Mixed Bag Musing

Irresponsibility Ruins Lives

2011-11-21T22:57:00.012-07:00

As many people know by now, late last year I became the proud parent of a lovely puppy boxer. Since that time, the two of us have experienced a lot together. It's unfortunate that outside events have changed our perspective on a happy life together, and what it means to be a petowner in recent months since she evolved from being a puppy to being a dog.

First, allow me to introduce Ms. Isley Pawlowski. She's named after Pamela Isley, who you may better know as the stunning villianess Poison Ivy, aptly named because of her brilliant red-brown fur. She's a sweet boxer mix who came to me through a friend of a friend just before Halloween last year, and we've been inseparable since.

As a responsible pet owner, the first trials came from pet vaccines and puppy training. Pretty straight forward: dogs like to pee where they want, and they hate getting shots. After about 6 months of struggling with house training, she got the hang of it reliably and has done great since. She's also learned a few tricks along the way, including; sit, stay, lay down, shake (both left and right paws depending on what hand you offer her), focus on me, and play dead. Kids that meet Isley especially love to ask her to shake and play dead to be sure.

She's been well socialized in almost any situation you can think of. Pet store, puppy class, dog park, fencing class (for me, not her), family holidays, college events outside of regular business hours, kickball/softball (again, for me), and even on a few outdoor film shoots where she did a good job guarding everyone's stuff in downtown Denver. She loves both people and other dogs, rarely even baring her teeth when another dog bullies her. She'll often roll over to submit to even the tiniest dog, or will run away with her tail tucked from bigger threats.

She also loves children, which is the first issue we've had in public. A lot of parents will approach me and ask if their young one can pet her. I say “yes, absolutely!” and hold on to her collar so she can't jump or lean on the kids around her. She loves licking their often-sticky faces of whatever food stuffs they had, or just absorbing the attention. Some kids will even ask me themselves before just running up and petting the doggy, and that's wonderful as well. It's the irresponsible parents that get Isley into trouble. Kids that are unsupervised and not taught to either ask me, or ask their parents if it is okay will often be knocked over before I even see them come up to Isley to pet her. She leans on them asking for more love, or gets excited and jumps up (she's learning that it's not okay now, but in her younger days it was a tough trait to train out of a breed designed to jump up).

She's knocked down a kid in every single dog park in the Denver Area that we've visited, simply because small children have been within the confines of the enclosed fence area – where large dogs are running and playing freely. As someone who enjoys children, this is not the place for your little one to be. Put them on the swings, or leave them on the other side of the fence to play in the grass. Just don't bring them inside the off-leash dog park.

The parents then get upset with her, saying she's mean or misbehaving when she hasn't done anything wrong. They yell at me for having a mean dog, and Isley gets very confused when voices are raised while she was just running around like, well, a dog. The hassle of dealing with other peoples children at the dog park has limited our ability to even visit such locations, so we've had to resort to going on long leashed walks around the neighborhood.

The second issue we've had nearly consistently since this past summer has been dogs attacking her while she's on leash. In an open dog park we acknowledge that some dogs get rowdy and may snip at each other, but when she's leashed and your dog isn't for whatever reason (jumps the fence, breaks through the screen door, isn't locked up at all, etc) that's entirely unfair to her.

We've had to change our walking route numerous times in our own neighborhood because of vicious dogs getting out and charging her. Up until today it has mostly been a lot of posturing, but yelling at the dogs often discourages them and they back off. Today a man opened his front door to no-front-yard, and his two boxers bolted across the street to attack Isley. He caught one of them by the stump of a tail and threw it back in the house, which gave the other one enough time to bite Isley's face repeatedly while I tried to reach his collar without being bitten myself. Her lip is split, her tongue was torn up, and she's got a nice-sized scrape on the top of her nose. Not nearly as bad as it could have been – but it shouldn't have happened in the first place.

I'm disappointed with how other people treat their dogs. Whenever I see a dog left outside in the yard unsupervised, I think the owner should not own a dog in the first place. Leaving them outdoors not only invites illness in the form of insects and infection, but also breeds frustration and agitation as the dog sees things all day that are so close but so far away from them. People on the street, cats, other dogs, squirrels, cars, etc.

I've never seen an “outside dog” that was also well socialized and sweet. They're constantly thrown outside when guests are around the house, they're left in the car when the owners go to the vet, they're not with the family at PetSmart to pick out their new bed. I had a friend who blamed the neighbors for their dog being mean, when they left the dog outside to be tormented by the neighbor kids in the first place.

These dogs are also the ones that escape the yard most often and are struck by cars, or attack people and other peoples dogs. This is not responsible pet-ownership. I understand putting them outside occasionally, especially when they're cooped up because you don't walk them (or in my case, can't safely for the time being), but leaving them out while you're at work all day is rude to both the dog and your neighbors from the constant barking.

I also feel that people with mean dogs know they have mean dogs, and should be careful of the situations they're in. At the Denver Zombie Crawl, Isley saw a few dogs she wanted to visit with, but occasionally the owners had to control their dogs who went in a barking, growling frenzy when they even saw her. There were some four thousand people around, many with dogs and you brought a mean dog with you?

Leave your dogs at home. Watch them if they have a habit of bolting out the front door to attack people walking to the very nearby park. Make sure they can't scale the fence or simply bring them in the house. Take them to special behavior training courses to try and remove some of that aggression. But don't treat your mean dog like all dogs are just like that. They're not.

Now that Isley has wounds on her face, she's been snippy with the cats when they get too close to her. It's likely just because she hurts, but it could become a habit. Once she heals, if she's still doing that we'll have to take her to said behavior training classes thanks to someone elses vicious animal. This is unfair to responsible petowners, especially after fronting the money for their pets vet visit and antibiotics after your animal attacked. I'm out $74 as of right now in unnecessary veterinary expenses, and we can't walk yet another direction in our neighborhood any longer.

It's also unfortunate that Denver Animal Control can't/won't do anything about a dog attack unless you wish to jump through the hoops of small claims court, or they witness the attack first-hand. The most they were able to do is issue a warning to the vicious dogs owner and make sure the dog was registered with the city, nothing more.

As of today I have an aluminum walking stick on the way from Amazon.com. Since I can't seem to get through to pet-owners, and still wish to walk my dog on a regular basis to keep her and myself in shape, I will defend her. I don't want to hurt anyone elses dog, but this situation is getting too dangerous and she could be seriously, permanently harmed. I will also have pet pepper-spray on the strap of said walking stick. If I can spray your dog before it gets too close to her, congratulations – you just have to deal with pepper-spray. If I can't, then there may be a whole list of other issues that I don't want to deal with, and I don't think you want to deal with.

To wrap this up, I want to thank you for educating me, irresponsible pet-owners. I now know why dogs aren't allowed in stores, why many hotels won't allow pets, why pets are discouraged in many apartment buildings, and why dog pepper-spray exists. I'm very disappointed in a lot of you.

The above images throughout are in chronological order from when I got Isley to a few weeks ago. She's grown up beautifully, and loves to ham for the camera. If incidents like this make her mean, I will never have this baby girl back again.

Stupid Sh*t Parents Do With Their Children

2011-10-16T15:25:00.007-06:00

Everyone has their general complaints about certain places parents take their young children. Restaurants, movies, and other places where adults enjoy peace and quiet of their surroundings, children are not welcomed by most. What about the other side of that? What about safety, or general consideration for the kids? I've seen a few things in the last few months that make me question the sanity of many parents – not all. I know a lot of you are intelligent, normal human beings who also happen to have children.

Dog Parks:

Does anyone know the definition of an off-leash dog park? I do. It's an open area where dogs of all sizes are free to roam, run, jump, and play without the restrictions of a leash. Apparently there are some people out there that think their 5-year-old should also be allowed to roam free in the dog park. Even highly supervised this isn't a safe idea. Parents tend to become outrageously angry if their child is accidentally bowled over by a 60 lb excited boxer puppy. Not that it's ever happened to me.

Wait, I lied. It's never not happened to us: me and my beautiful baby girl (Isley) at the dog park. She's leaned on kids, kissed them until they simply fall over, jumped up (which is a bad habit, and she's training out of it, but she was under a year old when this was happening), run into them, and otherwise knocked down small children. As someone with a dog, it feels very strange to be unwelcome in, you know, a dog park because of someone's small children.

Isley, the sweetest dog in the world, is shouted at at nearly every dog park she's ever been to. She doesn't understand what she did to be screamed at, and really – she hasn't ever done anything wrong in the first place. She loves children. She loves to lick them, play with them, and sometimes gets overzealous in her excitement and knocks them down. She's never done so maliciously, and never bitten or scratched anyone before. If you yell at her, she'll give you this face:

She makes that face at me every time she wants to go to the dog park but can't, because you brought your kids there.

For the record, almost every dog park in the city has a children's playground within a hundred feet or so. Let the kids play on the swings and watch the cute puppies from the other side of the fence, where they're less likely to be accidentally injured. Parents can still watch their children and dogs at the same time, while keeping both parties in the safety of their own areas. If this is too much, and you can't watch your child play on the playground and your dog play in the dog park, maybe you need to find another activity that both your dog and child can enjoy without jeopardizing anyone's safety.

Haunted Houses

More recently I've seen the uncanny occasion where parents take their very small children to haunted houses designed to scare, startle, and disgust adults. When I was 6 or so, my mother took me to a haunted house that had a special “lights-on” children's hour. I was scared out of my wits, crying and screaming (until we saw Frankenstein, who gave me a high-five), and I was not necessarily a sissy-kid.

This month, I've seen many, many children clearly too-young to even watch scary movies, dragged crying and screaming through a haunted house that has been labeled one of the scariest in the united states. I understand you want to go through a phenomenal haunted house to have fun or whatever your particular kink is for this sort of thing, but hire a babysitter, you ass. Very few haunted houses have a “Children's hour” anymore, and those that do generally don't have all of the scary stuff there or working at the time (there is one, a corn field, that turns off all of its props to let people walk through the maze during daylight. That's the only one I'm aware of).

Whenever this sort of thing happens, I hope the actors/props are triggered by the parents, not the sobbing child being dragged or carried through the pitch-dark-strobe-lighted-monster-filled house. Actors, make an effort to make that kids mom pee, or make daddy cry. There is no real reason to bring a small child through a dark, potentially dangerous situation.

“Mommy, why is daddy crying?”
“Because that man wants to take daddy's face away from him.”

Is how it should be. Not:

“You almost made me drop my kid!”

Or,

“He's almost 2 years old, he can handle it."

That being said, teenagers are perfect for that sort of thing, and should be dragged through willingly or not – it'll make everyone feel better.

Slactivism, now with links!

2011-09-03T21:33:00.005-06:00

It's that time of year again. That time of year when everyone is going back to school or work, sitting around on Facebook, pretending to participate in “activist causes” for the world to guess at. The biggest causes I've seen around lately have been Breast Cancer Awareness (by posting things like your bra color without any explanation as your Facebook status) or some pass-it-on chain letters to promote anti-bullying or something.

This method is not true activism. This is what the world refers to as the slacktivist movement, where participating in this only brings you internal satisfaction because you believe you're doing good, when in fact you're not actually helping anybody but yourself. If you are over the age of 18 (hell, even high school students can be activists when they sell candy or goodies to raise money for their music programs, or public school in general) you need to wake up.

Here are a few examples of ways that actually help raise awareness, and money, without spending more than the change in your sofa cushions:

Volunteer. You can volunteer for just about anything in some form or other, help people a few hours a month. This is more effective than posting your birth-month and day like you're pregnant. Sign up for a shift on a neighborhood watch to make the location safer. Volunteer to be an adult supervisor to some less fortunate kids on a field trip. Ask the local animal shelter if you can walk some of their dogs once in a while. Things like that make a difference in the lives of people, kids, neighborhoods, or pets you visit - and it's not even that hard.

Participate in some event. running, walking, biking, head shaving (St. Baldricks) etc. I helped raise over $800 for Girls Inc simply by participating in a kickball game hosted by the DKBC and Denver Roller Dolls. One game. One afternoon. $800. Oh, and I spent $5 on a bottle of water for the fundraiser, which was entirely optional. If you can't play in the game, show up and throw a dollar or two at the raffle tickets. Come by and bring some item to be raffled off without spending a dime. The event was fun to watch and participate in, AND I now know what Girls Inc is. Awareness, and money raised.

(HINT: Businesses love to donate money to causes that you volunteer for or participate in, because it's a great tax write-off and looks good on paper.)

Donate. Every little bit helps is a true statement. I don't mean go out and spend $50 per foundation you wish to support. Even digging out a few dollars, one, or even ten big buckaroos is far more helpful. Imagine if 10 people donated $10. That's $100 between you and a tiny fraction of your Facebook friends. If you have four-hundred friends and each of you donate a dollar, that's $400 for research or treatment of an illness, text books for classrooms, basketballs for a youth center, whatever brand of activism you choose.

Here is a list of things I've donated to in the last year as an unemployed student with bills to pay:

Child's Play

Girls Inc

ASPCA (because Sarah McLaughlin made me sad)

My mother and aunt got together before Christmas one year and decided that since we're all adults, and no one wants trinket crap to fill up their homes, they'd exchange donation forms to whatever foundation they want to support. Game. Set. Match. Each party involved in this exchange learns about the other parties foundation of choice, and money is raised to benefit the other persons cause, and no one has to worry about throwing away stuff they don't want or really care about. Now the Denver Homeless Mission, ASPCA, and other charities get the Christmas gift of giving across the United States.

Coincidental timing of this chail-letter-status-stupidity, a friend of mine is working on a film about bullying this weekend. In doing so, they're raising awareness of the act of bullying by bringing the subject to the screen AND raising money by selling $1 bracelets – a hundred of those bracelets add up quickly. I'm buying one. I'm unemployed and poor as hell, but I can dig up a dollar in change just by checking behind the dryer.

Point in case, this Facebook form of slacktivision is not only irritating in the way you deliver your “haha funny status message with no point, lols” but it's not actually helping a single person in the entire world by doing so, unless you count yourself with the internal pat-on-the-back. It's also insulting to those that do run marathons, shave their heads, or donate their time or money to actually raise awareness.

Here's an example that might make more sense: If there was a carjacker in a neighborhood many of your Facebook pals live in, you wouldn't post “Black with red lace” as a warning, would you? I didn't think so. You'd say "Yo, there's been some carjackings in X neighborhood, lock your cars!" or something with much more specific information to raise awareness and give people a chance to do something about said situation.

That absurd vagueness is especially ineffective and infuriating if the chain message starting this silly fake-activist campaign says ridiculous things like:

“Ok pretty ladies, it's that time of year again, in support of breast cancer awareness!! So we all remember last years game of writing your bra color as your status?.....or the way we like to have our handbag handy? Remember last year so many people took part that it made national news and, the constant updating of status reminded everyone why we're doing this and helped raise awareness!! Do NOT tell any males what the status' mean, keep them guessing!! And please copy and paste (in a message ) this to all your female friends to see if we can make a bigger fuss this year than last year!!! I did my part... now YOUR turn! Go on ladies...and let's have all the males guessing! It's time to confuse the men again (not that it’s really that hard to do :))** Everyone knows it makes their brains work wonders on what we're talking about!! The idea is to choose the month you were born and the day you were born. Pass this on to the girls only and let’s see how far it reaches around. The last one about the bra went round all over the world. So you'll write... I'm (your birth month) weeks and I'm craving (your birth date) as your status. Example: Feb 14th= I'm 2 weeks and craving Chocolate mints!! 1-Skittles 2-Starburst 3-Kit-Kat 4-M&M's 5-Galaxy 6-Crunchie 7-Dairy Milk 8-Lollipop 9-Peanut Butter Cups 10-Meat Balls 11-Twizzlers 12-Bubble Gum 13-Hershey's Kisses 14-Chocolate Mints 15-Twix 16-Reese's Fastbreak 17-Fudge 18-Cherry Jello 19-Milkyway20-Pickels 21-Creme Eggs 22-Skittles 23-Gummy Bears 24-Gummy Worms 25-Strawberry Pop Tarts 26-Starburst 27-Mini Eggs 28-Kit-Kat Chunkie 29-Double Chocolate Chip Crunchy Cookies 30-Smarties 31-Chocolate Cake.”
** = a dash of sexism behind the scenes really jars me, and is entirely unnecessary.

How on Earth is anyone supposed to have a clue what you're talking about, unless they're in on the joke? And if they're in on it, aren't they already “aware” of what's going down?

If there /is/ an actual issue that people actually don't know about, an issue that doesn't have foundations to help raise awareness or funding, then you'd do something a little differently. First, you'd NAME the cause you're supporting in your status (after setting your privacy settings for that post to public so people can actually see it), and explain why this cause needs attention. Some people even make entire Facebook pages for the cause they choose, which can spread like a wildfire. Only then is the cause is in peoples minds, and they can start researching it, or signing petitions, or simply clicking “like” to make sure it gets noticed by others. This is when you'd use a networking site to raise awareness. People know what breast cancer is, and that it's deadly – the only way you can actively help with this cause is to do one of the above listed things (in this case, especially donate money, but doing a pledge walk other people will donate for you, all you have to do is walk).

It's easy to be a slacker and an activist, but you have to do it right. P.S. Child's Play 2011 isn't over yet, so keep an eye out for ways to participate in that on any of your favorite gaming websites. Buy some (inexpensive or outlandishly expensive) games, gaming accessories, or whatever and donate money to buy games, books, movies, and other things to entertain sick kids at the same time. Win-Win.

Child's Play Charity
Saint Baldricks
Girls Inc
ASPCA (The header images will break your heart)

Did I tell You About L.A?

2011-08-19T00:59:00.003-06:00

With Gamescom going on right now, I've been pretty heavily reminiscing about my trip to L.A. for E3 not two months ago. With this reminiscence, I just realized that I haven't really put together a tell-all about that trip. Something to do with working on news stuff, gaming, and processing the next chapter of my life really distracted me. So here's my month-later, possibly inaccurate (I'll be sure to ask Nick if he remembers these things the same way), play-by-play of E3 2011 in Los Angeles, CA.

Let me start by saying: I've never been to California before this. I've seen movies, I've heard stories, but I had never set foot in the great Golden Coast state of CA. That being said: L.A. is probably not the best representation of a beautiful beach-filled state. In fact, the only things beach related I ever saw were palm trees. Some part of my brain didn't believe in palm trees, like they were something made up for the movies (Like when I went to Boston for the first time and realized Subways weren't just a plot device). I think I stared at a palm tree for several minutes in the car, while stuck in famous L.A. traffic from LAX to our hotel.

We stayed on Figaroa street and...something. I forget the cross street, but we were only about a mile or so from the convention center. When we arrived at the hotel, getting down to the convention center was our next mission objective. It was just outside of the lobby where I noticed something else I didn't believe in until I felt it first hand. Smog. Smog that saturated my clothing, insta-greased my hair, and made me feel like I needed a shower every time I stepped outside.

So we walked. And walked, and I was fairly certain the convention center had vanished while we were dropping off our luggage, since it felt like we had walked way past where it was when we passed it in the carpool. A "City Block" in Los Angeles is something like 90 times longer than a city block here. Okay, that's an exaggeration, and walking wasn't actually that bad. The temperature was moderate, at about 80 degrees (for July, that's not bad), though it was more humid than I'm accustomed to. On the trip some 20 blocks or so, we also scoped out dinner. I had suggested breakfast food, like I always do, while the boys wanted pizza, or burgers, or whatever.

The tie-breaker for food, to my delight, was a breakfast place that happened to be "on the way" called The Original Pantry. I have to say, what a fantastic little restaurant. After we picked up our convention badges and scoped out the premises, we went to The Original Pantry for breakfast-dinner. No one was disappointed. I had - Okay, I don't remember what I had. I know there was sour dough bread at the table, and I probably had French Toast, because I always do. Oh, and fresh squeezed orange juice. Mmm.

While standing outside of this place waiting for Scott to pay, some woman walked up to me, took off her sunglasses and said "You remind me of somebody." I stared at her, pointed at myself, and in an incredibly shocked voice asked "ME?!" At this point I was feeling pretty awesome, though I know I'm not someone famous. Nick egged her on by saying "Yea, she's that girl from that thing," but I told her it wasn't true. I think people go to L.A. expecting to see famous people, so they do even if they really don't.

I think Scott told me he ate at that restaurant every other day that week. That's how great it was. Anyone going to E3, or Los Angeles in general: Go eat at the Original Pantry on Figaroa.

The rest of the afternoon was a bit of tiredness that ended in a nap before hitting up the first party of the week as a group: Nick, Scott and I. It was an Xbox party of sorts at a bowling alley, so we walked the billion miles back to the convention center bowling alley to meet up with some of the Xbox peeps we know. We didn't get in. The tiny room they had booked was filled to capacity (and probably moreso, since I saw people sneaking in), so we just bowled instead.

It was there that I met the incredibly tall bald man by the online screen name CheapyD (Dave), and Carlos - a writer from a site called AngryBananas. There were other CheapAssGamer.com people there, so we had a grand time socializing. Nick and another guy who's name I forget (Online handle "Shipwreck") were trying to get their 3DS's to do something called Street Pass. It's where you can collect friends by walking within range of someone else that has a 3DS.

After moderate drinking, socializing, and making a fool of ourselves while bowling (I have no idea what the scores were, but I feel like we all did fairly poorly. I did, at the very least), we finally retired for our first day of L.A. The first day of the actual convention, a Monday, was great for me. I didn't get in to the first few conferences (Microsoft was the big one, and maybe one more), so I slept in! That was the last time I slept past 9am for the entire week.

Monday, I feel like I saw a few press conferences, but I can't recall which. Here are the press conferences I did see, just not necessarily in the order I saw them.

First up was probably Nintendo. Or maybe it was last? This would mark my first-ever video game conference, and it was not quite what I expected it to be. Nick, Scott and I filed in to this crowded theater right next to the convention center (It wasn't the Staples theater, I don't think, but one in that area). We sat in a chair behind a very angry fat little man, who was complaining that the free wireless had some gadgetty thing wrong with it. We then proceeded to listen to Nintendo discuss their new system (which they forgot to mention was a new hardware console, not just a new controller), and their re-vamp of every one of their already-established heroes ever.

Very professionally, because that's what the gaming "journalists" are like, people clapped for stuff they liked. Aren't they supposed to be, like, writing down details, specs, and withholding judgement on something until they try it and then still be objective? Oh, whatever - it was pretty neat to see a press conference anyway.

I feel like next on the list was EA games, then Ubisoft - much of the same stuff, just different companies. EA was especially hilarious when they had the Superbowl trophy on stage with 3 pro Football players pushing the next Madden game. Theatrics, little goodie bags, and an interesting look at upcoming games was had.

Then, finally, the big cohones: Sony. They started off by offering everyone tons of food. Subway sandwiches, loads of free stuff like hotdogs, ice cream, donuts, beer, etc. I had a coke, and a subway sandwich - and maybe some dumplings of some kind. The precession outside before the conference was somewhat ridiculous. There were DJ's, people dressed up like Nathan Drake from Uncharted, and not nearly enough seating. It was loud, and very showy - and we weren't even inside yet.

Inside was another story. The theater was huge, but the seats were tiny. They packed hundreds of us nerds together for the largest group apology I've ever seen. What did they have to apologize for? Security issues from Playstation were still in full bloom, so they had to start off by being sorry for losing our credit card information and compromising other private details.

Then they revealed their new handheld system, the Playstation Vita - which is pretty neat, I will admit. Ironically, more partying happened after the glad-handing via microphone. This was my first celebrity encounter in LA. Now, you may not know him, but his name is Nolan North - and he's probably the biggest name in video game voice acting to date. I was really surprised, and impressed. He was one of the nicer people I met at the show, period. Really polite, but casual - and made sure to repeat Nick and my name back to us as we ducked out before the live music started.

Press conferences are a weird breed of gaming journalist stuff. If you saw them on G4 TV or any other gaming website that had a live feed, you didn't really have to be there to have any different experiences. All I know is: I tweeted a lot. One of my tweets was about Ubi-boobies. Only Scott really knows what that means.

The following days were all gaming, walking, etc. My second celebrity sighting came from the gaming show-floor, though. Hulk Hogan was pushing his new Kinect game, so he was being interviewed while making Hulk Hogan noises and poses. I was really happy about that - and have a photo of it somewhere. I'd have cut in and geeked all over him if he weren't on camera being actually interviewed.

The big night I want to discuss was Wednesday night. I kept bugging Nick to go out to this party that we had passes for - so we wouldn't have to wait in line, plus a party in L.A! So what we did, was go to In and Out Burger (which was decent food, but I don't see what the huge deal is with it) for dinner. This burger joint happened to be a few blocks away from Hollywood, so we walked around the theaters, and saw the Nickelodian lot from the outside. We hitched a ride this direction with co-worker and his wife, Andrew and Kim. They're champs for driving us to Hollywood, and they were a lot of fun to talk to.

Hollywood...is a hole. There were multiple dilapidated buildings that should have been condemned, the streets were trashed and falling apart, and the whole area was a mess. Seeing the stars on the sidewalk and all of the lights was totally worth it, though. We went around for a bit, checked out the Hollywood sign, and hopped a Taxi back to the hotel.

I was excited about that part of the trip and pumped for more. I mean, I did the tourist thing. What comes next? The partying like you're from L.A. thing, duh.

Nick and I ended up walking to the Primeworld party, which I had a VIP pass to. We didn't stand in line, the P.R. person from the company just let us in right away. The little gallery or whatever, where the party took place was really small - and really crowded. It took us a little while to get drinks, standing shoulder-to-shoulder with lots of really warm bodies.

The wait at the bar was worth it. They had this weird blue mint drink called Stander (with umlauts over the a), and mixed it with Vodka. In the spirit of the game, they called this drink "Prime," which is the unit of currency and natural resource of the game "Primeworld." That drink was unfortunately very tasty, so I may have had a few of those. Three, or maybe four? One of them was absurdly strong, so I don't remember.

Nick and I ran into an ad partner that he had met with earlier in the day. Only by 10pm, that guy was trashed. He talked too close, and swayed a lot. His buddies were pretty fun to chat with, though. We BS'ed for a while, watched some of the celebrity journalists go through the area interviewing people and the likes. It was a lot of fun, but the party needed to move as our buzz started to wear off and we weren't willing to stand in line again.

We looked up more parties in the area via twitter. From just outside of this party, you could see some outrageous party on the roof of a building that had the websites logo splashed on the side of the building via spotlights, which we weren't so willing to crash. So we went with familiar, and hit up Dave's party. The "Cheapassgamer" party, to be more specific. It was only about 5 blocks away, so we hoofed it again. It's amazing how much more stamina you have after one or four vodka drinks. The walk took no time at all.

And yet another open bar with free booze greeted us, as well as some of the people we had met earlier in the week. More booze, other substances, and loads more socializing occurred before Nick got this strange urge to go back to the hotel room to write. Yea, right. That wasn't going to happen, but we headed that way anyway.

Where, to end a perfectly wonderful evening, we saw a hold-up of sorts at a 7-11. Well, the aftershock of the hold-up, as a cop rushed out of his vehicle, cocked his shotgun (which is shockingly loud at 1am on an empty street, even on the opposite street corner), and rushed the store. We had even considered going in there to get water on our way back, too. It should have been unnerving, but I think I was more concerned with appearing sober so I wouldn't get arrested for "drunk in public" or whatever the charge is called now. It wasn't until back at the hotel that we had actually discussed what happened, and the fact that we were actually in a dangerous situation. We probably giggled a lot during this discussion, too.

So, the end of our trip was a final day in the convention center, moderately hung over and checking out the last of the games. Day 3 of E3 was the biggest load of crap ever. I walked to the convention center with my luggage, so I could go straight to the airport after my appointments. Every 5 feet or less, people on the street of LA were asking for my convention badge so they could sneak into the show. Even once I got past that harassment and in the show, people were asking for extra badges to sneak their friends in.

No.

I'm not going to let you into a show that I worked for years to get in to, just like that. Plus, my name and website are on my badge, and if you get busted - the entire site might not be invited back. That's not worth it, and you're a jerk. Way to make the last day after a fun night out, a drag.

On that last day I did make another celebrity sighting, and it was kind of a funny one. I saw Gene Simmons and his wife in the VIP area for Sony. I was standing there, staring at the screen while waiting for my P.R. rep to come let me into the private theater, when he walks by, arm-in-arm with his wife, eating Quiznos. So all of those "Gene Simmons Family Jewels" things where they claim they're having marital trouble? Staged. They're totally fine, or they were in July. They weren't putting on a show for publicity either, since it was behind the scenes of E3 away from the majority of prying eyes.

I was sad to miss my last opportunity to hang out with my favorite voice actor, Carlos Ferro (Dom from Gears of War, Leonardo DaVinci from Assassin's Creed, etc). He's a chill dude that I still don't have a photo with. That was probably my biggest let-down of L.A./E3.

After all of the years I'd sneak over to my friends houses to watch E3 stuff on G4 TV (we never had the station, even when I had cable), I was finally able to experience it all first hand. For the most part, it was awesome. My 10-year-old-self was ecstatic at all of what was going on. On the other hand, it was bitter sweet, since in the cafeteria (that charged me four freaking dollars for a tiny cup of french fries) I had decided it was time to leave Co-Optimus to pursue other writing interests.

As many writers know, writing is time consuming. So writing about games, and playing games all the time really took away from other projects. I love those guys (well, most of them), and the community that was active, and the whole scene. I miss that site, and maybe if things change in the future I can rejoin the ranks of the co-opticrew. For now, I'm glad I left on a high-note, and was able to experience the insanity of E3 with my friends.

Also, L.A. is crazy. That is all.

Writing Tricks: The BFF-Notebook

2011-07-13T03:15:00.006-06:00

Do you ever watch movies or television and notice characters keeping a little black book, a diary, a journal, or some other recording device and wonder: "Do real people do that?" I do. I have recently been watching the very horror-funtastic show "Supernatural" with my buddy, and it seems like everyone on that show (even too-cool-for-school Dean) has a journal. Their journals are to make notes on how to kill supernatural things to be passed on to the next generation, etc.

For me, it would be incredibly nice to have a vast majority of my ideas in one place. As of right now I take notes on napkins, scratch paper (usually with something belonging to someone else written on the other side), my pants, my arms, in a long string of text messages to myself, my iPad (which has been nice for syncing notes through Dropbox), various notebooks, and probably other places I'm not thinking of. The idea here is basically, once I have it written down it's all better. My brain stops screaming at me, I stop trying to repeat things to myself so I don't forget - only, when a few words down on a matchbook, I often forget about them instantly.

If I don't compile my notes (which is total waste of time) in some way when I get to my computer, I lose them. Notes disappear in the garbage, they get wet from soda or water on my desk and become unreadable, stashed in a drawer "for safe keeping" and forgotten, or I even have a puppy that will eat paper if it's something important. So I made a designated journaling notebook for future use. This is me convincing myself to use the silly thing.

It's a notebook I've had for years. I've recorded grocery lists, directions to important places, and taken notes at various gaming conventions. I have no idea where I got this notebook. But it's mine. It's my hideous pink notebook. I "installed" a note card in the back cover of this notebook using tape in order to store my business cards. In the front cover? Sticky notes. On the spiral spine of this notebook I attached one carabiner, a pen, and a decorative cell phone attachment.

Now, this notebook isn't for writing lengthy paragraphs or even complete thoughts. That's what my iPad (named Rover) is for. This little almost-pocket-sized notebook is for the jot-worthy notes that come to mind at inopportune moments like when you should be paying attention to someone talking to you, when you're at a restaurant or watching a movie, or playing kickball.

The first page has some mumbo jumbo about a short story idea. It's a few words at best, but I have the general idea stored on paper for the life of the notebook at the very least. Assuming I don't lose this notebook, which so far has been impossible (it's been my most faithful notebook, probably because it's disgustingly pink), I will have a compilation of half-complete ideas, titles, maybe even some particularly terrible poetry. Either way, I'm journaling in one place for the next generation to either steal my ideas, or laugh at me for writing five words and expecting it to make sense to anyone but me.

Notes should be taken in top secret code. My handwriting counts as top secret, since no one else on the planet can read it.

Also, doesn't "BFF-Notebook" look a bit like a Star Trek reference? Like USS-Notebook, only...never mind.

A Writer's Dilemma

2011-07-11T00:53:00.006-06:00

Have you ever noticed how a particular plot for films will come out within months of one-another bearing a similar concepts? Take for instance the Zombie-fest we had for a few years. Shaun of the Dead, Land of the Dead, Diary of the Dead, Remakes for Day of the Dead and Dawn of the dead, Resident Evil (named after games, not based on them), Boy Eats Girl, House of the Dead 2, Automation Transfusion, etc. The list is quite extensive in a short few years, say 2004-2007 were the highlight years for zombie films this decade. Er - last decade. My does time fly?

Not big on zombies? Check out urban-Superheroes from Jumper, Hancock, My Super Ex-Girlfriend, and Push. Or all of those Volcano films (like Volcano, and Dante's Peak) that came out around the same time. What about the two very different, yet eerily similar films Ghost Ship and Event Horizon? Different setting, nearly identical actual plot.

How does that happen? I mean these films came out so close together with eerily similar plots, but they're playing from different angles, or character situations, or even released within a few weeks or months of one another. So it doesn't appear to be an actual copycat situation. No plagiarism, no stealing, just a lot of people having similar thoughts at approximately the same time. Spooky, huh?

Now, mine isn't quite the same situation since I'm not a published novelist, but I have had a strange experience recently. You see, I have been in the process of writing a book this summer break between semesters. Cranking out rough drafted chapters like a machine powered by Mountain Dew Supernova and grapes when I hit a strange hurdle in my research. See, the science based research went well. The industry and government research is fine. I even have an actual map of the city with the characters routes and whereabouts clearly marked so they make sense. It's the other-works-of-fiction research, which I didn't even think to do until now, that jumped out and speared me between the eyes.

In my search for similar plots that may help me write or show me what not to do, I watched a film you may recall from earlier this year. It's called Limitless. The basic plot synopsis is that a writer gets a hold of a super-drug that unlocks his brain. Basically this drug gives him incredible abilities, but he has to stay on it. When he gets off the drug, it makes him sick. Not like “withdrawal” sick, but rather “eventual coma” never-recovering sick. His sources of information through the film explain that this drug will kill him if he goes off cold turkey. Later in the movie a different character shoots up the drug because he claims it's better, and eventually the main character gets a tweaked version of it that won't kill him and allows him to be more free while still maintaining his great abilities – like an antidote.

This plot, or at least the substance (see what I did there?) of the plot is so uncannily similar to my outlined, already-started novel that it's making me a bit frightened. I had never seen this film, nor read the book (The Dark Fields by Alan Glynn), but very similar made-up information was in my head somehow.

On one hand I'm glad I sat down and watched the film to discover that I may be accused of copyright infringement if I publish what I have, but on the other hand it completely ruins my entire story. Several hundred pages of work, pretty well screwed unless I can find a way to tweak it (my own antidote) in a way that still works while not seeming forced or unreadable.

How does stuff like this happen? I mean, a lot of people (especially having worked in the medical industry) are against the pharmaceutical companies and have theories about a terrifying “what comes next” drug. But to have two very different stories take on a nearly identical plot device on their own is just – weird.

I now have to sit down and figure out how to crawl out of this hole. Part of me is leaning a bit supernatural, but that may push me too close to John Dies At The End by Justin Wong. I want to stay in the realm of urban mystery or cyberpunk, so I'll lean toward that type of solution (making sure to stay clear of the RedEye drug of Cowboy Bebop that resembles steroids, or any other fantastic drug as best I can. It is a fairly popular plot device, especially with all the pharmaceutical ads we deal with daily).

It's entirely possible that the term “overreacting” may be applied to my current situation. I mean, loads of stories have some sort of fantasy drug in them – but this is certainly a discouraging discovery.

Realizing everything is based on something else is one thing. Actually running at that brick wall head-first with no helmet is a bit different, and makes for a sad Kat with a hypothetically bleeding skull.

Superheroes

2011-06-26T00:41:00.004-06:00

Have you ever noticed that Superheroes never tell us what it's actually like to be a Superhero, aside from the “Everyone hates/loves me, but I have to hide from the public eye to protect my loved ones, and I love this guy/girl, but the weight of the world...” types of situations? I have recently been writing a book where the main character gets dosed with a drug that alters her perception of things. She's now faster and stronger than she was just a few pages before. She heals impossibly fast, and her mind works differently (not to say she's 'smarter' per se, but she's experiencing different priorities, insights and perspectives). This seems sort of Superhero-esque, doesn't it?

The issue here? The book is in the first person, and I can't recall in all of my geeky years of comic book reading any in depth description of what it feels like to change into a human being that can teleport, or becomes impossibly strong or fast. I have no reference for what it's actually like to be a Superhero, as fake or impossible as it may be. I think we've become used to the idea that spandex and a mask is a Superhero, not the altered physical makeup, or different perspective of the world that a Superhero may have because of his/her powers.

I've thought about a few scenarios where I notice my own physical shape changing through a particular exercise, weight lifting, running, or swimming. I have some idea of the physiology behind exercise and such, but no one can really know what it's like to be “super” necessarily.

For instance, I know of a thing called “runners high” from experience, which is why runners keep running even though the activity itself is exhausting to both muscles and various organs, as well as making you incredibly uncomfortable from sweat. Immediately after the discomfort comes this feeling of euphoria through the endorphins you're given from the muscle activity and raised heart rate. The result is a runners high, which is a wonderful (though brief) experience.

Would exercising your ability to lift a car with little effort give you something like a runners high at that time? Would you experience that euphoria all the time (perhaps why Superheroes do things for others)? Would some experience euphoria, and others frustration that everyone else is beneath them? Does this phenomenon never apply to you, if you had “super” abilities?

I've looked into two books that I had high hopes would help me. The first is called Soon I Will Be Invincible by Austin Grossman, which is a wonderful novel written from the first person perspective of both Superhero and Supervillain. However, it doesn't quite go into the depth I'm interested in learning about.

For instance, the first narrator discusses his IQ being something “above 300” where he's the smartest man in the room. It talks about how “In 8 minutes you can think about a lot” but then goes on to talk about how he thinks about what he'd like to do when he gets out of prison with no details as to what that is. The narrator discusses his invulnerability, his disdain for normal human beings, and a little bit about how he's tried to trick the guards on occasion, making them paranoid about this character.

This book is a phenomenal read – but it's lacking something. It's lacking that insight directly to the inner workings of some super power. For instance, with an IQ of over 300, I would imagine this characters perspective of the world would change. As a friend of mine mentioned, he might do something like taste color, or view things differently. Not just “humans are weak and stupid” more like perhaps “I feel sorry for them, they will never see the depth of the world in detail as I do,” where this character may be able to visually, or by some other sense process the molecules in an item or something of that nature – have a very literal sixth sense of sorts.

For someone with superior strength, I'd like to see their transformation from the moment they were normal to the time when puberty took over and they started to notice change. Or if it happened due to some great accident, the before and after of it all. I realize human beings don't necessarily process when their inner workings change, but what not? I notice how much straighter I stand when I'm in shape versus when I'm not – not just by confidence, but the passive muscle support that keeps things in place with little additional effort.

The second book I looked into was the Physics of Superheroes by James Kakalios. This discusses the physics used in the Superhero world to make this universe feel more realistic. Examples are given, like when Superman catches a damsel in distress and her spine breaks in half because he caught her at high velocity one direction and she was falling at high velocity a different direction. This book is fascinating from a science perspective, but it still doesn't give me a solid idea of how it feels to be especially strong, or fast for any reason.

The general census is: Superhero writers seem to take short cuts to get around explaining this in some way. Either by showing the physical change of a hero visually through an artist (he has big muscles now, she has waves around her head indicating telepathy), or by simply excusing it as being a confusing time like puberty (so many changes within, I'm a weirdo, no one else is like me). It's not their fault, either. This is a huge question that very few people want or ask for, I'm sure. It's a lot of detail and insight into something no one can really know about, taking a lot of additional effort and time to construct while world building.

I suppose as someone who is obsessed with details, this is a bit of a personal challenge – but I want to share with people what it is like for this character to basically become a Superhero. I want to put you in her shoes. Share her addiction to feeling unnaturally powerful, the different things she notices now that she's not worried about something like catching the bus on time, her altered perspective on priorities and insight into human beings intentions. The way her muscles react like the nerves between her muscles and her mind are so in sync no matter what else is going on. Her ability to process scenarios based on her surroundings and pick the best possible outcome in a split second, etc.

I'm sure there are comics out there that may have examples of this style of writing and description detail (and if so, please leave a note telling me what they are so I can experience them for myself) out there that I haven't found just yet, I just haven't seen any in my time reading comics. There are simply too many for me to keep up with, especially when I have other equally nerdy hobbies as well.

A rough draft example of my description chapter may appear here before too long, and I welcome any feedback on that – and this. Do you think it's an insane idea to expect someone to introspect when they've suddenly become better, faster, stronger, or smarter than any of us? Or does it make sense to just say “I am strong now!” in some form or another? I'm really focused on this project at the moment, and telling me to lighten up might not be a bad suggestion.

Isley's Reaction to a Dinosaur

2011-05-28T13:44:00.002-06:00

Okay, here's the deal: I'm tired of being serious and begging for feedback at this particular moment. Plus, it's Saturday. Who doesn't want something fun to watch on a Saturday? Above is a video of Isley, my adorable 9 month old puppy, playing with a raptor call from the Jurassic Park jeep that my friends roommate owns.

Sure, she won't fight the dinosaurs for me (She hides behind me, even), but it's still pretty cool that she reacted calmly, but curiously. And FYI: I've lost 15lbs since this video was taken. Just saying.

[Rough Draft] Chapter One -Amber Adler

2011-05-26T17:20:00.003-06:00

Chapter 1: Amber Adler

We've all heard and said it a thousand times: Times, they're tough. That's what happens though. Up and down on the roller coaster of life. Some days you're up, and days like today you're not. Take my predicament for instance. I'm just now walking away from an eight-hour shift behind a cash register along side twelve other red-shirt wearing lemmings at the largest Target in metro Denver area. My fake smile serving the mindless masses who need to take care of all of their shopping needs in one stop. That's not how it always was, though. In fact, up until recently this gig would be considered my cover, not my day job.

Mere weeks ago I was sitting in an office taking clients up on all sorts of crazy, stalker-like requests. “Watch my babysitter, I think she's shady,” was an interesting request recently. See, most of the investigating is done online anymore. Like that four-square program. Man do I love that thing. It's so easy to trace someones steps when their Facebook account shows exactly where they were last – especially if they check in at “casa (last name)” periodically so you know when they're home, which is a good place to start following someone. It's easier to track people when you know where they've been, and it made following this teenage babysitter around all the easier. I just checked my blackberry for her activity updates and met her there.

Not to sound like my job is easy by any means, it's just aided along from 10 years ago by the advancements in technology and the naivety of anyone using a Facebook or twitter account.

I will admit though, most of the investigations I do are pointless. Everyone suspects everyone else, and they don't want to pay if you don't find something incriminating. This suspicious family tried to stiff me after a report of their babysitter attending high school, working at a pizza joint in her neighborhood to pay for her car, and going home to a less than friendly home environment, and that's it. Tough luck guys, she wasn't so seedy after all. Hopefully they didn't take their frustrations out on her after she wasn't doing anything wrong, simply because they had to pay for the services rendered by me.

Or the other fun investigations, “My lawyer's been sleeping with my wife, and I need proof,” that always required mostly on-foot work. Actively tailing someones wife wherever she goes. Doctors appointments, work, salon – yawn. Until you get those damning pictures that pay the bills or the all-clear after weeks of work, life as a private investigator is not really like the detective stories. Fortunately the aforementioned tech also takes out most of the stakeouts that are basically a waste of time.

I have to admit though, it's probably easier following women when you're a woman yourself. I can get close to all of the right places without standing out. Who's going to suspect another woman in a salon, when her hair is definitely in need of some TLC? I'm even pretty good at following men around when the job calls for it. Not many men get the clues when I'm flirting with them in a bar, tape recorder in my purse recording every word with a pretty spiffy directional mic - whether they're flirting back to confirm suspicion, or spilling their guts after one too many Heineken keg cans.

I reminisce about those good old days when my career was working out for the most part. That suspicious attitude that the general populace carried around with them brought in the paychecks. Now I have no car, and little remaining pride. Sure, things can turn around just as quickly, but I am free to mope on my walk home regardless.

Right now I'm thinking about my office. My home away from home – which actually became my home when I gave up paying rent at my apartment. Right now the only living creature in my office is my dog, Gypsy. She's keeping my chair warm for me no doubt, and knocking over everything at tail-level with her excited wagging whenever a client, janitor, or wrong address does stop by. I had nice things in there at one point, but now I have too much stuff in too little space.

The placard that sat neatly on my desk advertising “Amber Adler” has been so badly scratched on its many trips to the floor from Gypsy's homicidal tail, that it is finally stashed in the bottom drawer of my knock-off Ikea desk. Instead of the expensive engraved stainless steel on a lacquered wood base advertising my name, I finally gave up and penned “A. Adler” on a piece of blue construction paper that I'd folded in a triangular shape so it would stand upright on its own.

Classy, I know. It's what I get for sharing my office with the mutt. Don't get me wrong though, Gypsy is great. No one really wants to stiff a girl when a snarling 90lb boxer-whatever mix is standing behind her. She's saved me a handful of trouble in lawsuits and unnecessary fights. I don't even need to carry a gun, I just bring Gypsy on the job. Not that I can afford a revolver anyway. Do you know what those things cost? A lot. Then the ammo? I'm better off with the expense in dog food.

I was doing so well. So why am I here? As I mentioned sometime before, times have been tough, and people started to recognize me. I guess you can only do so many jobs before people doing wrong start to suspect I'd be hired. Most of my recent jobs were false alarms like that babysitter girl. People stopped wanting to pay for me to get the cops called on me for trespassing as my latest stalking victim became suspicious and planned ahead. So much so I'm in this ridiculous uniform, working basic retail for a shoddy living, if you can call it that.

I stopped paying rent on my apartment months ago, and the office building I rent has a shower in the security guard station in the basement. I saved a few bucks with this little set-up, and who's to complain? I rarely get to bring boys home, anyway. I'm now grateful I invested in a fold-out couch for clients when I did, and the $50 thrift store cabinet to hold my basic necessities – such as cereal and bowls. The mini fridge some college students down the street were tossing out works to hold things like milk, and beer (for clients, don't give me that look). They never stay long enough to make use of the couch or beer though, and it's not so bad to sleep here at the end of the day.

This sweet setup also leaves me available for those late night encounters as someone finds their way to my building after the rest of the businesses have closed up shop for the day. It's just too bad the building isn't locked, and the walls facing the hallway are made entirely of glass – so even the sketchy characters get a show of whatever position I managed to fall asleep in or roll into by the time they show up.

My office is rarely locked unless I'm in it, so it's easy to sneak up on Gypsy when I get back from my shift. It's about 10pm now, after the store closed and released me for the evening. Gypsy is curled up in my chair, hanging off either side because she doesn't realize she's too big for it. It takes me dropping my messenger bag on the floor for her to finally stir. First it's a bit of a bark when she's startled awake, but quickly because a lethal tail wagging and excited greeting.

“Hi baby, any messages?” I ask her, kicking my feet up on the desk, my chair already warmed from her body heat. I open the second desk drawer – the too-tall one that dwarfs my top and bottom drawer, and scoop out a Mickey Mouse collectors cup's worth of dog food to her dish under the desk. She happily starts eating her late dinner as I pick up the receiver to my office phone (what? It's bundled with my internet, I might as well use it) and wait for the messages to start lining up for me. Nothing. Not even my mom calling to ask when I'm going to make it home for dinner. Harsh guys, harsh.

I decide to pop open my macbook and check messages there. An e-mail perhaps? Or some obscure Facebook message waiting for me to save the day or spy on someone? Nope. A few angry e-mails from clients who weren't happy with their false alarm reports, and some offers to “inlarge” my “pen1s” - but nothing of interest. I scan all of my usual haunts; Facebook, Tumblr, Twitter – the usual. Maybe I'm drinking a beer for dinner, you don't know for sure. I don't get paid for another three days, so I take the calories where I can.

After a mindless hour or so of internet entertainment and a brief dog walk to do Gypsy's private business, I decide to kick up my feet and sleep on the couch. Half the time I don't even bother pulling it out anymore, just unfolding a blanket and falling to sleep accordingly. Gypsy takes up her spot on the floor next to me, snoring happily as the dreams of chasing cats come to life.

Sometime after 3a.m. A loud crash pulls me out of a strange dream of rabbits and retail scanners. I squint in the half-lit room to find Gypsy is standing with her heckles held high, watching the poorly illuminated hallway and a figure standing at the glass. Waking up to a stranger peering in your all-glass door is a bit unnerving, to say the least.

“Gypsy,” I address the dog, “Put your spikes away,” I tell her, stretching and rubbing the sleep from my eyes. I cautiously make my way to the door and push open the mail slot to allow sound to flow more freely.

“You lost, pal?” I inquire to the strange little man standing at my door. His balding head and overlarge glasses reflect the few lights on in the hall. I can't tell what he's wearing – but his clothes, or all of him stinks. I can smell his odor through the door. Some strange mixture of unwashed body, cigarette smoke, and perhaps a dose of marijuana, piss, and alcohol.

“Are you,” he begins, crouching closer to the open mail slot in the door. “A-are you, Adler?” He half-whispers as though someone in the vacant building might hear him. I can tell this is going to be an interesting day.

Here's another feedback request. Sure are a lot of these lately, huh? This is my introduction to the character Amber Adler, and I'm looking for anything and everything suggestion-wise to make her work. She's a quirky character, and her flaws will come forth eventually. Please leave any feedback you can think of, anonymously or otherwise. I'd love to hear from you, really really.

"Share criticism to get criticism, grow and learn accordingly."

[Rough Draft] Test

2011-05-24T03:52:00.005-06:00

Brief intro here: I really liked how these characters began to write themselves over time (I'd never make a Helen Keller crack of my own accord). This is one of the concepts I'm planning to expand on, hopefully to the realm of novella at the very least. Please let me know what you think if you survive the daunting length without pretty image breaks.

Walking to class every day, Dave, Justin, and Stan never seemed to notice the towering figure of a dilapidated elementary school. Tonight however, the blackened brick and boarded windows mark the trios final destination. The three college seniors enter the condemned grounds, approaching the tall wooden doors behind the outline of a woman.

“Hello, ma’am,” The red-headed Stan says politely to the tall, thin figure of the woman. She stares at them through large sunglasses in spite of the pitch dark night around them, tight blond curls bounce around her. She responds immediately with an outstretched hand.

“Uh,” Justin, tallest and most handsome of the boys with dark black hair and brilliant green eyes, mutters. “Lookin’ for these?” he adds, handing her three invitations. “Can we call you somethin’, or is that not your style?” he smirks, adjusting his collar to guard against the crisp Fall wind.

“As the invitations you’ve received state, I am G.M.” she finally says in a sultry voice that makes Justin’s hair stand on end. “You know why you’re here, yes?” she inquires, producing 3 new pieces of paper on clipboards for each of them.

“Of course we do,” Dave of average height and tough build, lies. None of them had actually taken the time to read the whole invitation. Two lines did stand out to each of them, though. “Contest,” and “Cash reward.” A chance to prove themselves against one another is always in their interest, cash is a bonus.

“Good, then you don’t mind signing these waivers,” G.M. states. She hands them the clip boards for each to read. They sign quickly, barely glancing at the words on the paper.

“As stated in your invitations, this is a contest that will utilize each of your unique skills. You’ve been selected based on your academic performances, as well as your close relationship to one another,” G.M. begins. “My employer has watched you for some time, and hopes you will do well in these tasks.”

Justin and Dave are mesmerized by the way her ruby red lips move when she speaks. Stan is more interested in watching her breathing sway up and down in her tight fitting dress suit coat.

“So, what do you want us to do, exactly?” Justin asks after realizing G.M. has stopped speaking. “What kinda contest?” He adds, trying to sound competent.

“Yea,” Dave and Stan echo. Stan slouches awkwardly, adjusting his glasses as soon as he realizes where he’s staring. Dave continues to stare at her perfect lipstick, snapping back to reality as a closed fist hit his shoulder.

“It’s simple. You’re to survive for 36 hours, completing tasks as they’re given to you via P.A. system from inside the school. All of the necessary accommodations are there for you, but,” she lowers her head as though to scold them with her posture, “You already knew that.”

“Er, right. So what now?” Dave asks, absently rubbing his shoulder where Justin struck him out of his daydream.

“Now, you follow me. The guards will check the doors once you’re settled in,” G.M. turns on her heel, opening the doors with one powerful thrust. Her body is strong, her posture authoritative. Justin, Dave, and Stan all follow, trying to keep from staring at her powerful yet graceful sway.

G.M. bows her head slightly before giving her final instruction, “You have one hour to orient yourselves. After that, your first set of instruction will be delivered.” She peers at them through her dark glasses, “Good luck to each of you, I look forward to shaking hands with the winner on Sunday.”

Justin and Dave look at each other confidently while Stan stares at the floor. With a long creaking moan, the doors close. They can hear chains being pulled through the handles outside. They couldn’t seem to do anything but stare at the doors.

“Well, that wasn’t creepy at all. Why didn’t she turn the lights on?” Justin says, breaking the silence.

“I dunno,” Dave replies, “Stan-my-man, go find a light switch,” he orders.

“Who put you in charge?” Stan asks indignantly, trying to hide his discomfort with the dark surroundings. “I have no idea where the damned light switch is, you find it,” he retorts.

“Geez wusses, I’ll do it,” Justin scoffs. The others barely make out Justin’s form, arms stretched in front of him. Dave shrugs, heading the opposite direction. Stan gropes the walls next to the main doors.

“Got ‘em!” Dave shouts through the dark. As he hits the switch, old fluorescent hanging lamps begin humming to life. Some of the bulbs pop and burn out, while others flicker at their brightest.

The hallway is long and narrow. Stan stares principals office directly in front of him, chains holding the ornate door closed. Dave, off to the left is in front of a large arched wall with a small square door in the middle. Justin, on the opposite side of the hall finds a few barred windows.

“That’s weird,” Justin says, gesturing for the others to join him. “Look’it this. These bars are on the inside of that already-boarded window.”

Stan shifts uneasily. “That’s kinda weird, too,” he says, nodding to the chains over the principals office door.

“Okay, we’ve got an hour, right? Let’s see which doors in this place open and which don’t,” Dave suggests.

“Hold on a sec!” Justin demands, “We don’t have any idea what we’re gonna find. We should stick together, just in case. I’d also like to see where we’re supposed to be sleeping, too,” Stan nods his agreement quickly, following Dave and Justin through the small arched door.

As the trio enter a second hallway, they notice the air is very heavy and stale. Dust, dirt, broken blackboards and pieces of wood are scattered around the floor. Dave hits the switches on the archway. The lights play the same game as they had before, buzzing and crackling to life before pathetically illuminating the hall.

“Now, isn’t this cozy?” Justin jokes, kicking a pile of debris out of his way. A cloud of dust rises into the air, “So fresh, too.” Dave snorts in amusement at Justin. Stan, on the other hand, covers his mouth and nose, coughing violently.

“Dude, what’s your issue Stanny?” Justin asks, not in the most concerned or caring of voices.

“My asthma, dick! You kicked up all that dust and stuff, I could die in here!” Stan begins hyperventilating while complaining. “There aren’t any windows, or anything for fresh air. This sucks!” He continues to protest. Dave and Justin ignore him, making unflattering faces at one another to mock Stan.

“Four possible bedrooms in the form of classrooms,” Dave observes aloud. “I think we can split up from here and check around. Maybe we can crack a window for captain geek over there, too,” Dave chuckles to himself before approaching the first door.

“Okay, this one has a busted handle, and I think some shit is piled up on the other side. Door one won’t budge,” Dave confirms, moving on to the second door. Stan takes the door on the immediate right, while Justin explores the far room.

So far, no beds, food, or water for anyone. Each of these rooms is dark with just as much debris as the hallway. “I haven’t smelt anything so stale since laundry day,” Justin tells himself, hoping to hear a chuckle. “Ah, well,” he mutters before heading back to the hallway.

“Nothin,” Justin reports. “Same,” Dave confirms. Stan just nods. They trek up the stairway at the far end of the hallway. The stairway is in worse disrepair than the hallway or any of the first floor rooms. Tiles, part of the banister on either side, and all of the lights are broken.

“Hazardous, yet spacious,” Justin says with a wide gesture advertising the size of the stairwell. They make their way carefully up the stairs, through another set of double doors. After finding a light switch covered in cobwebs, the second floor is dimly lit.

Stan had a sudden burst of energy as he feels a draft down the hall. “I got the far-end down there,” he announces before jogging to the furthest door, tripping over debris along the way. When he opens the door, he immediately inhales the breeze coming from a small crack in the window. This one wasn’t fully boarded like the others, though the bars were still firmly in place.

Examining this room by limited moonlight he notices three very dusty cots, and a loaf of bread. He takes the opportunity to claim the cot closest to the window, tossing his jacket on it.

“Hey guys, I got something,” Stan shouts. The walls carry his voice through the whole building. Both of his companions emerge from dark rooms, excited for any discovery.

“Nice find, Stan-man,” Justin exclaims, giving Stan a hearty slap on the back. Dave and Justin toss their jackets on their cots, and sit to await instructions. The hour passes slowly while theories of their contest are bounced between them, each more ridiculous than the last.

At seven P.M. sharp the P.A. system crackles to life, and the lights in the hallways go out. The voice of the mysterious G.M. begins to speak. “As your first task, you are to find three pieces of yellow paper. There is a single flashlight somewhere on the second floor, which you may use in your search.” she clears her throat, “You have until midnight to find these papers. Read them carefully. Good luck,” she finishes, the speaker system fades once more.

“Uh, Okay. Should we split up to find the flashlight? I mean, we can totally hear each other no matter where we end up,” Dave suggests, “a flashlight is pretty much necessary.”

“Yea, good idea,” Justin chimes in, looking to Stan who simply nods his agreement.

The group searches the second floor, feeling around in the dark for anything that could possibly resemble a flashlight. Once they find it, they regroup to search the first and third floors for the pieces of yellow paper. They spend hours searching filthy classrooms, digging through debris and trying to pry open jammed doors. By the time they find all three papers, they’re sweaty and tired from effort. Chalk dust and dirt sticks to their sweaty skin, making them feel itchy.

They bring all three pieces of paper together in their designated classroom, examining the documents with the dim flashlight. Justin chuckles, “Wait a minute, this is like the letter I got yesterday,” showing the group the first piece of paper. Dave notices the second piece of paper is a replica of the one they just signed.

“What the hell?” Dave mutters, “You read these, braniac,” he says, shoving the papers toward Stan as they all sat on the floor in a circle. Just as they begin to examine the papers, the P.A. system crackles to life again. This time they’re addressed by the distorted voice of an unknown man.

“Good evening, gentlemen. By now you should have found the objects of your first task: a flashlight, and three pieces of paper. You may recognize these sheets of paper. The first is the invitation letter you received, sent by our associate designated ‘G.M.’ The second is the waiver and stipulation for your stay here. The third and the most important, contains the instructions for the remainder of your stay,” the voice explains evenly.

“As we have stated, this is a contest. However, it is not a standard contest of strength or wit. This contest is that of willpower and decision making. As the paper in front of you states, you are to select one among your group to be sacrificed,” the voice pauses, allowing the words to be absorbed fully. “You will have until Sunday at 6 P.M. to decide which one of you shall die. The two remaining group members will receive the prize money as promised, ten-thousand dollars cash.”

The boys begin shifting, squinting at the papers in front of them. “What is this, a joke?” Dave asks. Justin’s eyes widen to respond, though the mans voice from the P.A. system interrupts them.

“There are, however, rules for contest. Rule one, you are not to take the action of murder upon yourselves, or all of your lives will be forfeit. Rule two, if you do not complete this contest by the alloted time, all of your lives are forfeit,” the voice explains.

All of them turn a sickly shade of green. “This is probably some reality show gimmick,” Justin tries to joke, though the choking in his voice is obvious. “Maybe tomorrow we’ll find out this is part of the test,” he suggests before being interrupted by the speakers a final time.

“Gentleman, make your decision using any means necessary. However, keep in mind the rules, clearly stated on the documents in front of you. Good luck,” the system shuts down.

All three of them sit silently for several minutes before Stan asks, “What’ve we done?”

“This has to be a joke,” Justin assures them, “you’ll see.” The three lie in their cots, pretending to sleep. They spend restless hours in the dark evaluating their situation silently until the sun pierces the dusty classroom.

“What time is it?” Dave asks without looking at his own watch, slightly delirious from a restless night.

“Seven A.M.,” Stan responds solemnly, picking up the bag of bread. “What do we do, now?” He asks, taking a bite out of the stale bread.

“We read this shit,” Dave states, picking up the papers, “and try to figure out if this is real, or a joke.”

“Of course it’s a joke. Stuff like this doesn’t really happen,” Justin says as lightly as he can. “Last year I took this class where we learned how to write Reality shows,” he explains.

“But,” Dave interrupts, “If you write them, how are they real?”

“Well, you do like this,” Justin suggests. “You trick people, get ‘em to sign stuff and film it. Producers pay all kindsa money for that low-budget stuff.”

“That’s fucked up,” Dave states firmly. “Let’s just read this stuff and see for ourselves.” He reads the first page intently, then passes it on. Each of them read all three pages repeatedly, unable to find a loophole, or any phrase that suggest this could be anything other than what the man over the P.A. system explained. Their vision blurs after hours of reading.

By noon, they were all staring at each other, unsure what exactly to think about the situation. None of them had slept so their minds were drifting in and out of rational thought.

“We need water,” Dave suggests randomly, standing quickly and walking in strides fast enough to suggest he just wants to get away from his friends. “There’s gotta be a fountain or somethin’ with water.” He fakes a cough before escaping the classroom.

Justin and Stan were left staring at each other. Justin tries to break the silence by asking “What do you think of this?” casually. Stan doesn’t answer. Instead, he displays catatonic traits, barely moving and certainly not speaking.

“What is this?” Justin demands, “The silent treatment?” He moves closer to Stan’s personal space, hoping to eliciting a reaction. “C’mon, Stan-man,” he says, unable find anything to add. The two sit in silence for what seems like hours in a hungry daze before Justin decides to explore more of the building while some daylight is creeping through the boarded windows. He hopes for some other solution to their challenge to present itself by going through some of the stale classrooms alone. He doesn’t find one.

Dave, on the other hand, locates water. Unfortunately, the only running water is in a bathroom sink on the third floor and it’s not exactly clean. When he turns the handle, rusty red water sputters out of the faucet in uneven spurts. “Gross,” he comments before dipping his head into the sink for an unfulfilling drink.

Dave uses the remaining daylight hours to explore the rest of the third floor. He scours the library in case the few books left on the shelf were deliberately placed as clues, or any of the high windows hold an escape route. His stomach growls as he scans the shelves, as though it is hopeful for a ham sandwich left for him. He feels helpless and lost. What’s worse, is he feels for the first time in his life that he is alone, turned against his best friends.

After the remnants of sunlight fade, they find themselves back in the same classroom, left in an awkward position by the contracts they signed. They are only able to see one another by dim flashlight. “One flashlight, one room with a single tiny window for daylight. It’s like we have to stay with each other,” Dave realizes.

“Maybe, we can just escape,” Justin suggests, finally accepting the situation as it is. “Maybe, a cop will be lenient on us when these dudes say we broke that contract. We can tell them that psycho woman confused us, or seduced us!”

“Right, we’ll just squeeze through the bars on any of the busted ass windows, or break down the solid front door,” Dave sarcastically replies, annoyed from hunger and the rusty taste in his mouth. “What about him, why isn’t he talking anymore?” Dave asks, pointing to Stan.

“I dunno, he just stopped talking after we read that stuff this morning. He won’t say why or nothin’” Justin answers, shrugging. “Maybe we should just feed them Helen Keller over there,” Justin suggests, gesturing at Stan.

“That’s not funny, Justin,” Dave says sternly, watching Stan’s face contort as though he is trying to respond. “What if we just gave ‘em you, then we could all go home and forget this,” Dave glares at Justin.

“I was joking, man. Chill,” Justin holds up his hands defensively. “What do you think we should be doing then, since you’re taking charge anyway?” he replies with sharp poison in his words.

“What do I think? I think I’m gonna read the instructions next time,” Dave replies, “And, I’m going to sleep, it’s like one in the morning. I got a headache,” He shrugs before shutting off the dim flashlight.

“Right, boss,” Justin says louder than necessary. “Or, how about this. We figure this shit out right now so I can go sleep in my own damned bed,” He says, standing up quickly. His harsh movements flip over his cot, spreading dust through the air.

Stan starts coughing, but doesn’t protest. Justin flips the flashlight on again, shining directly in Dave’s eyes.

“Is that a tough request? Why don’t we just draw straws or something? Flip a coin,” Justin suggests several seemingly fair alternatives to simply deciding one of his friends should be killed by the mob, or whoever his tired mind deems responsible for their predicament at the moment. Physical and mental exhaustion take their toll on them, each becoming less coherent as time passes, aided by the stale air and clammy skin.

“Because that’s stupid. You can’t leave something like that up to chance. But, I guess you’re cool with that since you got all the luck out of any us, huh?” Dave snaps, inviting an attack with his open arms.

“Hey, you’re the lucky one, fatass,” Justin quickly retorts, “My sister said you sucked in bed that time you got ‘lucky,’ by the way. Why do you think she didn’t call?” He takes a step toward Dave, shuffling more dust around.

“Ya know what? This is stupid, I want to sleep, and unlike your princess self, I don’t care where I am,” Dave taunts, laying on his cot with his back to the flashlight and Justin’s harsh attacks.

“Whatever,” Justin snaps, allowing his own fatigue to get the best of him. He shuts off the flashlight after righting his cot. The anxious trio spends hours lying in bed, staring at flecks of dust that catch the moonlight through the broken window, still unable to sleep. The crisp Fall air trickles in, piercing the cots thin fabric.

Dave has the most trouble staying still when the breeze cuts through his thin tee-shirt until he finally decides to pace the hallway away from the cold. His mind races, trying to sort the details of their situation to find a viable solution that wouldn’t ruin their lives. His efforts however, are in vain as hunger, fatigue, and thirst distracted his thoughts.

Justin stays in the room half-awake, but his mind is also busy. Though, his thoughts were even less helpful than Dave’s. Justin spent the dark hours of the morning brooding over every injustice either of his friends had done him since they were children.

Stan’s body shakes with terror as he imagines how easily he’ll be chosen as the contests sacrifice. He reminds himself that he’s the weakest, slowest, and most pathetic of the group. In the dark corner, he’s crying.

As the sun begins to rise, Justin sits up. “Hey fag, did you sleep at all?” Justin asks Stan, “What time is it?” He waits a few minutes for a reply. His head is pounding, frustration dictating his reaction.

“Okay, what is this shit? Why aren’t you talking to us no more?” He demands. The noise could be heard in the hallway, but Dave doesn’t return. Justin decides to make Stan react.

“Ya know, I had a dog once. The bitch wouldn’t stop barking. We finally had to beat her to silence,” Justin explains, standing from his cot. “Maybe the opposite will work on you, bitch,” He warns. Several blows to the face and stomach cause Stan to cry out.

“Alright! Stop! Why do you always hit me?” Stan sobbed, blood flowing freely from his nose and a cut above his eye. “I thought if I could make you forget I’m here, you’d finally leave me alone! You could go bicker with Dave for once, instead of just picking on me!” Stan shouts, picking up his glasses from the floor. One of the lenses broke, and the bridge of the frame is bent so they don’t sit right on his face.

“What the hell was that?” Dave shouts as he barges into the room. “Why is he bleeding? What happened?” He asks Justin, who is standing over the cowering Stan.

“That silent shit,” Justin begins, “Didn’t it bug you? I mean, isn’t that like silently saying he’s better than us, or he doesn’t need us?” Justin asks, “Or worse, that he doesn’t hafta help us figure this mess out? He’s just as guilty as any of us,” Justin explains through labored breathing.

Dave rolls his eyes, scanning Stan, who’s pleading eyes suggest he expected a timely rescue. “What do you want me to do about it? You’re asking for it every time you fail to stand up for yourself,” Dave snaps, feeling a mixture of guilt and irritation simultaneously. Stan’s brow furrows in response, but he says nothing.

Dave stands in the doorway, staring at Justin. Justin stands to leave. A few minutes later Stan follows. Dave takes the opportunity to help himself to the last piece of stale bread, which he painfully chokes down. Hours alone allow Dave to remember the fun he had with his friends when they were kids, and teenagers. He fondly smiles at the memories, as though his life was flashing through his delusional mind one last time.

Stan is the first to return as the sun is brightest in the room, sometime after noon. He looks pale, filthy and more pathetic than usual. His broken, filthy glasses contort on his face. “I hate you,” he says upon entering the room, glaring from behind his broken spectacles.

“Uh, why? What’d I do?” Dave raises an eyebrow at the harsh greeting.

“You think I’m weak,” Stan clenches his shaking hands. “You think I deserve to die for this contest, don’t you? You wanted to leave Justin to do whatever he wanted,” he accuses.

“I didn’t say that. Look, we’re all stressed, tired and hungry,” Dave tries to reason with him before being met with Stan’s outstretched foot. Dave is hit hard in the chest, knocking the wind out of his lungs. When he hits the ground, pieces of old blackboard, tile, and other debris distribute a thick cloud of dust in the air.

“I need the money more than you!” Stan cries, his fist meeting the side of Dave’s head, sending both of them reeling in pain. “You never respected me, or my ambitions!” Stan draws his hand back for another swing when he is caught by Justin.

“Hey! What the hell?” Justin asks dragging Stan away from Dave. Justin has to guard his head from Stan’s thrashing protests. Stan’s foot finds part of Justin’s leg, causing Justin to let go. Stan slumps to the ground. All three of them are wheezing from dust inhalation and dehydration. Each of their minds racing, but no coherent thoughts arise to form words. They sit in a heavy silence for nearly an hour before the P.A. system crackles to life for the first time since Friday night.

“Gentleman, my employer will be joining us shortly, at which time we await your decision,” The voice of G.M. echoes. “At six P.M. sharp, you will deliver your decision to the main office. State the name of the sacrificed through the door, and you will be released,” she concludes calmly. They all stare at each other, as they hear the lights in the hallway buzzing to life.

“By now, it’s pretty clear that we all hate each other, so maybe we should all die like this,” Dave reccomends, feeling the blood on his lip mix with dirt on his chin. “But then, I want to live a little longer, so maybe we should just draw straws. Maybe one of us will get something out of this mess,” Dave suggests.

“Fuck that,” Justin snaps. “I suggested that on Saturday, and you turned it down because we ‘can’t leave something like that to chance,’” he challenges. “I say you,” Justin concludes, lowering his head. “I say we give them you.”

“Yea,” Stan agrees. “You think you’re so smart, but you didn’t figure it out. You didn’t help me, or anyone else. You never help anyone,” Stan glares, sure in his decision.

“That what you want, huh?” Dave’s eyes tear as he digests what he hears from his long-time friends. He wants to argue that they still had six hours left to decide. He wants to beg for his life. He simply doesn’t have the energy left after this dreadful weekend. “Fine,” he surrenders.

They shuffle downstairs, Justin and Stan in the lead. They trip over debris, and cough against dust and dirt in the air. Justin whispers “David Connolly,” through the door of the Principals office.

“I don’t think that was loud enough,” Stan suggests.

“Then, why don’t you do it? I’m not cool with killing Dave like this, it’s too weird,” Justin scowls. His own mind was betraying him. He hoped the promise of a large sum of money would make the process easier. It did.

“Fine,” Stan agrees. “David Connolly,” he bellows in a voice that echoes through the building. Dave, who is standing in the doorway, collapses as though the reverberation of his own name zaps away the bones in his body. He stands on shaky knees, walking to the giant front door. He sits on the floor in the stale dark hallway, refusing to make eye contact with Justin or Stan.

After several agonizing minutes in the flickering lights, they hear the chains on the front door being removed. They listen intently for the sounds of a small corporate army, or some other unsavory characters intent on ending a life. The front door creaks open, sunlight pouring through the door causing temporary blindness to the former captives.

“Well done,” came the single voice of G.M. from the daylight. “As promised, your money,” she drops a black bag on the ground next to her. “However, things are not as they seem for you,” she says to Stan and Justin specifically.

“A contest can have only one winner, when one bag of money is present,” she begins, pacing in the doorway. “David, claim your prize,” she says firmly to the figure of Dave sitting on the floor. In the sunlight, her features were much less attractive to them. Her skin is pale and scarred. Her translucent sunglasses revealing a cold, vicious stare.

“What?” All three choke in unison. A feeling of relief and terror rushes over them. Dave stands to face her. “What did you say?” he demands.

“The prize, is yours,” she says in a stern voice that almost growls.

“Why? What was the meaning of this? Are you gonna kill them now?” he rattles off questions, not sure he wanted to know any of the answers.

“This was a contest, as I said,” she states plainly. “No one is going to die, and I have no employers,” she says.

Dave doesn’t respond. Instead, he charges her with all of his remaining strength. She effortlessly deflects his attacks, laughing as she defends herself “Oh, please! You don’t think I’d abduct young men without first have a plan to defend myself, do you?”

“You keep your filthy money, witch. I’m going to the cops with this. You’re going to pay,” Dave threatens, tears washing away chunks of dirt from his cheeks.

“This great country we live in doesn’t acknowledge that what I’ve done as a crime. I haven’t held you against your will,” she says, showing them the legal contracts they signed. “The only damage you’ve sustained is psychological, and probably social. I’d share more, but you won’t pay attention anyway,” she explains coldly.

“One newspaper calls me a ‘social serial killer.’ I dare you to do better.”

Feedback request on a "Character Design"

2011-05-23T01:08:00.009-06:00

Hi everyone. Now, this may seem like an odd blog post, and I may not leave it up for very long - but I have a favor to ask you. I'm practicing with descriptions of things. I'd start with sharing the stuff I've done with my dog, cats, house, etc - but I thought it would be more interesting to go all-out and write up a description for a monster that doesn't exist (to my knowledge). This monster is copy-written by me, so please don't steal any of it. As a writer, this is my biggest fear - but I want to learn from this giant "Beastie" thing. I tried to stay away from "It's 7' tall with fangs and..." type description, so I hope this reads okay.

Please, please, please leave feedback of some kind - anonymously or otherwise (though, I can't give you a thank-you card or message without knowing who it's for), or you can send it to my e-mail address: DerringerRegn@Gmail.com

Beastie to the five senses:

It's tall, with broad shoulders that would be difficult to squeeze through a standard doorframe. His head is held low, almost parallel to his shoulders – and forward, like a bird craning its neck to get a closer look at its prey. Its head isn't shaped the way a humans would be, it's mostly triangular, with an incredibly small sunken nose. Its chin leads the direction of its face, protruding sharply wherever the creature appears to be looking. It has no features like a mouth or eyes visible. That is to say, where the eyes or mouth should be there are no sockets or definition to represent an opening for a mouth or placeholders for eyes.

The creatures movements are slow but deliberate, as though each muscle effort is directed by a lagging computer command. Its legs are too short for its approximate 7' tall frame, and the creature seems to lose its balance easily. It's large arms make up for its awkward legs, powerful blows are capable of crumbling cement to dust, if it can get to its target.

If you were to meet his creature face to face, you'd swear you were only looking at a shadow. Only this figure seems a shade darker than a shadow, as though it represented the complete absence of light or color. Its outline seems to shift slightly before it moves, making its movements seemingly predictable – but that's not quite the case. The figures body shape seems as stable as a thunderstorm – its shapes are very indistinct like a series of broken lines sloppily sketched around its outline. Looking directly at it almost makes the figure disappear, as though distorted by a lenticular lens. It's difficult to see anything of this figure, making it incredibly difficult to share accounts of having seen it with others.

This creature is the thing you see out of the corner of your eye, or in a darkness in the shadow that appears to be watching you. It waits for the moment that weakness shows before it strikes. Its strikes aren't direct unless it's entirely necessary. For most, it saps the energy of its victims using the electrical feeling emitting from its body in most cases.

The creature is mostly silent. The only sound that can generally be heard is a quiet crackle that comes from a seemingly electrical current emanating from its body. No growling or roaring can be heard in its presence, though the odd sound of indistinct whispering may originate from somewhere within the beast.

As you get close to it, every hair on your body stands on end as though a thunderstorm is brewing from within its form. The seemingly electrical charge makes you hesitate approaching it for fear of being shocked, but you can't back away as the charge holds your attention. If you're ever in the unfortunate situation where you have to make physical contact with the creature, you'll likely feel layers of hard, leathery skin split and peel in the rough pattern of weathered tree bark.

The various layers create a very course, sandpaper-like feel to the monster, and his touch is the one thing that truly grounds it to our plane of existence. If you touch the creature, you're sure to know you've touched it by the scrapes and cuts left by its skin alone.

Before seeing this creature, or hearing or feeling it – you'll likely catch a whiff of the strange mixture of sulfur and decaying flesh emitting from its body. The sulfur is very faint, like rich bath salts in too-hot water, but the decaying flesh is what will really get your attention. It smells as though the creatures heinously course skin is compiled from the dead flesh of victims - leftovers of whatever this creature does to people. It doesn't appear to eat them, so perhaps sustaining its existence is the goal of torment.

Accompanying the rank smell of this beast, you're likely to taste metal in your mouth when it's nearby. The taste is something akin to biting your tongue and tasting the blood. It's a very subtle taste, but it will give you the feeling of utmost discomfort. Likely caused by the seemingly electrical pull caused by this creature, you'll have felt like your head is in a vice with the taste of coppery metal in your mouth if you get too close – even without realizing what's happened.

An encounter with this beast is enough to cause alarm in the most stable of hearts. The only thing I can recommend to you, is to keep your head and run. The static draw is powerful, but understand what happens if you get close - you won't like it.

EDIT: I've taken all of the feedback into consideration and have rewritten this for myself. That one I won't be sharing, because where's the fun in that? In short I've given the beastie a nickname (to replace "its") from the point of view of my main character (so it's goofy, but meaningful), added more description including the little things that I've managed to leave out, and clarified several points that were muddled by trying to cover all of my senses. Any more feedback is certainly welcome, so please don't hesitate! (I mean it, pretty please!?)

Nitpicking Inaccuracies

2011-05-14T19:41:00.006-06:00

Roar, Nitpickers. Roar.

You know those websites that exist simply to point out the errors in films? Like this one: Moviemistakes.com. Seems pretty simple, to pick apart a movies accuracy in a number of fields. Today I was watching Jurassic Park, and I started thinking about why the 'mistakes' don't matter so much as the story, characters, and freaking dinosaurs.

The first mistake often pointed out in the 1993 film is that the paleontologists at the beginning of the movie dig up the velociraptor skeleton far too quickly. You know what's even more annoying than that inaccuracy? Watching them actually carefully pick apart every piece of real fossilized bone. The amount that was uncovered in the film could easily lapse a National Geographic series narrated by a dry old man who spent his entire life working on this one project.

The second is the various computer inaccuracies and debug lingo. Yes, we're all very proud of you for knowing so much about computers – but in layman's terms? Computers in 1993 are also boring. This is why the error message was an animated homunculus-Dennis Nedry saying “Uh-uh-uh, you didn't say the magic word!” when a wrong password is entered, which would never happen – but it's funny. It's a humor device in the plot, and how many people would know better at the time?

In order to better visualize the computer sequence at the end where they're frantically “searching” for the right file to restore security in the Jurassic Park compound, it's nice to have a visualization. Again, the system wouldn't be laid out on an easy-to-follow button grid, but it helped the people who didn't have computers in 1993 (think about it, did you?) get a general idea of what was going on.

The final mistake that I almost found myself nitpicking during the film was the shotgun that Grant shoots at the raptors through the window. It leaves bullet holes about the size of a .22, regardless of the very obvious shotgun shells lying on the ground next to the shotgun as they run for cover. But you know what looks really unimpressive? A .22 pistol pointed at a dinosaur. You know what looks not-like-a-bullet-hole? A shotgun blast through glass.

You know what else is inaccurate: Living, breathing dinosaurs. Yet we're willing to overlook a major “wait, what?” plot in favor of complaining about the little things, it's a strange phenomenon, really. I know there are other issues with this movie, like which side of the road the guest-car was pushed off of by the T-Rex (Who really cares? A truck was pushed over a cliff by a T-freaking-rex!)

Errors in movies often come on purpose for the sake of entertainment, yet some things “just get to us” for seemingly no reason. Nurses will have trouble with medical films or TV, gun nuts go nuts for gun inaccuracies, and science nerds can't stand inaccurate science.

The best I can come up with in defense of these types of inaccurate things is: That's not the purpose of this film or show. You're not going to watch Criminal Minds and learn how to really profile serial killers, or watch House and learn to be a doctor, and there was certainly some disappointment from me as I learned paleontologists don't really get to go to dinosaur zoo/theme parks. I was eight when that film came out, cut me some slack.

Really though, if you're using fictional mediums like TV shows or films (that do not say “documentary” anywhere) to learn valuable things, then you're probably an idiot who should be removed of television rights. I mostly blame you for the success of such shows as "Two and A Half Men" or "Mike and Molly" in an era that could thrive much more on smarter shows that don't rely on laugh tracks.

Remember in Galaxy Quest (1999) when the alien race called “Thermians” thought the TV show Gilligan's Island was real, and they grew somber thinking about “all those poor little people?” They called Television “Historical Documents” without realizing that we use fiction, and lies to tell stories that may be less than true. Based on truth, sure – but fiction is more than that. It uses the truth to explain situations (as used in many horror films, which focus heavily on human psychology and sociology of groups), but it uses lies to explore alternate possibilities in our world.

Television and Hollywood films are not real folks, sorry to be the one to break it to you. If there are blatant inaccuracies it is possibly one of two reasons: The writers didn't know better (because it's a common assumption or they don't do their fact checking, which is a bad writer) or they didn't think you'd know better so they used artistic license to do whatever they wanted for whatever reason – and they got paid for it either way.

That means that all of you who get upset because something realistic is changed in a film or TV show is the end of the world should look up Applied Phlebotinum. This phenomenon allows writers to make up things like the “Sonic Screwdriver” from Dr. Who in order to fill some function of the plot, or change the bullets that come out of a shotgun to emphasize a situation.

The point is, if you're going to complain about some inaccuracy in fiction, complain about all of them – or really, you're not allowed to enjoy any fiction at all and you're trying to screw it up for the rest of us. You're probably also the person that complains about how accurate Superman is in any of his many films, comics, deaths, and rebirths (he's an alien from a planet named after an Earth-element, a goofy Kansas man, and has been around since 1938, give him some wiggle-room to change once in a while), which really just makes you silly.

Now, go enjoy some fake science and write a story that makes people wonder why the owls are not what they seem. You'll feel better once you can let the nitpicking rest once in a while. You do believe in Transformers, after all.

Making Stuff, Console Custom Gaming

2011-01-21T00:13:00.005-07:00

Recently I picked up this crazy idea that I should create an arcade cabinet using my coffee table. This crazy idea became a reality this afternoon as I punched a hole in a wicker table and mounted a TV under the glass top. It has a PSPGo, Mac laptop, and iPod dock attached to it right now.

Within the next month or so I'd like to get a cheap Xbox 360 refurb (white, black, whichever is cheapest) to put some Xbox LIVE Arcade games on for a true 2011 arcade experience.

Read the process and check out the step-by-step here. I'm really happy with how it came out. Who says console gaming doesn't have any customization options?

Puppy Adventures In Stranger Friendliness

2010-11-08T22:29:00.006-07:00

In recent months the less sane part of me really needed a companion. A companion that needs nearly constant supervision, an endless supply of treats and expensive dog food, and loads of love. That's right. It's a puppy. A teeny, tiny bundle of joy (and poop) which was up for adoption at just the right time in my life.

See, how could you say no?

6 weeks old, I certainly couldn't say no. Her name is Isley*, and she's an amazing boxer mutt. Loaded with energy, and the need for attention she goes with me nearly everywhere. For the most part in the 2 months that I've had her we've only managed to trek as far as Petsmart or Petco, but occasionally visiting friends houses as well. She was doing so well on these jaunts that I decided she could do a little errand running with me today.

It started off in the car. Driving, and driving, and driving. The thing about Isley is - she loves it. She sits in the passenger seat and watches the people in cars next to us, or tries to figure out what that interesting smell coming from the vent is. She doesn't really bounce around or anything spectacular in the car, so I don't really have to worry about her. That not-worrying about her also means she usually gets to wait in the car when I go in places.

Until tonight.

I decided to hit up a few more places than expected tonight on my way home from "required" errands - including a Gamestop and a Dairy Queen. Since I didn't feel like I should have to leave poor Isley alone again, I decided first to carry her in to the Gamestop with me.

The guy at the counter was abnormally, well, normal about her being in the store. We went straight to the Gamecube controllers to snag one for playing some Goldeneye tonight.

"Do you ladies need any help tonight?" He asked, looking at me and then Isley. Isley wags her entire body at being acknowledged.
"No thanks, I think we've got it," I reply, somewhat surprised he was talking to the dog as a customer without getting all gushy over puppy as the clerks at the pet stores often do.

I take my new controller to the register, and the same guy rings us up. He makes small talk about games - namely Call of Duty: Black Ops, in a way that is less sexist than most Gamestop employees. Then he hands me my receipt, gives Isley a little rub behind the ear, and wishes us well.

"You ladies have a good night," He smiles at the dog more than at me, not put off by the fact I brought an animal in the store at all. She is so bouncy outside after meeting new strangers she danced around the Call of Duty: Black Ops truck outside for a while before getting in the car to go on our way. That happiness spread to me.

This interaction left me with the warm and fuzzies on the way home, so I decided to stop off for a bit of celebratory ice cream at Dairy Queen. In the drive-through I order my usual: Oreo Blizzard. Isley stands up in the passenger seat when she hears the speaker crackle to repeat the order back to me, and becomes interested in what's going on.

"Can your puppy have a treat?" The lady at the window asks me as I hand her my $5.
"Uh, sure?" I say apprehensively, wondering what on Earth an Ice Cream shop could possibly have for Isley. Poisonous chocolate? Sugary waffle cone?

As she hands me back my change, she reaches under the counter and pulls out none-other than a standard Milk Bone brand dog treat.

"Woah," I reply, channeling Keanu Reeves momentarily. Isley's tail and body go full speed once again at being offered something by a stranger. I take the treat and ask her to "sit" for it.

Isley's butt dropped to the seat and she waited patiently for the treat. The clerk smiled and gave a happy "good dog!" out the window as Isley munched on her snack. I thanked the Dairy Queen clerk more intensely than I probably meant to, but that feeling that she (and I) were welcome like that was just incredible.

After such a positive interaction I feel my decision to get a dog, socialize and train her, and have a new companion in so many ways was the right decision to make. Also, she makes me so very happy.

*Named after the lovely villainess Pamela "Poison Ivy" Isley.

[Rough Draft] Whirlpool

2010-08-30T12:32:00.004-06:00

[I'm sorry I haven't been posting much here! Right now I have this strange paranoia that people might steal my rough draft ideas, or I might lose the right to them if I decide to finish and sell them later. Unfounded, I know, but the internet is a scary place.

Anyway, this is my rough draft for a short story called Whirlpool. I'd really appreciate any feedback on the characters, plot, anything that's unclear, etc. Otherwise, hope you enjoy it.]

Last week, my friend and I had to take a different route to school. See, these bullies in the next grade were starting to pick on Ben, so we decided to walk on a path none of the other kids did for school. It took us a bit longer and the new road was spooky, but we kept our lunch money this time - and it’s a good thing too, because we had a lot to discuss at lunch that day.

“Those jerks,” Ben complained, kicking rocks along the new route with added enthusiasm. “Who do they think they are? I can hang out with a girl if I want to, doesn’t make me weak,” He assured himself, looking at the me for encouragement.

“I can’t do anything for you. Those eighth-graders,” I sigh, “They don’t even listen to girls.” I ignore the rest of Ben’s complaints and self-reassurances while taking in my new surroundings. The only other way to school was full of huge old trees, this old mans house, and lots of broken stuff like children’s toys and shopping carts. The junk on the side of the road, tucked under the overgrown bushes looked like bones of old things forgotten, they gave me the chills.

Which is why the others wouldn’t follow us - no one takes this route. Stories have been around this old neighborhood for a long time, adults and kids talked about the creepy old man and his dog. Ben and me though, it was either this or the bullies. “Hey Ben, what’s that sound?” I asked him, stopping to quiet my footsteps.

“I’m not sure,” he replied, “Running water, maybe?” We both look at each other while trying to figure out where the sound was coming from. “It’s coming from around Old Man Walter’s house,” Ben sighed. None of the kids in our school would go by Old Man Walter’s. Actually, no one would go around Old Man Walter’s without a reason.

“But, there aren’t streams or nothin’ around here,” I recall, “That’s weird - we should check it out anyway. In and out, Old Man Walter’ll never know!” I quietly exclaim, checking Old Man Walter’s windows for signs of life.

“No way, we have to go to school,” Ben stated firmly, crossing his arms and continuing the onward march. Ben was more scared of Old Man Walter than me. The eighth-graders told weird stories about boys disappearing around Old Man Walter. I know they were just made up to make Ben nervous after the fat-jokes lost their impact, but he believed them anyway.

“It’ll just take a second,” I assure him, “C’moooooon, chicken.” Ben doesn’t respond much to begging, but he couldn’t stand to be called a chicken. He turns to face me, checks Old Man Walter’s house, and nods.

“In and out. Let’s go,” he commands. The area around Walter’s house was especially overgrown. Large mangled trees, bushes with long nasty thorns, weeds as tall as my legs! The trees were what gave me the creeps. They all looked darker than they should’ve been, the leaves, I mean. The branches twisted like they were reaching for every direction at once, trying to escape something horrible that happened there.

I shuddered at the thought, but my curiosity won my body. Pushing aside a thin branch, Ben was the first one through the small opening behind Old Man Walter’s fence. The opening faced away from Walter’s house, the trees and weeds were overtaking the area around this swampy area, with deep water in the center. It wasn’t much bigger than a kiddie swimming pool, and had loads of dolls, clothes, and a thing like a bicycle corpses sticking out of the ground around it. Moss was growing on everything, with slimy moss on the trees, and it smelled like my uncles basement after it flooded.

The ground was spongey and soggy - like the water covered more of the ground once, but it filled in with the muck and trash around it. The atmosphere was like we stepped into an alternate world. A really thick mist covered the high area around the trees branches, and the white mist extended downward toward the very center of the water.

“What...?” Ben stood staring at the funnel of mist. It was the question that brought my attention to the source of the running water sound. A really small whirlpool was visible in the middle of the water.

“Uh...” I aptly replied. “I don’t know what this is, a whirlpool or something? I didn’t know there was a lake here, either,” I said, unable to stop staring at the spiral.

“It’s not a lake, it’s too small,” Ben kindly corrected me. He too, couldn’t stop staring at the spiral in the water.

“We gotta get to class,” I remind us both, going back through the small opening that we made. Neither of us said anything the rest of the way to school. I thought about the whirlpool and our little secret Spot through all of my morning class, wondering why it was there. It looked so neat, swirling and spinning. The mist was really weird, too.

“Judy, it’s probably a vortex,” Ben informed me at lunch. “I went to the library instead of class. There were books on whirlpools - but, whirlpools are caused by two tides crashing into each other in the ocean, or something like a reverse tornado at the bottom of a waterfall. There aren’t any tides or waterfalls in that area at all.”

“So then, what’s a vortex? How’s that different?” I ask. I really didn’t know anything about these things.

“Well, a vortex can be caused by swirling air as well as water, and with that mist spiraling above it, it makes sense,” he stated. I didn’t question him, but I was secretly curious how swirling water and air could end up in this little swampy area.
“So, what does it do?” I ask, growing painfully curious about our phenomenon.

“I don’t know,” Ben admitted. “We should go back,” he stated, very seriously. Ben wasn’t one for spontaneous adventures, but when he makes up his mind - that’s it. I was actually eager to get back to the are as well, so I didn’t argue.

“I’ll bring my moms camera,” I told him, trying to be helpful. “Maybe we can get pictures of the mist and stuff to show Mr. Allen,” I offer.

“Alright, after school we’ll go to your house first to get the camera, then go back to The Spot,” he confirmed. Neither of us ate much of our lunch, just kind of picked at our macaroni and cheese. Our minds were too busy to think about food.

We got to The Spot just before dark, and took a bunch of pictures of the spiraling mist and vortex in the water. The area was unnaturally bright for how thick the trees were, like light was being forced through the mist instead of air.

We found some dry rocks to sit on, and watched the water. “What do you think it really is? I don’t feel any wind in here,” I observed aloud, really wondering what could cause this.

“I have no idea,” Ben said, “I couldn’t find anything about this specifically. Well, not in such a short amount of time. Maybe we can show those pictures to Mr. Allen soon. Your mom can develop the pictures tomorrow, right?” He asked. I nodded in response, feeling around me for some rocks or something to throw into the water.

I break off a branch from some dead wood sticking out of the ground and toss it toward the water. It doesn’t make a single sound when the branch hit the edge of the water, and the dead wood didn’t float, either. It was sucked beneath the surface while we watched.

“Uh,” I mutter, raising an eyebrow at Ben. “What does that mean?”

“It means one more question for Mr. Allen,” Ben offers. “C’mon Judy, let’s go home before it gets too cold,” he suggests. I hadn’t noticed the April air sneaking up on us, but it was definitely there. I agreed, and we headed home.

I took notes in my journal about what we discovered, and went to bed early. I didn’t sleep well, and wanted to call Ben to talk about it, but I didn’t.

On our way to school the next day, we couldn’t help but peek in on The Spot. We didn’t go all the way in this time, though. Old Man Walter let his dog out right after we stopped to look through the opening we made. “Hey, What’re you kids up to?” Walter demanded over the barks of his little shaggy grey dog. We both jumped pretty high.

“Nothing, Mr. Walter,” I lie. Ben stands up straighter than usual. His eyes widen and he begins to shift his weight, looking around nervously.

“I better not catch you in my yard, you,” Old Man Walter threatens, pointing at the tall grass.

“What yard, Mr. Walter?” I offer. It wasn’t a complete lie, the shabby fence and overgrown grass wasn’t exactly a yard.

“You snotty brat!” Walter shouted at me. Ben turned red and started to run toward school immediately. I followed quickly, snickering at Walter’s response. Ben was mad at me, and didn’t say anything during lunch, or on our walk home.

The silence had me a little stressed out. I felt bad for egging on Old Man Walter, but it happened and I couldn’t take it back. At dinner my family was a little tense, too. My dad asked me how school was, while my mom stabbed at her meatloaf.

“What is ‘The Spot?’” my mom asked after I went over my mundane school day. “Did you ditch school to go buy drugs at some secret place?” she demanded.

“What? What are you talking about, mom?” I asked, unsure what she was even going on about. She’s usually a normal person, but when she goes into evil-mom mode, she’ll go on forever like this.

“The Spot, Judy” she repeated sternly. “You wrote about it in that journal.”

I didn’t know what to say at first. I was really mad she went through my things, but she also accused me of lying and ditching school, and even doing drugs! I couldn’t decide what to be angry about first, so I just asked her, “What difference does it make? I went to class, but why is the name “The Spot” making you so weird? And who said anything about drugs?”

Her face turned red before she could speak. She didn’t like when I point out when she’s mad for no reason. “You’re making up stories and skipping school, that’s what! Where is this Spot at, anyway?” she shouted. She must have thought I spent the whole day actually at the spot, not just thinking about it.

“I didn’t skip to go down by Old Man Walter’s! And I am not making up stories! Why do you think it’s made-up?” I demanded, barely realizing I gave away our secret spot.

“There is no lake behind Mr. Walter’s house. You shouldn’t go around there! That old man is dangerous!” she shouted. My dad just looked at her, unwilling to draw her wrath he minded his own business and continued eating.

“It’s not a lake, mom, it’s too small - it’s a pond,” I corrected her. “And anyway, it’s none of your business,” I finished.

“That old man is bad news, Judy. You need to stay away from that house,” she went on like this for twenty minutes at least, I ignored most of her nagging and didn’t finish my dinner. I went straight to bed after I did the dishes, reminding myself that we had proof on the way so I wouldn’t even have to drag her down there to prove I wasn’t lying.

“I’m sorry,” I said to Ben when we met up before school. At first he didn’t respond, just looked like he was sulking.

“For what?” He finally asked.

“For the thing with Old Man Walter. I didn’t mean to make him mad,” I said.

“Fine,” Ben said. I noticed he was directing us toward our old route to school. It wasn’t until I saw the kids from class that I said anything.

“Why are we taking this way, Ben?” I asked, feeling more ashamed of getting Old Man Walter’s attention.

“Because we can’t go the other way. Walter will be waiting for us,” he suggested. Obviously his imagination had blown things a little out of proportion, probably my fault.

We were almost at school before the eighth-graders showed up. “What do you want, Derrick?” I asked the leader of the pack. He was taller than me, but skinny and full of ugly acne.

“Your money,” he responded, smirking. “And interest for the last two days, too,” he said. His two shorter, equally ugly friends laughed. Ben glared at them and tried to walk past. I followed, pushing through the two smaller guys.

“Not so fast,” Derrick said, punching Ben in the stomach. “I hear Old Man Walter wants a piece of you - but he only likes boys,” Derrick taunted. Ben fell to his knees, and the two short guys rummaged through his backpack, throwing papers and supplies all over until they found money.

I was next. “You got attitude, little girl,” Derrick said to me, standing close to me so he was looking down. “I wonder who wears the pants here? Maybe it’s you Walter is after,” He said, laughing at Ben still clutching his stomach.

Derrick slapped me, and pushed me over. My long brown hair covered my face, and my backpack rolled away from me. The goon squad repeated their daily ritual. No lunch for us, and it was my fault. Ben got up, but didn’t say anything to me. We picked up our things, and went to school.

Lunch was aggravating after I didn’t finish my dinner last night. “Sorry, Ben,” I repeated to my best friend, who’s stomach was rumbling as loud as mine. We discussed a way to get to school and go home, where we wouldn’t have to run into Old Man Walter or Derrick and his goons. We decided that showing up early, and going home late was the best option.

We didn’t discuss The Spot much, but the book “Maelstroms, Whirlpools, and Myth,” in Ben’s lap told me it was still on his mind, too. I sat in class drawing pictures of The Spot, thinking about how that vortex got there. I met Ben in the library and asked him more questions.

“Well, where did it come from?” I asked.

“I don’t know,” he replied.

“What is it doing there?” I asked.

“I don’t know,” he replied.

A lot of questions that even the book he was reading didn’t answer. Ben told me about the old myths that ships would get sucked into Whirlpools in the ocean, that there were monsters under the water making it swirl, and that they were believed to be portals by some superstitious people.

“But then, what is our vortex? It doesn’t look like any of these. It’s extra weird,” I said. Ben’s face told me I’d asked an obvious question that he simply can’t answer. We had no idea what it was.

At 5pm, two hours after the school day ended, we finally decided to head home. The day was lighter for longer, so we risked a peek at The Spot. It was still swirling, and still mushy. Nothing much had changed, except life had moved in since the days warmed up. Frogs, snakes, butterflies, and a few gnarly black birds were around now, making their home as the humidity rose with the temperature swampy Spot.

“Well, I don’t think it’s a portal,” I said smartly as we walked home, “Animals are sensitive to magic stuff, right?”

Ben rolled his eyes at me. “Portals aren’t Dungeons and Dragons style magic, Judy,” he stated, not offering any other solution.

We walked up the hill to my house and parted. My dad met me at the door with an envelope with pictures in it and warned me to be quiet at dinner. I guess mom was still in one of those moods. Dinner was silent, and I went to my room immediately after I cleaned my plate in record time. That reminded me why we needed our lunch money in the first place.

I got on the phone and called Ben as soon as I was alone. “Hey Ben, I got the pictures!” I told him, I was really excited to get some answers with our proof.
“That’s great!” he almost shouted into the phone. “Bring them to school tomorrow, we’ll show Mr. Allen.”

I agreed and hung up the phone. My stomachs butterflies were excited to learn more, half hoping this would prove that magic is real, or something like that. My dreams were of portals to other lands or between areas in the city.

Ben was walking really fast to school, he barely stopped to glance at The Spot as we walked by. I decided to speed things up and started running, Ben laughed and followed. I had the pictures in my backpack, but I hadn’t looked at them yet. I thought it wouldn’t be fair to look without Ben since they’re his Spot, too.

At lunch we grabbed a sandwich from the line and went immediately to the science wing. Mr. Allen’s office was at the end of the hallway, and he always ate in there. We knocked on his door, looking nervously at each other.

Mr. Allen is really slow, so it took him a minute to open the door, and when he did, Ben blurted out a million questions without even saying hello. I grabbed Ben’s arm suggesting he slow down, and greeted Mr. Allen.

“Hi, Mr. Allen. Ben and me have some questions about Whirlpools we’d like to ask you,” I said.

Mr. Allen chuckled, “So I guessed by Ben’s outburst. Come on in, let’s see what you’ve got.” Mr. Allen was always really nice to talk to. He wasn’t our science teacher this year, but whenever we had a problem, Mr. Allen was always willing to help.

In his office there was a padded couch, a large cluttered desk, a chair, and a small library of really old books. The first questions Ben asked, we already knew the answer to. Mr. Allen explained what Whirlpools are, and how they’re formed. He discussed Vortexes, and said that most of them are much more powerful than whirlpools, but caused in the sky instead of in the water, using tornadoes as an example.

When we got to the part about The Spot, Mr. Allen scrunched his forehead in thought. “I’m not sure, guys. I’ve never heard of a vortex appearing in a pond, or a tame tornado in a swamp,” he said. I smiled, ready to reveal our ace.

I pulled out the photos from their envelope and separated my mom’s pictures from ours. When I got to the pictures of The Spot, my stomach jumped. Ben stared at me in horror, like we’d messed up or something.

Each of the pictures merely showed a mucky, littered swamp. Trash and logs and things sticking out of a deeper bed of water - the small pool. Only, there was no mist, and no vortex in the water. The trees were still ominous, and the bushes were still thorny, and there was still really tall grass - but no vortex.

“Uh, well, I,” I stutter, really disappointed at the photos. Mr. Allen looks over his glasses at us.

“If you’re trying to pull an old man’s leg,” he began, “Good job!” He laughed. He was amused that we’d learned a bit about Whirlpools, and tried to stump him with a made-up phenomenon.

Ben’s face turned red and his eyes swelled up with tears. I slouched and tucked the photos away. “Mr. Allen, it’s not a joke,” I said, too shocked by our photos to really fight back or explain anymore. We left Mr. Allen’s office more disgruntled than we were before.

“What now?” I ask Ben, who’s face is stone still.

“I don’t know,” he replied. Ben liked figuring things out. When he’d get a bad grade, he was like this. This was his bad grade.

“Maybe we can figure it out,” I offered. I wanted to know more, too, but I’m not as smart as Ben. Maybe we could still do it, though. Ben just looked at me. “We can go take some notes, and observe tomorrow. Let’s go there, instead of school,” I suggest, hardly aware that I was suggesting we skip school.

We went to our afternoon classes, and it wasn’t until our late walk home that Ben responded to my offer.

“Yea, let’s come here tomorrow,” he said out of the blue.

“Really? What about Old Man Walter?” I ask, thinking about my moms warnings, and the fact that I agitated the old man the other day.

“Who cares? This is important,” Ben stated. His mind was made up.

We approached the opening to The Spot first thing in the morning very cautiously, keeping an eye out for Old Man Walter and his dog, or someone who might tell on us at school. When we made sure the coast was clear, we snuck through the entrance we made. In the daylight the mist looked blue, the water was a bright murky green.

I brought my journal from home since I couldn’t trust my mom with it. I took notes on everything we could see in it, and even things we couldn’t see but should have. Each piece of garbage, each branch and rock, what animals were around, and noticed that there was nothing floating in the water around the vortex.

I also described the area in detail, picking up everything from the color of the leaves, to what brand the shirt on the ground was, types of animals around, even the color of the slime on the trees. I started drawing pictures of the pond and the mist as best I could, when Ben started asking me things.

“What have you got down?” He asked first. I read him my list. “That’s good,” he said. “When you’re done with the sketch, I want to do some experiments,” he told me. I agreed. I finished the mist - it was darker with pencil, but I didn’t bring any colors with me.

Ben started gathering stuff around us. Mostly trash around us seemed easiest to throw in, I wrote them all down. First, Ben threw in an old red shoe that we found nearby. The shoe made no sound, and sunk out of sight.

“Shoe, no splash, sinks quickly,” Ben recited. I wrote it down. Next, he threw in a pedal from the bicycle. There was a faint sound, but no splash. It, too, sank quickly.

“Bike pedal, small sound, no splash, sinks quickly,” He said. Ben kept throwing things in the water trying to get a drastically different result. Even the handful of leaves I threw in weren’t floating in the water.

“Weird,” I said, just watching him throw things.

“We need something else. Something alive,” Ben said. Noticing the horrified look on my face, he just said, “It’s for science. And a frog can kick to the surface while a log can’t. Maybe we’ll figure something out.”

“Don’t throw it too hard,” I warned, allowing the experiment to go on. Ben spent about fifteen minutes trying to catch one of the frogs around us without making too much noise. I eventually helped, after a few failed dives for a frog left ben extra muddy.

We cornered a big fat frog inside a hallowed log. I didn’t want to touch it, so I just blocked one side so Ben could reach in and grab it.

“Gotcha,” he said triumphantly. “Now, let’s see how this is. Ready?” he asked me. I grabbed my pencil and now-soggy journal that I’d left on a log to help with the frog catching.

“Yea, go ahead,” I said. Ben threw the frog into the water. The big frog made a faint sound, and started kicking frantically. It’s legs were thrusting under the water quickly, but we couldn’t see it’s feet any longer. Ben turned green, and I felt especially guilty for the frog.

“Big frog, faint sound, no splash, unable to escape the current in spite of frantic kicking and natural buoyancy,” Ben recited, his voice cracking a little. I wrote down the information.

“Can you grab him, Ben?” I asked, wanting to help the frog. Ben kneeled next to the water, holding onto the biggest rock next to him. I stood up to help, anchoring myself behind him. Our clothes were soaked and covered in stinky mud, but Ben tried to grab the frog anyway.

He grabbed a hold of the frog, but couldn’t lift him from the water. He pulled as hard as he could, but the frog was stuck.

“I think he’s caught in something!” Ben almost shouted, “I can’t get him,” he let go of the frog. It took less than five dreadful minutes for the frantic frog to completely disappear in the water.

“Well, what does that mean?” I asked, still shaken and feeling bad for the poor frog.
“Uh,” Ben choked, “I think that means it’s stronger than it should be. Those books said vortexes were almost harmless at this size, like when you empty your sink and water spins around the drain,” He stated. He was obviously nervous about what we were dealing with.

“Maybe a log will float? Like, a big one,” I offer to help toss a large log into the water with him. Ben nods and starts looking for a large log that we can still carry.

“One, two, three,” Ben counts before we let go of the log. The mist crackles a bit when the log passes through, and it’s sucked beneath the surface of the water faster than the frog. I rush back to my journal and get ready to write down what Ben tells me.

“Large log, crackles in mist, sinks quickly without any other sound,” Ben recites. I write it down, wondering what the data will lead to. Ben seems unsatisfied with the same result over and over again.

“We need something bigger,” he suggests. He sits on the only other dry rock in the area, thinking about what else they could throw in. While he’s thinking, Ben leans his elbows on his knees, pushing all of his weight forward on his feet.

“What’re you kids doin’ back here again?” A voice startled us from behind. Old Man Walter was poking his head over his fence, watching us.

“Uhhh,” Ben blurted, “Nothing, Mr. Walter, just sitting here talking.” Ben said nervously, trying to stand up to leave. His shoes had sunk in the mud while we were thinking, and he couldn’t get out. We could hear the dog on the other side of the fence running back and forth. Old Man Walter stared at me and Ben’s muddy clothes.

“I told yew not to come ‘round here no more,” Old Man Walter scowled. “I guess Frost will have to get yew to leave now, won’t he?” He said, unlatching the gate to unleash the mangy dog.

Ben struggled harder with his shoes, trying to pull them out of the mud to get away from the dog. I stood up and tried to pull Ben free so we could both run, but his feet were thoroughly suctioned into the mud. I dropped my journal, and Ben was more concerned with that than himself.

“Don’t lose our research!” He shouted at me, now trying to untie his shoes. The small grey dog charged us, baring his teeth and barking rapidly. Old Man Walter was laughing over the fence as loud as he could. I grabbed for the notebook, and started kicking at Frost the dog.

“Get away, Frost, Get down!” I shouted, kicking at him.

“Hey, don’tchew kick my dog!” Old Man Walter shouted over the fence. He got off of whatever he was standing on and disappeared behind the fence.

“What do you want me to do, Ben?” I frantically ask, unsure if I should run or stand our ground.

“Go get my dad!” Ben shouted at me, still tugging his feet out of his shoes. Before I could leave, Ben’s feet came out of his shoes in a sickening slurp, and he tumbled backward toward the water.

“BEN!” I shout, rushing toward him, kicking the yapping dog into the thick mud of the swamp. I grabbed for Ben, but my muddy hands slipped from his, and he continued to tumble backward into the vortex.

The mist crackled when Ben’s body hit it, sending off small sparks before Ben hit the water. I turned away at the bright flash, while still reaching for him blindly.

“Ben, NO!” I dove toward the water once the flash disappeared, reaching for Ben’s outstretched hand. His eyes were terrified, but he couldn’t make a sound. I could see him shouting, but no noise made it through the mist. He had a strong grip on my wrist that hurt. I screamed in pain but kept trying to pull him out anyway.

After a few moments, Ben’s body disappeared below the surface of the water and his grip went limp, releasing my wrist. I sat in the mud, staring at the vortex until Old Man Walter’s voice snuck up behind me from somewhere - it was too dark to see now. I ran down the street and found a pay-phone. I called 9-11 and waited.

The police came, and asked me questions. None of them believed anything about a vortex. Why would they? Old Man Walter was there, they were questioning him as well. My best friend was swallowed by this vortex and now it’s gone. What’s worse, we didn’t learn anything to know how to get him back, or know where he went.

My mom told the officers that I’d been acting out and was making up stories, probably egging on Old Man Walter. I gave them my muddy journal and agreed to go home. I didn’t speak to my mom or dad, I just sat in the car staring at the flashing lights after the paramedics bandaged my bruised wrists.

Ben’s parents showed up, his mom was crying and his dad was yelling. They put out a missing persons report, told me I was lucky. They arrested Old Man Walter, saying all those crazy stories I heard since I was little were true, but only I knew what really happened.

Copyright © 2010 by Katrina Pawlowski

As We Always Were

2010-03-17T08:54:00.002-06:00

This is my first ever "Flash Fiction," something under 1000 words in short story form. The class rules for the assignment were simply "start the story using the phrase 'Twice. Twice never seemed enough." I'd really appreciate feedback on this, it's really only 530 words, so any help is welcomed.

Twice. Twice never seemed enough. We double checked our bags, “Are you sure we have everything, dear?” My wife asked, before we left our home for the final time. I could tell she wanted to ask again, so I replied with “Yes, dear,” to move us along lest we be late. We smiled at one another, the quiet unsure smile that meant a major change for us both.

When we arrived to the harbor, the ship was waiting for us. We looked at it, then looked at each other unable to speak. When we looked back at the ship, we absorbed every letter painted on the side: ‘R.M.S. Titanic.’ The ship was an absolutely marvelous sight to behold. “The most luxurious steamship in the world,” I say with pride, “Unsinkable even! We’ll be in America and our new life in no time.”

“We’re going to America, we really are!” My wife exclaimed to no one in particular. Her eyes bright with the promise of a new start, like a child at Christmas. I couldn’t help but smile before approaching the inspection line with our boarding passes tightly in hand. There were people around us in pairs, husband and wife on our same journey. Some from far away places as evidence by their accents, some from our own little town in Wales.

Accommodations for the third class were simple. Quaint rooms shared with other families, the ambient hum of the engines muting our roommates snores while we slept. We relaxed and lived as royalty for four days on the most luxurious steamship in the world. Most of our time was spent on deck. This was the most breathtaking experience we’d ever shared together, watching the sun rise and set over the turbulent sea.

She sat in the sun writing poetry while I sketched whatever I laid eyes on around us. We ate luxurious meals with hopeful conversation from others sharing our situation. “We’ve got family in Brooklyn, by the river. You could stay with us for a while, while you get started,” a kind man offered over a meal on the second night.

“We’d really appreciate that,” I accepted the offer, making plans to repay him and his family as soon as we were able. Our new life was looking up thanks to this voyage.

On the fourth day however, the crews chaotic cries for women and children nearly separated us for the first time since we were children ourselves. “No! I will not leave him,” my darling wife cried out.

“Get aboard the boat, there will be room for the men elsewhere,” a crew member with an insincere voice tried to convince her.

“I will not. We will die as we have lived, together,” she said sternly before turning to face me. Her hands were shaking, so were mine.

Now that our voyage has come to this end, we lay here as we always had. Together. Cold water is filling the room around us, soaking our worldly belongings and spirit alike. The sound of the engines was replaced by the creaking hull giving way under the weight of the sea. We say “I love you,” and say it again. Twice. Twice never seemed enough.

Mental Game

2010-01-29T21:40:00.004-07:00

Okay, this is my very first ever poem. It was written for my Creative writing class, and we were required to use certain words like "Lackadaisical" and "Unerring." I'd actually appreciate feedback on this, as I'm really going to fall on my face with the first half of this class if I don't figure out this poetry thing quickly.

Opponents face one another without delay

quickly saluted niceties start the commotion.

Moving like dancers the players move and sway

lackadaisical lunges invite hasty locomotion,

false attacks elicit flustered parries that betray

a players introspective skill.

One final touche to finish this action,

one has to react when the other goes in for the kill,

stress eviscerating both minds with rancor and frustration.

A shrill cry signals an unerring strike

one player overwhelmed, one sighs with elation

she’d expertly lashed out where he didn’t like

completing the mental game against a poor man called “Mike”

A few specific questions: Does it flow? Does it make sense? Etc.

Jonathan

2010-01-07T15:14:00.006-07:00

In his life, he was a farmer, and his name was Jonathan. He lived in the country with his wife and three daughters. They didn't have much money, and the taxes on their land were raised every crop season since the new King took the throne.

Every year was the same. They plant wheat, corn, and various types of squash. The crops bloomed in waves, corn was the first to grow. Jonathan and his two oldest daughters tend to the current crops, picking the ready stock and loading the carts to go to market once a week. Jonathans wife Mary, and their youngest daughter Julie were most comfortable with the cows and chickens.

This year was the most pathetic year for any of the goods they could take to market. A family of foxes settled in the forest around their land, taking out the bulk of their chickens including the one breeding rooster they owned. The crops suffered from drought, which starved the cows as well as the stock of fresh vegetables for market.

"I don't know what we'll do! We'll lose our land, our family, our rights all in one fell swoop..." Jonathan trails off, waiting for the comforting words of his loving wife.

"We'll figure it out, Jon. We've done it before."

"This is different. This new King...he cut the old bloodline and took over by force! Do you really think he's going to show mercy for us? We can't even provide them with anything to eat."

Mary assured him that things would be alright, and insisted she take the girls to town to sell their goods to needing townsfolk. Jonathan was hesitant to allow a woman to take his place, but he relented after a bit of convincing from Mary. She had a plan.

The following day Mary and the girls secured the slim amounts of corn, eggs, and milk in the cart, fastened the mules harness and reigns and headed off after a kiss each from Jonathan. "I love you," he said to her. She simply nodded and smiled, whipping the mules to start moving.

In town, the effects of the drought were felt by all. Townsfolk nearly mobbed the cart when the gates opened. Several town guards had to fend off the starving people, several arrests were made. Seeing her opportunity while the guards were away, Mary set up the cart near the entrance with all three girls sitting in plain sight for sympathy bargaining.

"Settle down! Settle!" Mary shouted, "With the difficulties of this year, we recognize your plight! We're willing to negotiate our prices." She set up a sign over the edge of the cart, it read:

3 eggs - 50Gold
2 korn - 100Gold
1 bred - 100Gold

The small remaining crowd growled at her sign, cries of "ludicrous!" and "Who does she think she is? What woman can do this?" After several minutes of busied shouting, the guards returned with a scowl. "What's goin' on here?" They demanded in unison.
"Why, I'm just selling my goods. No crime here," Mary responded, covering the sign when her body as best she could.

"What are these complaints? Where's your husband?" They demanded again.

"My husband is sick, I'm taking care of things for the family today," she shrugged.

The guards weren't buying it. They shoved her aside to get a better look at her cart. "Hey! What's the meaning of -" she cries.

"What is this? These prices are outrageous! How can you charge your own people this?" The guards shouted, grabbing her and her daughters. "No woman should be working like this, and we're gonna make you pay." The guards carted them away, screaming while biting and clawing at the guards armor.

"Leave my girls alone! What kind of monsters are you? Where are you taking us?" Mary demanded, barely taking a breath between angry statements.

"Ah, Fighters we got here, Bill," a short fat guard chuckled.

"Let 'em. She'll be screamin' somethin' different by morning," the taller guard, Bill responded.

Something of a malicious chortle came from the short fat guard. Mary twisted her body and kicked at the guards in desperation. She may have made a mistake.

A lot of things around the house had to be repaired, so Jonathan made himself busy at home while he had the opportunity. He started by fixing the door to the chicken coup, which had been chewed through by the family of hungry foxes. Next on the list was hanging a pair of ropes with a plank of wood in the large Oak tree near the house to make a swing for the girls.

"Thanks fer savin' us the trouble, farm boy," a loud voice came from several yards behind Jonathan.

"Exc-excuse me? Who're you?" Jonathan stutters, squinting against the sun to see a large blonde man in full shining armor with a red cloak draped behind him.

"Commanda' Richmond," he bellows, "But don't bother introducing yourself, Jonathan. Wimp of a man sendin' his women to market for him."

"Uh - W-what? What's going on? Why are you here?" Jonathan stutters as he nervously scans the men surrounding Richmond.

"Your bitches were in town, rippin' off the good people that live there. You bumpkins think you can do anything. We'll see," he smirks, turning to the men to his left. "Burn it."

"What?! WHY?!" Jonathan cries out, backing away from the remaining guards.

Richmond just shook his head. "You simple farm folk sure are stupid. Allow me to explain," Richmond paces in front of his remaining men, "Your woman and babies. They were in town trying to dupe the townsfolk. The King doesn't take kindly to things like that."

He stops, turning to face Jonathan. He lowers his head, but raises his eyes to meet Jonathans, "They squealed. Especially that little one. We shot 'em. Well, we raped 'em first." Some of the men grinned and adjusted themselves at that confession.

"You. You. You fucking slime. You piece of shit! I'll get you, you'll pa-" His voice chokes off as he's clubbed in the back of the head by a guard that snuck around the house.

When he came around, Jonathans head was throbbing with the new lump he was given. His hands were bound, and he had an old rag in his mouth as a gag. "Yek ee o!" He choked through the rag. He could taste the piss when he breathed in.

Richmond just chuckled, "What was that? Let you go? And why would we do that? A hanging is good for morale. It's damned funny, too." The guards around him laughed in unison, eager to see Jonathan twitch.

Jonathan leaned his head back, recognizing the rope he'd just tied for his daughters swing now tied loosely around his neck. His throat tightened, and he began to choke on his own vomit. Tears streamed down his face as Richmond ordered one of his men to kick the barrel out from under him.

It didn't take long before Jonathan stopped kicking. "Damn. With all that puke in his throat, he didn't even struggle for long. What a waste." Richmond shrugs, "Burn him, too," Richmond ordered before returning to his horse.

Something happened that night that no one could explain. The farm itself was void of life after the guards stole whatever food they could find, and burned the rest. The thick smoke reeked of the carcasses burned in the barn and chicken coop - but the body that should have been hanging from the tree was gone.

Instead, a new figure roamed the ground under the tree as though he were looking for something among the wreckage. The only thing visible on the figure came from the center of his chest - a red stone shone in the limited moonlight peeking through the clouds and smoke.

As the smoke cleared in the early hours of the morning, his armor became visible in the moonlight. But it didn't shine at all. Instead, it was dull and covered in heavy scratches. He had mismatched pauldrons on his shoulders, and dents all over the arms and legs. The dagger at his side was dull and rusted, his shield cracked, but his sword was immaculate.

On the blade there was a line of glowing red runes down the middle until about 6 inches before the tip. This section of the blade was abruptly wider by 2 inches, which led to a sharpened curved tip. For close-quarters, the hilt of this blade covered the owners armored fist in a row of heavy bronze spikes.

The owner of this beautiful sword and armor enchanted by the red stone was actually not human. Instead, his bleach bone skull protruded from the high collar of his armor. Every weak spot on his skeletal body covered, save for his skull. If you asked the maker of this armor why they chose this design, they'd tell you it was to instill fear deep in the wearers enemies. And they were right.

The figure wandered around the old Oak tree for hours, kicking aside bits of debris under the burned remains of the rope hanging from the lowest branch. "Ah ha," the figure uttered in a hollow voice, bending down to pick up something from the ash. He brushes it off to examine it, revealing a golden wedding band.

His armor is slender enough that the ring fit perfectly on his left ring finger. After adorning the ring, the figure directed his gaze toward the city. "Mary, your man will make them pay for our daughters and the life they'll never live," his voice echoes very distant, but it certainly belongs to the quiet farmer, Jonathan. He attaches the leather straps from his shield to his arm, unsheathes his sword, and marches toward the town.

By dawn he can see the gates in front of him. The guards stationed on either side of the gate on the battlements watch as Jonathan approaches. "You there. Sheathe that sword if you wish to gain access," a tall guard warns, raising his armed crossbow. Jonathan continues his march undeterred.

"What is it you seek, traveler? Our Inn is closed, our town is poor," a short fat guard shouts from atop the battlements. Jonathan keeps walking.

"Halt!" the tall guard announces once before letting a bolt fly at Jonathans armor. The armor harmlessly deflects the screaming bolt without interrupting its wearers forward march. "Er - Bill, did you even hit him? What're you doing? Give me that!" The short guard grabs the crossbow from Bill after a new bolt has been loaded. The short guard fires a shot that hits ineffectively on the heavy armor.

Before either guard can load another bolt, Jonathan presses his left palm against the gate and begins to push. "That ain't gonna work, you stupi -" Bills eyes widen and he cuts off his own words. "Hey Bill, what is that? Is he wearin' someone's skull as a helmet or what?" Bill can't bring himself to shout at Jonathan again. Instead, he runs as fast as his shaking legs will carry him.

"Oi! Bill, get back here!" The short man shouts after the fleeing Bill. The fat guard looks back at Jonathan still pressing against the gate. The wood brace on the opposite side moans and cracks, sending small splinters flying. The fat guard shudders at the awful sound, and turns around on his heel running back toward the guard tower to warn others.

Another loud crack sounds, waking the entire town. The brace for the front gate nearly explodes with dry wooden splinters decorating the shops closest to the gate. "See, you guys think I'm nuts sure - but look at that!" Bill shouts back at a handful of groggy reinforcements. "What was that? You said one guy! One guy couldn't do -"

The gate explodes open and the guards fall silent. Jonathan stands in the middle of the doorway without backup or reinforcements. A few of the sleepy guards chuckle "Nice one Bill, you nutter. We're off," a blonde guard stretches as he walks away. "No, wai-" Bill begins, before his chest is pierced by the inhumanely fast armored skeleton.

The guards stare in awe after Jonathan cleared 20 yards or more between the gate and their position in a matter of seconds. "Shit," one of the guards utters. He begins to draw his sword, but catches the curved blade with his throat before he can even remove it. Jonathan goes through the handful of guards within 5 minutes.

A woman who watched the slaughter from a nearby window lets out a scream before fainting. Jonathan turns toward the source of the sound and catches sight of the cart his family owned sitting by the gate. "Maaaryyyyyy!" His hollow voice echoes through the town. He collapses to his knees, slamming his fist into the ground. The closest buildings shake with the force, and it doesn't take long for more spectators to show their faces through slightly open windows to see what was going on.

"Where's Richmond!?" He bellows. Half of the windows close, while several remain slightly cracked but without audible response. Guards start pouring out of the towers on either side of the town. They saw Jonathan slaughter their comrades in a group, so they decide take a different approach. "Surround him!" a tall guard with a heavy mask with an everlasting scowl etched on it orders, "Don't let him out of your sight! On your guard, men!"

Jonathan decides that this group will be made example of. The first were dispatched too quickly, these guards think they have an advantage. Jonathan begins to walk toward the guards on his right, sword drawn.

A few guards shift their weight and look around nervously, but the masked guard in charge doesn't budge. "The farm girls your town took from me, they were my family. You took my family, I will remove you from yours!" Jonathan shouts at the guard directly in front of him, who drops his sword and runs toward the fortress in the center of town.

Jonathan lets the next guard draw his sword and take a swing. His cracked shield takes the blow before the sword punches a hole in the guards face. He removes the sword violently, spraying two surrounding guards with its victims blood. The two guards decide to rush him in the hopes of catching him off guard. It doesn't work.

Jonathan parries one blade with his own, and ducks under a wide swing from a clearly amateur guard. The young guard hits his partner with the wide swing, burring his sword deep in the guards neck. "No!" the young guard shouts before Jonathans blade sneaks around his shield through the guards chest armor.

The remaining guards turn to run toward the fortress. Jonathan manages to dispatch three more before they get away. He lets the fleeing guards escape, of course, to make sure the fortress is thoroughly disturbed by the time he arrives.
All of the remaining guards, including Richmond, stand on the battlements of the keep.

"This didn't work last time, what makes you think it will now?" Jonathan shouts up to the nervous guards stationed along the wall.

"This!" Richmond growls back, raising his bow. Every other guard on the wall does the same.

"On my word. Ready? Aim!" Richmond almost smirks, "LOOSE!" The guards let arrows fly down at Jonathan. He raises his shield to cover his exposed skull, and begins laughing low. Once the whistling of the arrows stop, Jonathan roars with hollow laughter.

Several guards lose control of their bodies in response.

"Shall I burn it?" Jonathan shouts to Richmond, "That would be your solution, no?"
Richmond shifts his massive weight and armor. "Bring the oil!" Richmond shouts to the guards standing in their own piss.

A large barrel of oil is hoisted above the gate where Jonathan begins to press. "Dump it. NOW!" Richmond orders, "And light those arrows, fools!" A heavy stream of black oil covers Jonathans armor, dripping down the front of the gate, and pooling up on the stone around him. Still he pushes on the gate.

A groan and a crack from the wooden brace signals more arrows to fly at Jonathan, setting the oil on and around him ablaze. The flames crawl up the wooden gate quickly. The gate crumbles under the heat, collapsing over its aggressor before it reaches the guards standing on the battlements. The guards closest to the gate let out a long sigh of relief after holding their breath for a time.

Each guard is hesitant to claim victory, so Richmond encourages them. It is, after all, good for morale. "Yea! We've won! Don't you see? We always win!" Richmond shouts, pumping his fist above his head. The guards are still relatively quiet, but a few join in on the celebration. This celebration however, is short lived. The pile of burned rubble on the ground shifted off of the armored skeleton effortlessly.

Jonathan doesn't say anything to the guards, just begins slowly walking forward through the gate into a wide open room with one wide set of stairs in the center. Large draperies in red cover the walls. Long tables line the walls under the draperies, and several statues stand through the room celebrating the King that sits on her throne.

Jonathan raises his sword to the statue, pointing it directly at its chest. "You, too," Jonathan's hollow voice echoes low.

He makes his way up the stairs to the second floor. A few guards went inside in an attempt to turn the narrow hallways into an advantageous fighting position. The guards from one side close in, boxing Jonathan between two stone walls and two rows of guards on either side of him.

"Gotcha," the scowling masked guard proclaims.

"You do? It looks to me as though you too, are stuck."

The guards didn't even catch Jonathans movement as he impales the masked guard. He's done taking his time. He skewers the second guard in front of him with the masked guards body still attached to his sword, ignoring the two behind him. The flanking guards take the opportunity and run toward the stairs while they can.
After kicking the guards off his sword, Jonathan decides to block the door instead of entering it. He moves a large stone slab in front of the door, and makes his way toward the other entrance to the battlements. As he throws open the door, several of the guards try to run through the blocked door.

"It won't budge!"

"Get outta the way, weakling! I got this!"

"Shit! What are we gonna do?"

One of the guards is decapitated by a single swing of Jonathans blade. The next guard in line down the battlement wall grabbed the edge and vaulted himself over the edge. Too bad for him, the ground wasn't far enough to kill him. Both of his legs snap with a sickening crunch when he hits the stone below. He screams in pain, writhing to escape the pain in his lower body.

"What'd we ever do to you?!"

"Why are you doing this?"

"What are you? Why is this happening?"

Confused angry shouts filled the air. Jonathan just kept marching forward. A few more guards tried their luck at vaulting over the edge, all suffering similar broken bodied fates. The rest were impaled or dismembered if they held their ground. A few guards fainted and were trampled to death, and one brave guard tried to sneak up behind Jonathan. His head was crushed by the cracked shield swung sideways at him.
Richmond was out of options. He was cornered, and out of men.

"Please, I'm beggin' you! I didn't mean it! I'm sorry!" He pleas, falling to one knee and dropping his sword to his side.

"I told you, I'd get you," Jonathan said. Richmond's eyes grew wide as the sword came down on the crown of his skull, nicely dividing his face in half.

Jonathan flicked his blade to one side, dispelling the blood from its smooth metal surface. He turned around and headed back into the fortress. "King Seigmond! You don't deserve this throne! You stole it. Gave power to Richmond and his men. I'm taking it back!" Jonathans shout echoed through the halls. His calls were answered only by desperate slamming sounds against a particularly large, ornate set of doors. No doubt Seigmond was reinforcing his position.

Jonathan didn't bother opening the door, he simply thrust his sword forward through the wood into something soft. "Urgk," was all that sounded through the doors. When Jonathan retrieved his blade, the body slapped hard against the stone floor. "It's mine, now," he reassured the corpse of the former King.

With a single kick Jonathan forced the doors open, grabbing the body of the King by his white night robe. He dragged the body down the stairs, and tossed it into the still smoldering pile of rubble and writhing broken guards in front of the Fortress gates. The current kings followers picked up what they could carry, and fled to the forest surrounding the town.

To his surprise, however, the native townsfolk began to roar with applause at the disposal of their tyrannical king. Cheers from all were heard loud and clear. Jonathan was confused. They actually wanted him, a brutal skeleton, to rule over them. Then, he remembered announcing who he was for all the town to hear earlier in the day.

Many of these townsfolk knew him as Jonathan, the simple farmer married to Mary with three beautiful girls. They traded with him. They trusted him.

"Jonathan, when we heard about Mary we wanted to help. Richmonds forces and followers were too well armed compared to us. They took everything. Food, weapons, whatever they wanted. We want to help you now. Please let us." A man with braided hair and beard pleaded for the crowd. Everyone nodded eagerly, and Jonathan had to make a decision.

"I can not lead you. I'm not real. I don't know how long this lasts. I didn't even know what this old armor was, just that no one would buy it in such a battered condition. I'm sorry," Jonathans voice echoed in his armor. The crowd lost its energy and began to despair. The braided man stepped forward again.

"Then who will lead us?" He inquires.

"You could."

The man nearly choked on laughter, "Me? Me?! I'm a fisherman. I'm no leader."

"And I was a farmer. What's your name?"

"Frank," the man replied.

"Well then, Frank. I will lead your army for however long this armors enchantment lasts. The rest is up to you." Jonathan dropped to one knee with a loud clatter. It wasn't long before the rest of the town followed suit, bowing to their new King.
"At least I didn't kill that King in his nice clothes," Jonathan almost laughed. "Let's get this place cleaned up. It smells like piss." Frank stood speechless for several minutes before commanding people to various tasks.

The townspeople were as happy to help as they said they were. Several men boarded the town gate, and cleaned up the large bits of debris - including bodies. Groups of men and women worked together to hunt and fish. Several children carried buckets of water from the stream to the fortress to wash away the taint on the battlements.

Jonathan and Frank walked around the town, discussing ways to improve the lives of the townspeople. It may or may not last forever, but for now at least he could use this enchantment to help people that needed it.

The Amputee

2009-10-29T12:30:00.003-06:00

The festering wound. Too deep to fully heal, resonating pain equal to its repulsiveness. The girl harboring this wound insisted on action. Prolonging the pain waiting for medicine to take effect didn't seem necessary to her. No medication could tame the wild burning pain, no one person could help. She had known what had to be done. A simple procedure, removing the limb. Her suggestion refused time and time again by those with the years to make decisions for her.

It was the only option, she was more than sure of it. Removing the suppurating wound entirely was the only way to completely remove her pain. She would learn to walk a little differently than others -- nevertheless, without a painful limp for the first time in years. For months she thought on this, pleading to many doctors "please, remove the limb. Please, please remove the pain.” None were willing to give in to her request, presenting the condescending reassurance “you’ll be fine! You’ll see,” instead.

Nothing anyone said was of any comfort to her. "Wait it out, it'll get better." Empty words when they're not sharing her pain. No one else had the same deep throb, or burning aches resonating from that hideous wound through their entire body. This was her pain. It was a personal experience that couldn’t be shared or explained, they simply didn’t understand.

Relief soon came to her with a developing plan, she'd seen that she was left with no other choice.

"It is the only choice," she repeated to herself, sometimes out loud as reassurance. It had to be the only way. It had to be done tonight, she couldn't take any more.

Preparations were made; a candle lit, a cord tied tight, ice administered to numb. A saw. A long slender saw with what seemed like a million serrated teeth sent to rescue her. This tool was a godsend, a release from her torment. Heat it a little, it will cut flesh as though it were butter. She rehearsed the procedure for an hour, maybe two.

She let out a deep sigh of relief as she began, it might finally be over!

Before long however, the saw was no longer fast enough, the ice no longer cold enough. A burning rush of blood pours from the saws point of entry, the makeshift tourniquet was not twisted tight enough, the saw wasn’t sharp enough. Heat rushed away from her fingers, her hands, her arms, her face. She could hear her heartbeat in the back of her mind. Slowing, crawling, quieting. The pain was more now, much more than before. Pure terror gripped the girl as her red life poured all about the floor.

Was this still the right choice? Was it not rehearsed enough in her mind?

The saw stopped at bone, her hands were too cold and void of life to move. Her throat grew tight from the shock, no sound came when she called out. Anything now would be too little, too late.

If only someone had listened. If only she hadn't been forced to take these actions herself. Maybe, just maybe, she'd still be alive and in much better health. If only...

Is Exclusive Content Bad For Gaming?

2009-10-06T21:54:00.004-06:00

Image compliments of BAPengin at Co-optimus.com - it makes me laugh, a lot.

Recently I've noticed a disturbing trend in the gaming market. It is the addition of game-altering exclusives with nearly every pre-order on the market, primarily at Gamestop!

Over at www.co-optimus.com I delved into this trend a bit to spark some debate; does game-altering exclusive content available by pre-order only effect the way you feel about games, developers, or publishers - or are we just overreacting when we say we don't get the "full experience" if a piece of the game is cut out for everyone else?

This is where you chime in. Head over to co-optimus.com and throw a few verbal tomatoes.

(Is Exclusive Content Bad For Gaming?)

When I Suck At Games: Friend Vs. Friend, FIGHT!

2009-10-01T10:53:00.004-06:00

Monthly Musing from Destructoid.com. These editorials are a lot of fun, and I'm glad I was given permission to repost this!

Palms sweating, thumbs twitching, reflexes...flexing.

*Hadoken! Shoryuken!*

Rage fills all speech centers of your mind after your friend, who doesn't normally play any video games, wallops you up side your Blanka skull. Insults like "You Cheated!", "You picked a cheap character!" "Fighting games aren't real games!" and the likes fly from your mouth. Before you realize it, you want to curl up with Phoenix Wright and forget the whole thing ever happened.

Relationships destroyed, friendships lost, sibling rivalries fueled, and hours of frustration against the savant gamers that have mastered the art of mashing A in your face. In spite of being a fencer that "fights" on a strip much like these games, I simply suck at Fighting Games. There, I said it. Nothing frustrates me more than my opponent landing some cheap-shot punch. Parry, riposte, touche! Not, A, B, Up, Forward, B - this form of fighting does not compute.

Come to the dahk side, where we say engarde!

Button mashing is for the birds, Fatalities frustrate, Bridget is a boy, Tekken can tag out, Dead or Alive can stay dead, and someone else can take home that misspelled Soul Calibur for all I care. No matter how much I play them, I will never be good at fighting games. When I was a young child of 17, I would ditch school to wrap myself up in Super Smash Bros. Melee, fighting hordes of bad guys in the challenges to unlock the trophies for my invisible bookshelf. I packed many hours into this task. Yet, when a friend would pick up player 2's controller, I would experience a kind of torture that most only experience when they run out of vasaline..."Kirby can fly. You should've died just then! That's not fair!"

Fighting games must have some hidden appeal, aside from the busty babes and shiny uber-weapons that is - maybe it's pounding people like me right into the floor. I pick up the controller with the hopes of smashing some Mario skull with Donkey Kong - giving that poor ape his due reward after all these years, only to find myself weeping at the sight of "Mario Wins!" flashing on the screen. Guilty Gear has that crazy tall guy with a bag on his head armed with a giant scalpal, what's not full of win in that character design? That is, up until someone yo-yo's you with the cross-dressing little boy, and win becomes lose. You can cry in that bag, that's what it's for.

I've got an idea: how about we watch ME play games, beating the crap outta that guy instead!

I play video games for the depth of story, the smooth 'Splosion style platforming, the character development, and the Metal Gears. Fighting games just don't have it for me. Some characters may be fighting for the greater good, or to save a helpless family member, to rule the world, or simply because they're a Sith. Maybe I dislike fighting games because I'm terrible at them, or maybe I just dislike them. Give me horror, give me action, give me Spider-man! But, when friends come around...

I'll make up excuses, some more viable than others, to get out of playing fighting games. "My wrist hurts." "I have malaria today." "I think my liver just asked to be removed, I'll catch up with you later." Occasionally my Smash Bros, or Soul Calibur games will go "missing," and I'll play co-op Guitar Hero with my friends instead.

Leave me to my Tekken bowling, DOA Volleyball, or Smash Bros arena. I didn't buy these games to play with the likes of you - it's a spiritual journey, and I don't want my ass kicked while I'm walking the Earth.

Visual aid for those that wish to frustrate a Ryu.

Beggar Memes

2009-08-27T15:40:00.006-06:00

First, what is a meme? Many of us have heard the word, but a few of us have not.

Meme: "a pervasive thought or thought pattern that replicates itself via cultural means; a parasitic code, a virus of the mind especially contagious to children and the impressionable"

This type of thought pattern commonly applies to the internet, and is spread like a wildfire through the use of websites like Twitter.com, or online communities. Think of them as culturally propelled running jokes, often amongst strangers.

Now that we know how a meme works – How then, does a (presumably homeless) beggar hear about the antics of other (presumably homeless) beggars in other cities? Through my own Internet use, I've seen a clever sign from a homeless person in Seattle, that may also appear on a Denver street corner held up with some semblance of twisted bum pride.

Without the use of the internet, How does this spread so far and wide?

This clever-bum-sign meme really started with “I won't lie, I just want a beer.” How many of us have seen that sign in how many different cities? Right.

Someone somewhere decided that was hilarious, and gave the “I won't lie, I just want a beer” guy extra change. Suddenly, everyone won't lie, they just need their beer, or they're saving for a hooker (yea, I saw that once.)

So, somehow a homeless person saw that this “being clever” tactic was working, and organized all their homeless buddies into a sewing circle of cardboard signs. Word got out from one major city to the next via tin-can-on-a-string-phone, and poof – meme.

This makes me wonder if some cross-country drivers stop to chat with these corner dwellers/beggers. “Yea, so I saw this guy in San Francisco with a sign that said “I won't lie, I just need a beer” and it did wonders for the people stopping to give him change – much more effective than 'Jesys LoVEs yoU'” Which had that beggar questioning his own tactics, and switching gears to a more contemporary approach.

Or if they had a financial meeting “change is way down this month, we need to get more creative. You guys, find out how other cities are keeping up their revenue streams, we need all the help we can get.” Thus conducting the largest scale beggar migration...Yea, I don't know where I should be going with that. The point is – How is this spreading? Also, why are we still giving the guy that holds the sign that says “Spaceship broke down, need change to fix. Anything helps,” extra money?

It's a scam, I tell you, and too many of us are falling for it! Just say no to witty beggar signs, you're just encouraging madness! Furthermore, This article has tempted me to stand on a street corner with a sign that reads “Keep the Wild in Wildlife, Don't feed the panhandlers.” Properly punctuated, of course.

(Editors note: Ron Workman thought I should point out that the word Meme was created by the author Richard Dawkins (Best known for The God Delusion) in the mid 70's)

K(c)ats and Tornados

2009-07-21T20:52:00.005-06:00

Many people who follow me on twitter, or have any idea about my Facebook may have noticed a series of strange blurbs about a tornado that rampaged through parts of Colorado recently - most specifically, my apartment complex. Convincing myself I'm a writer, I thought I'd put down the ordeal in a written account. (Also, a few pictures to curb boredom.)

It all started on a rather quiet evening. I was finishing up an evening of playing one of the most interesting arcade games I've played in quite some time with the developers of said game. I gave them my impressions, and went on my way to writing the review at about 10:15pm. Not two minutes after signing off of Xbox LIVE did the power begin to flicker. No rain, no wind, just flickering power for about a minute.

"That's weird," I thought, praising myself for the pretend forethought to turn off my (7th) Xbox 360 before surges ruined it. I proceeded to unplug my Mac for the same reason, and was half-way through a second review sentence when the thunder started cracking close to the apartments accompanied by hail and rain in a flash. It was the wind that did it, really - drive me to the bathroom, that is. Don't worry, no britches were soiled. I didn't have time for that.

Hail the size of golf balls came at a sideways angle toward the North side of the building, shredding glass, trees, cars, and some homes in the process. My pathetic single-paned glass was no match, and it didn't take long for the hail to rip through my apartment. The noise was unbelievable! I was shouting for the cats at the top of my lungs, and I could not hear anything aside from thunder and breaking glass. The best way to describe it would be gunfire at a slow, powerful rate.

As I wrangled the cats to the bathroom, expensive laptop in hand - the young kitty became far too spooked for sensible judgement. Silly Dax ran toward the breaking glass, and bullet-like hail. Since common sense in a situation like that is rare, I went into the shredding livingroom after the frightened cat! Somehow, my tank-top and jeans provided enough protection to avoid any serious injury - though, I could've sworn I was hit repeatedly with glass in the shoulders and back.

After wrangling the second kitty, we 3 huddled in the bathroom (the only room without windows) for about 10-20 minutes before things calmed enough to venture out. Two cats who normally barely get along, were huddled together in the safety of a bathtub, while I was taking a mental inventory of things that needed to be dried off immediately. Ah, family.

"What the Hell was that?" I repeated, while fumbling in my toolbox for a flashlight (after I'd picked up my Xbox for drying - priorities.) I flicked on the dim emergency bulb to survey the damage, and this is what I saw:

and

It took maybe 5 minutes to actually realize: I've been hit by a tornado, and made very poor decisions in the process.

While trying to figure out what to do next, I sent a few shocked text messages and called my mom warning her that it might be headed that way. I also spoke with my neighbor and multiple other friends who all had a similar "did that just happen?" reaction. I paced on the phone with my boyfriend for a while, mildly freaked out, when I realized I wouldn't be able to sleep in my own bed until the ice and shards of glass were removed. Slivers of glass were in my shoes, pants, and shirt - just brushing my skin enough to irritate and itch like razor splinters.

It was time to decide what to do next. I packed up a few overnight things, and called my sister for a camera to document (partially for insurance, partially for my own recollection) the damage. Since things occur to a shocked mind in stages, it was also time to worry about my material posessions after all creatures were accounted for. Three wide-open windows, a nice new PS3 or Xbox 360, some movies, and loads of pawnable video games prompted me to grab boxes and start packing up.

At about Midnight, my sister showed up with the camera, and we wandered around taking pictures of anything and everything. I convinced her to hold on to a few boxes of irreplacible/out of print comic books, and the aforementioned material goods at her apartment - since my car would be full of kitties, and things like clean clothes.

While we were putting things in her car, my neighbor called to warn me that the gas main near our apartment was leaking - it was time to go. I picked up the following items and prepared to drive my illegal car (spider-webbed windshields are not street legal to drive):

1 litter box
1 kitty food container (with kitty food, and cat-nip inside)
1 laundry basket full of clean clothes, shredded blinds, and glass
1 Dax
1 Kovu
1 Xbox 360
1 Macbook

I settled into my mothers house at 2am, in time to get about 3 hours of sleep before my first final of the semester. What? Did I forget to mention that? Yes, this is finals week. I did a paw-check for broken glass, and crawled into bed with my head in a bizarre state of unrest in spite of being completely exhausted.

The next morning, I drove back to my apartment to pick up a few more things, and get daylight photos of the whole mess before class. Trees were down in the streets and on top of cars, power line poles were cracked like toothpicks, street lights were bent, many of the 50,000 homes without power were still without power. I've now got a new windshield on the way, boarded windows, a functional Xbox 360, and a warm bed to sleep in with my fuzzy monsters.

The more I think back on it, the worse that whole thing should have turned out.

Reasons this is weird:

It was a TORNADO! Actually, to be more precise, it was a flash tornado - with no siren, or even weather warnings whatsoever. I know I'm not in a high-class area, but I don't even have wheels on my home! (And now, I don't have windows, either!)

My 55 gallon fish tank on the wall opposite the largest window in the apartment was hit repeatedly with ice and/or glass. There are nicks in the glass throughout the front - yet, somehow, it was still standing, full of it's own water and fish.

My xbox, which was all but on the floor in front of the broken window, has turned on and connected to Xbox live without trouble. After practically dancing through 6 other xboxes before it, I was sure this one was a goner.

I have met all of my neighbors, most of whom I didn't even exchange greetings with on a regular basis.

My car suffered extreme hail damage which looked like I parked at a golf driving range and a severely cracked windshield. Yet my motorcycle that was parked on the north side of my car, suffered no damage whatsoever.

There has been an overwhelming show of support for this! I realize I'm attention-whoring a bit, but it's on my mind! A lot, in fact. So, it's nice to see people doing the caring thing - know it's greatly appreciated!

I really, honestly, should have been shredded by that hair brained cat-rescue. Actually - the cat should've been shredded as well, but I'm more than grateful we weren't.

Mini-Co-optimus Recap May 2009

2009-06-01T17:30:00.002-06:00

Sorry I didn't recap this month, it's been crazy so far with school starting, family visits, teaching my mom to use Facebook, gardening, and finally, E3! But, if you head here you can catch the stories I've posted!

Yes, I'm aware that was ultra lazy - but if you see how many articles I posted last month, you'll know why I didn't cover all of them. Cheers!

Girls in specialty stores

2009-05-06T15:50:00.000-06:00

Free Comic Book Day

2009-05-02T14:11:00.001-06:00

Video attempt number two; Improved by miles.

Stupid things that people do;

2009-05-01T19:26:00.003-06:00

This is my very first attempt at making a video on my adventures in the world, hopefully the editing wasn't that bad. I'll try rehearsing more before I decide to do another of these...Stage fright, perhaps.

Oh, and on a personal note: Dear mall, please give me back my Games Workshop. I miss my Space Marines, and Dark Elves...

Co-optimus recap time!

2009-04-30T16:45:00.005-06:00

This month at Co-optimus a lot more of my time was spent gaming, than writing. Part of that was dealing with some real-life-college-ey situations, and part of it was due to the increase in reviews I completed. Let's start with those!

Most of the games I reviewed this month, I was really excited for. Burn Zombie Burn, that's right, a zombie game. It's not what you think, though! The one with the weird name, Dishwasher: Dead Samurai had so much potential, but just fell short with it's online glitches. Then, a throwback Arcade freebie, Aegis Wing got the Co-op review treatment.

And finally for the reviews, FLOCK! was oddly difficult, but entertaining none-the-less! Also, the addicting puzzle game Peggle was my contribution to the “beyond co-op” for this month. Of course, my name isn't the only one on a lot of these, it was fun learning to write with someone else, instead of simply for them. I'll thank Nick in whatever book I manage to publish after college!

I was really excited to get back in to writing more editorial type stuff this month, most notably my This Week In Co-op feature, with Phoenix Wright. Yea, I got a little more creative with that one, it's not even a co-op game! Also, the Innovations in Co-op gaming, which covered some great features in co-op specific games – written with loads of help, once again, from Nick.

Amazon.com gave us a nice treat with the Arcade Store, where Amazon.com is allowed to discount otherwise fixed-price Xbox arcade games. Another cool internet perk in gaming this month was the early release of Demigod to some of the legit PC gamers that wished to download it, after Gamestop broke the rules and the street date.

I took a look at what other websites thought of Ghostbusters, specifically, what should be improved. I also did my first Co-op release alert on Dishwasher: Dead Samurai - it was an independent game that went overlooked until its release.

I took a look at some sales numbers for the Shaun White Snowboarding which sounded like fun to me, and a lot of other people, only to be ignored on the shelf after only a few hours of gameplay!

I covered quite a few previews this month, including Marvel: Ultimate Alliance 2, Fable II's content pack, Damnation, and a game that I'm so excited about I can barely contain myself, Fairtytale Fights!

I'll reiterate Fairtytale Fights here, because I can – it's my website. I really enjoyed what I read on this game, and can't wait to see what all the Fairytale characters look like. Hopefully I won't be disappointed.

The best things about living alone;

2009-04-30T16:02:00.003-06:00

Number 1; Feeding times. I can eat peanut butter straight out of the jar if I so choose, I can eat ice-cream straight out of the container, I can toast my hot-dog bun on the burner of my stove, which mothers tend to frown on. Now, don't worry for anyone coming over--
A) I don't keep Ice-cream in the freezer anyway, so I wont be eating out of the container.
B) I probably won't be serving you anything with Peanut butter on it, and I have a knife anyway. (and I guess C would be that I won't be burning your hotdog bun on my burner?)

Number 2; Curfew. If I want to get home at 4am and start playing video games with surround sound on, I can. If anyone feels the need to come over and crash for no reason whatsoever, they can. If the cat wants to go bat-shit at 2am and gallop over furniture, that's okay too. Point is, no one tells me where to be at what time.

Number 3; Nudity. If I so choose, I can walk around buck-naked for no reason whatsoever. Play video games with no pants on, run around in bra and underwear if it gets entirely too hot. Now don't think you learned some deep, dark, perverted secret about me; I'm being hypothetical...and it does get really hot here in the summer.

Number 4; Animals. For my entire life, I've always had to ask if I can have an animal--and the answer was usually no. I had to BEG and bargain with my mother for MONTHS before I got a snake. However, one time...or maybe two times, I decided I wanted a kitten from a lovely friend who knows people giving them away. I had no permission, I need no permission, and I now have a wonderfully insane cat named Dax sitting on my television. If I want to adopt a gopher next month, I can, and I would name him Hubert, and no one could complain.

Number 5; Decoration. I have a lot of stuff, and I mean…a LOT of stuff. I have toys you wouldn't believe, legos, video games, weaponry, and posters. During the dreary high school years, I had to hide all of it in my bedroom. Now, I can put Spiderman on the ceiling of my kitchen if I so choose, or move my zombie posters into the living room - or dig out all of my toys to display on my bookshelves. Sure its immature, but its MINE, and that's what's important.

Number 6; Sleep. Probably the least important on my list, but I still need to add it. I can fall asleep wherever I want. I fall asleep in my chair, and on the couch, and even on the floor. I can curl up with the cat in front of the TV with a lovely storm going and fall asleep for hours and not even think about it, it's a beautiful, thing. Who needs a bed, anyway?

Hopefully that was somewhat amusing anyway, it was actually written a long time ago - but I feel like I've been neglecting you guys for too long.

Now imagine me, only digging through an old ceder chest for old tidbits to share.

College dependency

2009-04-14T12:07:00.003-06:00

Yesterday, I decided it was time to fill out the FAFSA, for college government financial aid. I waited until after I turned 24 to avoid having my mothers income factored into how much financial aide I get for college. However, by not turning 24 before January first of this year, I am still considered a 'dependent student' according to the U.S. Government.

I spent quite a bit of time trying to find out how something like this could happen, by calling the FAFSA help desk, and the school itself for help. I was not going to go down without a fight. Of course, when it's the lowly citizens versus their government, the citizens lose. I am still not getting the financial aid I need for college, because my mother, who I haven't lived with in 4 years, makes more money than me.

I decided to make a list of reasons I am not a dependent for the sake of venting, because this really puts a damper on my living situation. So, without further ado, You're not a Dependent When...

You are 24 and have not been claimed as a dependent since you were 18...

You haven't lived “at home” for 1-or-more years...

You are 24 and been a casualty of the system twice via layoffs...

All of your bills are under your own name...

You've purchased a vehicle without a parental cosigner...

You've refinanced said vehicle purchase, again, sans cosigner...

The rest of “the system” removes your parents ability to financially assist you with things like insurance once you actually turn 24, not at the end of that fiscal year...

You have been out of High School for 6 years, and waited to apply for college for this very reason...

I find it amusing how difficult financial aid is to get in this country. You can't get a decent career unless you have higher education, yet you can't get higher education because you can't afford it and financial aid doesn't help nearly enough for reasons outside of ones control. Ironic, isn't it? And people wonder why the middle class is disappearing.

Oh, and one more thing: why does the school's financial year go until July, when the summer semester begins in June? This means my first month in college is the only month that is screwed up by this system, which means I can't buy books - I hear those are important for school.

Now imagine me, only stripping to pay for college.

Co-op-recap My Computer Abandoned Me Edition

2009-03-31T21:51:00.003-06:00

It's the end of the month again, time to pay the bills, and to balance all that check writing - recap all the good times with Co-optimus.com. That's right, they haven't fired me yet, despite having no computer for almost a week this month. Anyway, shall we?

To begin with, I delivered some interesting news about an awesome video capture feature in Tom Clancy's HAWX. The PS3 version of the game has a great feature that allowed gamers to record awesome video directly on their PS3, and upload it directly to Youtube to show off. Hey, I was impressed.

One important thing I got to do this month was review the co-op feature in House of the Dead: Overkill. I sat on my couch with a good friend where we unloaded on some mutants to pick apart the game for a Co-optimus review. Somewhat connected, I took another look at Mushroom Men for a feature called Beyond Co-op.

I shared and signed up for a Contest for the game Sacred 2 – so far, I haven't won anything, for the record. On the contest front, I also found a bit of info on some xbox live points from coke.

Resident Evil 5 was visited several times for me. The first time, I covered a Mercenaries Mode, set to be released as a patch after the games release. The second look at Resident Evil was my skepticism about co-op, Co-op versus Solo gameplay.

One of my favorite things to do is editorials. This month, last second, I was asked to share a co-op experience in a feature called "This Week In Co-op". I covered an experience in Halo Wars this time, with our Editor and a friend of mine! Who knows what I'll cover next month, co-op with me and you may be featured on the site!

Ghostbusters has still been hot on my list. After the co-op was revealed in all versions of the game, I took a look at both: Wii, and Xbox versions of the game. The Wii version had previously revealed co-op gameplay, but has a very different style in that version of the game. Being completely different than the Xbox 360/PS3 versions, both versions might be worth taking a look at!

The other ghostbusters story I covered was from a developers perspective. Tony Laborie of Threewave Software wrote to IGN explaining how the decision to include co-op came about for the Xbox 360/PS3 version of Ghostbusters.

I was a huge fan of Marvel: Ultimate Alliance, so to be presented some interesting info on it's sequel, I jumped on the article. Marvel went in to a lot of detail on how they give the heroin Songbird her wings.

Earlier this month, there was a rumor about Bioshock having some form of co-op. Unfortunately for some, Co-op was debunked by the developers. I'm still torn on Co-op in my “horror” games, so this was a tricky topic to cover.

Developers have been left out of the 'profit' loop with used game sales. Therefore, I was actually excited to share the information on Switchgames.com sharing some of the profits from used sales. This was apparently a tender subject, but I've had great experiences from game developers, so I feel they deserve some of the profits from their games.

One of the games I've been looking forward to on the PS3 is Little Big Planet. LBP hit a major milestone in their user created content. Gamers can create their own video game levels, which can then be played online by other players. This particular game hit over 600,000 user created levels, that's...impressive to say the least!

A few months ago it was rumored that Aliens: Colonial Marines – a first person shooter that has been compared to Left 4 Dead, with movie-franchise-Aliens, was canceled. Fortunately there was a supposed leak in a UK Magazine called Powerstation about the game.

Terminator: Salvation looks like an interesting movie, and the game of the same name has come to our attention. That usually means it features co-op, however we got our hands on a preview of the game, with a few disappointments for us.

And there you have it, my poorly written recap of the month. As mentioned, my laptop has been out of commission, so I'm working on a lot of backlog at the moment. Next month, I'll have a plan for this!

How to make a delicious Tuna Sandwich the Katrina way

2009-03-19T17:49:00.007-06:00

Recipe Time:

Because I decided to share my Tuna Sandwich discovery, where I managed to make a very low fat, cheap, and ultra delicious Tuna Sandwich, I decided to share my recipe with whoever would like to try it. Best used for those budgeting, but would like something other than Ramen soup or crackers.

First, the stuff:

- Light Tuna or Albacore in water (approximately 80cents)

- Fat Free Ranch or Blue Cheese salad dressing (approximately $1.60)

- Relish of your choice (Unsure the approximate cost, as I "borrowed" it from my mother)

- BBQ sauce (I...also don't know what was spent on this, I found it in the fridge and thought "Meh, why not?")

- Wheat Bread (Approximately 80cents)

Notice that the substitute for Mayonnaise is light salad dressing, that's part of the difference in delicious taste, and fatty content.

Now, it's so simple, a Katrina can do it:

Open the tuna can, and drain the water. If you have a cat, it'll probably appear to lick the residual tuna water out of the sink. Put the Tuna, and a spoon full of relish in a bowl; I used the bowl with a lid so I can store my leftovers - less clean up for now.

Then add 3 spoonfuls of Light ranch dressing, and mix it all together. Restraining mechanisms may be required for cats. Or, you could just lock them in the bathroom.

Finally, spoon as much of the Tuna mush onto a piece of bread as you'd like with BBQ sauce on top, and nomnom until it's all gone.

Nutritious, delicious, and I should probably never write one of these again.

Also, I found Corn Flakes in a cabinet - and my milk went bad, so I got creative:

It's like a Rice Krispies Treat. Only, instead of Rice Krispies, I used Corn Flakes, and instead of a treat, it's more of a tasty glob.

Asus Hackery

2009-03-14T20:15:00.003-06:00

The last 24 hours has been different for me. I've decided that my Asus brand Eeepc needed to be customized; and regardless of claims of simplicity, the desktop images were unchangable by traditional means. Let the record show; I am generally very easily frustrated by computers, so this was very out of my league.

That is to say, the images were pre-set BORING images with the Asus logo, like this:

Available in blue, silver, green, and "sunset" orange. These images messed with the feng shui of my computer, and somehow prevented me from enjoying my time with it.

Now, in order to change these images, a separate one for each "tab" at the top, I had to replace the original images that are pre-installed. The big issue? The folder these images belong in is locked, tamper resistant, and good old copy-paste was foiled. So, I got out some online guides, and figured out how to use the Unix (which behaves like DOS on a PC) on there to force the files into the correct folder. I feel much better with Vault Boy, Spider-Man, Big Daddy & Lil sister, Companion Cube, and Pyramid head each on a separate background. Like this:

That's right, computer illiterate little old me followed directions (and asked for help from hacker-ey friends) reprogrammed the desktop images. I also managed to reset some of the default settings, such as the font, and internet preferences - which were less of a pain, but still there. I'm proud of myself, even if you don't care.

Flower

2009-03-06T15:20:00.002-07:00

Using the expression: Stop and smell the roses, I will attempt to explain my experience with the game called "Flower". This is my personal opinion, and doesn't reflect any of the people or websites I'm associated with.

Flower, to me, is the anti-standard video game. Where most games seem to use the tactic of sucking you in through a stressful situation; either surviving an apocalypse, racing to win, solving puzzles on which someones life depends, shooting the other guy first, or completing missions in a timely manner, so your boss doesn't fire you (oh, wait, that's called 'life' not 'game'.) Flower seems to want to take a moment to give us a break in the stress department, and just let us flow.

Stop and smell the roses, the tulips, and the pink, blue, orange, or yellow thingies – okay, I don't know much about real flowers, that's not the point. Take a moment to relax, step back from the shooting, and just enjoy. Flower is my Zen between games. It's my self prescribed therapy when things get too crazy. Flower is just...Flower.

Now imagine me, only planting seeds and growing kitty snacks.

Busy times with Co-optimus: I have a shirt to prove it edition.

2009-02-28T12:37:00.006-07:00

I know, I know, it may appear to some that I haven't been paying any attention to this site, or writing much of anything at all. Well, I have been paying attention and written things, I just don't have a lot to contribute here at the moment, primarily because of this wonderful place I discovered: Co-optimus.com. Over at Co-optimus, I actually do quite a bit of writing, and even gaming with some good people.

The reason I don't share that writing here? It would instantly become spam. No, I'm serious. Most of the news articles are very brief, quirky, and frequent – thus creating spam for those that don't care or aren't interested in every post. So, in order to maintain this website as the archiving tool I created it for, I will be letting you guys know what I've been up to over at co-optimus with links to each article summarized in one Mixed Bag post per month, and organized according to subject. This way, it's wholly ignorable, or skimmable, and only takes up one spot on all of my feeds, but you still get the low-down.

Also, if you ask real nice (with some money), Co-optimus will put robots on your boobs.

Let's get started, shall we?

Random:

In art news, I covered some interesting ground in Diablo 3, when we discovered some goofy screen shots featuring the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man of Ghostbusters, and a very – er – powerful Unicorn.

I actually did a bit of coverage on the 50 Cent game: Blood on the Sand – and was surprised how fun and interesting they were to write. The first one is a list of the taunts 50 Cent uses in game, and The language is naughty but amusing.

The second, is actually on 50 Cent himself, as he plans on taking the Saints Row video game to film, whether or not he has a role in the film hasn't been announced.

And the final article I posted for Co-optimus was covering some user content on Little Big Planet, in which Someone either crazy, insane, or extra awesome recreated the entire Contra game using Little Big Planets custom levels.

Halo Wars Coverage:

Many...that is to say, millions, of people tried the Halo Wars demo that was released on Xbox live, including many of the Co-opticrew. I thought it'd be neat to ask some of them their individual opinions of the game, and compile it as a cooperative article.

As I just mentioned, Halo Wars appealed to a lot of people, 2 million xbox users world wide. I covered that story, and added a bit about the newest documentary available at the time. Pretty impressive numbers, anyway!

I'll put these two together, since I was excited about them: Ensemble studios, the good people responsible for the very successful Halo Wars game (and so far, we've only seen the demo!) were sentenced to be closed down. The good news? Ensemble has gone separate ways to create two new studios. Welcome Robot Entertainment, and Bonfire Studios.

Valentines Day:

When Valentines day rolls around, many artists take their time making up quirky Valentines day cards – this had me thinking that the singles Needed a day to game together instead of being alone, so I hosted a co-op game night, which was a blast!

Valentines Day fun struck again, after discovering a game called “Remote Masseuse”, which allowed gamers to “play” together, over xbox live, a game that vibrated the opposite players controller. This was really funny, and fun to write!

Previews and Disappointments:

Then moving along, I hit up a preview of a game called “Damnation”, which boasted Gears of War style gameplay, with an old western meets futuristic feel. So far it *looks* decent, but I've heard it's fair share of negative feedback as well.

Back to the theme of the Ghostbusters, I tracked down a newly released trailer that was bound to make fans very happy, since it featured the original actors voicing themselves, movie likeness, and some in game footage.

Stepping a little bit out of my range, I covered an article on a portable version of Rock Band, which actually lacks a co-op option. I found this disappointing enough to write (see: Mini Rant) an article on, so I did.

Features:

I've already featured the interview with Carlos Ferro on here, but I feel it can stand to be repeated. Carlos Ferro, better known as Dominic Santiago in Gears of War answered some fun questions for me on behalf of Co-optimus.com, and it was a lot of fun!

Reviews are always an interesting subject, and Co-optimus does them a little differently. Instead of reviewing an entire game, we play, and review, the Co-op portion of whatever game it is. This month, I covered Armored Core: For Answer's co-op, and you'll just have to click the link to see what I thought of it. Remember, these reviews are for the co-op portion of the game, and doesn't generally reflect single player!

I'll be doing one of these a month, assuming I can keep up with myself, just to remind you guys that I'm here, and writing. Of course, if you don't want to wait 'till the end of the month for these updates, you can always see what I post directly as it happens!

[Co-optimus] Interview with Carlos Ferro

2009-02-19T11:07:00.006-07:00

What do Deadpool, the Wizard of Oz, and Starcraft have in common? Well, it certainly isn't "Zerg", "Rainbows" or "Poptarts", so it must be "awesome"! That's exactly what you get in this Q&A session with the worlds greatest 'player two'. (I'll give you a hint, the wind doesn't whisper "hostiles" at him.)

Carlos Ferro, AKA Dominic Santiago, AKA Domination, AKA "the character responsible for the majority of my achievements in the Gears of War series", has taken a moment to chat with me on behalf of Co-optimus.com. He talks about Voice acting, toys, Gears, and Batman.

Take a look at what he has to say, in his own words!

Beetstro.com Feature: Dexter

2009-02-13T21:24:00.004-07:00

This was my book feature submission on Beetstro.com for February. Nothing says "I love you" like Dexter Morgan, the serial killer.

Okay, okay, I know, Dexter has been around for quite some time now. But, not surprisingly, most of the people I've talked to had no idea that Showtimes Dexter started off in book form. With the fourth installment of the series, Dexter by Design, on its way, I thought I'd take the opportunity to shed some light on the books that gave Dexter life.

Recommended for: Fans of psychological thrillers, the Dexter TV show on Showtime, or anyone who might appreciate a bit of (very) dark humor on occasion.
Author: Jeff Lindsay
Series: Books 1-3 released, book 4 scheduled for September, 2009.

TV is a wonderful thing, it allows you to see what Dexter is up to – to a certain extent. TV has censorship as well. While some stations have the “unedited” Dexter featuring more language, but really, he's still pretty tame compared to his book self. Do I have your attention yet?

Dexter Morgan is best known as: the serial killer with morals – stalking, and murdering people who truly deserve justice. Careful, deliberate, Dexter. Dexter even works for the people responsible for putting murderers behind bars, as he's the blood splatter specialist for Miami Detectives, who “helps” solve crimes with his unique insight from a killers point of view.

Dexter in book form is completely unleashed. Free to give you a play-by-play of what a serial killer must be thinking while stalking his prey, to give you situations that only your imagination can illustrate properly, and internal dialog (some of which is in the crazy-third person) that will make one laugh and shudder at the mind of our favorite murderer.

The series thus far spans over 3 books that hold a lot more focus to what really goes on when Dexter does his thing, sheds much more light on the side plots of his personal hobby, and I will preach it as I always do: The show is good, but the book is better.

Check out:

Darkly Dreaming Dexter: ISBN 0307277887

Dearly Devoted Dexter: ISBN 1400095921

Dexter in the Dark: ISBN 0307276732

(September 2009) Dexter by Design: ISBN 0385518366

[Editorial] Crossing4Dead

2009-01-30T12:31:00.009-07:00

Credit for this banner goes to: Amy "Phoenix" Clark it's amazing!

What happens when the apocalypse happily meets up with starting a new, animal filled life? Crossing4Dead is the latest game from Farcical Studios to the nethersystem, which takes the survivors of Left 4 Dead and gives them a new life among the animals. Join Regn, after she's survived the apocalypse, but been separated from her team, make a new life in the world of Animal Crossing.

Meet new friends, maintain a town, and most of all...Survive. Write anonymous letters to be mailed by stork to random strangers to answer the age-old question: are we alone post apocalypse? How would you survive, what would you do? Play the game**, decide your destiny.

**This is not actually a game, this is an editorial by yours truly for Co-optimus.com. My goal is to have you enjoy what you read, and hopefully you enjoy "Crossing4Dead", Cheers!

Read the whole editorial over at Co-optimus!

The Looking Glass Wars: Book Promo

2009-01-25T16:32:00.004-07:00

This is my first attempt at my contribution to Beetstro.com suggestion list, preview list, teaser list, whatever list – this isn't a full review, but rather a promotion of a book to get people interested or at least aware. I will be attempting one of these a month, more if able – if the book I choose is terrible, I'll likely chose another one, unless it's a popular title that also happens to be terrible and needs to be taken down a few notches.

As my first book submission, I give you The Looking Glass Wars By Frank Beddor.

Original stories are somewhat difficult to come by, as remakes or copycats run rampant – But, to recreate the classic story of Alice in Wonderland from a very original angle, I became interested. Imagine if Alice in Wonderland was actually the backward version of a little girls struggle for someone to believe her tale of a real Wonderland - anyone not quite satisfied with the suggestion that Wonderland is pure nonsense may like to have a go with this one.

Recommended for; Teen +
ISBN product number: 0142409413

This version is the tale of Wonderland's plight of the four suits in the Queendom (Heart, Spade, Diamond and Club families) and the evil plotting of the feared Redd (known better as “The Red Queen”) to battle for ultimate power. The struggle of good versus evil, light versus dark, and Black imagination versus White imagination. Alyss Heart, young heir to the throne, has just had her 7th birthday, and will be in training in White imagination to rule the kingdom from that day forward...

The beginning of the story captivates one with the lore of Wonderland. Each person has special powers based on their White Imagination – with imagination being the key to their civilization, children have more power there, than they do in our world. Alyss has one of the strongest White Imaginations in Wonderland, with ability to imagine things into existence, and alter things as she chooses, but she could never imagine the horrors her terrible Aunt Redd would reign down on her future kingdom.

During an ambush attack by Redd and her army of transforming playing cards, Alyss is forced to flee the kingdom through the Pool of Tears with her mothers bodyguard, Hatter Madigan. They are separated, and she is left bewildered in London, England, while the distressed Hatter searches for her from Paris, France. Learn how poor Princess Alyss Heart is laughed at while trying to explain her life, get back home to Wonderland, and left abandoned in an orphanage where her imagination is drained.

Familiar characters take on different appearances in The Looking Glass Wars, as the Mad Hatter is transformed into a royal body guard with a rather unique battle-ready hat, the Caterpillar is a wise prophet for the Queen, and the Cheshire Cat is a deadly assassin with nine lives.

I personally enjoyed the little details and personality quirks in this tale – such as; Hatter Maddigan uses Wonderland logic while dealing with the Parisian citizens, and trusts only people wearing hats,the Cheshire Cats use of deception (as a cute, cuddly kitten) to sneak past guards unnoticed, and all of the little explanations that brought this classic tale back in to my head. I look forward to the second book in the series; Seeing Redd, and eventually the conclusion to the trilogy which has yet to be released.

If you like things like this, check out The Looking Glass Wars' Hatter M in graphic novel form; adapted by Liz Cavalier, and illustrated by Ben Templesmith. Available in Trade paperback (ISBN: 0981873707).

Reload! Reload! In the Uncensored "House of the Dead: Overkill" Trailer (Wii)

2009-01-24T18:07:00.007-07:00

This was a news piece I did for Co-optimus.com on the new House of the Dead: Overkill trailer; very "Not Safe For Work" and incredibly over-the-top zombie cheesiness. I couldn't resist. Seriously, Head over to Co-Optimus for a pretty awesome Co-op website!

Whoever says the Wii is for kids clearly hasn't taken a look at the new (NSFW) House of the Dead: Overkill trailer.

What do a detective, an agent, and a hooker have in common - beside awesomely-bad dialog? Zombies, that's what. The campy video game series that has been popular among co-op gamers for over a decade, Segas House of the Dead, will hit Overkill status on the Wii this February!

Haven't played any of the House of the Dead games? No sweat, this one is a prequel to the long-running series. The storyline will be fresh, and (hopefully) more in depth than some of the aged games in the series. Basically, if you've ever enjoyed a 'B' Zombie Horror film, you're likely going to enjoy what you see here.

Check out this very NSFW trailer that covers all of the cheesy zombie angles of House of the Dead, complete with commentary resembling the Grindhouse promotional announcer, and some ice cream. Also, be sure to pick up a second light gun for this one, backup is always a good idea with bioengineered monsters on the loose. A mature rating has been slapped on the box, so play with your friends – not your 4-year-old. And always remember to Reload! Reload!

House of the Dead: Overkill 'Uncensored Story' trailer

Source: link

"Mini Ninja's Hiding Co-op Behind Their Tiny Mask?"

2009-01-23T02:59:00.003-07:00

My first editorial news thingy (technical term, don't worry about it) for Co-optimus.com. I am officially a staff member over there! Hopefully I'll balance my time to post lots of things here, Co-optimus, and Beetstro.

In case you hadn't heard IO interactive, the studio that brought us Hitman and Kane and Lynch, has had a change of heart in their style. What does this mean? IO interactive plans on releasing a cartoon-ish ninja-action game called Mini Ninjas sometime in the near future, and who doesn't want to be a Mini Ninja?

Joystiq.com has given us a brief preview of the game, outlining the few known details – and I'm here to speculate what this means for the co-op world. While no official word has been given on the availability of cooperative gameplay, if you take a look at the gallery of screenshots, it looks like there is definitely potential.

Lending a helping hand, perhaps? How about using different abilities to combat foes side-by-side with a friend (as seen in the trailer)? Showing off three primary characters bonding over a battle sounds like my Friday nights for sure. I'd consider this (potentially) good news for anyone hoping for some cooperative, or maybe even versus gameplay that doesn't require reloading.

The Inauguration Via Fallout3

2009-01-20T15:35:00.004-07:00

In case anyone isn't quite up to date on current events; Today is inauguration day, and we've welcomed our 44th President, Barrack Obama into office. The video gaming world has seen a bit of Barrack Obamas image in video games, showing general support from the gaming demographic. This newest show of support is a bit off kilter, in the sense that Stephen Totilo of MTV Multiplayer shows us the Inauguration site as it's shown in Fallout 3.

This may sound a bit anti-presidential, but the concept of taking the real life historic event, and showing us how it looks in Fallout 3's version of Washington DC, is pretty clever in my opinion. There is a the whole virtual tour of the inauguration site, that starts like this:

"So, through the magic of last year’s multi-million-selling “Fallout 3” we can see Barack Obama’s Inauguration-day perspective. But we’ve got the added (subtracted?) touch of nuclear devastation.

Try not to let it bother you."

Stephen Totilo paints a fun picture with words to help you imagine just how accurate these images are. Take a look at the virtual tour, and happy Inauguration day! (Here's to the hope this won't really happen!)

Beetstro to feature books!

2009-01-19T15:09:00.004-07:00

For a few months now I've been working with Drea Avellan on Beetstro.com, posting things like comic promotions, and video game reviews. I haven't had much to contribute, so I've decided to go ahead and add this feature. Feedback is definitely appreciated here. Yes, she realizes this is in the third person, she enjoys sounding slightly insane.

Riddle me this: What is a form of entertainment that has been enjoyed for centuries, yet is commonly overlooked in the internet review publishing circuit? The sad truth: books. Authors work hard to get their works published, and if it's not Harry Potter, or Opera doesn't recommend it, many great gems may go completely under any mainstream radar. Being a general fan of written word, and having connections with booksellers, Katrina/Shadokat would like to make a small personal contribution to Beetstro by adding a brief book promotion each month.

For a while, she will be playing catch-up with books that she has read, and would like to share. These back-promotions will still be timely in the sense that they will be a series that is still in progress. Very soon she will hopefully be able to get a good 'beet' on the new and upcoming (awesome) books. Expect to see primarily fictional works for their general entertainment value, and as her personal preference. Any recommendations or suggestions are appreciated, and can be e-mailed directly to her.

Marvel Noir Limited Series'

2009-01-14T18:32:00.005-07:00

Promotional for www.beetstro.com

Publisher: Marvel
Release: Limited series' starting December 2008/January 2009.
Covering: Spider-man Noir, X-men Noir.

Spider-man, and the X-men have been around a very long time. Their stories have been told from different angles, different time lines, and in different mediums (from comics, to movies, to video games.) This just means Marvel has to be extra creative to give these Heroes a new type of story to captivate us. Crime Noir, the most classic form of crime fighting in fictional media, is notorious for “super heroes” such as Dick Tracy, and Roger Rabbit, but is a setting that Marvel hasn't been a part of...

Until now. Marvel has unleashed a few Noir-esque comics of the aforementioned; Spider-man, and X-men and even Daredevil (which I was unable to find much information on,) as limited releases to start off 2009 with some good old fashioned mob crime.

Set on the streets of New York City in the1930's – which are notorious for the “bad times”, when gangsters roamed the streets unchecked, prohibition has taken hold, and crime is at an all time high - Heroic private investigators are called to action to solve the most brutal crimes, and put the most vicious criminals behind bars. In this case, the heroic P.I.'s are indeed, Superheroes – and I hope to see more of them popping up in the future (Deadpool especially.)

With an established Marvel universe full of top notch villains, you can expect to see the dangerous “mob bosses” as nemesis characters of their named series (Such as Goblin in Spider-man, and The Brotherhood in X-men.) Take Spider-man in a trench coat, revolvers and tommy guns, Add a dash of mystery, mix in some illegal booze, and you have the recipe for Marvel Noir. I'm assuming, based on some random Internet searches, that the Marvel Noir series' will extend to other heroes as well. So, here's lookin' at you, kid.

Nintendo to play games for us?

2009-01-13T04:59:00.004-07:00

After reading this article, in which lies the next top secret Nintendo advancement, which will allegedly stream a player hints in video form, solving puzzles for “stuck gamers,” I became very nervous for the next generation of players. With the Wii, it felt like Nintendo was working hard to swat the stereotyping “gamers are lazy” fly, but now they appear to be feeding the fly our minds.

“The patent hinges on a form of automated gameplay -- likely sequences pre-recorded by a game's developer -- that users can turn on, described as "digest moving image." For example, it could show a game's character navigating a level to reveal its solutions to stuck players -- or simply to allow players to experience it [the game] without investing the time for an entire playthrough. ”

Forgive me if I'm mistaken, but I seem to recall Nintendo's most notorious games are adventure/platformers. Adventure/platformers put as much an emphasis on gameplay, as they generally do on puzzle solving. Being someone who finds puzzles to be engaging, challenging, and fun, I would be very upset if someone sat down with my 6-year-old-self and showed me exactly how to solve a puzzle, or I were allowed to simply frame the puzzles box and take credit for the completed works. Stacking empty video game boxes on your shelf to show off would have a similar effect.

People need challenges so their brains learn, children especially need this type of mental stimulation, to start problem solving early on. Problem solving with most adults is difficult enough, but if our next generation just tapes a box to a wall to take credit for a job well done...well, we're in trouble.

Sure, there are people that become very frustrated with games (and are very frustrating to watch), but if they are to learn to play games, or in essence, solve their puzzles, they need to practice. People need to get stuck, so they can figure out how to get out of a situation – be it in video games, in the workplace, at school, etc. One of the best life lessons is failure, because “Why do we fall, Bruce?”

Many games have included their own hint system in the programing. Many of the hints are an optional “check this screen if you are stuck”, but others are more , what's the word, irritating? When it was impossible to bypass some problem solving fairies. But to develop an entire system devoted to bluntly solving problems for you...Where's the sense of accomplishment that gamers crave, if they "solve" something by watching someone else do it, instead of trial and error?

As a 23 year old gamer, I have thus far avoided feelings of “Dern whippersnappers – why, back in my day we were happy with this, none of your fancy, shiny graphic thingies.”

But if this new form of gameplay, where the game may actually play itself, I will likely take the geezer stance on games, and boycott the next generation a decade or so prematurely. There does appear to be an "off" switch to these helpful tips, but am I mistaken in thinking many people will take advantage of this system and abuse it to some extent?

Here's the the legal Mumbo Jumbo (the patent) for those interested.

Co-Optimus.com: Game Together!

2009-01-08T18:36:00.002-07:00

(re-post from beetstro.com, and look, the banner is too long for my page!)

With more game developers focusing on the multi-player aspects in video games, a community website like Co-Optimus.com, which focuses on - you guessed it, Co-Op gaming, is bound to make waves. While still following the formula of breaking news, podcasts, forums, and user-reviews - Co-optimus additionally presents us with an awesome community to discuss multi-player games, meet up with other players interested in the art of social gaming, and has a really fantastic staff to boot.

Now is a great time to make a free account with Co-Optimus.com, visit their threads, and perhaps you'll run in to some awesome online gamers that fit your style! I even contributed with an open Meet 'n Greet thread, just for people to become acquainted with one another. Check it out, and I'll see you there!

Vestige Reviews.

2009-01-06T16:07:00.004-07:00

Vestige: A mark, trace, or visible evidence of something that is no longer present or in existence. In this case, Games that are no longer in the media radar, that may be forgotten or ignored. Vestige Reviewing will be the reminder of games lost.

Patience as a virtue is something lost on the majority of gamers. Game reviewers seem to acknowledge (see: take advantage of) this by competing to release reviews on the most recent big-title games as quickly as possible, cranking out reviews like inbreeding rabbits. This particular style of timely review is fantastic for many sales reasons, but is very difficult to keep up with for a person like me.

This got me thinking, what kind of “person” does that make me?
- I go to work every day, mostly on-time.
- I pay my bills.
- I feed my cats.
- I hang out with my friends.
- I have limited “resources.”

All of these things are qualities many gamers possess. So, how many gamers can really run out and buy brand new games - assuming they care about their credit, or groceries? I find many times, I forget about some games I had been meaning to try, because I had to wait due to time and financial restraints. Obviously there is always the ability to rent, but then we have the issue of wasted time and convenience.

I will now make an attempt to explain why I'm rambling.

In order to gain an audience, each reviewer has their own specific gimmick. Unfortunately, I don't personally have the financial resources to keep up with the mainstream “brand new games” reviews – nor do I want to be the 23049th person to review Gears of War 2, while hidden gems may be ignored.

My goal, as an infrequent and unpaid reviewer (with a life, and job unrelated to the field), is to bring around video games after the hype has died down, or the particular game misses the hype train completely. The games I will be reviewing will be at least 3 months on the market – or however long it takes for a reasonable price drop, before I give them a one over, and generally be classified as the underdogs. The titles I hope to be able to recommend will hopefully be original, affordable, and enjoyable. (If they are not, you'll know that, as well.)

Tenchu Z may qualify...

This style of review is for the “people like me”, people with responsibilities and restrictions; The responsible gamers that find it impractical to invest the hefty fee on a new game price tag. The people that may overlook a great game, or forget about something they were meaning to try, because it was blocked by the next best thing.

Why Wait?

In my opinion, seeing reviews on the same game 114 times in one week is a bit excessive. I wonder why one would risk the $60 cost because someone rated a game at a “7.0”, and another person gave it a “9.5”, or some ultra critical writer slaps a “2.3” on a title. What do these numbers mean? With few guidelines around most reviewers, these numbers are simply that – numbers.

My goal is to offer reviews on a more down-to-earth, honest level, as the price should be a much smaller factor. I can honestly take apart the important aspects of a game, lay them out in front of you, and hope to influence a decision, spark a happy reminder, or make you glad you didn't waste your time. Time is often more important than money, so would whatever game I hold in my hands be worth your precious time?

I'll grade it, so you read it?

Many popular games utilize the 3-strikes-you're-out system. Bosses will often take 3 hits to disable, such as Mario, Banjo-Kazooie, and many Zelda bosses. Many games default to 3 lives, or a health bar able to take 3 hits to start; Again Zelda makes the list, Contra (sans up-up-down-down code,) and arcade classics such as Pac-man and Asteroids gave you 3 chances to lose your quarters. Even to pick at random uses of 3; Metal Gear Solid 2 has a boss fight, where there are 3 Metal Gear Ray's surrounding, and assaulting (you)Raiden, and many J-RPG games will have a 3 party system, where only 3 active members of your party may engage in battles or missions at any time.

Point is, The power of 3. There are only 3 major things I'll look for in games, and I'll grade them with 3 points; Functionality, Content, and Fun. My goal is to break down each review in these three parts, each with a numeric value of 1-3. 1/3 being terrible, 2/3 is acceptable, and 3/3 is outstanding. Each section will be summarized then graded, and you have my review. Ta-da! Unfortunately, with this standard, reading may be required, hopefully it's manageable.

Overlord definitely fits the bill.

Lets define these terms, just to be on the same page, shall we? Fun is pretty straightforward – I ask; is the game enjoyable? Does it make one have fits of 'the giggles' on occasion? Is the challenge just enough, but not frustrating? Does the experience stay with you for hours after playing, enhancing ones mood throughout a hectic work/school day?

Functionality would be how everything works. Are the maps and menus use-able and visually appealing? Are there glitches? Are the controls user friendly? And just because it has been an issue recently, is the text readable on the screen?

Content is the icing on the cake, it's all the little extra tidbits we come to enjoy in games. Is the storyline engaging, in depth, and coherent? Are the graphics shiny enough to stand up to our standards? Is the music something write home about? Is there a character creation mode, and if so, is it in depth and truly customizable? Most of these (see: Graphics and music) I won't focus on too much, but they are somethings that we, as a generation, deem important.

Now I ask for feedback; as a general “newb” in the game, I have yet to establish my guidelines set in stone. Would this system, the 3x3 breakdown of games, be something you, as a user, would look forward to reading periodically? I may have a viable time line set up, and a writing guide for myself, as soon as I establish where I am with this, and other websites in contrast with my other life-activities.

Now imagine me, only begging for feedback to better my reviews.

Shin Megami Tensei: Imagine Beta goes Public!

2008-12-30T23:55:00.002-07:00

(Re-post from Beetstro.com, keeping a beet on things...)

A few months ago, Aeria Games opened a Beta test for the online MMORPG “Imagine,” available to a select group of people that had applied for a download code. Unfortunately with the selection process, some of us were unable to jump into the Beta that time around.

Today, however, Aeria Games has opened the Imagine Beta to the public. The time to download and participate in this Shin Megami Tensei beta testing is now! With the popularity, and rarity, of Shin Megami Tensei games on console systems, passing up the opportunity to play a masterpiece is a silly thing to do.

Join us...By downloading the Beta for free now, just click here: to download, or any of the other links on this page, then select “download.” Simple, right? So, what're you waiting for? It's free, afterall!

The Seven Deadly Sins of Christmas

2008-12-24T23:53:00.003-07:00

Disclaimer: None of this is meant to be taken seriously. Otherwise, enjoy.

Gluttony:

Aside from the primary reason for Christmas (see; loot) the holidays other primary attraction is food. And, oh! The food that will be had. Many people attending multiple social events, or simply massive feasts with family and friends. Some Christmas songs will even demand food;

"Oh, bring us a figgy pudding;
Oh, bring us a figgy pudding;
Oh, bring us a figgy pudding and a cup of good cheer

We won't go until we get some;
We won't go until we get some;
We won't go until we get some, so bring some out here",

Either way, food is a theme for Christmas, the holiday of sharing and receiving and gorging.

Wrath:

Remember the mothers that got into fistfights/trampled over Tickle Me Elmo, or Furby? Christmas shoppers are the most angry, scary people on the planet. Either as a fellow customer, or especially as a retail slave - they will mow you down, steal parking places, dive in front of you for that perfect gift, and point the blame if they waited too long and missed out.

Lust:

One word: Mistletoe.

Greed:

Its the holiday of gifts, and easily the most commercialized holiday there is (tying in with Wrath nicely) – children are bribed to behave for fear of Santa Clause, and the result of that bribery is usually horribly spoiled children that kick and scream and always want more.

Companies will absolutely cash in on this holiday, releasing movies, books, and games just in time. Creating hype for things that may or may not be any good, convincing people that their children, siblings, and friends will cease to exist if they don't buy whatever-it-is-they're-selling right this second.

Envy:

Holiday television/magazines/newspapers will advertise one of three things; loot, food, and sex. If you're not snuggling by the fire with somebody, or getting gifts by the truckload, or eating a gigantic dinner with loving family and friends (emphasis on loving,) then you're a lonely worthless person. This causes massive amounts of unnecessary spite from people who are normally good natured.

Pride

National Lampoon started the tradition of going above and beyond the necessary amount of Christmas lights on ones house. The tradition of tacky overdecorating to show up your neighbor just to inflate your ego is not going anywhere anytime soon.

Nobody needs 5 Santa's. There can only be one.

Sloth:

One of the odd traditions for Christmas is to park the family in front of a television to watch a good ole game of Football, after an evening of gorging and greed; maybe a boarder-line sin – but I'd like to see you think of something better!

I'm not a scrooge, I'm just drawn that way – and I could go into a rant about how much “we've lost sight of the true meaning...” blah, blah – but instead, I'll say: Happy Christmahannakwanzika!

Marvel Limited Series: The Wonderful Wizard of Oz

2008-12-23T13:41:00.004-07:00

The Wonderful Wizard of Oz:

Publisher: Marvel
Release: Issue 1 of 8 in stores now!
Writer: Eric Shanower
Artist: Skottie Young

Marvel takes on classic literature in this Limited Series comic release, leaving author Eric Shanower, and artist Skottie Young in charge of retelling the original L.Frank Baum classic tale of Oz in 8 issues. Issue 1 finds Dorothy and her little dog, Toto; caught in a twister, transported to the Land of Oz, adored by Munchkins, and just beginning the long journey down the yellow brick road, with her new tag-along friend, Scarecrow.

Anyone, any age, that has a love for the Land of Oz will enjoy this fresh adaptation - true to the original, with a brand new Marvel comics makeover. Skottie Young's beautiful pencil work, along with brilliant dialog and story by Eric Shanower, has me securing my silver shoes for the next journey down the Yellow Brick Road. One issue off the press, and I'm hooked.

Issue #2 hits stores January 14, 2009 don't miss it!

(Now imagine me, only not in Kansas anymore.)

Interview: Lead Concept Artist of Red Fly Studio, Frank Teran, talks Mushroom Men.

2008-12-19T15:57:00.014-07:00

When art, satirical humor, Mushrooms, and Nintendo collided earlier this December, we were given the beautiful independent game: Mushroom Men, developed by first timers Red Fly Studio. I explored the game thoroughly, and enjoyed it more than anything I'd played on the Wii in over a year (or, ever.) I then took notes, and dropped my two cents into the vastness of the Internet, which was magically picked up by someone at Red Fly Studio.

This gave me the opportunity to interview Red Fly Studio Lead concept artist, Frank Teran (also known for his artwork on Vertigo Comics.) Along with co-founding the independent studio with Dan Borth (CEO) and Kris Taylor (Art Director), He was primarily responsible for giving life to these Mushrooms through his drawings and paintings, cover art for both games, and (in his own words) “extraneous gameplay ideas/concepts”. I was excited to sit down (on-line) and learn something about this game from an insiders perspective, and have quite a bit to share on the experience.

I would imagine there's an interesting story here, so I have to ask: Why Mushrooms?

I think I'd really have to ask my friend Dan that same question, since he was the one that thought of the whole mushroom angle. I'd say my part was making the mushroom viable as a character the players could ultimately latch onto, and I think the fact that a fungus would be in the lower spectrum of the totem pole, it'd make them the ultimate underdog. They're kinda given life, but at the same time hamstrung with having to deal with the huge world that surrounds them.

I also think Dan and Kris focused on mushrooms as a nod to the gaming roots of the Mario universe.

While the final product is very original, including the humor, music, and story - what would you say inspired the development of this game the most? What inspired you, personally, while working on this project?

I think the inspiration for me were the things I remembered most from my awesome childhood. The sense of wonder and things that I embraced and loved, like Harryhausen movies and old sci-fi flicks, as well as humor that gravitated to the mad magazines, e.c comic books and wacky package trading card types of satire...you'll see glimpses of that thru out my concepts and hopefully in the game as a result...it's like a bizarre amalgam of my nostalgic brain-seepage that makes its way to the digital canvas when I work on ideas.

My initial draw to the game came from a pack of promo-cards a game store employee gave me, with incredibly interesting visuals. My question then would be: is Red Fly doing anything additional to use the art to it's advantage?

Haha - well, I'd love for them to compile an art book, but I'm pretty biased. I leave that up to the fans of the game to request, power to the peoples. I also think the 'lil resin figure was a great idea.

With the darker art style, twisted sense of humor, and the advertisement with “Teen+” rated comic books, what specific demographic would you say this game is targeting?

I'd hope it appeals to those within the range of a gamer that can handle the stuff we toss at 'em. The humor is pretty much in line with stuff I grew up with,in old cartoons and mad magazine, like i had mentioned. Hopefully no one is truly disturbed by the artwork, being a bit creeped out I'll take though - since I like making the gamer feel something emotionally when they encounter anything I had imaged out.

Do you think they'll ever let you take the art to comic books, perhaps for a miniseries, or one-shot of Mushroom men, to maybe include your old crowd?

I would be more than happy to visually narrate any type of prologue for those who think it'd help round out the story. I think we're going to add a lot more into the next adventure to help answer some questions, but also up the ante with more stuff. I can't tell you how amped I am for the next chapters to unfold, hopefully that'll happen.

What sort of feedback did you, or Red Fly, expect on the “users” front? What has the reception from gamers been thus far?

I'd say from my perspective, we really don't have any expectations. I'd hope that the fans would embrace something like mushroom men; the weirdness, the satire, the retro feel, all that stuff I would hope the players could dive into and dig. The feedback thus far has been great actually, the enthusiasm in the comments from those who have played the game are really, really encouraging. It's one of those magic moments where you get to see what others get out of what we wanted to get across. It's funny seeing the wide range of what folks get out of it.

So you're finding a lot of Internet feedback?

Yes indeed, and I love all of it! Even the harsh, dismissive, cynical stuff. I basically use that as fuel. It's what I feed on in the wee hours of the night when I work.

Basically, you feed off the Internet “trolls?”

Yes. I flip it and use them to my advantage. Bosses grow more fangs, and become more fierce as a direct result.

This game seems to defy most expectations of the Wii fan base, so the question here is: Why Nintendo?

I don't wanna speak for the folks who were directly involved in that decision making, but I think we possibly chose Nintendo because the style of platforming game we were aiming for seemed to dovetail perfectly with the platforming/adventure gaming base that's already established there, as well as the innovative tech/controls that the Nintendo offered. I'm personally still fascinated with the Wii-mote, and the potential gameplay uses. Mind you, I was raised on the joystick and trackballs for innovation, so this is like...THE FUTURE.

To expand on that, why split up the two games to the two separate Nintendo systems? Would it be beneficial as a player to play them “in order”?

Splitting up games sure is a risky venture, yes. But then again, we're a 3rd party developer who's 1st IP is a platformer on the same system that Mario is on, some would say that's a risk as well. I think if you want to have more insight into the mushroom men universe, playing both would offer some more narrative prologue, and offer different gameplay at the same time - but that's a decision we leave up to the gamer.

So, you'd say they're relatively independent games from one another?

Relatively. there are aspects that connect them, but not to the point where one is dependent on the other. I actually had painted 50+ illustrations for the DS versions cut-scenes, so there are aspects in basic storytelling within, they are a nod to my career in comics. That's what made the experience so rewarding, taking my storytelling love and applying it to the mush universe.

While trying to generate mini-buzz about the game on my level, the reaction I got from people was; well, not great. I'd heard this game called “Just another platforming game”, What then, would you say to this - what distinguishes Mushroom Men from the rest of the platforming games?

Well, I think that we bring a new angle to the genre that didn't exist before. Artistically I think we didn't mimic anything, so we're going to maintain that type of sensibility and just build on top of it. The gameplay will start to expand and bloom into something folks have never quite experienced, but that will be up to the gaming audience. Hopefully the audience will want to see the further adventures of Pax, since I'm already in full steam concept mode for the next step in Pax's future. I am confident that even at this stage, it's going to be one heck of an adventure.

I think Red Fly Studio is Pax - there is a parallel. We're brand new to this game, it's our first, we're goin' head to head with the monoliths of gaming, we'll take our lumps, but we'll keep fighting.

Tiny is the new big, and I see Red Fly making a big splash with a very tiny hero. Experience Mushroom Men for yourself, or gift it to someone who could use some quality time with their Wii.

A few handy reference links;
The official site,
Red Fly Studio developer blog,
Tatertotco @ wordpress - basically the Mushroom Men faux tabloids.

Twitter

2008-12-13T23:40:00.001-07:00

Hello, my name is @ShadokatRegn, and I have a problem. This is always the first step, right? Admitting there is a problem in the first place, then generating curiosity so others try it, too?

Twitter. A revolutionary way to connect with people, stalk celebrities, and advertise your whereabouts in brief, 140 character, format. "What are you doing?" They ask me, and whenever my Browser opens, I can't resist telling them.

Since websites like Myspace, and Facebook have given us brand new ways to network on the web, copycats with their own take on this idea have been popping up all over, including Twitter. Not that this is a bad thing, anyone who's taken a marketing class knows networking is the best way to advertise, or feel loved.

I am personally trying to get my “product” out to the general public; that is, my writing. Obviously, having somewhat limited funds, and time, I am hard pressed to come up with anything I can sell just yet. “I do the best with what I have” is what I'm supposed to say, and really – I hope I do come up with interesting ways to make mundane things readable.

Oh, dear, I seem to have gotten sidetracked – now, where was I? Oh, yes, Twitter.

What is "Twitter?" Well, Twitter is a fun way to stay connected to people around the world, by networking from other websites, or just browsing posts as they happen. Think micro-Myspace, that is less likely to be blocked at work or school. Instead of calling someone to say “hey, I just posted a new article”, Twitter gives one the option to connect to a larger group of people. Give them all a general heads-up when you've accomplished something, wish to share you-tube videos, or something relatively pointless but may spark interest. No pressure, just information.

Twitter even allows users to interact with one another very easily, with "@ replies". If someone says something interesting, you can add your two cents for that persons post (called a “Tweet”).

You may now be curious about that first sentence. Why would I possibly need to introduce the world of twitter, using a well known opening speech for Alcoholics Anonymous? To put it briefly, Twitter is addictive. I find myself checking the website almost constantly to see what my friends and acquaintances are reading, eating, playing, watching or feeling at any given time.

Join the ranks of the Twitterverse, and tell us all what you're doing.

Now imagine me, only Twitterpated, minus the romance.

Mushroom Men: The Spore War (V)

2008-12-08T13:46:00.009-07:00

In the spirit of judging things by their cover, I stumbled on Mushroom Men: The Spore War based on a small pack of artistic cards promoting the game – they must have made some impression, because I was instantly intrigued. Being a new franchise, I wasn't sure what to expect beyond the pretty cover, but I decided to give the little guys at Red fly Studio a chance to knock my socks off.

During my preliminary research, I noticed a lot of the art and humor style seemed to be influenced by the Oddworld series - one of the heavyweights (and my favorites) in artistic "indie" gaming. These are pretty big shoes to fill, and I was curious to see how Mushroom Men would hold up. So, I put down the one-and-only preorder on the game at my local store, and after dusting off my neglected Wii (not my fault...) here's my experience.

System: Nintendo Wii (prequel on the Nintendo DS)
Genre: Adventure, platforming
Rating: Everyone; just enjoy yourself!
Suggested For: Anyone who enjoyed Mario Galaxy and would enjoy something similar (minus the motion sickness,) the next generation of Oddworld fans, or anyone who really needs an excuse to power up their Wii.

The story begins, as so many do, with a meteorite crashing on the Earth. This meteorite doesn't appear to have impacted our world at all, at least - not on our level. However, the world of mushrooms and other plant life are brought to our level of thinking, talking, and warring. Once peaceful Mushroom tribes begin warring over pieces of the meteorite, a few tribes grew strong, and more peaceful tribes went underground.

Now, follow the hero Pax on his adventure to find where he belongs, after his tribe was completely wiped out. He'll meet up with plants, and other mushroom tribes who will assist him along the way, but he accidentally absorbs a meteorite from a peaceful tribe. His quest for companionship turns to a promise to quest and find this particular tribe a new meteorite – one that Pax can't absorb. Mushroom Men: The Spore War is this quest.

Being a mushroom, Pax has a very different point of view of the world – it's still our world he's walking around in, it just looks much, much bigger. This makes house-hold items that one might discard or lose, very useful as improvised weaponry. Pax will collect specific prerequisites (called "Scav") to create a simple, yet effective, weapon. For instance, a Pencil, Zip Tie, and Toothpick create a very unorthodox stabbing weapon, and a Match, Thread, and Exact-o knife create a useful slashing weapon.

Defending oneself in time of war, even small-scale war, is very important. Aside from the improvised Weaponry, Pax is armed with special powers he gains from his accidentally-absorbed Meteorite pieces. "Sporekinesis" allows Pax to use his will to move, throw, and activate objects without touching them. "Will of Spores" allows Pax to control plants that may be helpful, and "Spore Punisher" gives you a special direct attack on weak or injured enemies. Really, the "Sporekinesis" is the most useful of the spore powers, and you should use it to bowl for moles whenever possible. Trust me.

Of all these powers and weapons, though, I really have to say my favorite "item" in the game was the grappling hook. Actually, it's a child's sticky-hand toy, the kind I personally used to put sticky "hand" prints on the television as a kid, to drive my parents crazy – Pax uses it much more constructively while exploring his surroundings. I even enjoyed the grapple-points, which were things like "Vote for..." campaign buttons, or quarters stuck to various surfaces with chewing gum. Brilliant.

On this scale, the attention to tiny detail becomes increasingly important. Fortunately, I don't have to tell Red Fly that, as all the nails, woodwork, mold, and scattered debris were just as I would imagine them being, were I the size of a mushroom, which I think about regularly. Though they may be only aesthetics, detail is the kind of thing a lot of people seem to be looking at most with games, and where much of the criticism against the Wii lies – so, do not fear, Mushroom Men is still beautiful, and is even accompanied by very unique music.

One aspect I am always worried about with the Wii's unconventional controller, is the movement control and gameplay. For anyone who has played Super Mario Galaxy, I can tell you the way the wii-mote works is very similar – which is to say; not too bad. Moving Pax around the screen is fairly straightforward, battles work smoothly, and aiming your interactive cross hairs on the screen works as well as any other Wii game.

It's once you incorporate the camera into this equation that things are a bit more frustrating, as I ended up standing still, taking much more time than I would have liked to center the camera where it needed to be. But, this camera issue was only bad in especially tight areas, while free-roaming, and fixed-camera areas, the game works best.

Humor and character design is very important in a game where the primary storyline is searching for rocks, and you're a mushroom. Mushroom Men measures up to the clever giants of gaming by utilizing a slightly askew idea of the way things work. For example, the enemies fit an array of different pint-sized animals, most of which are rarely considered a threat – unless you're a plant. The Rabbits are the first to come to mind, with their bunnicula presence, the plant kingdom (called “Kudzu”) fear the Rabbits above all others, and request help from Pax to defend them. This species is even taken a step further with a very odd Jackalope enemy; a pretend species of Rabbit with antelope horns.

Another example of very off beat humor is the health-bar system – as Pax takes a hit, a piece of his mushroom cap goes missing, and his radioactive brain is exposed, until no cap remains. Even regenerating health comes from an odd place, when you have to beat dead rats that have fungus growing on them, to retrieve the fungi-spore health bits. Sounds disgusting, right? How many kids tend to favor disgusting things? Exactly.

In many action-adventure and platforming games, some of the most memorable characters are the side or alternate characters you run into on your path. Whether you loathe them, or they made you feel guilty for all the times you abused them, or they freak you out a bit, you're bound to remember these characters. Unfortunately, I felt that aspect was a bit shallow for Mushroom Men. While Pax is adorable...in a fungus-sort-of-way, there weren't many quirky characters to banter with, or anyone particularly memorable.

This isn't to say the character design is completely lost, as the different mushroom tribes each has it's own social personality and traditions – I'd personally like to see at least one sequel, since the gameplay and design is just right, they can maybe focus on the writing aspect a bit more. Or, perhaps I missed enough storyline by not playing the prequel, which is on a different game system altogether – probably not the best idea, guys.

That is, indeed, a cactus riding a lizard. It definitely makes sense.

While this game may not fall into the "all-time favorites" list, it was certainly a wonderful experience, and a welcome change from the music-sims and mini-games that seem to be Wii's primary focus. If I were you, and you happen to enjoy a fun, mildly twisted, platforming game – I'd definitely recommend at least a once-over, especially if your Wii needs a bit of exercise as mine did.

Now, imagine me, only trying to figure out where this fits on a rating scale of 1-10. (8/10, or an A-? Almost great, with a few kinks that held back great potential.)

Spider-man vs. Deadpool

2008-11-25T18:09:00.012-07:00

Take none of this completely seriously.

It should be no surprise to anyone when I say Spider-man has been my favorite comic book character for the entire time I've been reading Superhero graphic novels. Bordering on creepy obsession, or cartoon crush, no superhero has ever held such a high place in my heart. It was a long time coming, but I believe that throne may finally be challenged by a slightly less mainstream (See; conventional) superhero.

The "Merc with the Mouth", Deadpool.

Spider-man.

Though Spider-man has been lurking in comic books since the 1960's, I wasn't properly acquainted with his quirks, wit, and nerdy-ness until about 7 years ago. Once I discovered the webslinger properly, I was endeared to his awkward nerd ways, and his nervous wit almost instantly - he's since held a special place on my wall.

Unfortunately with being around for so long, and his established story lines in the arena of Damsels in Distress, I had a bit of competition with Mary-Jane Watson and Gwen Stacey. Searching for a solution to this dilemma is about when I discovered the storyline where Spider-man/Peter Parker is cloned – so, I decided I could definitely go for the clone version of Spider-man, Ben Reilly/Scarlet Spider, who has a better suit anyway. If you're confused, good, this should be easy.

Basically what I'm saying is; While Spider-man is still incredibly Amazing, nerdy, witty, and Spectacular – he has entirely too much baggage. 46 years' worth of altered story lines, clones, aliens, two or three terrible movies and at least one death, is a little too much for a girl like me...

What changed?

Now, while playing the excellent game Marvel Ultimate Alliance, I'd discovered several superheros that I may connect with, but none so well as Deadpool, allow me to explain.

Deadpool is as close to a superhero spoof on superheros there is. He's spent quite a bit of time trying to steal the spotlight from the Anti-heroes like Spider-man and Wolverine, mocking and copying them as he goes. Normally I'd dislike a copycat, but he does this unabashedly while breaking the fourth wall on a regular basis.

Even if he doesn't completely overtake Spider-mans throne, there is no denying the amusement to be had by reading his dialog.

So, who is Deadpool, anyway?

Deadpool, aka Wade Wilson, was once an experiment of the Weapon X program, notorious for doing vile things to mutants in the X-men corner of the Marvel universe. Wade, however, was not a mutant, but rather, a human with terminal cancer. He was experimented on using Wolverines "mutant healing factor" (which, as it sounds, allows Wolverine to heal himself instantly) as an attempt to reverse the effects of the Cancer. This forced mutation, combined with the cruel experiments left Wade horribly disfigured, and mentally unstable.

My own captivation with the clinically insane had me intrigued by Deadpool and his eccentric outbursts in the game I was playing, so I became curious enough to start asking questions. A friend of mine had confirmed that his comics are completely hysterical, and I have since purchased individual issues for my own verification. Entire pages are devoted to his dialogs with himself, and hysterical hallucinations, while having an actual storyline accompany them. It's not all fun and games, just mostly.

He's introduced to us as a mercenary, but eventually teams up with the superhero Cable - together they fight things, and break stuff, and make some awesome along the way. Oh, and he has a lot of neat gadgets - especially the teleportation device. I want one.

I'm still learning about Deadpool, which may classify me as a n00b, but my graphic novel experience is in a slightly different realm than Superheroes come from (independent comics, mostly) – also, I have a bit of a life, believe it or not. So far, I can tell you this: I haven't laughed out loud to myself while reading almost every page of a comic in...well, ever.

Since I can't be expected to make such an important decision based solely on my limited knowledge, there's an obvious solution here...

Now, Imagine me, only creating a super-harem for my own amusement.

Also;

Spider-man: Web of Shadows (V)

2008-11-23T18:27:00.007-07:00

Originally posted on PushingPlay.com for their review feature called Hour Play. This basically means I reviewed one hour of gameplay and gave my impression on what I've seen so far. This version is adapted for my own purposes. Enjoy!

If I had to choose a 'favorite superhero,' my choice would be Spider-man, hands down. Unfortunately, this admiration has led me to some very disappointing times when Spidey has transitioned from the familiar pages of Comic books to video games, and three unfortunate movies. This time, however, the trailer and news of Spider-mans adventure entitled "Web of Shadows" has been promising. I do realize looks can be and often are, deceiving, but that doesn't stop me from giving Web of Shadows a shot.

Developing team: Shaba Games.
System: Xbox360 (reviewed), PSP, PS3, Wii, PS2, Nintendo DS, and PC, Whew.
Genre: Action/webslinging/adventure.
Rating: Teen – some language, suggestive themes, and loads of spidey-violence.
Suggested for: Definitely a game for fans of Spider-man and action games, and probably a select few that just enjoy being a superhero for a few hours a day.

Story

What do we know about Symbiotes? Well, to summarize, they're slimy, space goo that have a tendency to take over other beings and imbue them with super-strength, while turning them an unsightly shade of gooey black – at least, that's what they are in the Spider-man realm. With Web of Shadows, the storyline appears to be focused solely around Spider-mans temptation with the power he possesses while “wearing” this Symbiote.

Symbiote storylines are always the super-villain Venom's storylines, so expect to run into him, and his slimy minions a lot.

It has been said this is a game of choices - meaning you, as the player, get to decide Spider-mans, and New Yorks fate. Will you allow him to succumb to the Symbiote black suit and be all-powerful, or depend on your own strength to banish the Symbiote and be remembered as the “good guy”. Where you start out the game, New York City is covered in Symbiote slime, and Spider-man is to blame. With the tried and true form of flash-back storytelling, you end up playing through previous events to discover exactly how you got there, before you're allowed to move forward.

Characters

Spider-man has a few friends to help him out along the way; including Wolverine, Luke Cage, and Black Cat. Each of these allies has their own set of missions, but the one I became most acquainted with in my Hour was Luke Cage. Apparently in charge of inspirational training, as only the bulletproof Defender of the streets can be, Luke Cage provides me with my initial missions fighting street gangs. There are seven Ally character slots available – who knows who else is bound to come along?

As the Marvel universe tends to do, there are a few references to unrelated characters throughout the streets of New York as well. Including a billboard hosting Iron Man advertising for Stark Industries. Keep an eye out as you're web-slinging around New York, other tidbits may catch your attention.

The Good Stuff

One of the primary selling points developer Shaba games used to advertise Web of Shadows, was the fluid combat. In previous Spider-man games, the combat felt like a bulky afterthought that was very boring, and took effort to switch between movement and fighting. This time, however, the combat system is more fluid than I could have personally imagined. Fortunately, they paid attention when spider-man was able to attack mid-swing in the comic books, and they allow us to do that very nicely. As Spider-man, you can switch between air combat and ground combat seamlessly.

They even added a wall combat, for those sticky situations against the wall-crawling symbiotes. The wall is your base of attack, and you fight sideways very stylishly. The only problem I had with this combat, was switching from ground-to-wall, or air-to-wall. Spider-man seemed to have a slight problem with grabbing a wall and holding on, without standing still in front of said wall, and crawling to his destination. This wasn't always the case, but it did get irritating when trying to defeat enemies crawling around on walls.

Web-slinging has been a great deal of fun ever since the Spider-man games have given the player the option to explore any part of New York City they desire – called Free-Roaming, or Open world gaming. Fulfilling random missions took a back seat for me, while I had the ability to swing wherever my heart desired in the city. This time, it's not only fun to swing around, it looks good, too. Spider-man will perform twists, spins, mid-air dives, and much more, as you're speeding through the city on your trusty webs.

Since the game is based around the Symbiote invasion, there has to be a black “Symbiote suit” Spider-man, plain and simple. The Black suit, while making Spider-man abrasive and rude, adds quite a bit of bite to his attack. Single button costume change is an amazing advancement in the Spider-man games. Spider-man 3 did have the option for black suit Spidey, but you had to bring up the menu to change into the power machine, which really dampened the flow of combat. You can now switch between two entirely different fighting styles mid-combat without interruption, simply by clicking in the left thumb stick.

Right from the beginning I was impressed with how closely they modeled Spider-mans New York City, to the real New York City. A few recognizable places, such as Times Square and Central Park were fairly accurate depictions of what I saw only two months ago. I suppose what I'm getting at, is the graphics are amazing, and a lot of research went into showing me New York City from a different point of view.

There was disappointment, too

My absolute favorite thing about Spider-man, is his sense of humor – which should be easily translated through different media sources. Whenever he gets nervous, he tends to crack one liner jokes, and clever quips. Unfortunately, whoever wrote this spider-man decided his humor attribute was overrated, and this Spider-man has become a very annoying, whiny superhero. His best line so far was: “These guys shoot first, and aim later”, in an hour of gameplay, that's just pathetic. I heard an interview with Stan Lee, where he said he'd wanted to write the story. Now more than ever – I really wish he had.

While the primary storyline is supposed to be Spider-mans internal struggle of Power vs. Will, there isn't much depth besides that. Maybe it was the bad, whiny voice acting that turned me away from the story – but I found myself not caring about that aspect as much. Since comic books are supposed to be books, it was a let down to see such potential go to waste.

Even though the combat system is beautiful and a lot of fun, it tends to be a bit mundane after you've bashed an hours' worth of enemies into submission with very few cut scenes, where you listen to Spider-man whine a bit. Some more focus on the storytelling may have fixed this issue, but there isn't much I can do about that

Many video games have taken to the “choose your own adventure” style of gameplay, where your actions effect the overall outcome of the game. I found an alignment bar in one of the menus, which apparently is supposed to tell me if I've been a good Spider-man, or an evil one. Helping injured civilians, and protecting things earns “red points” which are good, and neglecting or hurting people earns you “black points”. Sounds pretty straight forward to me – and if you really couldn't care less, ignore it. If I weren't looking for it, I certainly would have.

Will I play it again? I believe I will. But, for the level of depth offered by the story, and the somewhat repetitive fighting – I will be waiting until the price drops to something much more acceptable. Take from that what you will.

Burlesque Show

2008-11-20T17:45:00.009-07:00

Burlesque; a humorous and provocative stage show featuring slapstick humor, comic skits, bawdy songs, striptease acts, and a scantily clad female chorus. Debauchery is a fun word.

Blend this style of stage show with historical Downtown Denver, and you get Naughty Pierre's Burlesque Extravaganza - a comedy show for the 21 and up crowd. Definitely not for the prude of heart.

I blame this adventure on the euphemism "Curiosity killed the cat" (see, Kat). At least, that's how I think I ended up in the basement of the D&F Clock Tower in downtown Denver.

Take a blast to the past with me now, and experience a modern day Burlesque show. Be sure to keep your hands and feet inside the Internet at all times, and keep your margarita and noisemaker in the upright and locked position.

The Venue

Once a department store that was demolished at the end of the department store era, the tower remains as a historical landmark. It's really a beautiful site downtown, with the time displayed in all four directions, and a magnificent chime to be heard throughout Denver.

Now that the tower is there, with nothing to sell us, it has been used for other applications - such as businesses and lofts. One of the uses after dark is the stage in the basement used to entertain, amuse, and inebriate those interested in a show of varying types. Decorated in mirrors, gold, tassels, and sparkles, the intimate room fits about 50 patrons, who will – I believe the technical term is “hoot 'n holler” through the shows.

Why it's Enjoyable

On romantic dates, finding a safe balance between both parties' idea of entertainment can be a challenge – guys are not generally eager to see Phantom of the Opera, as women are sometimes less into a basketball game. Something like this variety show balances nicely, with flavors of entertainment for both parties involved. Yes, I was on a date if you must know, with a gentleman, we went to the theater together. /Moneypenny.

Would you like a history lesson on Burlesque, as provided by Wikipedia? It's not as dirty as it sounds, really!

A burlesque show is not a strip club – Strip clubs tend to be seedy, smelly, and cater to single men looking to lose a fair amount of money - people are definitely lying if they say they go for the food. Burlesque is much more classy, lacking full nudity, but delivering enough to keep everyone whistling and twirling their noisemakers. Between the dancers, there is a comedic announcer – this is where “Naughty Pierre” comes in.

The Spice of Life...

Every part of the show was something different - with different girls, different music, and even different pasties. A wide variety of acts took place on stage; from singing and dancing, to classy striptease (complete with glitter, and feathers), and amazing acrobatics. Talent is the idea here, unlike the modern day strip clubs that leave nothing to the imagination.

The night I went, there was even a guest act by The Handsome Little Devils, who appeared to be a carnival style variety act of their own - they showed off hat tricks that were amazing and humorous , and a dancing skit with some kind of mad scientist and wonderful swing dancing.

For those of us in the crowd less interested in “scantily clad dancers,” the host was a brilliant comic, who introduced the different acts, had a bit of singing and stage time of his own. The idea of a variety show is...well, variety. So, to help Naughty Pierre in his entertaining ways, he had a puppet show featuring a “smewok” - the strange combination between an Ewok and a Smurf, and of course - sex jokes galore. I was thoroughly captivated the entire evening, so I'd say they completed their task nicely.

Now imagine me, only becoming a stage perv... I mean, stage connoisseur.

The images were not mine this time. My camera was left in the car, which was parked far away. I am, indeed, making excuses for forgetting it. Also, since I appear to have left out details, Margaritas are bad for ones memory.