Just my blogroll - BlogFlock

[$] LWN.net Weekly Edition for February 19, 2026 - LWN.net

2026-02-19T00:09:54.000Z

Inside this week's LWN.net Weekly Edition:

Front: AI agent goes rogue; debuginfo; iocane; revocable resource-management patches; 7.0 merge window; AccECN; LLMs and security; Humanitarian OpenStreetMap Team.
Briefs: upki; Asahi Linux progress; DFSG processes; Fedora in Syria; Plasma 6.6.0; Vim 9.2; ...
Announcements: Newsletters, conferences, security updates, patches, and more.

I’m the L.A. Doll in John Cougar Mellencamp’s “Small Town,” and I Hate This Godforsaken Shithole - McSweeney’s

2026-02-18T18:00:00.000Z

Picture it: Los Angeles in 1985. I’d moved there two years earlier to make it as a model, but all I had to show for it was a couple of car shows, one page of a local JCPenney circular, and a weekly “session” at Chateau Marmont with a freaky rich dude who I can’t say more about because of the NDA.

So when I met this guy with the most perfect curly mullet who promised me a little pink house in one of the flyover states, it sounded pretty good. Forty years later, I’m still not even sure what state we’re living in, but I do know that I hate this goddamn place with the fire of a thousand California suns.

When we first moved here, it was fine. It was the Reagan ’80s, a time of flag-waving and parades and scantily clad women cheerleading in MTV videos for no particular reason. Men who had never even watered a houseplant wore Future Farmers of America jackets—the heartland was just that cool. We got married and bought a little yellow house, marveling at how much more expensive it would have been in LA, and my husband promised he’d paint it pink. Four decades later, and this split-level ranch is still the color of morning urine.

Maybe I could have tolerated the location if our relationship was great, but once the first bloom of romance wore off, he started talking about wanting it to hurt so good. That’s really not my thing. Then our money ran out, and we had trouble finding work—because, my husband said, there was little opportunity. So why did he take me to this fucking place if he knew that the town had not had decent-paying jobs since the days when the Coke bottled there contained actual cocaine?

When my husband told me he didn’t have a plan, that he just wanted to “R.O.C.K. in the USA,” I took a panicked job at the Tastee-Freez. Teenagers sneered at me as I served them their chili dogs. Did I occasionally spit in the relish? You betcha. Ain’t that America?

I’m no longer working in the fast-food industry, but the indignities continue: Five nights a week, I dress up like the fucking St. Pauli girl for my job as a waitress at the Schnitzelhaus. Everyone is German in this part of the country, and I’m pretty sure at least half of them are Nazis. They’ve been surprisingly open about it since the last election.

The final straw came for me after a very long Beers and Brats shift, when a table full of gray-goateed dudes told me they couldn’t wait until women lost the right to vote. After I rolled my eyes, they said not to fight authority because authority always wins. Later, when the head asshole said he thought his sauerkraut looked a little green, I just smiled.

I went home to face yet another lonely ol’ night with my husband, only to learn that he had lost my entire month’s tips in a poker game. As I started to lay into him, he waved me off.

“Rain on the scarecrow, blood on the plow,” he muttered cryptically as he headed to the bathroom.

“Put the fucking fan on in there,” I called over my shoulder. There I was, standing in the living room in my tight-fitting Schnitzelhaus dirndl, smelling like Germanic meats and despair, and it hit me: Dying here doesn’t sound like all that much fun.

So I told my husband I was going out to pick up some smokes, threw a hastily packed bag in the cab of his Chevy Silverado, and headed west. I feel a little bad for ditching him, but I need a lover who won’t drive me crazy. And as it turns out, I am a girl who knows the meaning of “Hey, hit the highway.”

I may indeed sell my soul to The Killing Stone, an Arctic mansion mystery card-battler from the makers of The Blackout Club - Rock Paper Shotgun Latest Articles Feed

2026-02-18T17:48:34.000Z

I’ve been shying away from The Killing Stone because it’s a deckbuilding card battler, and we do get a lot of emails about those. The game launches into Steam early access today, so it’s time to have a proper gander. Ho now! This is a deckbuilding card battler… set in a mansion somewhere in the Arctic during the 17th century… created by Question Games, developers of ‘unfinished game’ game The Magic Circle and weird suburbia sim The Blackout Club. Yes, the same Question who were founded by people who worked on Bioshock, Thief and Dishonored.

What’s more, The Killing Stone reminds me of Inscryption, in that it appears to be divided between a hellish table-top game and hellish goings-on in the world around that table-top game. To be specific, you’re playing that table-top game against a series of demons, with the souls of the cursed Svangård family hanging in the balance.

Bending Emacs 11: Winpulse - Irreal

2026-02-18T17:05:52.000Z

Last week I wrote about Álvaro Ramírez’s new Winpulse package. The purpose of the package is to flash the window receiving focus when you use the other-window command. I wrote that I chose a different solution—changing the color of the mode line—that I felt was better because it provided a lasting indication of the active window.

In his latest Bending Emacs video, Ramírez expounds a bit more on why he chose the solution he did. The main reason appears to be that he sometimes turns off the mode line in some of his windows so my solution obviously wouldn’t work in that situation. Take a look at his video to see his complete argument.

In my previous post on Winpulse, I noted that you could, of course, use both his and my solution. I don’t think that would be worthwhile for me but in his video, Ramírez mentions Pulsar, a package similar to Winpulse that flashes the current line of the buffer getting focus instead of the entire window.

That seems to me a be something I might want to do since it helps locate the point in the new window. As always, Emacs lets you have things exactly the way you want them.

Ramírez and I tend to like the same sorts of things so our disagreement on this issue initially puzzled me. The answer, I think, is that when he switches windows, he just cycles through all the windows in the frame. I, on the other hand, use ace-window that lets me choose the window I want to change to directly. Again, this is a matter of choice but it helps explain why he and I chose different solutions.

The Bending Emacs 11 video is 8 minutes and 45 seconds so it such be easy to find time for it. If you’d like an enhanced way of seeing what window you’re switching to, take a look

Sorry, Woodstock's off; or, how I gave everyone dysentery in Transport Fever 3 - Rock Paper Shotgun Latest Articles Feed

2026-02-18T17:00:00.000Z

Ironically, considering the rampant dysentery moving through my campground in brown, sputtering waves, the problem I'm facing in Transport Fever 3 is a blockage. The trucks I've loaded with antibiotics are stuck in a traffic jam that stretches all the way to the pharmacy in the next city over. If I'm to save the inaugural Woodstock festival, I must find a way to get traffic flowing again before the timer runs out.

"Creativity is the key": how PC hardware’s smaller manufacturers are navigating the RAM shortage disaster - Rock Paper Shotgun Latest Articles Feed

2026-02-18T16:22:48.000Z

Far from ushering in a technological golden age, artificial intelligence is giving PC hardware its most trying time in years. As huge, hyper-rich tech companies go about building resource-intensive AI data centres in pursuit of future wealth, the resulting memory chip shortages have detonated consumer-level pricing for RAM modules, graphics cards, SSDs, and even ancient hard drives.

Doubling or tripling street-level outlays without harming sales would, you’d think, make a lot of gaming gear makers – especially their accounting departments – very happy indeed. But as those chips have become a scarce commodity at the supplier level, even the bigger hardware businesses are being squeezed as well, and it shows. Razer can’t decide how much their next laptops should cost. Valve are running out of Steam Deck stock and delaying the new Steam Machine. Zotac Korea called the RAM shortage an existential threat. But what of the industry’s smaller players – those producers of the niche, the quirky, the retro?

[$] More accurate congestion notification for TCP - LWN.net

2026-02-18T15:38:19.000Z

The "More Accurate Explicit Congestion Notification" (AccECN) mechanism is defined by this RFC draft. The Linux kernel has been gaining support for AccECN with TCP over the last few releases; the 7.0 release will enable it by default for general use. AccECN is a subtle change to how TCP works, but it has the potential to improve how traffic flows over both public and private networks.

Cyberpunk platformer Replaced catches another delay for "final tweaks" based on demo feedback - Rock Paper Shotgun Latest Articles Feed

2026-02-18T15:30:59.000Z

Replaced, the long-in-development dystopian platformer from Sad Cat Studios, has had its release pushed back a little further. The studio have taken on feedback from the demo they recently released on Steam - that's the one which kept surnaming me - and reckon a few more weeks of acting on it are in order to get the game ready to go.

Fedora now available in Syria - LWN.net

2026-02-18T15:11:31.000Z

Justin Wheeler writes, on Fedora Magazine, that Fedora is now available in Syria once again:

Last week, the Fedora Infrastructure Team lifted the IP range block on IP addresses in Syria. This action restores download access to Fedora Linux deliverables, such as ISOs. It also restores access from Syria to Fedora Linux RPM repositories, the Fedora Account System, and Fedora build systems. Users can now access the various applications and services that make up the Fedora Project. This change follows a recent update to the Fedora Export Control Policy. Today, anyone connecting to the public Internet from Syria should once again be able to access Fedora.

[...] Opening the firewall to Syria took seconds. However, months of conversations and hidden work occurred behind the scenes to make this happen.

If you can't beat AI, become one in Hooded Horse strategy RPG Heart of the Machine, which hits 1.0 release in March - Rock Paper Shotgun Latest Articles Feed

2026-02-18T15:08:16.000Z

Why is everything rolling sideways on my desk all of a sudden? What’s this mysterious force, dragging my chair towards the wall? Why are all the cars in the vicinity tumbling and rolling in the direction of *checks press release* ...North Carolina, USA? It can only be gravitational disturbance caused by the impending 1.0 release of a massive strategy project. This time it’s Heart of the Machine, a “4X-style”, “dimension-busting” sci-fi game developed by Arcen Games and published by Hooded Horse.

Minecraft Java is switching from OpenGL to Vulkan for the Vibrant Visuals update - GamingOnLinux Latest Articles

2026-02-18T15:03:07.000Z

Work continues for the Vibrant Visuals update to come to Minecraft Java, and as part of that they're switching the rendering from OpenGL to Vulkan.

Read the full article on GamingOnLinux.

Unity CEO says an upcoming Beta will allow people to "prompt full casual games into existence" - GamingOnLinux Latest Articles

2026-02-18T14:40:46.000Z

The generative AI expansion continues, with the Unity game engine being turned into a slop-making machine with an upcoming update.

Read the full article on GamingOnLinux.

An Asahi Linux progress report - LWN.net

2026-02-18T14:39:04.000Z

The Asahi Linux project, which is working to implement support for Linux on Apple CPUs, has published a detailed 6.19 progress report.

We've made incredible progress upstreaming patches over the past 12 months. Our patch set has shrunk from 1232 patches with 6.13.8, to 858 as of 6.18.8. Our total delta in terms of lines of code has also shrunk, from 95,000 lines to 83,000 lines for the same kernel versions. Hmm, a 15% reduction in lines of code for a 30% reduction in patches seems a bit wrong…
Not all patches are created equal. Some of the upstreamed patches have been small fixes, others have been thousands of lines. All of them, however, pale in comparison to the GPU driver.
The GPU driver is 21,000 lines by itself, discounting the downstream Rust abstractions we are still carrying. It is almost double the size of the DCP driver and thrice the size of the ISP/webcam driver, its two closest rivals. And upstreaming work has now begun.

An update to the malicious crate notification policy (Rust Blog) - LWN.net

2026-02-18T14:35:25.000Z

Adam Harvey, on behalf of the crates.io team has published a blog post to inform users of a change in their practice of publishing information about malicious Rust crates:

The crates.io team will no longer publish a blog post each time a malicious crate is detected or reported. In the vast majority of cases to date, these notifications have involved crates that have no evidence of real world usage, and we feel that publishing these blog posts is generating noise, rather than signal.

We will always publish a RustSec advisory when a crate is removed for containing malware. You can subscribe to the RustSec advisory RSS feed to receive updates.

Crates that contain malware and are seeing real usage or exploitation will still get both a blog post and a RustSec advisory. We may also notify via additional communication channels (such as social media) if we feel it is warranted.

Security updates for Wednesday - LWN.net

2026-02-18T14:03:18.000Z

Security updates have been issued by Debian (ceph, gimp, gnutls28, and libpng1.6), Fedora (freerdp, libpng, libssh, mingw-libpng, mingw-libsoup, mingw-python3, pgadmin4, python-pillow, thunderbird, and vim), Mageia (postgresql15), Red Hat (python-urllib3), SUSE (cdi-apiserver-container, cdi-cloner-container, cdi- controller-container, cdi-importer-container, cdi-operator-container, cdi- uploadproxy-container, cdi-uploadserver-container, cont, frr, gpg2, kubernetes, kubernetes-old, libsodium, libsoup-2_4-1, libssh, libtasn1, libxml2, nodejs22, openCryptoki, openssl-3, and python311-pip), and Ubuntu (frr, linux-aws, linux-aws-6.8, linux-gkeop, linux-nvidia, linux-nvidia-6.8, linux-oracle, linux-oracle-6.8, linux-aws-fips, linux-fips, linux-gcp-5.15, linux-kvm, linux-oracle, linux-oracle-5.15, linux-gcp-fips, linux-nvidia, linux-nvidia-tegra-igx, linux-oem-6.17, linux-realtime, linux-raspi-realtime, nova, and pillow).

Some Autistic Thoughts on Joy, and a Sneak Peek at My Debut Fiction - McSweeney’s

2026-02-18T14:00:00.000Z

You’ve Always Been This Way is a column written by Taylor Harris, a late-diagnosed neurodivergent woman and 1980s preschool dropout, who identifies every moment from her past that filled her with shame, and mutters, “Yep, that tracks. I see it all now.”

- - -

“I’ve been thinking about it all wrong,” said the town’s perimenopausal autistic woman every day, upon waking and going to bed. And sometimes whilst she sat alone upon the chamber pot, flipping through daguerreotypes from her bestie.

“What is it, my dear?” her husband asked. He’d once read a pamphlet on the four humors and feared she’d gone mad, oversaturated with black bile. “You’ve been all in a dither for a fortnight now. Shall I send for the doctor? Although… he is most adept at watching patients burn with fever before declaring the deceased, dead.”

“IT is everything, Peter. Don’t you understand?”

“Clearly not, for if I had understood, why would I—”

“Seal thine handsome lips at once. Just shut up and let me lie beneath the stars in my pantaloons and count the days until my eggs are no more. Here, hold my tea. And tend the children while I’m gone.”

That’s how my semiautobiographical novel, Dithering Lows, begins. It’s set in the olden days, and the autistic woman is loosely based on me, if you like her.

I’m lying. I’m not writing this novel. But if I were, I certainly wouldn’t use AI. How could ChatGPT produce the generous bounty of anachronistic high-end literature that my own unpruned synapses just did?

I digress, and reasonably so, given my diagnoses. If you read the title, you know this column is at least tangentially related to joy. Stay with me. I’m low-key Bad Bunny, but before glow-up.

Look, this country—fine, my country—continues to be run by white boys in wrinkled bodies and a type of white woman who will fall on the sword for a chance to sit at the popular lunch table. The roots of this mess are thick and incestuous, and though it might take an eternity to dig them up, I find relief in knowing they, too, will decay.

And the collective sigh from Black (and Indigenous) people sounds like: We told y’all.

About cops and ICE and the empire of whiteness. About the body count that the powerful call the cost of progress. That if they’re fine with genocide there, why would they honor the life of a person who dared to stand in their way here?

Remember, this way of living and governing and sending weapons that vaporize humans is supposedly blessed by Jesus (whom the Bible calls the savior of those who seek refuge).

But enough about them.

There’s a particular sound, within calls to resist, that’s perked up my ears: Joy as an act of resistance. It goes: Call your representatives and protect your neighbors, but don’t forget your whimsy. This is not a message for the status quo, for the privileged folk raising their kids to tell my kids, “If people just followed the laws, they’d be fine!”

For those of us who run on empathy, knowledge, and a sense of justice, there’s an invitation to resist and not burn out. Even as we fight, living and relishing shouldn’t stop.

My heart hears the invitation to joy and screams, “YES!” Then my brain whispers, “Girl, do you even like joy?”

Taylor, age four.

I don’t have synesthesia (although Thursday is purple—fight me), but when people say, “Choose joy!” I see a mash-up of pantyhose and Styrofoam, thick lipstick, and watered-down fruit punch in a bowl. Somewhere, my brain coded “joy” as corny, stuffy, and constricting. Something I’m supposed to feel when I just want to go home. And why do I want to go home? To be alone and authentic with ice cream and a small spoon. It appears my brain collected the memories and textures of church folks who didn’t really see me; receptions I was dragged to as a kid, where the food smelled too strong; and social codes I found to be rigid without cause, and served it all up on a Saran-wrapped to-go plate. Now I hear “joy” and think: “Aw, thanks, but I ate before I came.”

Don’t tell me to be happy. Don’t tell me what to choose unless one meat is chicken and the other is snake. Have we even met? Do I like your hairstyle? How do you smell? (Some old ladies smell like ground black pepper.) Be honest, on a scale of 1–10, how’re your pinky toes lookin’?

Fine. I have a dollop of demand avoidance.

At the same time, I hail from the land of Tell Me What to Do, and I Will Follow the Rules, and I Will Get an A+ Because That Is How a Good Autistic Girl Survives. Following rules and exceeding people’s expectations helped me get a full ride to a university where I found people who looked like me—and some even liked me. One even asked me to marry him. I was like, “Whoa, whoa… you bought me Five Guys? Bet.” But that’s another column.

So my brain reflexively labels joy as inauthentic or unearned, and I don’t think anyone who knows me would jump to describe me as “joyful.”

I’ve thought a lot about death, reasonably so, given I’m fluent in existential dread, and I’ve realized the living are the remember-ers; they can color the dead as they want. I don’t mind if people lie on me after I’m gone. Please, exaggerate my intellect and wit. Say I only ate the finest ice cream, never scraped the bottom of an Edy’s half-gallon in desperation. But if someone at my memorial says I always chose joy, they’re Mafia. If they say, “You could never tell when she was sick or feeling down because she refused to complain and always smiled,” please burn them at the stake prior to the repast. More mac ’n’ cheese for you.

There is one final consideration. What if I’ve been thinking about joy all wrong?

I might never wear stockings on purpose or crash a child’s baptism in search of 7Up punch. I might resist the HomeGoods version of joy that feels thin and forced.

But I actually laugh a lot and say weird things to my dogs when we’re alone (one works at a vape shop and the other is an unemployed professor), and dress up in ridiculous outfits, often anchored by goggles, whenever I get the urge so several times a year, and write flash historic period dramas like the one you were blessed to read above. I’m working on another manuscript, only futuristic, in which an autistic cult leader with dazzling gray hair (that’s me) gets coffee delivered whenever she wants from newly diagnosed neurodivergent women who literally believe she can help them lead fulfilling lives. I’m sure it’ll sell at auction in a really very major big deal to an indie publisher who turns out to be a cat with a keyboard and overdue vet bills.

Looking back over my life, the throughline for my brand of joy is the spontaneous creation of ridiculousness. Shoutout to my mom, who let me paint a giant creepy sun on my bedroom wall as a teenager. (We were renting, by the way!) And to my religious grandma, who pretended not to be deeply concerned when I asked her to wear a devilish mask and pose.

Taylor’s grandmother in mask.

I’d also like to thank the group of girls I met in college, who innately understood this practice of wearing foolish outfits, all for the sake of our own foolish selves. We were the gaze. I’ve cropped them out of the photo here because they all literally have jobs. They’re not out here selling their autism for clicks, but I digress, as I sense my stimulant wearing off.

Taylor in college.

I’ll save the deep dive into unmasking, masking, and humor for another day, but I cannot return to my cave before mentioning, perhaps, the most critical precursor to experiencing joy:

No expectations.

No demands.

Just me and my overgrown synapses throwing a strange party that no one has to RSVP for.

I set out to write my dull take on joy in the era of American rot, and the line, “I’ve been thinking about it all wrong,” led me to an autistic woman on a chamber pot who is clearly an ancestor of Schitt’s Creek’s Moira Rose. You’re welcome. And please come again. What’s that? Oh, no, I can’t give refunds for the time you spent reading my column. This is my professional blog, not an ALDI cart corral. I keep your quarters.

Remember, be blessed and choose joy. NOW.

Taylor, all grown-up.

Former Diablo devs release demo for their Diablo 2-style action-RPG Darkhaven, but warn of "rough edges" - Rock Paper Shotgun Latest Articles Feed

2026-02-18T13:28:46.000Z

Moon Beast have released a pre-alpha demo for their action-RPG Darkhaven. You know, the one from the former Diablo and Diablo 2 devs, which harkens back to Diablo 2 while stirring in a dynamic world and terrain destruction reminiscent of Minecraft. I did a big interview feature about it. Now, you can play a very early build and decide whether I've been quaffing the Kool Aid.

Board Game Developer’s Notes During the First Playtest of Jumanji - McSweeney’s

2026-02-18T13:00:00.000Z

Glad I went with ominous drumbeats as the beckoning call, all four players looking upon the game with wonder and dread. Woodwinds/sitars would have been a mistake.

Game instructions clear enough to be understood by players, vaguely threatening enough to unnerve them. Struck a great balance there.

Two youngest players mystified by the enchanted game tokens. An excellent sign, as I’ll be pitching Jumanji as a game for wayward youths looking to escape the tedium of their daily lives / learn a few things the hard way.

Turn up sadism levels in monkeys. Antics are WAY too on the playful side. Don’t be afraid to go overboard here either. I’d rather have them throwing knives and stealing police cars than—Jesus—tickling each other.

Giant flesh-eating plants went smoothly. Creeped into the room through the ceiling and power outlets, went straight for the weakest player, players fought back with fireplace tools / wept uncontrollably. THIS is the kind of fantastical violence and emotional distress I envisioned.

Don’t love the lion’s spawn point or behavior. Sure, he showed up, gave a roar, started mauling Player 3. But it lacked… suspense. He should appear in a dark corner, slowly emerge from the shadows. Crawl along the keys of an old piano.

Look into pacing. Player 4 has been sucked into the game just a few turns in, remaining players fainting / crying / accusing me of kidnapping. Save all jungle damnations for later in game to avoid these counterproductive reactions—or add a mechanic where players must roll a certain number to rescue doomed friend. May help increase immersion / facilitate teamwork.

Psychotic hunter a bit cartoonish for my tastes, keeps calling everyone “Sonny Jim.” Don’t remember making him British either. It’s kind of working, though, sort of a Rudyard Kipling meets Teddy Roosevelt thing. Plus, players are too busy cowering behind makeshift barricades / hurling vases at him to nitpick aesthetics.

Stampede added some nice variety. We’ve been getting a lot of close-quarter showdowns between man and beast during this playthrough, so it was fun to see players just scream and run for their lives here.

ADD ANTI-CHEATING MECHANIC. Player 3 attempted to rig the dice roll and end game early. Give cheaters hives? Turn them into an ugly wolf-person with stupid-looking tail? Fungal rashes? Dysentery? Needs to be both humiliating and jungle-themed.

Monsoon was incredible. Water nearly reached the ceiling, players had to climb atop a chandelier and fend off alligators with a dining chair. This is the beauty of playtesting: You spend so much time dreaming up these zoological horrors, but never know what kind of furniture players will try to beat them to death with.

Remove malaria event. Had a fast-paced adventure story going, and now Player 2 is succumbing to fever while the others mournfully bring her water. Totally sucked the air out of the room. Not the right tone at all.

Satisfying finish. Player 1 reached Jumanji just before my home collapsed in an earthquake and killed us all. All effects reversed, Players 1+2 got swept up in the moment and kissed, Player 4 returned from the jungle alive but feral.

Great first playthrough! Just need to make a few tweaks, and Jumanji players of all ages should experience levels of mental and physical trauma that will leave them atoning for past wrongs/reflecting on the true meaning of strength.

NEXT STEPS: Put on finishing touches. Bury game in the woods behind that elementary school. Start work on my next project: Thinking same concept, but outer space.

Hytale gets a huge Patch 3 update with Animal Taming, Map Markers and lots of new content - GamingOnLinux Latest Articles

2026-02-18T12:45:59.000Z

Hypixel Studios continue building up Hytale during Early Access with Patch 3 out now that adds in a ridiculous amount of additions to the game.

Read the full article on GamingOnLinux.

Battlefield 6 sets out to rally flagging player numbers with a big dose of hallucinatory gas - Rock Paper Shotgun Latest Articles Feed

2026-02-18T12:28:08.000Z

Battlefield 6’s Season 2 thunders onto PC today, a three-month festival of Battlefoolery that begins with a new map, Contaminated, new modes for the Redsec battle royale component, a dinky yet deadly helicopter, and some new guns and gadgets. The EA shooter’s Steam playerbase has slumped following its chart-topping release last year, but don’t worry, ye Battlefaithful, because Season 2 has officially recaptured my interest by filling my lungs with psychoactive vapours.

In new limited-time mode VL-7 Strike, available in regular multiplayer and Redsec, you must wear a gas mask and replenish its filters to avoid falling victim to clouds of funky fumes. Idiot! Why would you want to avoid falling victim to clouds of funky fumes. It’s got to be more intriguing than flipping the objective yet again.