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Parker didn't know what he wanted. Made him rewrite it once, still didn't like it, which resulted in the departure when told to rewrite it again.
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Incline Chris Avellone Appreciation Station
- Thread starter Crooked Bee
- Start date
Gold might not be that useful during a collapse, but you supposedly save it if things start to get better, which after that will show its value.
IHaveHugeNick
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Chris also retweeded this recently.
A reference to his own career, perhaps?
A reference to his own career, perhaps?
IHaveHugeNick
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Why not both?
Your butthurt is cute Nick, but shouldn't you be looking for a new job?
I really doubt Feargus' new bosses will let you back in.
I really doubt Feargus' new bosses will let you back in.
Serious_Business
Best Poster on the Codex
I moderately respect this shell of a man. If he became only a shell then I would Truly Respect him
IHaveHugeNick
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I mean, do we know for a fact Ferg got gold, and not a second hand Buick with an open bag of Doritos?
True Ukrainian
Arcane
Guys, guys! Remember that Avellone said that he has more money than he needs and that he is NOT butthurt. Remember the last point.
AVELLONE IS NOT BUTTHURT.
AVELLONE IS NOT BUTTHURT.
We need to make a global bet. Will MCA ever create another masterpiece (or just another gaem) as a lead? If so, when?
I think personally it is NEVER (30%) or YES, BUT NOT UNTIL 2025 at least. Waddaya think?
I think personally it is NEVER (30%) or YES, BUT NOT UNTIL 2025 at least. Waddaya think?
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I'm thinking at least 70% never for any AA+ game where he is lead writer or director.
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I am 100% sure that he will never create another masterpiece. He is living his live based on past accomplishment as a narrative consultant and some sort of pedestal marketing gimmick. He is in position of very senior management team in a corporation, someone who gives vague directive for people below to do. Now I am not sure how many money he is making but I am pretty sure it is comfortable enough, especially after Fallen Order gig in EA.
Chris has never been ultra conservative retard. And really, at this point in time you require mental deficiency to actually root for Trump even for conservative. He is literally using your ideology/belief just to cover his clear abuse of power to profit himself with conservatives retards loving it.
Feargus did everything right. Get over it.
Meanwhile MCA
bruh MCA made tons of money. maybe not trust fund child level money but he's set for life for relatively comfy lifestyle.
jaydee2k
Savant
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Feargus did everything right. Get over it.
Meanwhile MCA
bruh MCA made tons of money. maybe not trust fund child level money but he's set for life for relatively comfy lifestyle.
That pic for MCA should rather reflect his personal aura since he left Obsidian.
FeelTheRads
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I've been forgetting this off and on for like half a year, but here is one of the first works of fiction Chris Avellone ever released, a short story about a couple of closeted homosexuals he wrote while in college. Smoke
Sorry about the wall of text formatting, can't be bothered to put in the effort to fix it, maybe later if it really gnaws at me.
July 11 2021 edit: I formatted it as best as I was able, though it might not necessarily be the way Chris intended it.
Additionally here's an essay someone wrote about it for the tl;dr https://www.123helpme.com/assets/10464.html
Smoke, by Chris Avellone
It all started at Shoop's. The thing between Kyle and me. He (Kyle) was busy taking aim with one of those slender tipped red darts, rocking it back and forth in his hand, squinting real hard at the dartboard, so you really couldn't tell if he was aiming or too drunk to see what he was shooting at. He had the dart clutched kinda funny in his fingers, too, like he was aiming for the floor, but it was this trick he did with his hands to make the dart fly straighter. I'd almost forgotten about it. I watched as the dart left his fingers and thunked into the bullseye.
"Not bad," I said, smirking a little.
Kyle walked over to retrieve the darts with that slow walk of his. I reached for the pitcher again and refilled my glass. Behind me, chalk scraped on the blackboard as Kyle tallied up his points.
"Your turn," he said, in that dead tone of voice he always uses. I could barely hear him. Even without the background noise in Shoop's, Kyle had a real quiet voice. He didn't look at me when he passed the darts off to me. He just pulled a pack out of his shirt pocket and tapped out a cigarette, fishing in his pants for his lighter with his other hand.
"You smoke too much," I said, trying to coax him out a little. Nothing. I shrugged, took the first dart between my fingers and waited, focusing on the dartboard. Out of the corner of my eye, Kyle gave up on the lighter and had snagged a book of matches on the table. There was a flicker as he struck it against the book flap, and just for a second, it lit up his face. I took a quick look. I always do. You see, Kyle's got this thing that makes him kinda difficult to pin down. He's got what you'd call a "poker face," I guess. Where you can't really see what's going on beneath the surface.
And there's his eyes. Girls love 'em. Some guys figure Kyle's distance is what gets him women, but I got a cold bet it's those green eyes. Kyle's got sharp green eyes, like they'll make you bleed if you look at them too long. Kyle looked dangerous. Not physically, but dangerous. You can't see far in Shoop's 'cause of all the smoke, but I could see enough. His eyes glittering, suspended over that cigarette. Stubble on his face.
I turned back to the dart board, the tip of the cigarette burning in my eyes. Kyle smoldered. The first dart plowed into the dartboard, burying its point all the way up to the red shaft. Off to the left, Kyle took a drag on the cigarette and the tip flared. The second dart was a little off. It sunk into the outer rim, and I cursed. Once your aim's off, at least mine anyway, it takes forever to get reoriented. I'm also a poor-ass player compared to Kyle, and he knows it.
"Macy had to go visit her folks," I said, not really caring whether Kyle heard me or not. I relaxed my grip on the third dart and let it hang from my fingers. "So I called you." Kyle didn't say anything. I let the third dart fly and shook my head.
"I'm so fucking glad I ain't living with her. Sometimes she makes me sick." I passed off the darts to him, but he didn't make eye contact.
"So what about you, hunh?" I hit him lightly on the shoulder. "What's up with you? I'm the one doin' all the talkin' here. What's up in your life?"
"Nothing much."
Bullshit. "訬othin' much,'" I said, slurring my voice and trying to fake his deadpan look. "Somethin's gotta be new with you. I ain't seen you, in what, a month? I heard you were goin' out with some girl."
"We weren't going out."
"Coulda fooled me. I didn't even fuckin' hear from you while she was around. Not even one call."
I know it's hard keeping in touch and shit, but I hadn't even heard one peep out of Kyle for the past few months, and we used to hang out all the time, either going to Shoop's or fucking around in the 'Burg doing crazy shit till we were too drunk off our asses to do anything but pass out on somebody's lawn. We'd known each other since high school, and I don't really remember a time when we wasn't doing something...if we were bored, or if I was bored, I guess, since Kyle never came out and ever said he was bored, it was kinda unspoken between us that we'd get together and do something. We didn't always go out, sometimes we'd just talk about stuff on the phone...or walk around a while, talking about shit, nothing in particular. I guess what we said wasn't really that important.
I waited for him to go on, but he didn't say nothing. Just sat there at the table, not touching the pitcher at all.
"You can have some of that, you know."
He shook his head, and I started getting a little irritated. The thing had cost me a few bucks. Least he could do was humor me.
I watched, like in slow motion, as he tapped the cigarette against the ashtray. Macy smoked, too. But her smoking was different. The thing with Macy had all been an accident. I slept with her once during a party over the summer; I'd been drinking and gotten horny as shit; I think I woulda fucked anything.
Well, the experience, what little I remember of it, was nauseating. Macy would make these noises, and grab me and shit and it was all I could do not to throw up when she was rubbing against me. Sex ain't gotten much better since then, plus, there's always that condom shit".The first time, at that party, I did it raw, Macy missed her period and I thought I'd have to fucking marry her or something, but she'd just gotten "hysterical" or some such shit and wasn't pregnant, and she didn't know until two months after she'd gotten her hooks in me. I still think it was some kinda trick of hers, but she says it wasn't. All I know is that she'd said her pregnancy test had come out positive, and all of a sudden it wasn't anymore. She said the test must have been defective. Whatever.
I watched the ash from Kyle's cigarette gather in the bottom of the ashtray. When Kyle smoked, it had a certain style to it. Macy would grind her cigarette into the ashtray. Something about the way she did made me angry. But it was more than that. During that fake pregnancy shit, we used to have these fights, mostly about me and Kyle doing something...oh, but it was okay if she came along, if she was hanging with us, but then, well, that changed things. She was always forcing herself between us, so me and Kyle never saw each other as much because Macy was always there, wanting to do something. Sure, me and Kyle talked every once in a while, over the phone, but we didn't do things.
Eventually, Kyle and me stopped talking. And up a few months ago, I ain't even heard a sound from him. So I decide to give him a call and see what's going on. I felt like doing something, shooting darts, and I thought about Shoop's, and me and Kyle when we used to go down there and talk until we were shit-faced. As I felt the phone ring, I felt kinda funny, especially what Macy had said about Kyle and this girl, but before I chickened out, he answered the phone, like he was asleep or something. We had this short talk, I asked him if he wanted to head out and do something, shoot darts. He didn't say much during the call. He said he'd come, though. I was kinda hoping things might go back to normal when we got to Shoop's, but there were too many people around.
I shifted in my seat. No matter where I sat, I felt uncomfortable. Kyle still hadn't touched the pitcher.
"So," I said. "What happened between you and this girl?" This time I pressed it. "Come on, we're supposed to be pals, right? Friends and all. What happened?"
"Nothin', Dave."
"She was a whore, wasn't she? Man, they all are. Macy is. And dumb as a fuckin' stone." I shook my head. I felt the edge of the dart and stared hard at the board like I didn't give a shit. "She was a whore, wasn't she, this girl, I mean?"
I turned, because I didn't hear anything. When I turned, he was looking at me, dead in the eyes. Without meaning to, I got mad. I flung the darts on the table, where one of them rolled to a stop by the pitcher, leaving a trail of spilled beer behind it.
"Don't want to play anymore? Why, sure," I said. "Good time to stop while yer ahead, right? Sure it is."
Kyle didn't say anything when I sat down, and after a few minutes, another couple of guys asked for the darts and started up another game behind me. I finished off the pitcher and ordered a bottle for myself from the waitress, seeing as Kyle wasn't drinking anything. I watched him take another drag from his cigarette, smoke trailing from the tip.
A few weeks ago, I finally figured out what was up with Kyle, why I hadn't heard from him. I found out from Macy, of all places. Go figure. She's laying on the couch one night, stuffing herself with popcorn, when she up and says that Kyle been seeing some college girl. She said it really low, like some kind of fifth grader telling a secret. It surprised me to hear it, so much so I didn't get mad at Macy at first. I was curious, I guess. I mean, Kyle hadn't dated much. This girl had to be something special. Macy said the girl's name was Casey.
I took a swig from the bottle. It was getting warm in Shoop's.
Me and Kyle sat in silence for a minute, me drinking, Kyle smoking and then he says something, which I don't catch at first, so he repeats it.
"You know why I came out with you tonight?" Kyle said, slowly. He didn't make eye contact.
"No." I snapped, then paused. "To whip my ass in darts?" I added quickly.
"No," Kyle tapped the cigarette against the edge of the ashtray and I watched the little red flecks sink to the bottom. Kyle had left the book of matches next to the ashtray. "I was hoping we could talk."
"Okay," I said. "Go on, then."
I took another drink from the bottle, but I didn't want it. Kyle shook his head and took another drag on the cigarette. His eyes were embers.
"Does she know?" There was a slight pause that made me uncomfortable. His voice dropped, and it sounded like it was coming from underground, buried. "Macy. Does she know?"
"Know what?" I tried to give him 詔he what the hell are you talkin' about' glance, but it got lost along the way, so I just said it. "What the hell are you talkin' about?"
He snorted, and smoke curled from his nostrils. Only half of his face was visible beneath his hair.
"What?" I wiped my mouth and set the bottle down on the table. I had a sudden urge to shove him.
"Never mind," Kyle flipped open the matchbook and pulled out another flimsy cardboard match. He dragged it (slowly) across the back, and let the sputtering flame touch the edge of his cigarette. Smoke curled from his nostrils out onto the table, like some kinda dragon.
"No, come on," I smiled, but it was losing whatever bit of friendliness it had to begin with. "You say something like that, you gotta back it up." I felt my cheeks grow hot. "Come on, what?"
There was a moment of silence, real weird like, and I swear, Shoop's kinda faded out, like someone had turned down the background noise.
"Is it about that girl yer seeing? Is that it?" Kyle shook his head.
"I feel sorry for you, Dave." The room froze.
"Get outta here," I said, sneering at him. "Yer the one I feel fucking sorry for. Whoever this college bitch you been seein', she shore as hell didn't know you. Go figure, a smart girl like that thinkin' she can score with a faggit like you." The second I said it, I regretted it. My hand was shaking on the edge of the table, real close to the beer bottle.
"I mean, come on. You didn't fuckin' like her, did you?" I said. "What? I thought you hated women, ain't that right?" My face was warm. "What made her so fuckin' special, anyway?"
Kyle snorted, and when I heard it this time, it got me. It was like fire. I watched the smoke trail across the table again without it really registering. There was just Kyle, his eyes locked on me, and I started getting hot, in a mean kind of way. And there was that beer bottle, sitting right there. He looked at me, with those fucking eyes.
"You can't even admit it, can you?" Kyle took another drag on the cigarette. "Why can't you just be honest with yourself for one time in?
I grabbed the beer bottle. Before I knew what was happening, the table had been turned over, and there was breaking glass, and there was this hot feeling all around and hands grabbing me, pulling me off Kyle, while I was screaming, trying to hit him and the beer bottle was broken on the ground, and there was all this smoke, and I was calling him all these names, faggit and a whole buncha shit. He was holding the side of his face, his eyes closed, breathing real hard, but not saying nothing, and as the guys were pulling me away, Kyle just faded out into the smoke in Shoop's.
Next thing I know, I'm catching my breath outside, mist coming out of my mouth. A bunch of guys from the bar were with me, some just watching, others asking me if I was okay. My shirt felt too tight, and I was kinda hunched over, like I was going to throw up or something. I didn't see Kyle anywhere. I told 'em I was fine, I didn't need no fucking help, it was just a misunderstanding is all, and they let it go.
I remember walking home, kinda dazed. I ain't seen him in a while. Kyle, I mean. I sure as hell don't call him anymore. Macy used to ask me what happened, but you know, she wouldn't understand shit like that. So I just tell her it ain't none of her business and let it go. The thing at Shoop's, it was between Kyle and me.
It all started at Shoop's. The thing between Kyle and me. He (Kyle) was busy taking aim with one of those slender tipped red darts, rocking it back and forth in his hand, squinting real hard at the dartboard, so you really couldn't tell if he was aiming or too drunk to see what he was shooting at. He had the dart clutched kinda funny in his fingers, too, like he was aiming for the floor, but it was this trick he did with his hands to make the dart fly straighter. I'd almost forgotten about it. I watched as the dart left his fingers and thunked into the bullseye.
"Not bad," I said, smirking a little.
Kyle walked over to retrieve the darts with that slow walk of his. I reached for the pitcher again and refilled my glass. Behind me, chalk scraped on the blackboard as Kyle tallied up his points.
"Your turn," he said, in that dead tone of voice he always uses. I could barely hear him. Even without the background noise in Shoop's, Kyle had a real quiet voice. He didn't look at me when he passed the darts off to me. He just pulled a pack out of his shirt pocket and tapped out a cigarette, fishing in his pants for his lighter with his other hand.
"You smoke too much," I said, trying to coax him out a little. Nothing. I shrugged, took the first dart between my fingers and waited, focusing on the dartboard. Out of the corner of my eye, Kyle gave up on the lighter and had snagged a book of matches on the table. There was a flicker as he struck it against the book flap, and just for a second, it lit up his face. I took a quick look. I always do. You see, Kyle's got this thing that makes him kinda difficult to pin down. He's got what you'd call a "poker face," I guess. Where you can't really see what's going on beneath the surface.
And there's his eyes. Girls love 'em. Some guys figure Kyle's distance is what gets him women, but I got a cold bet it's those green eyes. Kyle's got sharp green eyes, like they'll make you bleed if you look at them too long. Kyle looked dangerous. Not physically, but dangerous. You can't see far in Shoop's 'cause of all the smoke, but I could see enough. His eyes glittering, suspended over that cigarette. Stubble on his face.
I turned back to the dart board, the tip of the cigarette burning in my eyes. Kyle smoldered. The first dart plowed into the dartboard, burying its point all the way up to the red shaft. Off to the left, Kyle took a drag on the cigarette and the tip flared. The second dart was a little off. It sunk into the outer rim, and I cursed. Once your aim's off, at least mine anyway, it takes forever to get reoriented. I'm also a poor-ass player compared to Kyle, and he knows it.
"Macy had to go visit her folks," I said, not really caring whether Kyle heard me or not. I relaxed my grip on the third dart and let it hang from my fingers. "So I called you." Kyle didn't say anything. I let the third dart fly and shook my head.
"I'm so fucking glad I ain't living with her. Sometimes she makes me sick." I passed off the darts to him, but he didn't make eye contact.
"So what about you, hunh?" I hit him lightly on the shoulder. "What's up with you? I'm the one doin' all the talkin' here. What's up in your life?"
"Nothing much."
Bullshit. "訬othin' much,'" I said, slurring my voice and trying to fake his deadpan look. "Somethin's gotta be new with you. I ain't seen you, in what, a month? I heard you were goin' out with some girl."
"We weren't going out."
"Coulda fooled me. I didn't even fuckin' hear from you while she was around. Not even one call."
I know it's hard keeping in touch and shit, but I hadn't even heard one peep out of Kyle for the past few months, and we used to hang out all the time, either going to Shoop's or fucking around in the 'Burg doing crazy shit till we were too drunk off our asses to do anything but pass out on somebody's lawn. We'd known each other since high school, and I don't really remember a time when we wasn't doing something...if we were bored, or if I was bored, I guess, since Kyle never came out and ever said he was bored, it was kinda unspoken between us that we'd get together and do something. We didn't always go out, sometimes we'd just talk about stuff on the phone...or walk around a while, talking about shit, nothing in particular. I guess what we said wasn't really that important.
I waited for him to go on, but he didn't say nothing. Just sat there at the table, not touching the pitcher at all.
"You can have some of that, you know."
He shook his head, and I started getting a little irritated. The thing had cost me a few bucks. Least he could do was humor me.
I watched, like in slow motion, as he tapped the cigarette against the ashtray. Macy smoked, too. But her smoking was different. The thing with Macy had all been an accident. I slept with her once during a party over the summer; I'd been drinking and gotten horny as shit; I think I woulda fucked anything.
Well, the experience, what little I remember of it, was nauseating. Macy would make these noises, and grab me and shit and it was all I could do not to throw up when she was rubbing against me. Sex ain't gotten much better since then, plus, there's always that condom shit".The first time, at that party, I did it raw, Macy missed her period and I thought I'd have to fucking marry her or something, but she'd just gotten "hysterical" or some such shit and wasn't pregnant, and she didn't know until two months after she'd gotten her hooks in me. I still think it was some kinda trick of hers, but she says it wasn't. All I know is that she'd said her pregnancy test had come out positive, and all of a sudden it wasn't anymore. She said the test must have been defective. Whatever.
I watched the ash from Kyle's cigarette gather in the bottom of the ashtray. When Kyle smoked, it had a certain style to it. Macy would grind her cigarette into the ashtray. Something about the way she did made me angry. But it was more than that. During that fake pregnancy shit, we used to have these fights, mostly about me and Kyle doing something...oh, but it was okay if she came along, if she was hanging with us, but then, well, that changed things. She was always forcing herself between us, so me and Kyle never saw each other as much because Macy was always there, wanting to do something. Sure, me and Kyle talked every once in a while, over the phone, but we didn't do things.
Eventually, Kyle and me stopped talking. And up a few months ago, I ain't even heard a sound from him. So I decide to give him a call and see what's going on. I felt like doing something, shooting darts, and I thought about Shoop's, and me and Kyle when we used to go down there and talk until we were shit-faced. As I felt the phone ring, I felt kinda funny, especially what Macy had said about Kyle and this girl, but before I chickened out, he answered the phone, like he was asleep or something. We had this short talk, I asked him if he wanted to head out and do something, shoot darts. He didn't say much during the call. He said he'd come, though. I was kinda hoping things might go back to normal when we got to Shoop's, but there were too many people around.
I shifted in my seat. No matter where I sat, I felt uncomfortable. Kyle still hadn't touched the pitcher.
"So," I said. "What happened between you and this girl?" This time I pressed it. "Come on, we're supposed to be pals, right? Friends and all. What happened?"
"Nothin', Dave."
"She was a whore, wasn't she? Man, they all are. Macy is. And dumb as a fuckin' stone." I shook my head. I felt the edge of the dart and stared hard at the board like I didn't give a shit. "She was a whore, wasn't she, this girl, I mean?"
I turned, because I didn't hear anything. When I turned, he was looking at me, dead in the eyes. Without meaning to, I got mad. I flung the darts on the table, where one of them rolled to a stop by the pitcher, leaving a trail of spilled beer behind it.
"Don't want to play anymore? Why, sure," I said. "Good time to stop while yer ahead, right? Sure it is."
Kyle didn't say anything when I sat down, and after a few minutes, another couple of guys asked for the darts and started up another game behind me. I finished off the pitcher and ordered a bottle for myself from the waitress, seeing as Kyle wasn't drinking anything. I watched him take another drag from his cigarette, smoke trailing from the tip.
A few weeks ago, I finally figured out what was up with Kyle, why I hadn't heard from him. I found out from Macy, of all places. Go figure. She's laying on the couch one night, stuffing herself with popcorn, when she up and says that Kyle been seeing some college girl. She said it really low, like some kind of fifth grader telling a secret. It surprised me to hear it, so much so I didn't get mad at Macy at first. I was curious, I guess. I mean, Kyle hadn't dated much. This girl had to be something special. Macy said the girl's name was Casey.
I took a swig from the bottle. It was getting warm in Shoop's.
Me and Kyle sat in silence for a minute, me drinking, Kyle smoking and then he says something, which I don't catch at first, so he repeats it.
"You know why I came out with you tonight?" Kyle said, slowly. He didn't make eye contact.
"No." I snapped, then paused. "To whip my ass in darts?" I added quickly.
"No," Kyle tapped the cigarette against the edge of the ashtray and I watched the little red flecks sink to the bottom. Kyle had left the book of matches next to the ashtray. "I was hoping we could talk."
"Okay," I said. "Go on, then."
I took another drink from the bottle, but I didn't want it. Kyle shook his head and took another drag on the cigarette. His eyes were embers.
"Does she know?" There was a slight pause that made me uncomfortable. His voice dropped, and it sounded like it was coming from underground, buried. "Macy. Does she know?"
"Know what?" I tried to give him 詔he what the hell are you talkin' about' glance, but it got lost along the way, so I just said it. "What the hell are you talkin' about?"
He snorted, and smoke curled from his nostrils. Only half of his face was visible beneath his hair.
"What?" I wiped my mouth and set the bottle down on the table. I had a sudden urge to shove him.
"Never mind," Kyle flipped open the matchbook and pulled out another flimsy cardboard match. He dragged it (slowly) across the back, and let the sputtering flame touch the edge of his cigarette. Smoke curled from his nostrils out onto the table, like some kinda dragon.
"No, come on," I smiled, but it was losing whatever bit of friendliness it had to begin with. "You say something like that, you gotta back it up." I felt my cheeks grow hot. "Come on, what?"
There was a moment of silence, real weird like, and I swear, Shoop's kinda faded out, like someone had turned down the background noise.
"Is it about that girl yer seeing? Is that it?" Kyle shook his head.
"I feel sorry for you, Dave." The room froze.
"Get outta here," I said, sneering at him. "Yer the one I feel fucking sorry for. Whoever this college bitch you been seein', she shore as hell didn't know you. Go figure, a smart girl like that thinkin' she can score with a faggit like you." The second I said it, I regretted it. My hand was shaking on the edge of the table, real close to the beer bottle.
"I mean, come on. You didn't fuckin' like her, did you?" I said. "What? I thought you hated women, ain't that right?" My face was warm. "What made her so fuckin' special, anyway?"
Kyle snorted, and when I heard it this time, it got me. It was like fire. I watched the smoke trail across the table again without it really registering. There was just Kyle, his eyes locked on me, and I started getting hot, in a mean kind of way. And there was that beer bottle, sitting right there. He looked at me, with those fucking eyes.
"You can't even admit it, can you?" Kyle took another drag on the cigarette. "Why can't you just be honest with yourself for one time in?
I grabbed the beer bottle. Before I knew what was happening, the table had been turned over, and there was breaking glass, and there was this hot feeling all around and hands grabbing me, pulling me off Kyle, while I was screaming, trying to hit him and the beer bottle was broken on the ground, and there was all this smoke, and I was calling him all these names, faggit and a whole buncha shit. He was holding the side of his face, his eyes closed, breathing real hard, but not saying nothing, and as the guys were pulling me away, Kyle just faded out into the smoke in Shoop's.
Next thing I know, I'm catching my breath outside, mist coming out of my mouth. A bunch of guys from the bar were with me, some just watching, others asking me if I was okay. My shirt felt too tight, and I was kinda hunched over, like I was going to throw up or something. I didn't see Kyle anywhere. I told 'em I was fine, I didn't need no fucking help, it was just a misunderstanding is all, and they let it go.
I remember walking home, kinda dazed. I ain't seen him in a while. Kyle, I mean. I sure as hell don't call him anymore. Macy used to ask me what happened, but you know, she wouldn't understand shit like that. So I just tell her it ain't none of her business and let it go. The thing at Shoop's, it was between Kyle and me.
Sorry about the wall of text formatting, can't be bothered to put in the effort to fix it, maybe later if it really gnaws at me.
July 11 2021 edit: I formatted it as best as I was able, though it might not necessarily be the way Chris intended it.
Additionally here's an essay someone wrote about it for the tl;dr https://www.123helpme.com/assets/10464.html
The Meaning of Smoke
Sometimes people feel that things are better left unsaid. Such is the case in Chris Avellone's, smoke, which tells the story of two friends who have a good relationship until one speaks the truth that both had been hiding. The smoke in the essay can be looked at as a veil that is concealing the true feelings of the two characters. The setting, which is in a smoke filled bar, can be looked at as a secret hide away that the two friends go to. It is when Kyle starts to bring what is really going on that the conflict starts.
When the story starts, the two friends are at a bar playing darts and drinking beer. When Kyle start smoking a cigarette it is then that Dave starts to open up and let the audience know that the two friends have not seen each other in a while. He also starts to describe his friend physically paying special attention to his eyes. Throughout the story Kyle is very vague when answering Dave's questions about his new relationship. Finally he asks his friend if his girl knows about what was going on between the two of them. Dave tries a first to shrug the conversation off but it is at this point that smoke the cigarette is giving off is starting to make sense. "Smoke curled from his nostrils out onto the table, like some kinda dragon" (Avellone, 3). Throughout the entire story the smoke seemed to make Dave feel more comfortable. It seemed as if the presence of the smoke made him telling the story and him even being around Kyle okay. With the smoke curling from his friends nose the reader is able to get a picture that the smoke is starting to clear. It is only when the smoke seems to be clearing in his eyes, revealing both his and Kyle's true feelings that he started to get uneasy. At this point he attacks his friend and calls him all kinds of vulgar names. He says that he cannot see much because of the smoke and that at that point, "Kyle just faded out into the smoke in Shoop's" (Avellone, 3). We can see here that he knows he has lost his friend to the smoke, which is a representation of his repressed feelings. From his descriptions of Kyle as well as his annoyance at the relationship he is in, the reader knows that Dave is in love with his friend, but the smoke made it all right because no one could really see what was really going on. It wasn't until Kyle started talking about his feelings to see if Dave had told anyone that he realizes that he cannot hide behind the smoke forever. But rather than admit the truth, he would rather make a scene and embarrass his friend to prove his masculinity.
Not only did the presence of the smoke make Dave feel more comfortable about being there with his friend, the bar they were at made it okay as well. When describing the place, Dave says, "You can't see far in Shoop's 'cause of all the smoke, but I could see enough" (Avellone, 1). You can see that he has chosen this scenery because it is naturally a smoky place. He wanted to be there so that he could see his friend without anyone being able to see him. This is important to him because he knows that they can show their feelings through their eyes without anyone else knowing what's going on. He also describes his friend as having a "poker face", so that also helps out. He tells the reader that he has not seen his friend in a long time and that he was hoping, "things might go back to normal when we got to Shoop's, but there were too many people around" (Avellone, 1). With this statement the reader knows that Dave does have feelings for Kyle but that he does not want anyone to know that he thinks more of him than just a friend. He was hoping that no one would be at the bar, and even if someone was at the bar, he was hoping that the smoke would hide any shows of affection that might be otherwise seen in a well-lit place.
In the story smoke by Chris Avellone, the love story that ultimately ends in tragedy is told by a man who is too worried about others to let his own happiness come through. He takes his friend to the smoke filled bar in order to have some sort of privacy and in hopes that the setting will help hide more his real self. It is only when his friend shows his own feelings that Dave realizes that you can not run away from yourself.
Sometimes people feel that things are better left unsaid. Such is the case in Chris Avellone's, smoke, which tells the story of two friends who have a good relationship until one speaks the truth that both had been hiding. The smoke in the essay can be looked at as a veil that is concealing the true feelings of the two characters. The setting, which is in a smoke filled bar, can be looked at as a secret hide away that the two friends go to. It is when Kyle starts to bring what is really going on that the conflict starts.
When the story starts, the two friends are at a bar playing darts and drinking beer. When Kyle start smoking a cigarette it is then that Dave starts to open up and let the audience know that the two friends have not seen each other in a while. He also starts to describe his friend physically paying special attention to his eyes. Throughout the story Kyle is very vague when answering Dave's questions about his new relationship. Finally he asks his friend if his girl knows about what was going on between the two of them. Dave tries a first to shrug the conversation off but it is at this point that smoke the cigarette is giving off is starting to make sense. "Smoke curled from his nostrils out onto the table, like some kinda dragon" (Avellone, 3). Throughout the entire story the smoke seemed to make Dave feel more comfortable. It seemed as if the presence of the smoke made him telling the story and him even being around Kyle okay. With the smoke curling from his friends nose the reader is able to get a picture that the smoke is starting to clear. It is only when the smoke seems to be clearing in his eyes, revealing both his and Kyle's true feelings that he started to get uneasy. At this point he attacks his friend and calls him all kinds of vulgar names. He says that he cannot see much because of the smoke and that at that point, "Kyle just faded out into the smoke in Shoop's" (Avellone, 3). We can see here that he knows he has lost his friend to the smoke, which is a representation of his repressed feelings. From his descriptions of Kyle as well as his annoyance at the relationship he is in, the reader knows that Dave is in love with his friend, but the smoke made it all right because no one could really see what was really going on. It wasn't until Kyle started talking about his feelings to see if Dave had told anyone that he realizes that he cannot hide behind the smoke forever. But rather than admit the truth, he would rather make a scene and embarrass his friend to prove his masculinity.
Not only did the presence of the smoke make Dave feel more comfortable about being there with his friend, the bar they were at made it okay as well. When describing the place, Dave says, "You can't see far in Shoop's 'cause of all the smoke, but I could see enough" (Avellone, 1). You can see that he has chosen this scenery because it is naturally a smoky place. He wanted to be there so that he could see his friend without anyone being able to see him. This is important to him because he knows that they can show their feelings through their eyes without anyone else knowing what's going on. He also describes his friend as having a "poker face", so that also helps out. He tells the reader that he has not seen his friend in a long time and that he was hoping, "things might go back to normal when we got to Shoop's, but there were too many people around" (Avellone, 1). With this statement the reader knows that Dave does have feelings for Kyle but that he does not want anyone to know that he thinks more of him than just a friend. He was hoping that no one would be at the bar, and even if someone was at the bar, he was hoping that the smoke would hide any shows of affection that might be otherwise seen in a well-lit place.
In the story smoke by Chris Avellone, the love story that ultimately ends in tragedy is told by a man who is too worried about others to let his own happiness come through. He takes his friend to the smoke filled bar in order to have some sort of privacy and in hopes that the setting will help hide more his real self. It is only when his friend shows his own feelings that Dave realizes that you can not run away from yourself.
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