal cortex from shutting down 

How do you anons deal with the ever growing attacks on masculinity?

In my case there's a huge timeframe between 2008 and 2025 I have played mainly multiplayer games like Tibia, Runescape, Realm of Mad God, Counter-Strike, Killing Floor and rarely touched singleplayer games.

I have barely touched GTA1, GTA2, GTA 4 or GTA 5 (finished GTA3 and GTA:SA not so long time ago). I have spent 30 mins in Skyrim. In Witcher 3 2-3 hours while (Witcher 1,2 stay unfinished). HalfLife series keep waiting for me to come back and lead Gordon to the end of the story.

I can go with more and more examples with classic singleplayer games which patiently wait in my library and if you ask me, the multiplayer games really "help in this regard.

Pour celles et ceux qui ne connaissent pas cette pratique atroce : https://fr.wikipedia.org/wiki/Th%C3%A9rapie_de_conversion?wprov=sfla1

C'est déjà interdit en France et dans plusieurs pays européens, mais malheureusement la majorité des pays l'autorise encore.

Comments

Gaming is huge. According to Forbes business magazine, the sector’s global revenue is more than the music and movie industries combined. That is a lot of people engaged in game stories and game characters. So how does gender fluidity fit in and what, in gaming, is gender euphoria?

Monash’s Associate Professor Phoebe Toups Dugas works in human centred computing at the Exertion Games Lab in the Faculty of Information Technology, and in a new paper she coordinated explores this idea of euphoria for transgender gamers.

She says euphoria in the context of “digital play” is about the joy, comfort and wellbeing felt when gender identity is seen, felt, or expressed in a game in a way that resonates with who they are.

“I think gender euphoria is really applicable to anyone, but it is a moment ‘in-game’ where your identity and your experience of your identity are truly aligned, and they are described as being bright, intense moments, wonderful moments.”

Argentina, Chile, Peru e Uruguai também serão contemplados com a medida, que entrará em vigor em 1º de junho deste ano.