Featured GAME [Interactive Comic] Old Republic Paint Adventures

Hello, folks.

Though there are many words I long to share – first and foremost, I believe I owe this community an apology. I’m sorry that I haven’t continued Paint Adventures all these years. I knew at the back of my mind that life would catch up to me at some point, and the freedom I was afforded would run out. I regret that I haven’t done more with the time I had, but I’m proud of the role I played as curator of this thread. We built an amazing cast of characters, and carved out a small piece of the Star Wars universe that far exceeded any initial expectations Lankist and I had over doing a sequel to the original adventure.

It was humbling to watch the thread grow over the next few years, which is what makes my continued absence sting so fiercely. Though there were many times I felt like returning to the comic, I knew it wouldn’t last for more than a few weeks at most. During those days, I drew.



I hope that one day, we’ll be able to imbue these individuals with character, much the same way we did our Star Wars cast.

As for the reasons behind my hiatus from Paint Adventures, the explanation is simple in nature, but significantly more complex in circumstance.

The Serbian Nightmare

Unlike the American Dream, the Serbian Nightmare is alive and well. The legacy of the 90s endures, and the man who was once the Minister of Information is now the dictator for a Serbia that is incapable of moving on. Every day is a new challenge for the citizens of Serbia, as they wonder what rights will the regime trample on next; what freedoms will it subvert; what hatreds will it sow; what lies will it spread. The injustices perpetrated by the design of the Party number in the hundreds, and its neverending flood has induced a state of apathy in a people who have forgotten the difference between living and surviving. The President has married the church, the mafia, and the government into an unholy union, and his absolute control of the media has silenced the truth of Serbia, both within and without.

I had the opportunity to live in Denmark for a few months last year, and the experience left me embittered in a way my heart cannot properly express. It has taught me that most citizens of the first world are blissfully unaware of the privilege they wield: the social programs they have access to, the fresh produce they can buy, the fair wages they can earn, the life they are allowed to lead. I don't begrudge them for it, in many ways, I envy them. The purchasing power afforded even by lower class families in Denmark dwarfs that of the average citizen unfortunate enough to reside in this armpit of Europe. There was a time in Serbia where I couldn’t even afford to work, because the freelancer taxes and cost of living outweighed my monthly earnings. Paying exorbitant taxes for a healthcare system that refuses to treat me, for a pension plan that will leave my father penniless, and for an education that is neither free nor acknowledged abroad is soul-crushing.

It is significantly easier to destroy a democracy than it is to build it, and the quintessential narcissist that espouses himself as the Savior of Serbia has turned the country into his personal playground. He exerts absolute control over the public sector and private sector alike, and intimidates his citizens into attending political rallies under threat of unemployment. His paramilitary ensures that his grip on power remains incontestable, and allows him to stage whatever narrative furthers his goals and strokes his ego. To call the current state of Serbia dire would vastly undersell the cult of corruption and worship he established over the past decade.

I have nothing but the deepest contempt for the regime, and any progress in life that I made – be it academic, medical, or financial – I have done so outside the authority of this country. Things have started to unravel in Serbia last month, and it has seen a record number of people protesting out in the streets, myself among them. I hope that breaking through this collective spell of hopelessness will carry the demonstrations far – to the Serbia its citizens deserve: one freed from a legacy of hate, unburdened by corruption, with eyes fixed upwards into the future.

I urge folks to read this article by the New York Times if they want to know more about the situation in Serbia. It is only a sliver of the entire truth, but it offers an explanation far better than I ever could, and it gladdens me that foreign media is finally covering the President's regime of terror unrestrained.

The Ass Is Fat

Isolated from the struggles caused by my country of residence, I have been doing well. My relationship with food has much improved, and I have taken significant steps to deal with mental health issues that have plagued me since childhood. I took up the art of cooking last year, and have since made a plethora of delectable dishes for my family and friends when I returned from Denmark.

My favorite lazy breakfast consists out of a tortilla wrap made from a hummus base, with caramelized garlic, sriracha sauce, chopped cherry tomatoes, grated parmesan cheese, thinly sliced sujuk sausage, diced turkey breasts, pancetta, and emmental cheese. The flavors abide in perfect harmony, significantly enhanced if you place the tortilla in a panini press for a few minutes.

Spoiler: A Few Dishes

Korean Beef Bulgogi with Kimchi and Makgoelli



French Toast with Blueberries, Raspberries, Quince Jelly, Dark Chocolate Flakes, and Butter



My Authentic Lime Bars



Creamy Tuscan Chicken



Käsespätzle (with Bacon, Emmental Cheese, and Caramelized White Onions)



Pistachio Baklavas



Chicken Fillet Pasta with White Wine, Truffles, Champignons, and Beef Bouillon



Chicken Tikka Masala



Omelette with Red Onions, Emmental Cheese, and Chanterelles

I spoke about how often my life felt like watching a car crash in slow motion, knowing what was about to happen, yet being powerless to stop it. I underestimated how capable I was at the time, and though the mental toll was great, I think the darkest days of my life are firmly behind me. I no longer dream of an end, nor am I afraid of what the future will hold. I no longer wake up tired in the morning, and for the first time in my brief existence, I feel excited for the years ahead.

In short, my hair is longer, my mind is wiser, and I’m living up to the rank of Rear Admiral in more ways than one.

Plan Down Under

I knew for a long time that the life I needed could never come to pass in Serbia. Though I tried to remain in Denmark by seeking gainful employment, last minute complications condemned me to return to a place that had become so unbearable. I saw it as defeat at the time, but I have since come to realize that I was running from my problems. The experiences I had in Denmark emboldened me to fight for my right to live, and made me realize the joy of living for my own sake, rather than for the sake of other people who depended on me.

For the past few years, I have worked as a freelancer – from writing articles, to building websites, and even a bit of tutoring on the side. These skills have positioned me to either conclude my education in Australia, or become employed by a company based in Adelaide. The bureaucratic process has been tiresome, but I approach it with patience and purpose. Given my maternal heritage and considerable legal proof, I have also pursued Hungarian citizenship by signing up for language classes this summer. Provided Serbia isn’t plunged into a war with Kosovo, I expect to enact my plans by the end of the year.

My cousins are growing up, and it’s been rewarding to see them mature into fierce young women with their own hopes and dreams. I am helping my grandma in financing her medical treatments outside a healthcare system that abandoned her, and I am trying my best to keep my father going.

Truth be told, I don’t know what all this means for the thread. Initially, it helped me escape the muted colors of my reality, but as the years went by, I found it equally difficult to live up to the idea people had of me. A part of me wants to finish the story of Old Republic Paint Adventures, but a part of me realizes that many of its players have moved on. My time remains a scarce commodity, and though I imagine a few scenarios in Australia where I could afford to draw and write for the comic once again, I cannot make promises built on hope alone.

For now, I am simply happy to see you all again.