Fox Rosen

foxsynergy — Fri, 13 Mar 2026 07:46:05 GMT

Maybe we'll see some of you outside once the world finishes collapsing.

Been a while, yep.

foxsynergy — Sun, 01 Feb 2026 10:18:17 GMT

Hi, folks. It's been a little while and a lot of trauma, and I guess the latter isn't going anywhere anytime soon for anybody I care about.

Welcome to real life. I hope you kept your receipt.

A lot's happened but to keep it simple... the stuff we started in 2011 finally reached surface tension and we went live on streaming platforms in early 2025. I hope you'll find some music you enjoy.

https://open.spotify.com/artist/4IXQOVf8wZFcNhL5eqaUev

Recent updates about stuff are over at the link below, though general public will mostly see band-related stuff -- a lot of it's nonetheless highly relevant to reality, or whatever this bastard nonsense around us is.

https://www.facebook.com/FoxxeRose

My circle's still intentionally small, and these days, with better reasons than ever before.

I'll plan to be back soon, and I'd love to hear from anyone still around who'd like to reconnect. Good luck, and stay safe, friends and visitors.

A knife in the hand...

foxsynergy — Wed, 21 Jun 2017 21:03:12 GMT

...is worth two in the back.

foxsynergy — Mon, 15 May 2017 15:50:41 GMT

2016 was the most fucked up year of my life and 2017 is definitely an interesting sequel.

Lessons I've learned are to trust instinct over emotion, jettison people who refuse to communicate their needs out of your life as quickly as you can, compassion is superior to honor, and true love's bonds will not be broken by hand of God nor fires of Hell.

Test

foxsynergy — Mon, 13 Jun 2016 13:57:52 GMT

Just posting to see where copies end up before I start venting here. :P

Livejournal...

foxsynergy — Wed, 28 Oct 2015 20:29:59 GMT

...still less icky than Facebook.

Had a fun dream that I was helping prototype test a type of method for projecting a user into a set

foxsynergy — Sat, 16 May 2015 12:22:05 GMT

of hypothetical conditions. This is usually used for research but I was sent back in time to get every entry of "Bard on the Run". Then when the sun began to rose I started vomiting powder which evaporated immediately, leaving no evidence behind of my visit. But you don't bring stuff back through a probability nexus which you didn't take in with you if the nexus isn't being managed from the other end because there's a chance it might cause a boom. I have no idea why I am compelled to note this here.

For those who haven't met DD Hokuto no Ken

foxsynergy — Sun, 06 Jul 2014 16:40:33 GMT

In the year 199X...
The apocalyptic wars that were propehsized never happened. Four brothers trained to survive and lead in the end times must instead struggle to find part-time jobs in the everyday world. They find themselves helping out at a convenience store owned by Ryuken and wackiness ensues.

http://www.crunchyroll.com/dd-fist-of-the-north-star/episode-1-the-end-of-the-century-is-quite-normal-kenshiro-appears-sing-kenshiro-to-take-back-the-love-625919

Shameful retrogaming confession

foxsynergy — Sat, 04 Jan 2014 13:29:39 GMT

I'd never really played Super Thunder Blade before today. The game has always sort of intimidated me. But I've had it for a long time so figured "what the heck"?

It's OK but the overhead-type parts really drag down the playability. I want to like it more than I do.

*hangs head in shame*

How do you deal with dicks in MMOs?

foxsynergy — Mon, 30 Dec 2013 06:47:17 GMT

Is /ignore adequate for you? Do you try to talk out whatever the situation is? Just asking because nothing ever feels satisfying and trying to be nice to these people generally seems to be taken as an invitation to be a bigger jerk. But it seems to be that whatever MMO world you go to, rude people (usually with poor grammar) are ubiquitous.

test

foxsynergy — Mon, 30 Dec 2013 06:41:23 GMT

rest

Good Just got evacuated...

foxsynergy — Sat, 27 Apr 2013 19:14:34 GMT

darkechibi and I were just about to check out from the local Wal-Mart when everyone was rushed out due to a rumor that someone in the back of the store might have a firearm (which would have been perfectly legal in NC anyway). After the store employees refused to check us out, and the panicked clerks were shouting movie cliche "move move move!" lines (to which I asked them if they were getting a thrill - - no answer) the gaggle of herded turkeys scuttled for their lives past us as we walked to the exit. Guess who was at the front? Some assholes with guns who had come to shoot any misunderstanding. Outside, at least a half dozen cop cars with more people confirmed with firearms had shown up to shoot the rumor.

By the time we got halfway to the car, the rumor had already changed to a wild gunman shooting at people. By the time it makes the front page of the piece of shit local paper, who knows?

I don't think there was even a guy with a gun. I think it's at least as likely that some idiot saw my non-iPhone cell phone holster under my shirt and freaked out. I guess we'll never know, since the truth was dead before aisle ten.

K's Top 10 Buckner & Garcia Songs #Retrogaming

foxsynergy — Sat, 13 Apr 2013 10:47:13 GMT

1. Do the Donkey Kong
2. Pac-Man Fever
3. Wreck-It Ralph
4. Defender
5. Hyperspace
6. Mousetrap
Ah, who am I kidding? Like they have 10 good songs or something. :P

The syndicate wants to steal my car.

foxsynergy — Wed, 13 Feb 2013 13:05:28 GMT

So I step out into the wind and goddamn freezing rain this morning, with a flu, to walk to a job that could be done from home with approximately equal or greater effectiveness, and find a bright orange sticker stuck to my car, saying it's "illegally parked" due to "expired tags".

Supposedly it was put there two days ago. Bullshit, it's in my goddamn parking spot at my home. I walk by it four times a day on average. I walk everywhere I can and leave the car parked. Why? Because the fucking tags are expired and the car was in need of repair in order to pass inspection, which was needed in order to renew goddamn useless extortion-bait tags.

Anyway, I just got the car fixed and inspected a few days ago after something like 8 months of it off the road, and now suddenly this. A sticker that appeared NO EARLIER than 8/13 but claims to have been put there on 8/11 at 3:46 PM. I am sure glad there is no murder, rape, or violent crime left in this chunk of shit town, so that cops have the leisure time to come to somebody's home and flag their car for impounding. Because that's where the car was.

Naturally, there's no contact information and no one to address for recourse.

So, just to let you know, if you happen to have expired tags in NC you apparently may as well go ahead and drive the car since they'll just come around and steal your vehicle anyway even if you don't.

EDIT: Yeah, so, I just checked and your'e not supposed to need to have current license plates in order to park your car at your own home.

THE MORAL: North Carolina remains full of shit.

Freaking bots spamming my LiveJournal...

foxsynergy — Sun, 30 Dec 2012 04:21:51 GMT

Can't you at least be sexy bots? SHEESH.
ipad iphone work from home xxx free pager

This is getting stupid.

foxsynergy — Tue, 06 Nov 2012 14:13:55 GMT

Nearly two hours after water started spewing onto the floor and I contacted maintenance, and almost an hour since I've contacted them, reported it has gotten WORSE, and they assured me someone would be right out... I'm starting to wonder if the local government has taken over repairs out here. I've got plenty of work I can do from here but I work for a company full of old farts that tend to not think of you as "working" if you "ain't at your desk in your seat" (though I live less than a 5-minute walk away from the office). Sparing the disgusting description, there's a lot of cleanup to do now and nobody has shown up yet, and the on-site management office (which I've been walking to almost every 15 minutes) is still locked up well into the business day.

Losing MAJOR points here, Tiffany Square...

Hi. I'm back from a trip through time.

foxsynergy — Wed, 17 Oct 2012 00:07:19 GMT

Just had a dream in which I was sent back in time to 1982, made a mistake working on a secret mainframe, and accidentally became the new Corporate King of Eternia. I still had to provide my own transportation but I got some anthropomorphic fox families and genuine tech enthusiasts working for me, the old king as an advisor, a new glass and metal castle of great 1980s corporate design, and I got to fight Skeleton and his daughter, whose name I believe was Lacey or Tracy or something like that. I'd hired private security forces so those two were never much of a problem. The cried a lot, particularly Lacey/Tracy. Her yellow ran. She was a while skeleton with something like egg yolk inside. Tours of Eternia's corporate home office are at 10PM and 2PM, except the penthouse apartments for the workers' quarters. Those are off limits with respect to their privacy. Well, have fun! I think Alan Bradley is working late on this program he's been making and I should see if he needs anything.

Project Black Sun is fucking rage-inducing. (Quick semi-review)

foxsynergy — Sat, 15 Sep 2012 13:20:54 GMT

From the outset, crap is attacking you from angles you can't even defend yourself against. The weakest things in the game are as tough as you. Healing items are practically nonexistent which hardly matters since you die after two hits anyway, and you have a larger hitbox than your actual character. The worst of all is the context-sensitive attack button. At a range, the character will shoot (only perfectly straight sideways), though when something gets in close he'll (usually) use a slow-to-start knife attack. Due to the fact that everything avoids your firing angles, you're forced to resort to close combat and hoping he pulls the knife rather than shoots, or something pops up in your face and you need to kill it NOW by shooting it but instead he tries to use the molasses knife and gets killed again. For a little while I was thinking the game was worthy of being methodically executed NES-style, but the more I look at it, the more the entire point of the game seems to be to use the engine against you.

The disheartening part is how beautiful the game is visually. Excellent music really gets you into the mood for some intense action the type of which you'd never survive. It was worth the modest cost for the music alone which is .OGGs in a subfolder -- there's not much, but it's all great work! That $2 will get you the Linux, Windows, and even the Mac version of the game all at once.

If you're looking for a 2000s-era Metroid or Castlevania -ish game that HATES YOU, consider picking up Project Black Sun. As for me, I've got actual problems in my life that take less effort and cause less frustration than this game. If I loop Project Black Sun's keen music, I'll probably have the spirit to overcome them, but not this game any time soon.

Store link: http://www.desura.com/games/project-black-sun

Sempai is leaving…

foxsynergy — Thu, 13 Sep 2012 23:36:07 GMT

When I heard how much the snatching company offered him… well, it would be hard not to be tempted. He was already making a lot more than me, and with his wife's income too, they probably grind up hundred dollar bills and snort the powder off the naked backsides of poor children with platinum straws. Must be an addicting lifestyle.

All kidding aside, not sure whether it means potential advancement for me or merely an increase to my existing responsibilities. If I could make something close to what he was, I could afford insurance and everything. Maybe even get our car fixed. We have a lot of training in common and we already share many of the same tasks and much of the same workload anyway. I guess I can probably do the job, but he does interact with people more often and that's not a perk from my point of view.

That long-fingered karate choppin' guy is probably reading this now. Well, best of luck.

Don't be a stranger. Aaaaaasshole!

:P

@DarkeChibi Update on your tablet

foxsynergy — Mon, 10 Sep 2012 23:02:21 GMT

I was trying to pull some games and for some dumb reason the stinky Mac versions got automatically selected for download. If I delete them now they just come back, so it looks like we have to wait for all the wastes of bits to come in before we can delete them and get our perfectly useful empty space back. Sorry about that, though I had no reason to expect it.

Analogue spoiler / delayed obserbation

foxsynergy — Sun, 09 Sep 2012 13:02:15 GMT

It really just clicked with me that *Mute is a gossipy chatterbox whereas Hyun-ae was mute.

I just had a series of dreams so disturbing it made me want to never sleep again.

foxsynergy — Sun, 17 Jun 2012 11:14:28 GMT

In an attempt to escape stagnation and oppression from the religious, myself and three others went on a journey away from a city that recurs in my dreams. We made our way for the longest way with an old white bus, stopping and playing music in the open at other towns as we would go, each conspicuously like the last but more run down, grimy, or putrid. Each town had the same general layout, no matter how far apart we found them, whether in grassland or desert or something even less hospitable. Each time, we would set up on the same corner and, dressed in 1960s-era garb like most everybody was wearing -- only a little more flamboyant -- we four would play a different combination of instruments every time, get some food, rest, temporary companionship, then move on again by ourselves.
After weeks of solid travel, moving on again though the copy-towns filled with different people in similar places... a differently named hardware or clothing store from the last town, for example, but in the same location... we were setting up to play and explosions were sounding constantly. No one payed them any mind since the people of the city had been in violent conflict with faceless police for longer than anyone could remember. When we asked if things could have ever been different, we were advised to leave and most people treated us at heretics.
Further on, our vehicle was lost as we entered a more disturbing city. As we made our way up the walkways we heard our own music playing in this place we had never been, and in the light from campfires set by the city's dwellers and the perfectly working public lighting, we realized that there was no earth. Every building, stone, road -- everything was built upon heaps of human corpses, mostly preserved. People walked around like it was normal for them, because it's all they ever knew. They did not want to hear us play our music, because they already had music that wouldn't go away. There, a group of faceless militant people attacked for the same several hours every day, mortar explosions sending the foundation-corpses tumbling to land anywhere and leaving holes for children to take their places, suffocating with stifled screams while their parents just stared on, since life had always been that way.
During the protracted battle across the city, the others were scattered and displaced and apparently had the misfortune of drawing the militants' attention -- with the help of the townspeople who were all too willing to point out the strangers to the force that was killing them too but had been there forever. I've always had a tendency to become seperated from groups. Having little choice, mind filled with images of the carnage amidst twisted versions of our songs blaring over loudspeakers and dried blood blowing across streets, buildings, happy picknickers, and everyone else who dismissed it as commonplace, I continued on to the next city.
But there wasn't one. Climbing over the field and hills of mile after mile of bodies -- most preserved still and producing remarkably little odor -- many days later I came to the edge of the world.
So far below the edge of a sheer cliff of metal so shoved full and piled with corpses -- foul-smelling and burst ones, some torn apart, some shoved through others -- was a glowing body of orange-red sea or perhaps a furnace. It was too far to see for sure. A similar, unreachable distance away stood an enormous cube, atop which were piled more bodies, and upon which was another world with its own people, its own cities, its own problems, as far as the eye could see. And others beside and beyond it, stretching in every direction as far as I could see from atop the mound, numbering greater than I could hope to estimate, fading into an impossibly distant sea of glowing orange. The stench was unpleasant but manageable. The temperature was too warm, but bearable. There was no wind -- perhaps I'd imagined wind my whole life.
Some movement across the glowing orange field. There was someone on the edge across from me, running in a blind panic to the edge. A girl about half my age, with dark skin and completely white eyes, stumbling over mounds of the dead and sending delicately but accidentally balanced corpses raining by the thousands into the sea/furnace below. A mechanical arm, immense beyond belief and built something like a wiper blade, descended upon that tower-platform and unceremoniously pushed a billion dead bodies -- and the one screaming girl -- over the side. For a brief instant, I felt her eyes meet mine. And in the instant along with the bodies, collapsed buildings, rusted out vehicles, and other debris, a huge industrial chain bearing a hook swung down and tore her right in half. The top half of her clung to the chain, crying and looking at me as if to beg all of creation in her last instant to know why *I* would do this to her, and then her insides fell out in a stream, her grip released, and she was lost amidst the rest of the junk of an entire world.
I still remember some of the songs and music. Perhaps I will try to write them down somehow.
And for a brief moment, in one city, I had seen the person I love and am with now. Safe, and walking away from me without recognition, but as safe as anyone else. There is, I thought as a thousand more cleaning arms descended onto random towers in the distance to sweep away partial or entire civilizations, at least that one comfort.

Thanks, Windows...

foxsynergy — Wed, 13 Jun 2012 13:09:28 GMT

ME: OK, you restarted in the middle of the night. Here's my password. Let me in.
WINDOWS: That ain't the right password. Fuck you!
ME: There are only two passwords I use on servers at home. Here's the other one.
WINDOWS: That ain't it either. Fuck you!
ME: Fine, here's the last-ditch, super-secret password I would never actually use here.
WINDOWS: That ain't it--
ME: I know, I know. "Fuck you!"
WINDOWS: Fuck me? No... Fuck YOU!

Why, Mom?

foxsynergy — Tue, 12 Jun 2012 01:31:52 GMT

Why don't you ever ask about my music? Even comment on it neutrally, or say you don't like it? Much of it's simple, though at least a couple hundred downloads' worth of people seem to like it, and you know how long I've wanted to make something that others will enjoy. You know how I protected my old keyboard for decades. Or do you really not remember, or know me that well at all anymore? I'm not sure which of us I worry about more, but I'm thinking it's not me.

Parting thoughts on the Catfield Cabana.

foxsynergy — Sat, 31 Mar 2012 04:40:03 GMT

There was a house on a hill which was one of the only places that survived the eastern NC floods of 1999. It had been the home of many friends, though seldom at the same time. At a time when we lost our home due to a spike in expenses (thanks, currency devaluation!), it became our turn.

Through about five years, we watched the problems that had been there grow and multiply through the owner's unwillingness to fix them beyond a couple of barrel-bottom actions seemingly intended more to fill the demand for action rather than actual repair, and the few fixes we were able to get in place ourselves. Leaking electrical fixtures, randomly appearing trails of goo, collapsing ceilings, nasty mold, and more spiders than you would probably care to imagine. Not to mention attempts to steal our vehicles in broad daylight.

The fact that such a place took so long to get out of says a lot about this area. I feel bad about the stuff we had to leave behind, and even worse about the important things that *were* stolen -- again, in daylight. But I'll try to keep looking forward from here. We're now in a place that doesn't seem to be killing us by inches each day. It's a good change.

I'm glad there had been a place for us to go when things got rough. But it has descended into chaos. A near-tangible miasma of elemental entropy saturates the very air. Soon, the place will probably be no more.

Farewell to the place we once called home. I hope the things of use that we had to leave will find a home where we could not extend one to them, but we're not going back. It feels like if we step back inside, a wall of darkness would crush it, us, and everything around it into the ground. It's that kind of place.

Goodbye, Catfield Cabana.