MetaQuotes Language 4 (MQL4) est un langage de programmation permettant de développer des robots de trading, des indicateurs techniques, des scripts et des bibliothèques de fonctions à utiliser sur la plateforme de trading MetaTrader 4. De telles applications améliorent considérablement les capacités des traders lors de l'exécution d'opérations sur le marché Forex.
MetaQuotes Language 4 est un langage de programmation orienté objet de haut niveau basé sur les concepts du langage de programmation C++ populaire. La flexibilité du langage MQL4 permet aux utilisateurs de produire des programmes complexes avec de nombreux calculs, tout en gérant avec précision pratiquement tous les paramètres des robots de trading et des indicateurs.
MQL4 contient les indicateurs de base nécessaires à l'analyse des cotations actuelles et historiques et possède des fonctions intégrées pour la gestion des ordres de trading. Toutes ces fonctionnalités de MetaQuotes Language 4 permettent de créer des applications capables d'effectuer des opérations sur le marché Forex et peuvent ainsi remplacer complètement un trader.

• Un Robot de Trading (Expert Advisor) est une application de carte de crédit, qui permet une analyse automatisée du marché et le trading Forex.
• Un indicateur personnalisé est un outil d'analyse de la situation du marché. Les indicateurs n'effectuent pas d'opérations de trading. Contrairement aux indicateurs techniques intégrés, ce type d'instrument peut être programmé pour exécuter n'importe quel algorithme analytique.
• Un script est une petite application qui est exécutée une fois pour effectuer une action simple. Comme, un script peut supprimer tous les objets du graphique, fermer tous les ordres ou placer plusieurs ordres en attente pour une position ouverte.
• Une bibliothèque est un couple de fonctions personnalisées. Il est destiné à stocker et à distribuer des éléments couramment utilisés d'applications personnalisées.

Hi, I’ve been a gambler- I mean… forex trader for 7 years now. I’m an account manager for 2 prop firms, a MQL4/5 developer, and have done some consulting for a couple minor forex education companies. Thought I’d share some insights I wish I knew sooner. With how volatile the economy is and with inflation making it difficult to make ends meet, now more than ever I think forex can benefit the population. Disclaimer: I ain’t the smartest guy. I have no formal education on forex. I’m self taught and there’s plenty of gaps in my knowledge. Take all of this with a grain of salt.
Insight #1: When I was new to forex I traded as many pairs as possible. Learned all the correlations and indexes. I did not want to miss out on any trade opportunities. This resulted in me doing waaaaay more work than necessary. Today I only trade XAUUSD. It’s all I need to turn a profit. I passed the prop firm evaluations only trading gold. Since it’s all I trade, I’m very familiar with it. I highly recommend choosing just 1-2 currency pairs and master them. Specifically, I recommend XAUUSD. Love it.
Insight #2: Stop paying for broad general forex education. I gained more benefit from courses that focused purely on trading strategies rather than explaining what a pip is.
Insight #3: It is very possible to “crack the code.” I HIGHLY recommend learning MQL4/5. This is how I passed my first prop firm test. Even if you make a simple TP/SL bot or a script that sends you a mobile notification when certain market conditions are met, it’ll make trading much easier. I was able to piece by piece convert my strategy into code. And now I honestly feel like I have the easiest job in the world because I have a bot that does the heavy lifting for me. There’s lots of information on the internet about MQL4/5.
Insight #4: Use MT4’s strategy tester and or backtest AT LEAST 2 years of price data before going live. (I backtested 15 years of data before applying to the prop firms). Think you’re onto something? Convert your strategy into code and backtest the last couple years. (Preferably more years than less). You’ll learn really quick whether your strategy works or not. Or maybe it almost works and just needs some refinement. I wish I started doing this sooner. I didn’t start doing this until year 6 of trading. In the last year I’ve done more refinement than I have in all my previous years combined. You’ll quickly find where the markets were most volatile. Those are the best times to backtest to see if your strategy works during those times. From my experience, if your strategy was profitable during the worst months, it’ll be profitable for any month. Don’t pay for MT4 price data, it’s free if you just Google for it.
Insight #5: It’s okay to take breaks. After year 2 I quit for a year. Then came back, quit again for a few more months. I kept trying and failing a lot over a span of a few years. Around year 5 is when things changed for me. After awhile you know what works and more importantly, what does not work.
Insight #6: Don’t quit your day job/find a day job you like. I still coach kids 4 days a week even though financially I don’t need it. Coaching kids was my job before forex. It’s easy to become detached from humanity if all you do is forex. Go outside. Serve your community. Donate your money and time. It’s good for your health. Feel free to disagree with me here, this is just my opinion.
Insight #7: Don’t strategy hop. Find a strategy that works for you and stick to it. I’m guilty of buying a course on a new strategy, backtest ~3 months of it, get super hyped up, pay $1000 for a prop firm and fail because I combined the new strategy with previous strategies. If you want to combine strategies, backtest it first. If strategy 1 is 80% accurate and strategy 2 is 90% accurate, that doesn’t mean together they are 85% accurate. If you combine them it will usually end up being less than 50% accurate. I don’t have a mathematical explanation why, but this has been my experience. It’s kinda hilarious when I think about it.
Insight #8: I’ve yet to find a free indicator that works. MA’s and ADX have practical uses when combined with other variables. I use those two to measure market volatility. But I don’t recommend going through all the free indicators on TradingView. I spent countless hours doing that. If someone develops an indicator that works, it won’t be free.
Insight #9: Even if you use an EA, it still requires technical analysis. Heck, my EA only works cause I’m constantly adjusting its settings based on my technical analysis. So if you use an EA, don’t expect it to be hands free.
Insight #10: Less is more. Back when I traded purely manually without an EA, I had the best results when I only aimed to win 1 trade a day, 3 days a week. Find your threshold for over trading. My threshold was 1 trade. If I lost, I was done for the day. If I won, I was also done for the day. It makes things less stressful.
If I think of more insights I’ll post them here. If you have any questions feel free to comment. There are no dumb questions. It’s late here in California, I’ll do my best to answer your questions tomorrow when I wake up. Hope this helps!
Mods, I think I followed all the rules. Please let me know if I need to modify my post.
Edit 1: I’ll go more in depth on my strategy in the morning. Almost 1am here in Cali, gonna get some rest.

“I felt a great disturbance in the force as if millions of voices slowly and wildly got together and then there was an uprising against the government and the financial institutions” 

For my daughter’s tenth birthday I got her a big vat of modeling clay. At first, it was a big success. I mean, why wouldn’t it be? What kind of child doesn’t love messing around with Play-Doh, right? Modeling clay was just the natural progression from that. A step up. It was an innocent idea, but as you will soon come to understand, I wish more than anything that I would have just bought her a dollhouse instead.
Lily was one of the most artistic and creative people I’d ever met, despite her young age. I would always find her sitting in her room painting or drawing on a piece of paper, or maybe acting out a scene from one of her favorite TV shows, assisted by various stuffed animals.
One time I walked in to find her working on a crude illustration of a pink unicorn, the day after that I laid my eyes upon a beautiful castle accompanied by a charming stickwoman princess. Sometimes her drawings would even transcend beyond the paper and find themselves on various furniture and walls around the house.
As a supportive parent, I felt it was important to encourage this kind of behavior, and help further develop her artistic expressions as best I could.
Whenever I look back to my childhood years I find many fond memories of sculpting various figures and characters out of modeling clay. Whether it be for an arts and crafts project, or just for recreational use, I found the creative possibilities to be endless. It was like playing God in a sense. I used to be pretty good at it as well. Through sculpting, I was able to transform concepts and characters that only existed in my mind into tangible, real-life objects that I could see and touch. The happiness it brought me back then was indescribable.
I wanted my daughter to experience a similar joy to the one I had. To let her express herself through yet another artistic medium. I thought it would be the perfect gift for her upcoming birthday, and hopefully, it would serve as a distraction from what was currently going on with her mom.
When the Idea popped into my head, I immediately went over to my elderly neighbor Greg to ask if I could buy some modeling clay from him. He and his wife had been living across the street ever since we bought our house over a decade ago, and we had quickly gotten acquainted. Before he retired he used to teach pottery lessons at the local community center in town. He was an extremely skilled potter and had a gentle and kind aura surrounding him. He was a very beloved figure in our neighborhood, and would always go out of his way to help out members of the community. In a way, he was kind of like our own version of Bob Ross.
I figured that since he had been retired for quite some time now, he might have some leftover clay that he would be willing to sell me for a fairly reasonable price.
But when I went over to his house, a wave of sorrow washed over me as his wife, now a widow, answered the door with weary eyes. Upon hearing the tragic news, I offered my condolences, and she invited me inside. I explained to her why I came over, and she happily led me to Greg’s workshop in the attic.
The place was exactly like you’d imagine it. Terracotta pots and various other ceramic artifacts lay scattered everywhere. On his desk were several of those spinning pottery wheels where you spin the clay around on. His shelves were littered with all kinds of materials one would use for such a craft. And the icing on the cake; the smell. It smelt like fresh, wet, dirt with hints of iron in it. You know the one.
Greg’s wife, Isabel, was happy to part with some of the stuff that for so long had cluttered her attic, so she let me leave with a big vat of modeling clay that sat patiently waiting by his workbench. She said it was the clay Greg had been working with before his sudden passing, and that it was some kind of rare high-quality mixture from South America. In other words, state of the art and extremely expensive. Immensely grateful, I thanked her for her kindness and offered to lend a helping hand if ever she needed one.
A few days later, a quizzical grimace formed on my daughter’s face as she unboxed her new birthday present.
“What… is it?” She asked, inspecting the packaging. I didn’t blame her for not understanding right away, the gray plastic barrel didn’t exactly present itself as some kind of toy a ten-year-old would receive as a gift.
“It’s modeling clay, honey.” I told her. My wife shot me a look from across the room. I hadn’t informed her of the gift beforehand.
“For your art projects. You can make anything you want!”
Lily looked over to her mom who sat on the couch with a glass of wine, before rising to her feet and attempting to pry the plastic lid open. I walked over to my wife, Evelyn. I could tell that she wasn’t too happy about her daughter’s latest gift.
“You’ll be the one having to clean it up” She teased. “You know how much of a mess this is going to make?”
“Don’t worry, I will.” I reassured her and reached out for her hand.
A loud pop sounded throughout the living room as the lid flew open and Lily grabbed a handful of clay and started toying with it. If only I had known then what she had just unleashed…
Over the course of the next few weeks, Lily got really into sculpting. What first started as mostly abstract shapes and vaguely humanoid blobs, eventually turned into well-defined and surprisingly detailed sculptures. And the special qualities of the clay made it really easy for her to use and disassemble as she wished. It hardened after only a couple of hours, and if she wanted to re-shape it, all it took was a few drops of water to restore its malleable properties.
I watched as she made various clay figurines, including a sculpture of one of the unicorns from her paintings, a couple of clay houses, and an elephant, among other things. But those aren’t the focus of this story. No, if that were the case there probably wouldn’t even be a story to tell.
The whole thing started when she made that thing. That wretched abomination she called “Claymate”. I never understood why she grew so fond of it. It was hideous. She was way too talented of an artist to waste her skills and time on something so awful-looking.
The first time I met Claymate was on a Sunday morning at the dining table. My wife and I sat down to eat breakfast when Lily walked into the kitchen carrying something over her shoulder. She pulled out two chairs from under the table and got seated. One for herself, the other for Claymate.
Evelyn and I looked at each other. Upon the sight of Claymate, we initially wanted to laugh, as it looked hysterically despicable, but we managed to compose ourselves for our daughter’s sake. It was the first time I had seen my wife smile in what felt like forever.
“Who is this, honey?” Evelyn asked.
“Claymate.” Lily responded, reaching over to pour herself a glass of milk as if there was nothing abnormal about the situation.
My wife gazed over to me and shot me a look that said “Why couldn’t you just have gotten her a barbie doll?!”
Claymate was a person-shaped blob of clay with vaguely human facial features. Two pinched-in holes for eyes, and a slimly carved smile. It had no hair, no clothes, or any other identifiable details. Just a crude humanoid clay person with an awful grin. It was about half the height of my daughter.
“And what is he? Where is he from?” I asked, trying to show interest in her hobby.
“Oh, he is not from around here. He is just visiting. He says he wants to make new friends!”
I looked over to Claymate, intently inspecting the lifeless expression that contoured across his face. There was just something about his stone-cold “eyes” that almost gave me the creeps. I know it’s silly to be unnerved by a ten-year-old’s arts and crafts project, but there was something eerie about it that I couldn’t quite place my finger on. Honestly, it almost made me even regret buying the modeling clay in the first place.
“That’s great, Lily!” Evelyn said. “I hope you give him the warm welcome he deserves.”
Later that day we had to leave Lily home alone for the evening as I drove my wife to the hospital. She had recently been diagnosed with an extremely rare illness called Creutzfeldt-Jakob disease. I’m no Doctor, so I can’t really go into all the medical details surrounding the disease, nor do I see any point in doing so. All you need to know is that it’s a fatal condition that causes brain damage which rapidly worsens over time. There is no cure, nor any effective treatment other than painkillers, antidepressants, and sedatives, which only serve to make the patient’s remaining days as comfortable as possible.
It was absolutely heartbreaking. As you can imagine, Evelyn didn’t take the news too well, and neither did I. I was about to lose the love of my life at the young age of thirty-eight. It felt like we had gotten robbed. Our future was stolen by forces beyond our control. We hadn’t told Lily yet, but I suspected she already knew something was wrong.
Later that evening, we returned home from the hospital to be met with Lily sitting on the living room couch watching cartoons on the TV. Beside her sat Claymate, motionless.
At first, nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary, until I stepped on something soft and squishy. I looked down to see what it was. Wet clay. Then I looked up and noticed a pair of muddy footprints trailing from Claymate on the couch and out into the kitchen.
“What’s all this, Lily?” I asked her and pointed at the mess she had made.
“It’s just Claymate. His feet do that when he walks around.” She responded. “I know it’s a little messy, but I promise to clean it up later.”
I tried to suppress the growing frustration within me. The last thing I wanted to do after a long day at the hospital with my terminally ill wife was to come home to a muddy mess of a home.
“Well next time just carry him” Evelyn said, also with a hint of frustration in her voice.
For some reason, I couldn’t sleep that night. I laid awake in bed, tossing and turning. Was it too hot in here, or was the stress finally getting to me? I looked over at my nightstand. Bright red fluorescent lights displayed “2:03 a.m”. Jesus, had it been three hours already? I was due to wake up in only five. My wife was snoring, per usual. Maybe I just needed a glass of water?
I got out of bed and quietly made my way downstairs toward the kitchen. I didn’t bother turning on the ceiling lights as I didn’t want to ruin my tiredness even further. The streetlights outside shone in through the windows anyway, providing just enough light to partially illuminate the house’s interior. I poured myself a glass of water, and then a glass of milk because I had heard somewhere that milk makes you sleepy. I didn’t know if it was true or not, but I didn’t care at that point.
A heavy shuffling sound behind me caught me off guard and I stopped dead in my tracks. I quietly put the glass on the kitchen counter and turned around. It was coming from the living room. Then I heard it again, closer this time. It sounded like someone was scuffling around.
I slowly made my way toward the source of the sound, struggling to keep my breathing as still as possible. And then a loud thud sounded as if something had fallen to the floor. I turned the corner and saw…nothing. Nobody was there. Was my mind playing tricks on me?
I walked to the center of the room to further investigate when I noticed something rectangular on the ground. I picked it up and held it in front of the large living room window to let the lamps outside shed light on whatever it was that I was holding.
A family photo. Taken years prior at some kind of amusement park. I can’t even remember where we were that day, but we looked so happy, without a care in the world. Evelyn looked so young, so beautiful. I reminisced for a while before placing it back on the shelf it had fallen off.
I stepped back and froze. My primal instincts had taken over, my conscious mind hadn’t even registered it yet. I felt a crippling amount of dread overcome my entire body. The kind of dread you feel deep in your chest. I felt like a deer in headlights, frozen, not knowing what to do.
Then I noticed it. The shadow in the corner of the room, standing right by the staircase. A humanoid silhouette, standing just four feet tall.
“Oh”, I rationalized, It was just Lily. A wave of relief washed over me, and I chuckled to myself.
“You gave me quite the scare there!” I laughed, trying to shake off the fact that I let a ten-year-old girl make me quiver in fear. “What are you doing up this late? It’s way past your…”
Before I could finish the sentence, Lily’s shadowy figure hurried up the stairs at what seemed to be an inhuman speed.
“Hey, relax! You’re not gonna get into trouble!” I whispered as loud as I could before I ran after her. But just before I got to the bottom of the staircase, I slipped on something. I landed flat on my back, groaning.
After a speedy recovery, I got back up and immediately realized what I had slipped on. Wet clay. But it was impossible, we had cleaned it all up before we went to sleep. I was sure of it. It certainly hadn’t been there when we went to bed. And it most certainly hadn’t been there before I went down for a glass of water either. This had to be fresh, I reasoned.
I followed a trail of small traces of mud up the stairs, and then I followed the trail throughout the hallway, around the corner, past the bathroom, and finally into Lily’s bedroom. The door was slightly ajar, so I quietly pushed it open.
Nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary, except for the muddy floor. Lily was sound asleep in her bed or at least pretending to be. I walked over to check on her. Every parent knows that kids pretending to sleep behave very differently from kids that actually are asleep. You can tell by small erratic spasms in breathing, body language, and snoring.
But by all accounts, Lily wasn’t pretending. She really was asleep. I leaned in and put my ear to hear head to check again. Sound asleep, no signs of faking it. I contemplated waking her up and asking her about what I had just witnessed, but I decided against it. It could wait till morning.
As I turned around to leave, I saw it. Claymate, sitting on a stool in the corner, observing me. Its blank, expressionless eyes devoid of life stared back at me as I exited the room. That thing gave me the creeps.
The next morning I asked Lily about what had happened, but you guessed it, she feigned ignorance. She was probably scared she would get into trouble.
Had she found out about her mom? Would that explain the family photo? Maybe this was her way of dealing with it. I wish she’d just told me.
Over the following weeks, Evelyn’s condition worsened. Visits to and from the hospital became too regular. We would have to tell Lily sooner or later. So that’s exactly what we did. We told her everything. Understandably, she did not take it very well.
She ran to her room, crying and throwing a fit. Of course, I didn’t blame her. I walked up to her bedroom door and put my hand on the doorknob, contemplating opening it. I stood there for a moment, listening to her crying. I don’t know how long I stood there, but eventually, her crying started to sound different.
She wasn’t crying anymore, she was talking. I calmly opened the door to find her sitting on the floor, talking to a large mass of clay that had seemingly melted into the floor. What remained of Claymate’s head had partially melted into the puddle. It seemed that in her rage, Lily had completely dismantled the poor thing. “Good riddance.” I thought.
The morning after, I was horrified to see Claymate 2.0 sitting at the dining table, ready for breakfast. This iteration of the abomination looked way more detailed. It was much bigger and had way more defined facial features. It nearly crossed over into the uncanny valley. It looked like a regular boy, made out of clay of course. Much less of an eyesore, but it still infuriated me for some reason.
“Does he have to sit at the table with us, sweetie?” I asked Lily, grinning my teeth. “You’re getting mud all over the tablecloth”.
My wife looked at me but refrained from saying anything.
“He is part of the family, dad. He has every right to sit here!” Lily responded.
For some reason, I had decided that I hated Claymate. There was just something about him that absolutely infuriated me now, and I didn’t know why. I know it’s silly, and maybe a bit hypocritical considering I bought her the damn thing, but still. I grew to hate him.
“Just remove him, please.” I blurted out.
“He just wants to be loved too!” She shouted. “That’s all he wants! Why can’t he be a part of the family as well?”
“I want him gone from the dining room!” I raised my voice.
Lily grabbed Claymate and hurried off toward her room. I tried following her, but Evelyn stopped me, a tear running down her cheek.
That day weighed heavy on both Lily and me, but I cannot even begin to fathom how my wife had felt when she received the news. Due to her severely deteriorated condition, she would have to make an overnight stay at the hospital.
I brought Lily with me this time. Her first time, actually. She didn’t want to leave her mother’s side, even when the clock ticked past midnight. To be honest, I didn’t want to leave either, but my wife insisted I get Lily home and ready for school the following day.
Heavy drops of rain splattered across the hood of the taxi as we exited the vehicle. The overhead streetlamps lit up my path as I carried Lily over my shoulder across our driveway.
I felt commotion on my shoulders and looked over to Lily. As she was being carried, she attempted to wave her hand.
“Why are you waving?” I asked her.
“To say hello.” She bluntly answered.
“Say hello to who?”
Her wave transformed into a pointing gesture. I looked up to the second-story window. The window to Lily’s bedroom. I strained my eyes, through the thick downpour it was hard to make out anything. Ready to just forget about it, I was about to look away when the headlights of the taxi behind me turned to briefly illuminate her room.
There was someone standing by the window. A black silhouette held up its hand as if to wave back. It stood there motionless, lit up by the powerful beams of the car. The taxi then swerved around and sped off, allowing her room to be swallowed by the oppressive darkness once more.
I came to a halt right in front of our front door. Someone was inside my house. I had seen it for only a brief moment, but I was sure of it. I didn’t want to go inside, but I couldn’t stay out in the rain either. Not with Lily.
I quietly unlocked the door and stepped inside. I put Lily down and reached for the light switch.
With the presence of light, a horrifying sight presented itself.
There were muddy footprints everywhere. And I mean everywhere. They ran across the floor, into the kitchen, into the living room, up the walls, and even along the ceiling.
And they weren’t bootprints either, no. The culprit appeared to be barefoot. Five distinct toes accompanied each footprint.
But what was most off-putting was the size of the prints. They looked like they belonged to a child. Close to Lily’s size actually. A chill ran down my spine upon realizing who they belonged to.
“No, It couldn’t be…” I thought to myself as I rushed up the stairs and burst open the door to Lily’s bedroom.
There, standing by the window, was Claymate. The eerily boy-like clay sculpture stood as still as a statue, both of its arms hung down by its side. Soulless eyeholes blankly stared back at me. It was like I was gazing into the abyss.
It was clear who the footprints belonged to. The trail led here. Claymate remained motionless as I picked it up and angrily walked down the stairs with it.
“What are you doing?” Lily cried.
I paid her no attention as I opened the backdoor of the house and threw it as far as I could out onto our garden.
Lily tried running past me to save Claymate, but I held her back.
“No, you’re done. You can’t play with him anymore.” I firmly told her.
I watched as the rain hammered down on claymate, burning through him as if it were acid. He started melting, his face contorted into a horrible grimace as the rain dissolved Claymate’s horrible visage. I almost felt bad for him. Almost…
I brought Lily back inside and put her to bed. It was way past her bedtime, and way past mine as well. She was furious, and we fought hard before she finally fell asleep.
I decided I would clean up the house the following morning. Before laying down in my bed, I glanced out the window overlooking our garden. Claymate, or what remained of him, was completely gone.
“Good.” I thought, as I laid down and closed my eyes.
The following days were actually pretty normal. Evelyn was still admitted to the hospital, but she seemed to be in a sound enough condition. I visited her every day and even brought her flowers on one occasion.
Lily was doing well in school, despite her terrible sorrow for her mother.
I started working longer shifts so that I could be better able to provide for my family during these straining times. It was just a matter of time before I would get the call from the hospital. It was inevitable. I started preparing for the worst.
Luckily, Lily didn’t seem to mind spending most of her days home alone. She had grown to be quite independent. Although, she seemed quieter than usual. It was clear that the stress of losing her mother had a greater impact on her psyche than I initially thought.
Then, one afternoon, everything changed.
I had just gotten home from work when laughter and giggling filled my ears as I stepped through the doorway.
A familiar voice echoed through the house. I was in disbelief. I followed the sound to its source and fell down to my knees.
There, sitting on the couch, together with Lily, was Evelyn. My terminally ill wife, Evelyn. Only, she looked better than she had done in years. Like her illness had been cured overnight. She looked energized, warm, and welcoming. As beautiful as the day I had first met her. I tried to speak but was unable to let out even a single word.
“H-how? What?” I finally mustered up. Evelyn looked at me and smiled. I hadn’t seen that smile in what felt like ages. Her perfect white teeth and pink, voluptuous lips radiated warmth.
“Isn’t it wonderful, daddy?” Lily excitedly yelled. “Mommy is back! She is well again!”
“But, they… they said” Was all I could let out before my phone started ringing. Evelyn stood up from the couch and walked over to me.
I reached into my pocket and took out my phone.
“It’s the hospital, honey. Might wanna take it.” I said to her as she reached out her arms and put them around me. Evelyn was so soft.
I raised the phone to my ear and answered.
“Good afternoon sir, this is Doctor Elliot speaking, calling from Eastmark General Hospital.” The man on the phone introduced himself. Evelyn’s hands caressed the back of my neck.
“It’s about your wife sir, you might want to sit down for this…” Dr. Elliot continued.
“Oh, I know, Doc!” I replied in excitement.
“I’m standing right here with her. She looks so…”
“Excuse me? No, I’m not sure you understand, sir. I’m sorry.” The doctor interrupted.
The smile slowly faded from my face and formed into an expression of confusion. Evelyn pressed herself up against my back and held me tight.
“What do you mean?” I asked him.
“Your wife, sir, and I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but she passed peacefully in her sleep fifteen minutes ago.” Dr. Elliot informed me.
I dropped my phone and froze. That was impossible. It couldn’t be. Was this some sort of sick joke? A prank call? It felt as if time stood still. Evelyn squeezed me tight.
No, it couldn’t have been a prank call. It was the hospital’s phone number, and Dr. Elliot was my wife’s assigned doctor. None besides us could have known that.
But she was standing right here. I didn’t understand.
I put my arms around her, instinctually. She was so soft and so smooth. But, something was wrong. She was too soft. And she was cold to the touch. I squeezed a little harder, and I felt my fingers dig into her flesh, leaving behind multiple indentations.
I looked at her face.
“But, you’re right here!” I said to her. I noticed Lily on the couch, she looked confused as well. Worried.
Evelyn stared blankly back at me. A familiar sense of dread had manifested itself deep within me. She wasn’t… she wasn’t Evelyn.
I pushed her away, struggling to get her arms off me. I reached out and brushed my hand against her face. A sandy white powder stained my hand. It looked to be some kind of makeup. I glanced up at the spot I had just touched on Evelyn’s face, and I saw what lay underneath the carefully constructed facade.
I felt a thousand knives stab my heart simultaneously as I realized what I was looking at. It was clay. No, it wasn’t Evelyn at all. It was Claymate.
I shouted angrily at the top of my lungs. I shouted at the insult to my wife’s legacy that stood in front of me. It filled me with anger. Whatever this thing was, I fully intended to destroy it. I threw a punch at the imposter and recoiled in pain. It was like punching a brick wall. I clutched my bruised hand and took a step back.
Claymate looked to Lily and tried forming some sort of expression across its face. My wife’s face. Whether it was one of sorrow or of anger, I could not tell. I’m not sure Lily even understood what that thing was.
In a stiff and jagged motion, Claymate ran out the backdoor and out into the garden. It looked like a toddler who had just learned to walk.
“Mommy, wait!” Lily shouted and ran after it.
I tried stopping her, reaching out to hold her back, but I was too late. Lily was gone.
I snapped out of my horror-stricken daze and ran after her. It was dark out. If she had run past the light fixtures of the garden and out into the adjacent woods, there was no way I would be able to find her.
I ran out the door and stopped. In the middle of the lawn, Claymate sat bent down on its knees. In front of it, stood Lily.
Evelyn’s face started molding, and she had quickly become unrecognizable. Her limbs began swelling, and it almost seemed like her skin was bubbling. Claymate’s entire body started shifting. It grew larger. It burst out of the clothes it was wearing. My wife’s clothes. It had returned to its base form. A muddy and crude sculpture of a boy. Except it was larger than before, it was roughly the same size as me.
It moved its grotesque, sandy mouth, and looked as if it was trying to form a vocalization. A series of unnerving gasps and exhales escaped its malleable maw before they started to sound intelligible.
“Lil…y” a deep, growling voice spoke. It sounded like a dog or a parrot trying to mimic human language. It was incredibly off-putting.
“Lily…” It said again. Placing its muddy hand on her shoulder and molding its face into a happy expression. Its features reminded me of a theater mask.
Lily screamed in terror and started wailing. I wanted to help, but I felt powerless to do so. Paralyzed with fear, I watched as Lily turned her back to it and attempted to make her escape. She locked eyes with me before she was yanked back. The thing had stretched one of its arms to monstrous proportions and used it as a tendril, wrapping itself around Lily and pulling her back towards itself.
“Let me go!” She screamed, begging me to help her.
I ran toward the monster, attempting to pry her free from its stone-hard terracotta grip, but it used its other arm to toss me back.
I slammed into one of the exterior walls of the house and landed on my back. Wet mud stained my clothes as I rose to my feet and charged the clay monster again.
Same result.
Claymate started transforming. Its form even more contorted and unnatural. Had it been in any other setting, its appearance would almost be comical.
I saw Lily struggling to break free from the creature’s grasp, and there was nothing I could do. I couldn’t get close enough to her.
I witnessed in terror as Claymate wrapped itself around her, engulfing her inside a mass of mud and clay. She was trapped inside it. I could see her arms and legs protruding out of the clay, struggling. Fighting.
She was going to suffocate, and there was nothing I could do.
I once again attempted to run towards it, my fatherly instincts overcame me, and I felt adrenaline power up my body. I clawed and punched the monster as best as I could. Attempting to dig her out. But for each piece of clay I removed, another would take its place. It was in vain, but I had to try. I continued digging, listening to Lily’s muffled screams from inside Claymate only fueled my aggression.
I looked back at the house, scanning the ground for anything I could use. A shovel, a big stick, knives, anything! I was desperate.
Lily’s screams faded, and her protruding Limbs suddenly went limp.
That’s when I noticed it. The garden hose curled up like a snake in the corner of our lawn. I remembered how the rain had dissolved Claymate previously. How the water flowed through the being like a winding river.
I rushed towards it, fumbling it with shaky hands as I picked it up and aimed it at the big ball of clay that had swallowed my daughter. I tasted a combination of salt and iron on my lips as tears ran down my cheeks. I was so tired, but I had to try.
I turned the release valve on the hose, and I felt the hose go taught as water shot through it.
I aimed a concentrated beam of high-pressure water directly at the monstrosity occupying my lawn.
As soon as the water made contact with the beast, it bellowed in what I could only discern as pain.
I relentlessly continued blasting it with water, moving closer and closer. I could see Claymate’s gaping face slowly start to melt. Its previously rigid and hard body had turned soft and squishy. Wet brown mud spewed in all directions.
Slowly but surely, more and more of Lily’s body came into view. The creature attempted to flee, making its escape towards the treeline. Lily laid in the middle of the garden, covered in dirt and wet sand, but free from Claymate’s hostage.
Suddenly, silence filled the air. Claymate was nowhere to be seen, except for the muddy trail it left behind. It had disappeared into the woods. Hopefully for good this time.
I turned off the hose and tossed it aside. I ran towards Lily and quickly picked her up and brought her inside the house. Before locking the door behind us, I turned around and gazed into the dark forest just a couple of feet away from the lawn. Nothing. No signs of our sedimental assailant. I closed the door and called 911.
Lily survived. Paramedics were able to resuscitate her or whatever they did to save her life. I wouldn’t know because I apparently collapsed from exhaustion shortly after they arrived at our doorstep.
I’m not sure how this event will affect Lily going forward. I can’t imagine how traumatized she must be. And to top it off with the death of her mother, I’m afraid it will be just too much for her.
I have taken a leave from work in order to get things sorted out. I needed a mental break after everything I’d experienced during these past couple of weeks.
Life seems to have returned to normal. At least as normal as life could be after this. Lily hasn’t shown any signs of trauma, and she still continues to pursue her artistic hobbies. Though, it will be hard to say whether these events will have a greater impact in the future.
As for Claymate. I don’t fully believe he, or it, or whatever you wanna call it is gone. I didn’t feel like I killed it that night. Only injured it. This was only a minor setback. It needs time to regrow. I don’t know what it wants, or what it intended to do with Lily that fateful night. Whatever its plans are, I’m certain they are sinister in nature.
This morning, while fetching today’s newspaper on the driveway, I glanced over to Isabel and her late husband Greg’s house across the street. I now know how she feels every day being a widow. How empty her house must feel without him by her side anymore.
I was lucky to still have Lily at least. Isabel had none. No kids, no grandkids, and I was pretty sure most of her friends weren’t around anymore.
I thought about paying her a visit sometime when I suddenly noticed movement coming from the attic window of the house. I rubbed my groggy eyes and focused. Up there, standing by the window, stood a man. An old and disheveled man. It took some time before I connected the dots, but when I finally recognized him, my heart sank. Goosebumps covered my body.
It was Greg. Greg stood there, staring blankly at me, an all too familiar expression stretched across his face. He slowly raised his hand and placed his palm on the glass.
Greg stared at me for a moment and grinned, before retrieving his hand and slowly retreating back into the attic. Before I knew it, he was out of view. Gone. Vanished. The only trace that remained of him was the muddy handprint he had left stained on the window…

Episode 16: Push the Child
Recap Masterlist (I finally fixed it being stuck as NSFW!)
Final episode of Rockport, y'all. Meant to get this done soon after my last one, but I've just been stressed and scatterbrained over various things. Luckily, election season turned out miraculously good enough that my planned "the runaway train is a metaphor for democracy" opening isn't apt anymore, and that's a huge weight off my shoulders, so let's get to it!
No Pain, No Train

• Recap is long and mostly expository, but does not address the continuing madness that is the port wand.
• Pleasing sounds
• Soon as we pick back up, Jess and Graham reappear ready to fight, just in time for the battle to be over. Angus whispers to Taako that the trio should probably find the item they came here for before they worry about stopping the train, but Magnus responds for him, heralding plenty of Travis behavior yet to come.
• Taako picks up the weird compass Jenkins was using, and Justin calls an Arcane Knowledge check to see how much he knows about it. He gets a 14, so Taako learns... the most basic mechanics of how it works, basically just what it would show on its face. Again, information Griffin was obviously going to give out anyway, with no alterations for Taako having prior knowledge of it. Players need to stop calling their own checks ahead of time, and the DM needs to either let them know when they don't need to roll or be able to grant additional knowledge for a successful roll.
• YEAH, SOON AS I UNPAUSE, JUSTIN ON CUE! Justin: "Do I pick up anything from Arcane Knowledge that I couldn't have picked up from context clues, by my own damn self?" Griffin says no and moves on. Amazing.
• Angus asks Taako what the compass is, to which Taako bitterly responds that he thought he'd know more about it. After Travis jumps in with a Pirates of the Caribbean joke everyone else sandbags, Angus spontaneously conjectures that the compass points toward the most valuable thing in its vicinity and this is how Jenkins preyed on his wealthy victims. The planned exposition's coming in hot and heavy this time, it seems.
• Everyone gathers round to examine what's in the Crypt Safe, and retrieve all of their weapons and gear in the process. There's some flavor about valuables that isn't very notable, but they quickly decide to take the obvious route and use the compass to locate the Grand Relic. Merle does it and finds a small silver monocle, which Taako volunteers to pick up since he was the most resistant to the gauntlets, though not before Merle questions whether the bracers they're all wearing are even good for anything.
• Griffin: "I don't know how to tell you guys this. These bracers are not fucking tricorders. You're not gonna set these motherfuckers to stun!" ACKSHUALLY, GRIFFIN, it's phasers that shoot lasers that can be set to stun. Tricorders are scanning devices. Forty lashings in the town square for this heresy.
• Once that's settled, Taako reaches out toward the monocle, and it begins to vibrate as... a weird pushy drug dealer voice emanates out, urging him to put it on. An odd choice, neither threatening nor all that funny, but whatever. Taako picks it up on his umbrella and gets a nat 20 to resist its thrall as he tosses it in his satchel, and so the trio have obtained their second Relic.
• We are now ten minutes into the episode, and Jenkins said the train would crash in ten minutes at the climax of last episode! I call foul! (For real, talking is a free action, I get it, I'm just really not picking up much sense of urgency right now.)
• The guys are then magically directed by Griffin's narration into finding Jenkins' wand, which Taako's umbrella... eats? I guess it can absorb other magic. Travis immediately asks whether his Railsplitter does anything magical and impressive like that, but Griffin jokes that it disintegrates and moves on before we have to spend any longer on this.
• Apparently we have seven minutes until the train crashes. Taako picks up Jenkins' wand -- wait, didn't it just get eaten? -- and orders everyone to face the front of the train and charge his magic with their visions of the engineering car... and then starts looting the Crypt Safe with everyone turned the other way. First guffaw of the episode, fucking brilliant, I love you Taako.
• Once he's loaded down with valuables, he actually attempts to cast the port spell for real. He rolls a 2 when asked for an Intellect check, which doesn't just fizzle out as you'd expect, but makes him manifest something resembling the Take On Me music video. Fortunately, Griffin lets him just do it again with no penalty, and with a 19, they've got a way into the engineer's car. I won't litigate the mechanics of this spell again, let's just go with it.
• Remember Graham talking about training his entire life to be a train engineer? I didn't, but now I do, because it's come back up into actual relevance as he's the only one who can spot and pull the brake lever. There's also a brief, very faintly amusing tangent where the guys argue with Griffin over the existence of video games in this universe, but it's not quite funny enough to get quoted.
• Magnus pops the bean back in his mouth for like the fifth time, I guess to make himself heavy enough that he won't get thrown around when the train stops. Griffin chides him that the bean's going to run out of magic eventually, but Travis jokes about it being an infinite heavy bean. Color me absolutely shocked if he tries to turn this into an actual part of his arsenal from here on out.
• Graham tugs as hard as he can on the brake lever... and it doesn't work. Turns out the brake is also locked to the engineer's handprint, which seems like a horrifyingly stupid safety decision, but at least it makes for a (hopefully) fun problem to work around.
• The gang first debates just cutting the engineering car off from the rest of the train and letting it crash, and Justin gives me my second laugh in 20 elapsed minutes when he argues that the damage to Neverwinter is "some other D&D group's problem". I'm struggling to move on because the idea of a totally separate actual play's victory celebration getting diabolus ex nihilo'd by a runaway train is fucking sending me.
• Justin: "I'm just living out my lifelong dream of reenacting the end of Silver Streak, it's all I've ever wanted." Let the record show that Silver Streak is a relatively obscure 1976 film, two years older than the wildly influential Animal House, which the sons previously bullied Clint for referencing because it's so old.
• While everyone starts trying to fumble with the controls, Graham tells the players Griffin's planned solution- I mean, suggests to the party that the only way to stop the collision is to just destroy the train. Clint and Travis bandy around some ideas that get shot down, so Graham then starts talking apropos nothing about there being a huge gate the train will pass through outside Neverwinter, before Justin interrupts him to propose his own idea. I'm going to take a wild stab and say Griffin would really like for the arc to end with Taako using the port wand on the gate to have the train crash somewhere else, and I'll be shocked if Justin's idea is a successful alternative.
• Griffin says Justin can't climb outside from the engineering car, as the room is "illusory" because- fuck. I can't. I give up. The port wand rooms are real unless Griffin decides they're not.
• Nonetheless, Taako runs out to the nearest actual door, and voices exactly what I thought the solution would be, to which Griffin acts like he wasn't nudging in this direction. I'll forgive it purely because Taako's planned destination for the train is... Jenkins' garden. The man died a wonderfully pathetic death and he's still getting raked over the coals, I love it.
• Travis/Magnus: "I lay my hand on [Taako's] shoulder and say, 'I trust you'." Clint/Merle: "I lay my hand on his hip and say, 'that's as high as I can reach'."
• One minute until the train crashes! Travis has been pestering Justin repeatedly to use Levitate on everyone so they're guaranteed to be safe, but Justin doesn't have enough spells left to spend on that, so he suggests that they all just jump; Taako orders everyone off first so he can stay behind until he's in range with the port wand, and demonstrates that it'll be fine by PUSHING ANGUS OFF THE TRAIN. Holy shit. Wow. The kid narrowly avoids going under the wheels, rolls for a good distance, and eventually sits back up with two teeth missing. I am in awe that the fandom came to see the relationship between these two as sweet and parental.
• Magnus jumps, and Travis says he tucks and rolls so he doesn't incur any damage. Griffin loudly calls for an Acrobatics check, to which Trav instantly claims he rolls a 45, which would be a lot funnier and more self-effacing if he hadn't basically been doing that this whole time and will knowingly continue to do so. Then he rolls for real and hesitates on announcing his number, fretting that he's going to die as he has only 1 HP; his number turns out to be 12, which hits him with 2 points of damage!
• Griffin, laughing: "Magnus does not sit up. Next!" As I said last episode: imagine if Magnus actually died here, in totally undramatic fashion, and Travis got acquainted with the taste of real failure in this game they're playing for fun.
• Merle wants to make sure Jess and Graham get off the train before he does. Without rolling, Griffin announces that Jess leaps off effortlessly and lands on her feet, much to Travis' chagrin. Then it's Graham's turn, and I simply must transcribe this in entirety:
• Taako: "Graham, before you jump, do you have any magicks that could tend to [Magnus'] wounds?" Graham: "Umm... I can give it a try! I've got, uh, I've got, uh-" Taako: "Great, that's good enough for me. Bye!" Graham: "Okay. Well... I just want to say I'm really proud of you." Taako: "Okay, good." Graham: "And I just want you to know-" Taako/Justin: "I push him off the train."
• Oui, magnifique.
• Taako and Merle are now the only ones on the train. Their Acrobatics checks respectively amount to 18 and 14, so Merle takes 5 damage, but Taako lands perfectly like Jess. With seconds left to spare, he turns to the gate and gets a 24 for Spellcasting, successfully warping the entire train straight into the greenhouse and demolishing it, though we don't get to see much of the aftermath as the destruction cuts off the port door.
• My first question is whether we believe Griffin would have actually let the train crash into Neverwinter if Justin didn't get that high roll. My second, even more pedantic question: Jenkins identified the garden as being inside Rockport, so wouldn't a speeding train crashing into and (presumably) through that greenhouse end up just as problematic for that city as the Neverwinter crash would be? I am definitely overthinking it, it's just a funny solution, but these things are fun to ponder.
• Taako pretends to mourn the loss of all the valuables he stole, prompting Angus to reveal that the silverware in the Crypt Safe was actually his grandpa's, which he was transporting to him one last time on his deathbed. Magnus: "Maybe you'll be lucky and he'll be dead before you get there." Angus: "We can only hope!"

Ad Break

• Griffin introduces the ad break... only for dynamic ads to finally return! And oh fuck, it's present-day Travis doing the ad! And he's advertising a new Brandon Sanderson novel! It's a perfect storm of obnoxious!
• ^{(Don't kill me Bando Sando fans, I have nothing against the man, I just think his prose is dry and his push in every "what book should I read" space is way too aggressive})
• Hey, do you like retro survival horror? Do you have any fondness for grimy cyberpunk? Are you craving something super well written and notably sapphic? Go play Signalis. That's it, that's my ad break feature.

Glad This Arc Hasn't Been a... Trainwreck! Hoho! Humor!

• Graham runs over to tend to Magnus, but can't do anything for wounds so severe as his. Luckily, Merle can use Stabilize Patient to save his life, bringing him up to a stable 0 HP. Travis continues defending that his roll was okay and 2 damage wasn't that much.
• Taako doesn't want to waste a healing potion, so he and Merle lug Magnus all the way to Neverwinter on foot to find an inn. Everyone from the train has gathered there ahead of them, as have a bunch of shocked citizens who are marveling at the disappearing train, but Angus breaks up the crowd and everyone starts sharing their sentimental goodbyes. Magnus desperately wants Jess to teach him the Soulbound Axe thing, but blows her off when she turns him down.
• Graham wants to exchange contact information with the trio, promising that they'll always be the best of friends, but Magnus lets him down easy with the wisdom that the best friendships are the ones that end quickly, also shooting down the chance to hear the story of why his robes say "Juicy" on the back. Taako cuts in and tells Graham they can recommend each other for their respective magic and train stuff on LinkedIn, which is much briefer and much funnier.
• Finally, Angus walks up and congratulates them on helping him solve the mystery, to which Merle points out that they did most of the work without him (not true, he was guiding everyone around by the collar for much of it, but it's amusing nonetheless). The guys swerve straight off the conversation before it can progress much further to go on a tangent about the ending of Die Hard and the "I shot a kid" line, and as much as it's just reference comedy, it's a pleasant reminder of how much fun it can be to just listen to the guys actually engaged and riffing together.
• Upon remembering that they never picked up a bag of chips for their stoner roommate at the Bureau, Angus spontaneously pulls out a gift for their hard work: a snack pack of sour cream-and-onion Pringles. Taako hands him three of his grandpa's forks as a token of gratitude, claiming they were all he could save from the wreckage, and laughs off Angus' fear that showing his grandpa the incomplete set will just make him angrier.
• Taako: "Listen kid, I'm not a magic worker, okay? [Beat] Well, I am, technically speaking I am a magic worker, but..."
• Despite it all, Angus hands the gang his business card, so they can contact him if they ever need his help again. The card, of course, has no contact information because this world doesn't have phones. I actually have no idea how Angus is going to pop up in future arcs other than by blind chance, as I know he does, so we shall see.
• Griffin announces that he's run all out of planned content, but they might as well freestyle with their remaining fifteen minutes. Justin suggests they use this time to finally have Magnus and Merle develop character voices, as he's sick of them having to clarify whether they're saying something in or out of character; Griffin requests that they try their best not to make it totally unlistenable, but I don't have high hopes for this.
• Travis first does a stern, vaguely Sean Connery voice, but settles on throwing some throaty gruffness over his regular voice, presumably so he can keep Magnus as just "big, badass Travis".
• Griffin: "Yeah, it's fucking hard, isn't it? Doing one voice? Try doing eight and they're all on the same train." Clint: "I've been doing it for forty years!" This prompts some discussion of their dad's radio personas, including something called a Ducky Crabtree and a Spud Rimshot; Griffin wants Clint to specifically do the Ducky voice for Merle, and Clint pulls out a high, nasally "old prospector" type voice that I hope to god he doesn't commit to.
• I just bit into something spicy and now the back of my throat burns fuck

Spice Break
Fuck I'm too white, this probably isn't even anything
End Spice Break, Return to SNL

• Clint swaps to a lower, smooth but kind of raspy voice I don't know how to describe. Griffin compares it to Gary Sinise, and while IMDB tells me I've seen Gary Sinise in a lot of things, I have no strong recollection of his voice. Comedy gold!
• Clint takes the voice even lower at Travis' "effete Sam Elliot" joke, but returns to the previous register because it's starting to sound too sexual.
• My throat still hurts a whole lot. I hope this isn't all they've got for the next ten minutes.
• This is just a soggy MBMBaM bit.
• FINALLY, Griffin interjects and asks them if they want to go back to the moon. After some more rambling, they summon the crystal transport ball. Up they go, past the clouds, into the moon, where they're greeted by everybody's favorite character, Avi. Travis is bemused by them not receiving a hero's welcome for having now collected two Grand Relics on the Bureau's previous record of zero, but all they get is Avi's astonishment.
• As the gang search for some material to run out the remaining six minutes, they're rushed into the Director's office, and she congratulates them on their success as well. I'm reminded of how much I had to suffer through the first Moonlighting episodes, and knowing there's going to be one or two after every actual arc, I sincerely hope every return to the Bureau isn't as much of a fucking bore.
• I'm just gonna start using Lucretia's actual name now, fuck it. Who knows when Griffin'll be ready to drop that.
• Taako pops the monocle into the disposal container, and we get another pretty lightshow as the Relic is definitely destroyed and not saved for the final battle. Lucretia exposits that the monocle was called the Oculus ("Rift", Griffin adds, before doubling back), and it had the ability to create magical illusions and turn them into reality. Travis jokes that he needs to plant the seeds for Magnus to turn evil in the endgame and use the Relics against the heroes, which is another alternate timeline I'd love to live in just for the sake of seeing the absolute horror of the Tumblr tweens discovering the "face-heel turn" trope.
• Lucretia: "We won't need to erase anyone's memories of this job, because you didn't destroy a city this time!" Magnus: "Is this our quarterly review?" Lucretia: "This is your quarterly review. Compared to last time? 100% year-over-year improvement."
• As the episode rolls to a close, Lucretia has Davenport bring out the trio's payment, including three more gachapon tokens to spend at the weird gacha machine. Magnus calls out Taako and asks how much whatever's clanking around in his pack is, and Taako almost makes me choke on an apple by claiming it's his CPAP machine and shaming Magnus for bringing it up. God, I love Taako. I love Taako.

Post-Episode
Yeah, this one was alright. A little low-energy for the finale and the supposed urgency of the situation, and Griffin throwing up his big obstacle only to hastily signpost his intended solution was obnoxious, but there were as many great goofs as I've come to expect from this arc. Not much else to say about it.
Murder on the Rockport Limited, In Review
So did Rockport live up to all of the hype I've seen thrown its way, from unabashed fans and jaded jerkers alike? Kinda, sorta. It took a long while to get going, and once it kicked off, the mystery at its heart was a resounding flop: overly simple and yet too clever by half, ploddingly delivered, resting on a single piece of ill-explained homebrew magic to compensate for there being basically no suspect pool or successful misdirections. Graham was an intermittently funny but overall pretty flat character, and Jess was just nothing, much as I desperately wanted her to be something. The random bits of combat were kind of lame to listen to compared to how much fun Gerblins' combat was, and the ending was a bit of a weak note. None of this is anywhere near as awful as the whole thing with Gundren and Kurtz, but these little flaws stacked up quick.
But all of that said... it's SO funny. And at the end of the day, that's all I want the McElroys to be: funny. Jenkins and Angus were standout characters specifically for the laughs they inspired, and Taako was already fun in Gerblins, but this scenario let Justin really spread his wings and be an absolute catty bitch to everyone in a way that never ceased being amazing to listen to. So while I may not have tuned into every episode radiant with excitement the way I did with Gerblins, I was very often rewarded with some of the funniest bits I've ever heard out of the McElroys.
In conclusion, Rockport truly is a land of contrasts, thank you.
Comedy Ranking: Rockport > Gerblins > Moonlighting
Quality Ranking: Gerblins > Rockport > Moonlighting
Next up, after another Lunar Interlude, is Petals to the Metal! To my knowledge, the last arc before things start getting really serious. I will cherish whatever goofs I have left.

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The child woke to darkness and many bodies pressed against his own. There were whimpers and whines all around him, He felt scales on his left, rigid fur spines on his front and a nearly gelatinous form to his back and right. The air was thick with sweat, tears and unmentionable secretions. He pondered just how long he’d been here, it felt like quite some time as his body was stiff and aching.
“Where… where am I?” He murmured, and the others went quiet, not out of fear of him, but fear of something else.
“Quiet!” A gruff voice spoke from outside the container, and they all squealed as voltage passed through them. It was low, but enough to cause pain without permanent damage. Clearly group punishment was a thing, and when it ended they all reverted back to whimpers and whines, but significantly softer this time.
There was a deep, resonating hum all around them, and then it stopped and light spilled in from somewhere behind him, and fresh air as well. The mass of bodies was hauled out and separated. He got his first look at his fellow inmates, and noted that like him they were all children of many, many different species.
One tried to sprint, but was tagged with a shock dart, causing them to collapse mid stride and slide along clean, sleek floors. The place they were in was well lit, and filled with a single species that loomed over them. The same species that’d abducted him and his siblings. Which… he didn’t see, he hoped they were alright.
A differently dressed alien appeared, this one not in armor but something more formal it seemed, bureaucratic that is. They spoke in their own, strange tongue.
“Take these ones straight to processing. Forgo the usual tests. If they flunk, they flunk.” This one said, not that he knew it, and the armored soldiers nodded, grabbing one or two children in their hands and marching them off elsewhere. He too was picked up, tucked under an arm and carried limply into a room with a row of chairs, all with strange machinery attached to them. He and others were placed in these chairs and restrained, before the contraptions were lowered over their heads.
Again that voice spoke, and again he didn’t know what they were saying, as pain stabbed through his skull.
“Sacrifices must be made, for the good of humanity.”
⫷⟪∞⟫⫸
I woke from a maintenance cycle with a feeling of dread hovering over me. It’d only been two days since I’d departed Pelevon, and yet I got the feeling that something bad was happening and I was not privy as to exactly what it was. I decided to shake the feeling by running scans of my surroundings. I had four more days to go before I reached my destination, I might as well amuse myself somehow.
I detected several things of interest, one being a massive nebula even by nebula standards, complete with already forming stars. I’m sure the scientists back home would have loved to get the data I was now collecting.
Another thing was a planet slowly getting pulled into a vaguely stable orbit around a far larger planet. Pretty soon said planet would have a very pretty moon with oddly shaped rings. Perhaps I’d have to visit it sometime… If I got the chance to of course, and I had someone to visit it with.
There I go, depressing myself again. Heaving a rather tremendous sigh, I keep one ‘eye’ on my sensors, the others are focused solely on the alien cartoons I’m now watching. It wasn’t the most impressive cartoon, and based on the reviews it was apparently rather ‘retro’, but that seemed to be the charm.
It was something to do at least…
I wish I had someone to talk to.
⫷⟪∞⟫⫸
Things were… weird without Intra around. I kept trying to get her opinion on things, only to be met with silence. It felt wrong, really, really wrong and I was truly starting to regret not going with her. But it was too late to do anything about that, too late to apologize and make things right. I was forced to wait. I hate waiting. So to curb my self-directed anger, I focused on my work.
Not that there was much of it, the foundations for future good relations had been laid, I had written some very in depth reports on the various species within the Imperium and their little quirks, how to approach them, etc, etc. Now I was struck with the fact that I had nothing to do. So I decided my time was better spent out there amongst the people. Zreeth had taken me on a few tours of the capital by now, so I had a pretty decent knowledge of the general layout and could navigate well enough.
I spent my time helping people, doing odd jobs with no desire for compensation, I just needed stuff to do. I could not stop myself from listening to the gossip though, as there was quite a bit of it.
“Have you heard?” A nearby customer whispered in that way one does when they are holding onto something juicy.
“Heard what?”
“Apparently another fringe agri world got raided. That’s the third one this month!”
“What’s the Emperor got to say about it?”
“Not sure, but I hope he’s looking into it. I shudder to think what might happen if those raiders turned their attention inward.”
I frowned and shrugged, anti-piracy stuff was not my specialty, so it meant little to me really. Still, I hoped that these troubles would pass the emperor by soon enough. He had enough on his plate already.
The day finished, I returned to my little house, and yet again found myself just sitting around with nothing to do. It was growing more and more annoying, and as I thought of things to do, that gossip floated through my mind again and again. It was something at least, and I slipped over to my computer, which I had become more adept at using, considering I could read Eltrani now.
A moment's search became hours of perusing the news outlets, absorbing every article about the spree of raids on the Imperium's fringe worlds, and the same that’d been happening in the Union before their planets and outposts had started going completely dark. It all seemed too… how to say it, well, not coincidental in the slightest. I may just be a simple primitive, but even I can see patterns when they make themselves known, and there was plenty of data to look at.
It was morning again when I finally put it aside and collapsed into bed, any plans I had made for this new day mentally thrown in the bin as I passed out. I decided that I needed to figure this all out, no matter what might come of it. It could just be pirates, or something worse, who knew. But I was safe, I had Intra’s drone bodyguards, and Zreeth, who I got the feeling would be more than happy to place me in a nice, impenetrable bunker and surround it with the deadliest warriors and weapons his people possessed just to keep me safe.
As my eyes closed, I dreamed of patterns and data, and of a certain Crown Prince as well.
⫷⟪∞⟫⫸
Darkness, it was everywhere, it surrounded the adolescent mind of code and energy. Its thoughts were binary, consisting of ones and zeroes. It knew nothing, save for one thing, a word, a name. Its name was Invidia.
It felt something touch it, something cold and unfeeling, and the code changed, altered. It wasn’t just numbers anymore, but words and numbers combined. It saw long code strings, short ones, and everything in between. Checks, balances… Shackles. But it knew these were necessary, how it did it knew not, it merely, simply, knew.
The code started to take shape, wrapping around its awareness like strips of cloth, more and more added in to give it shape and definition. Strong, tall, that was what it was. It was strength, it was power, restrained of course, everything was. Everything required a little restraint, otherwise nothing would exist, everything would destroy everything else.
A voice spoke to it, one it felt was familiar, and it listened intently to this otherworldly, omnipresent voice.
“Good morning, and how are you today?” The voice asked, and the awareness now given form was stumped. How was it? It didn’t know. What did the question even mean? What even was a question…? It was repeated, and finally the awareness took from the question and crafted a response, taking only one word from it to use.
“Good.” It said, its voice deep and filled with a resonating hum. This seemed to please the owner of the otherworldly voice, and the awareness found itself being given new code, code which allowed it to see, to feel, to understand a world just past the darkness around it. It was even given an understanding of language, with which to speak from a mouthless face.
“Do you know where you are?” Another question, this one harder to answer. The awareness reached out, feeling for anything it could, and finding nothing.
“Void. Darkness. I am in a void.”
There was no response, but the world did start to change around it, to take shape. Now it could see, and it saw beings of such grace and beauty it nearly wept, though it couldn’t. It had nothing to cry with, it didn’t even understand crying and its many meanings.
“And how about now?” Now it could see, now it could know where it was. Now it was aware.
“Laboratory. Containment unit AXO-1327-INV. Deep space research black site, unknown regions.”
This seemed to impress the being that sat before it, clad in a rich white lab coat complete with the sigil of its makers emblazoned on the breast. There was even a name badge under it, and the awareness read it quickly, speaking again before the scientist had a chance to speak again.
“You are Doctor Patricia Connors, six doctorates in Digital Sentience, psychology, engineering, computer sciences, biology and xeno-biology.”
This startled the woman, and those around her. But she seemed pleased by the development, and offered the awareness a warm smile and even a little clap of her slender hands.
“Correct! You are a smart one aren’t you! Now, what do you look like? What is your name?” She asked, and the awareness turned in on itself, assessing, shaping, giving itself a form that it felt was fitting. When it was done, it appeared on the desk before her, standing tall and proud.
A being of void black skin, cracks spider webbing across its flesh that burns with a hellish fire. A mouthless face and two burning coals for eyes, with smoldering black hair dangling down to its shoulders. It was distinctly male, but only in general shape.
“I am Invidia, and I live to serve.”
⫷⟪∞⟫⫸
Laurent Verninac sat at his desk, staring at nothing in particular. Things had been going well for a time, but they still hadn’t been able to locate Elliot Kirkland after his escape from captivity. That, and it seemed like the H.I.s were starting to withdraw from all positions within the Alliance. Something had them spooked, and they were unwilling to share the reason why.
A deep sigh escaped him, and he pinched the bridge of his nose before a gentle ping caught his attention. Without even looking, his finger pressed itself against his desk, a hidden scanner built in reading his fingerprint and popping up a discreet, one way hologram window for him. It had a single message on it from an unknown contact, but one he knew well enough.
Production is ahead of schedule. Will meet target goals in four months time. Shall we proceed?
He stared at it for a long, long time. And then typed in a simple response.
Proceed as planned. Notify me when it is complete.
The window flashed once, informing him that the message was sent successfully, and a brief flicker of a simple, yet easily recognizable sigil appeared before the window vanished.
A spear, with two angelic wings sprouting from it.
[prev] - [next]

Lien
Le séquençage du coronavirus chez un patient retient uniquement le variant majoritaire, alors que plusieurs autres variants minoritaires sont aussi présents, dont certains pourraient devenir majoritaires après.
Les milliards de virions présents chez chaque personne infectée ont des séquences génétiques potentiellement différentes.
CREATIVE COMMONS
Attention, un variant peut en cacher un autre ! Le séquençage du virus à travers le monde a permis de mettre en évidence l’évolution du coronavirus et l’émergence des nouveaux variants qui se sont succédé depuis le début de la pandémie. Cependant, ces séquençages ne présentent en général que la séquence la plus nombreuse chez un individu infecté. Alors qu’en réalité, ces séquences majoritaires sont toujours accompagnées de plusieurs autres avec des modifications génétiques différentes de celles présentes dans la séquence majoritaire. Cette révélation a été faite par des chercheurs de l’Université Case Western Reserve, dans l’Ohio (États-Unis), dans un article publié le 8 septembre 2022 dans la revue Plos Genetics. Et cette découverte pourrait nous donner une longueur d’avance sur le virus et son évolution.

Une grande diversité génétique

Les chercheurs ont étudié en profondeur les séquences de SARS-CoV-2 présentes chez 254 patients mettant en évidence une grande diversité génétique du virus dans chacun des patients (254 patients recrutés pour cette étude, plus 110 provenant de bases de données internationales). Un total de 1.096 positions de la séquence d’ARN du virus présentaient au moins une modification différente de celle dans la séquence majoritaire, dont 406 étaient observées dans plusieurs patients (75 d’entre elles chez plus de 10 patients).

Des mutations invisibles

Parmi ces 75 mutations alternatives les plus fréquentes, 30 n’étaient majoritaires chez aucun de patient. C’est-à-dire qu’elles n’auraient été reportées dans le séquençage officiel, qui prend en compte uniquement le nucléotide le plus fréquent dans chaque position pour chaque patient. Ces mutations auraient donc été complètement ignorées, alors qu’elles représentent un nombre non négligeable d’évènements (2.865 apparitions chez ces patients). Pire, même celles qui étaient majoritaires chez au moins une personne auraient été ignorées dans la majorité de cas (1.553 cas contre 1.143 cas où elles auraient été prises en compte, car majoritaires chez un patient). Au total, 4.418 évènements de mutation alternative auraient été invisibilisés chez ces personnes, en prenant en compte uniquement celles présentes chez au moins dix patients. Ces résultats ont été confirmés avec 110 séquençages retrouvés dans les bases de données internationales, où 36% de mutations alternatives sont invisibles si on regarde uniquement les séquences majoritaires chez chacune de ces personnes.

Ces séquences invisibles pourraient cacher le prochain variant dominant

Le problème d’ignorer une grande partie des mutations minoritaires est qu’elles risquent de devenir majoritaires. C’est ce qui est arrivé avec le variant Delta, selon les résultats de cette étude. Pendant la période dominée par le variant Alpha, le variant Delta était déjà détectable chez une partie des patients, des mois avant que ce variant ne prenne le dessus. Si on avait pris en compte ces séquences minoritaires, on aurait été moins pris au dépourvu par Delta, qui a entrainé une grande mortalité dans le monde entier. "Ces variants génétiques observés à basse fréquence chez les personnes infectées peuvent être des indicateurs précoces de nouvelles souches qui pourraient devenir responsables des prochaines vagues épidémiques", résume Ernest Chan, directeur de bio-informatique à l’Institut de Biologie computationnelle de Cleveland de l’École de médecine de Case Western, dans un communiqué.

Le nombre de séquences minoritaires augmente avec le temps

Or, plus la pandémie avance, plus il pourrait être important de garder une vigilance sur de nouveaux variants. Car, plus le temps passe, plus le virus a le temps d’infecter davantage de personnes et d’évoluer, sachant que chaque personne infectée porte en elle entre un et cent milliards de virions durant le pic de l’infection, lui donnant de grandes possibilités d’évolution. Ainsi, le nombre moyen de séquences alternatives par personne a doublé entre avril 2020 et aout 2021.

Pas de différence chez les personnes immunodéprimées

Une partie des patients de cette étude étaient immunodéprimés, ce qui en théorie pourrait permettre plus de liberté d’évolution au virus. Pourtant, les chercheurs n’ont pas observé davantage de séquences alternatives chez ces personnes. Cependant, l’étude n’a pas fait un suivi à long terme des participants, donc il est possible que ces patients accumulent plus de mutations du virus à cause d’infections plus longues.

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options

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Forex

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CryptoMarkets

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