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Post by mici on Feb 3, 2007 14:12:07 GMT -5
The new site is simply gorgeous. my favorite is the airlock tour, i can look at it for hours  . |
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Post by chero on Feb 3, 2007 15:09:19 GMT -5
I have so many favorites on that site, but I'll have to say the Airlock is the most exhilarating because of all the goodies it has in it; Harvey's bio, golden spacesuit info, and a light switch...that's all I'm gonna say about that.  |
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Post by Amanda on Feb 3, 2007 15:22:32 GMT -5
I can't wait to explore! Especially because of that hint at the site! "Don't turn out the lights" huh? Brilliant.
This is pretty similar to JK Rowling's site. Are we all going to share secrets on here? I hope so! XDD
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Post by chero on Feb 3, 2007 15:32:55 GMT -5
If want secrets, here are some.... If you turn off and on the light switch in the Airlock, you will see a bloody handprint to the left of it and the Airlock will shut down.
On the left-hand side of the Flight Deck, there is a joystick that you can click on to enter a game. However, it requires a code to access it. The code can be found on the right-hand side of the Flight Deck. It is a set of numbers ('19211something...'). Enter that into the computer and the game will begin. I've screencapped the majority of the flash site over at the Sunshine Fan Gallery, too. ;D |
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Post by Amanda on Mar 15, 2007 13:03:37 GMT -5
HOLY CROW! It's the new "Sunshine Sunspots Message" site. With a little clip of Capa sending a message back to Earth. I got goosebumps and tears in my eyes, folks. Hnnn, he looks so nervous and we all know what's going to happen, wahsldkaj;. *facepalm.*
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Post by kagerou on Mar 15, 2007 17:17:15 GMT -5
Despite the fact that Kali's got some good points, I still squeed at the end of that. ;D *squees some more*
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Post by kaliszewski on Mar 15, 2007 17:37:50 GMT -5
I guess my main problem with it-- YEAH, I'VE GOT PROBLEMS. SHEESH.-- is that I don't find sunny days "particularly beautiful." I'm a nightsider. We like the dark.
And-- apologies: the graver they try to be with this, the more irreverent I'm getting. I'd really like to know if Alex Garland's parents are still alive. This sending-fictional-people-to-certain-highly-contrived-doom schtick begins to lose its lustre after a few high-end family deaths. Has for me, anyway. Sorry--!
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Post by chero on Mar 15, 2007 17:44:03 GMT -5
I really enjoyed that new video bit at that Sunspot site. It shows Capa's vulnerability, the awaiting crew members' quiet angst and anticipation for their turns, and the phenomenal concept of "What would you say to your loved ones before you lose contact with them (whether its death or a "dead zone")?" It makes you think and wonder "Gee, I wish there was a moment in my life when I could face my fears, admit all of my mistakes, tell someone I love them..." It's fascinating to discover how many people's lives (including your own) you could change if all of your unspoken words were suddenly drained right out of you due to intense circumstances.
Referring this scene to a bathroom assembly line is just insulting.
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Post by chero on Mar 15, 2007 17:53:09 GMT -5
I suppose I just got too deep with the video, but I saw your comments as sarcasm rather than humor.
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Post by Amanda on Mar 15, 2007 18:04:41 GMT -5
I just got a bit smirky with the hand gestures thinking about how Cillian is said to use Dr. Brian's hand gestures. But, I mean, I think maybe we'd have to see more surrounding the video and actually take it into context in order to feel like there was enough tension with the rest of the crew and everything. I really thought it was a good portrayal of how nervous Capa seemed. He doesn't seem scared of dying or anything, he just seems a bit wary. He seems nervous that they're actually going to try to pull it off, and it basically falls on his shoulders since he's the guy who knows how to use the bomb.
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Post by kaliszewski on Mar 15, 2007 18:05:32 GMT -5
It's okay. It's just a movie, after all.
Deleted that other post-- sorry: Humor is my defense mechanism. I should be getting treatment for depression, but I'm a proud type-A Leo, and I refuse it. "Insulting" was a little harsh, though. If we want deep confessions, here's one: the last thing I said to my mom, the night before I left her in the hospital, was "I love you." She suffered a stroke and cardiac arrest the following morning, and she was pretty much gone by the time I got myself back to the hospital. Since then, I've found fictional impending doom just a little harder to take seriously. I'm sorry if I got out of line with the observations-- I'll keep my "crass" on the fic board from here on out, okay? (Have another one in mind, in fact: a special dedication to a very old friend!)
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Post by sunshinedna on Mar 15, 2007 18:40:10 GMT -5
Since then, I've found fictional impending doom just a little harder to take seriously. Saying 'goodbye forever' is something we *all* have to do... one day. Big Death #1: My favourite grandmother. She was my favourite person in the world. I was her favourite grandkid and I knew it. She was intelligent, dynamic and absolutely beautiful. And she got a brain tumor when she was just a couple years older than my mother is now. I was living over here and would see her every 6 months. She was more or less fine for a few years. One Christmas she started saying things like, 'Yesterday when I was watching the pineapple...gah! I mean the tv!...' I knew things were going to start going downhill. That August I got a phonecall from my mom at work to say that my grandmother wouldn't live until the weekend. I was on a plane the next day. When I arrived there was my wonderful grandmother- now, a bald, barely alive skeleton. She lived for another week and I spent the whole time next to her, talking to her. My aunts and uncles, my mom and my sister and I were there 24 hours a day. She was drifting in and out of consciousness and couldn't talk, but I sensed that she was really worried about upsetting me. I kept telling her that it was OK. We realised that she was hanging on for us. We thought that if we said our final goodbyes and left her for the night that she would be able to let us go... That's what we did. 'I love you' really isn't enough, you know. How can you say everything you want to say? My mother, the oldest, left last. She leaned in to my grandmother and said, 'Go to Paris' (my grandmother was a HUGE Francophile)... She died that night. Big Death #2: my dad's dad. My dad's family isn't the most open or communicative group of people. My grandfather, though a fun and funny grandfather didn't have the closest relationship with his kids. My sister and I, having gone through my mom's mom's death were 'the experts' and my grandmother kept asking us what she should do as the whole family was sitting around in my grandfather's hospital room. My sister said that she thought my aunt and uncles wouldn't have their last words with our grandfather if everyone was around and that, perhaps, everyone should be allowed time on their own to say goodbye to him. My grandmother thought it was a good idea... My sister went first... She came out crying... Then it was my turn. He was unconscious, breathing that horrible death rattle. Would he hear me? What should I say? What does he want to hear? I sat there for awhile. I didn't know where to start. I said, 'Grampa, it's Gia... I love you.' He suddenly for the first time in days 'woke up'. Eyes wide open, lucid, panicky, looking straight at me, trying to talk to me, but just grunts coming out. I was s.hit-scared. Was he going to die right now?!!! I just kept telling him that I loved him and that everything would be OK and that everyone was here and that I'd tell my son (his first great-grandchild) all about him and that I loved him and that he didn't have to try and say anything, that I understood and that I loved him... I have to admit I was freaking out. He relaxed... Fell back into unconsciousness... and I left the room to let someone else talk to him... and I kept thinking that I wished I hadn't got so freaked out about it. That perhaps his final lucid moment was me rambling on about loving him and blahblahblah... But what do you say?! Is 'I love you' really enough? Somehow it just doesn't seem enough. |
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Post by kaliszewski on Mar 15, 2007 19:06:58 GMT -5
See, I thought I was going to see my mom again when I went home that night. She wasn't in the hospital to die. She hadn't been feeling well-- but it wasn't a hospice situation. Not at all. I was just going home to get some sleep. And then things got complicated and went downhill and all those other cliches, and while I was at home asleep she just went. My sister called me from the hospital early in the morning. The code team had to wait for me to arrive: I was Mom's power of attorney, and I was the one who had to say it was okay for them to stop the resuscitation efforts. The "I love you" of the night before: it was quite by chance, really. We're not a very demonstrative family. I'm glad I said it when I did.
So: the "Could you let someone you love die?" theme. Been there. Leads somewhat to my *slightly* antagonistic view of God. If He exists, I have a few things I'll want to say to Him when we meet.
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Post by sunshinedna on Mar 15, 2007 19:17:04 GMT -5
It wasn't a critique! 'I love you' is what everyone says - think of the phonecalls on Sept 11th - everyone was telling each other 'I love you' when they were saying goodbye... but I just don't think those words are enough to convey what you really *really* mean when you are saying goodbye.
But what else can you say?
'Thanks for giving birth to me'?
'Great job being a grandparent!'?
'Good thing you married me, I could have been stuck with a total loser my whole life. Well, it's back to the dating scene for me now...'?!
'I love you' says it all. And doesn't say enough.
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Post by kaliszewski on Mar 15, 2007 19:36:12 GMT -5
I know you weren't criticizing, Gia. Really.  Just brings back really harsh memories, y'know? And it shows me again: for all words mean to me, for all they mean to my career, for how good I am at manipulating them and spinning them out-- they don't ever convey as much reality-- as much of us-- as we'd like. |
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Just brings back really harsh memories, y'know? And it shows me again: for all words mean to me, for all they mean to my career, for how good I am at manipulating them and spinning them out-- they don't ever convey as much reality-- as much of us-- as we'd like.