Shadowman wrote:You'll need an Ionic Compressor Device, with nuclear-digital transfer capabilities. Be careful, though, you're going to have to reroute power from every power-plant on Earth. Put on a full-body lead-trinium-kevlar mesh suit, then flip the device on. But do NOT look directly into the divide as it does it's thing, unless you want your entire frontal lobe fried like a chicken.
When the device finishes stealing light itself, wire your computer to the device, but be sure the device is fully powered down. (A single Toshiba laptop has been known to vaporize entire office buildings) When you put the image onto your computer, it may be so big your computer will vomit data. If you work fast enough, you can compress it down to a good size.
Hey, even I can get sick of writing feux-Lovecraft!
But in the sense of reality, Bun-bun's suggestion of photoshop is valid.
I never get sick of Lovecraft.
The late professor Arthur Maxwell of Providence Rhode Island died screaming in an insane asylum late last night. During his last lecture on making avatars in photoshop, he suddenly stopped dead and started screaming chtuluh ryel fatghn!!!! I drove to his estate today on official legal business of Miskatonic University and found a mysterious letter in an old pile of papers at the bottom of a locked drawer in a forgotten chest at the back of the attic under the beetling eaves and mysterious Gambrel rooftops of his Georgian home.
It is dated November 13, 1895 from a one Herbert Ward, an antartic explorer who died screaming in an insane asylum. The letter talks about the mysterious plateau of Leng which is higher than Mt. Everest. He refuses to even detail what he found there, but I suspect the professor hid this letter away from even himself. He claims that he was haunted by nightmares for years afterward, in which he saw strange geometrical shapes that are impossible in nature and glimpsed eldritch and cyclopean vistas never meant for the human eye.
Now I find myself digging in an old grave in a forgotten cemetary, the howl of a damnable hound getting ever closer and all the while, looming over me is the moldering family manor of an ancient and cursed hill family that has inbred itself into a pale and sightless race.
I have hid the coffin lid, but when I pry it open I see the horrible truth, and I fear I will die screaming in an insane asylum.
is that suposed to be womens underwear on his head? 
[ Click to attempt signal recovery... ]
