Disney:Let's cleanly kill of their parents in the prologue. They don't have names or personalities and they only have about 5 lines altogether, but it's vaguely sad that their kids don't have them around.
Dreamworks:So we've been developing this beloved character for a whole movie, a few short movies, two seasons of a television series and another whole movie, focusing heavily on their newly established bond with their son. Let's kill them suddenly, onscreen, with their son's possessed best friend who's trying to kill said son, in front of their own best friend and wife they just reunited with after 20 years. Our main protagonist then weeps over his dead body.
Im that guy on an MMO who wont wear armour if it looks like shit I refuse I will wear a worse armour if it looks good and when all else fails i will wear nothing but pants and some gloves because I’d rather be killed than swagless
At Stanford there was this Professor who was a total bitch and she taught British Literature, which was cool. Except she taught only her opinions of the books and it didn’t help me as a writer. I went to school to learn new things to improve my craft, not have someone else’s opinions carved onto my forehead.
So anyway, for our final project, she asked us to write a ten page paper on why the color symbolism in Othello was so significant. I did some research and it turned out that she did her entire graduate thesis on this very subject. I was mad. This wasn’t teaching, this was boosting her ego. SO I wrote a ten page essay on why color symbolism in Othello wasn’t significant, satirizing it to the point of no return, saying that her opinion was an opinion and shouldn’t be taken seriously.
SHe failed me, needless to say. So in retaliation, I responded by baking a batch of brownies laced with weed and laxatives and delivered them myself to the professor hours before her big graduation speech. I told her that it was a peace offering, my way of apologizing and asking if I could do anything to fix my grade.
My dad just yelled “I SWEAR I’LL CUT OFF WHAT’S LEFT OF YOUR DICK IF YOU FUCKING TOUCH MY COKE DON’T YOU DARE” and I came in the room like what the fuck and it was my dad holding up a shoe and my cat sitting by a glass of coca-cola with his paw almost touching inside of it and both of them didn’t even break eye contact with each other