Coming Out Simulator 2014 - a half-true game about half-truths

Coming Out Simulator is exactly what it says it is. It’s a free-to-play conversation simulator based on/inspired by the personal story of coming out of its creator, Nicky Case.

There’s no easy answer in Coming Out Simulator, no optimal ending to be achieved if you collect the requisite amount of points. Case based the game off a pivotal moment in his own life as a teenager. And just like in real life, the moment of “coming out” in this game is traumatic no matter which way the player chooses to approach it.

Ultimately, it’s liberating as well. But that’s not what the brunt of the experience playing Coming Out Simulator is actually like. […] There’s power in exploring a fantasy like the one in Mass Effect 3, but there’s also power in being reminded that “coming out” the way one does in that game is a fantasy, and a pretty far-fetched one for many people who faced far more difficult challenges when they actually came out.

Coming Out Simulator is a game about that second experience. It’s a painful one. But it’s also a necessary one, that I think more people who’ve never had to struggle with their own sexual identity should see for themselves. 

this game made me cry omfg


if you’re ever sad, take a moment to look at this picture of justin timberlake with a fucking lampshade on his head


» Michael Jackson Questions


I’ve had a lot of people asking me to do this, so here you go:

1. What’s your earliest memory of being an MJ fan?
2. What’s your ultimate Michael Jackson song on a summer playlist?
3. What one MJ song sums up how you’re feeling right now?
4. If you could choose…


why am i so fucking attracted to thriller era i mean i find all eras attractive but there’s something about thriller era that’s just




Michael Jackson’s crotch makes a phone call

lmao oH

His pants are unzipped oh


Beloved, let me ask you a question: Why? Why is there so much poverty in the world? Why so much torture and agony? And why innocent children suffer and die? I do not understand it. You understand that? I want to help. I want to make people happy, even if only for a moment. This is what gives meaning to my life. You do not understand me? What have I done to you to judge me? You are really jealous of me? You do not need it. You would not want to be me … Maybe you just want me to confess my “guilt”. Yes, yes, I do what kids love! But not the way you imagine it to be. I love them from the bottom of my heart. Because children do not make wars.Children will never hurt me. It makes me happy to see their eyes shining. It is a crime to want to want to be happy and make others happy? Many of them visit I will soon die of cancer or other terrible diseases. I will not let you stop me, through his arrogance, giving them just a happy day! Yes, indeed I did plastic surgery! You know what it feels like?! How many times I had to wake up with pain!How many times I was not knowing what to expect from me look in the mirror! How many times I’ve cried while doing it! Can not you see I’m kicking myself for that, I can not deal with my face, and myself! Because you also punish me for it? Yes it is true that I was black! You get darker skin because of sun and wonder why. But I’m sick and you hit me for it. The sun that you love so much can kill me.Previously I also enjoyed being outside in the sun, now almost all I can go out at night. If I had not become the Michael Jackson we know today, I would also like this: I would be a black / white curls and a thick nose-african and everyone would laugh at me. Well, now you tease me because of my small nose. Perhaps I had died because they could not protect me as well, as I can today. Would you rather I was dead? Or that I had not existed? But then you would not have my music! I would not have “Billie Jean”?! My music you love, is not it? Only I did not. But I make music to make you happy. You torture me with your words shameful. Words can sometimes hurt more than punches. Often I sit in a corner to cry. I ask God for that I must suffer this, because I do not know what I did wrong. Because I never did any harm to anyone. I’m afraid of you because you hurt me so much. And I did not even defend myself. I just hide behind my mask. Oh, I hate those masks! Under them I can barely breathe. But I have no choice, it is the only way to protect myself. But you do not like when I protect myself. You prefer to kick a defenseless man in his face, but I will not do this favor. I need not be ashamed of anything I did. And how can I see in you, dear unknown, there are people who understand my message. My friends and I, we’re not going to war with tanks. We came with sunflowers all of you, even laughed at us and do not buy our flowers. Maybe you do not understand before, not only flowers, but the sunrise. With my music, with what I do, I would like to bring a light to the world. But you must kill me, for someone to believe in me? And until someone believes in me, I just want to do good and suffer with their hatred. But then you ask indignantly: “And the children?” How can you think of who I love most take away from me. You say they are not my children. You say I could not educate them. How can you know that? It is more important that the blood flows in their veins than I be able to die for them? The hatred and their envy blind prevent you from knowing what love means. You do not know me, however, you already judged me! You, the journalists I preach the cross in the morning and evening will hear my music!That’s right! You do not care what you write is simply to attract readers and cause headlines. But my name is enough to attract people. Why is it always necessary to accuse me? Why do not you write something positive, you would not have to waste time! Why do I have to be “Wacko Jacko”? Can not you see I’m the one who is suffering? You haunt me like I was an animal. There is no one who sees that I am also a human being? Where you have your heart? Do you have mercy? You have love? If one in ten people who receive this letter, understand me, my life will have been only be lived. “ 

Letter written by Michael Jackson in 2008.


Michael fuck her right in the pussy Jackson