The vaunted Overwatch League manifests later today, five or so hours after I post this. I've been spending all my time trying to reclaim New York from the ravages of a manufactured disease and also from man who is the real monster, so this is the most Overwatchy I've been in a while.

I knew that there was one Paul Brother, because he got in trouble a few months ago for heaping expensive furniture into a pool and then setting it on fire. When Yoda said "there is another," that was ultimately an expression of hope and joy. This is a situation where there is another except it's not the best.

I asked our Technomancer Mike Buland to do some digging in our data mines and find out what the top ten Penny Arcade comics of 2017 were. He got back to me and said "...there are a number of ways the comic can be viewed that won't register on the analytics system, so what I can grab right now won't be fully representational..." and a bunch of other engineer type stuff that I didn't really understand. He did give me a list though!

PAX South is coming up next week and I'm getting excited. Last year at this time I had just ruptured some of the important plumbing inside my human frame. I ended up zipping around PAX South on a little scooter while the carbon fiber patch they sewed into my guts took root. This year I'm happy to announce that I'll be walking around on my legs like I usually do.

Not every game works for the format, but I think Paladins could have something to say in the "battlegrounds" space. I'll be very surprised if they can do so while calling themselves Battlegrounds, however. They'll probably have to change that part. Something like… Paladins… Fighting Place.

I've compiled all the Acquisitions Incorporated: The "C" Team art and fic here for easy access. Apparently there were ten pieces…? Thanks to the "C" Team for giving my great stuff to work from. And get caught up, because Season 2 of this shit starts Sunday, January 14th at Noon CST.

I'm married to a crafty lady, I know lots of people in the props biz; this is all to say that "some of my best friends are crafters." I have absolutely no beef with people who make enduring objects out of thread, I was just very surprised to see Gabe up knitting. I mean, it's just art I guess; I shouldn't be too surprised.

There are controversial ships, and then there are forbidden ships. Come get in these folds.

"Don't leave," says Walnut, seated with her back to the fire. Her hands are twitching furiously around a heap of twigs and, with a few tugs and twists, they were becoming something that looked intentional.

I've got a couple pieces of art here from Ryan slash Donaar Blit'zen, Dragonborn Narcissist, to go with Monday's veiled tale of Sorsha and Chronaar. The first is his sketch of the little scamp:

Nomenclature-wise, we use the term "Smurfberries" for any type of secondary currency. That's where the first truly massive unauthorized purchases were reported, and there's also a kind of insult nestled in the language. An imaginary currency named after an imaginary fruit eaten by imaginary creatures is, ironically, a pretty robust metaphorical statement.

Please deposit your PAX South Qs into our designated slot. We'll process them live on stage.

When we were talking about writing comics, we ended up talking about the things enemies are always saying. They're always saying things, but the difference between a six to eight hour campaign and the nineteen hours I currently have in The Division means I have heard them for - at minimum - ten more hours. And I'm gonna play another three hours tonight. So, more. Here's a DLC I will pay for: one that makes every enemy speak a single part of Tchaikovsky's 1812 Overture. This guy is the oboe or whatever. Consider it: you could remix the score in real time with your M249.

Here's the second strip. There might be another one, I'll decide tomorrow. Until then, another bit of "C" Team fic. I'll get the art from Ryan later, it's fucking Christmas.) -----

I wasn't there when it happened, but I'm told that Ronia and her incredibly smart friend Sarah cracked the case on this Santa shit, and Brenna folded quick. I might have done more to safeguard the tradition, but Brenna occupies a realm of perfect honesty - a realm so dedicated to the virtue that our son had an operating knowledge of prostitution when he was five.

Her mother called her Walnut. First, because she was small. When Walnut was less small, there were other reasons to call her thus. She was sweet, but secretly so; tender, though few were allowed to know. And there was power, too; great power, her birthright as a Daughter of the Enclave. A sky-piercing power.