Used in a sentence:

• The balloon began to slowly burgeon as they filled it the warm hair they would need lift off up into the stars.

Source: Wiktionary

Commentary:

Not so weird of a word for those of you who read more historical fiction. I think I’ve heard the term “burgeoned into a tall young man” a few too many times to make this word that weird. Little interesting fact, prior to meaning grow or expand, it used to be a noun that referred to the bud or sprout of a plant. That meaning is considered obsolete however.

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~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Home
By Nojh Livic

John picked up the red plastic cup and took a sip of its contents. The liquid was bitter. He sighed. John laid back on the couch and lifted the television remote with his free hand. The television flickered to life at the press of a button. A weather woman began talking about the ongoing drought which seemed to have no end in sight.

John shook his head and set the bottle down. He stood, stretched, and headed to the bathroom. The soda just went straight through him most days. The tap water was cold. The boiler must be out again. He set down the cable remote and pulled out his cell phone and began to look up his apartment owner’s number. He flushed the toilet as the phone began to ring.

He made his way towards the kitchen. Sounds of a cartoon mouse and cat enacting mayhem blared from the television as he passed by. He reached to turn it off and realized he forgot the remote in the bathroom. John turned to retrieve it when a voice spoke through the phone. Distracted, he began to explain his problem, only to realize he was speaking to recording. He sighed in annoyance, leaning against the wall, waiting for the voice to finish explaining all the information about emergency numbers so he could leave his message. He stared out the window. Rain drops lightly pelted the pane.

He turned back towards the kitchen, explaining that the boiler was likely broken again and that he wasn’t getting water from the tap in the bathroom. He tested the kitchen sink and found the same problem. He checked his fridge. It was bare. That meant the only thing he had left to drink was in the cup in the living room. He hung up the phone on the wall and made his way back to his chair. It creaked as he sat and shifted, picking up the cup and taking a sip. Not too bad but still bitter. He decided to ration it.

He grabbed the remote from the end table and changed the channel. It was so early that most of the stations had cartoons. The door bell rang and he rolled out of the love seat with a groan. He really needed to stretch more. He passed the bathroom and saw he had left the tap on. It had steamed up the mirror. He detoured to turn it off.

The door bell buzzed again insistently and John waved his hand at it dismissively, muttering to himself. The television was recounting the number of murders in the city when he opened the door to a pair of suit wearing men in dark shades. Behind them, parked at the curb in front of his house, was a nondescript van.

Badges were flashed and John was asked to step out of the house. John was skeptical and asked to see the badges again. One of the suits seemed very intent on looking past John. John looked over his shoulder. There was nothing special about his living room other than his inherited rack of wines. It had been a strange prize for a radio station. John considered offer the suits a bottle, just so he could get rid of one. He had too much as it was.

The suits repeated their request more firmly after letting John look at the badge to his heart’s content. The second suit was whispering into his wrist. The two, despite their glasses, looked very concerned. He could already see that another suit was exiting the van and was talking on a fancy looking cell phone. In the distance he could hear the sound of aircraft.

Not a bad day to be flying a kite, if it a little windy and humid, Joan decided. She shrugged and followed the first suit to the van. He started asking odd questions. Had she witnessed anything strange today? How long had she lived in the duplex. Were there any other occupants? How old was she? Pretty easy questions but she didn’t know what to make of it.

The questions continued as two helicopters appeared over her house. Joan watched them, answering the questions, until they shot something like a net down over her home. When she shouted angrily to know what was going on, one of the suits detained her. She struggled, watching some strange light envelop the house.

Joan shook her head, suddenly light-headed.

The nice suit kept her from falling over. She apologized, explaining that she was not sure what had come over her. The suits were pretty understanding after all. Apparently she had somehow wandered past a police line onto a crime scene. She didn’t remember how but was happy they didn’t charge her with trespassing or interfering with an investigation or something. One of the suits was even nice to call a patrol car to take her home.

The only problem was, she had trouble remembering where that was.

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But today I am breaking that rule for Writing Excuses. Writing excuses is one of my favorite podcasts about writing, offering incredibly useful tips and advice for aspiring authors and wannabe writers. Plus the podcasts are only fifteen minutes long, because I’m in a hurry (and they’re not that smart)!

Which brings us to the episode I feel you should listen to. This is by far not a typical episode but it is a hilarious one and even if you aren’t attempting to become a writer it is well worth listening to.

Writing Excuses Season 7 Episode 14: Writing Excuses

This episode will go over common (and maybe not so uncommon) writing excuses. It offers us such jewels as:

[Brandon] You know, what I think helps with a writer who wants to write epic fantasy, really? I really think… You know Tolkien took 20 years to world build. You’re not as good as Tolkien. Let’s be up front with that. So I think maybe 40 years is about as much time as it…
[Dan] 40 years if you’re exactly half as good as Tolkien. Which is still a little arrogant of you, frankly.

Here is the link to the podcast. If you can’t listen to the podcast, here is a link to the transcript (which is a lot less funny unless you hear their voices, but still hilarious).

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Used in a sentence:

• There had been an abnegation of key facts in the case, despite his using every lawful trick in the book he could remember, leading to its dismissal.

Source: Wiktionary

Commentary:

So another fancy way of saying renunciation or negate or both! You’re welcome!

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“Here is what I don’t understand,” Amon began, waving his hand towards the assembling crowds. Hasim used an infinite amount of willpower not to roll his eyes at his friend, mostly by focusing his attention on the crowds. The stadium was filling in quickly with over three-quarters of standing room filled in under a half an hour. Amon and Hasim had been one of the first inside and were therefore accorded a prime view of the stadium floor, after the eram, who used the three rows of benches ahead of them. The eram, unlike the masses of terum, had the luxury a guaranteed unobstructed view of the coming proceedings and therefore were less inclined to rush to their seats when the doors opened. This left Amon a nice clear view of the floor where a blue orb was set into the ground inside a huge inscribed circle. It pulsed slowly and rhythmically with light.

“Don’t you think?” Amon finished, turning his attention to his friend, only to find him staring at the floor below. Amon smacked Hasim on the shoulder. “Hey! Don’t stare!” the older man hissed quickly. Hasim shook his head and turned away slightly.

“Sorry. I got distracted,” Hasim said even as his eyes began to slide back to the floor. Amon grabbed his shoulder and turned him around to face him, much like most of the others in the crowd were doing. Eyes averted looking directly at the gleaming orb emitting light up towards the open sky of the stadium. Those who brought their children were having to keep them from looking as well. They all, however, felt the allure of the light.

“Exactly. We all trundle in here like camels to an oasis, knowing we’re denied the pleasures of the light. There’s no point. We might as well all stay home. None of us will be chosen,” Amon ranted. Hasim noted his friend was drawing a few looks from those behind him. He gave his friend a meaningful look, nodding. Amon didn’t take the hint. “Yet worse, you and I are near the head of the pack. At least the ones in the back won’t feel it as badly. You know I hear they measured width of the power. That the only reason why there are seats from this point on is that one doesn’t have the strength to stand so close for the length of the ceremony.”

Amon was trudging very close to heresy and was now drawing looks from a few of the parents in the crowd. Hasim jabbed his friend in the stomach once, hard. Amon, who was taking in a breath to say more, had it knocked out of him. He would have tumbled forward if Amon hadn’t caught him. They leaned against the diving stone railing that kept them from the eram seats. “Careful my friend. There are words reserved for drawn curtains,” he advised the older man. Amon seemed to nod, although he might have simply been gasping for breath.

Hasim patted his friend on the back and spared a quick glance towards the light again, disappointed to find that enough of the eram in their blue robes had taken seats to block a good view of the stadium floor. He grew both excited and nervous as the number meant that the ceremony would start soon.

“I will recall it this time,” Hasim vowed quietly, more to himself than Amon. Amon, who had mostly recovered his breath, didn’t bother to hide his disdain filled eye rolls. Hasim understood. Nobody remembered the ceremony. This would be his fifth attendance. He had resolved to remember everything that happened, rather than the vague dreamlike memories he had from prior visits that everybody experienced. Everybody’s accounts varied save for the sense of overwhelming calm and peace, as well as the longing to find that calm and peace again.

“Your memory techniques?” Amon asked. Hasim only nodded.

“You know you almost feel entranced not a few moments ago. Where were you memory techniques then?” Amon asked.

“I wasn’t prepared,” Hasim admitted. Most of the benches were full. A hush was slowly settling over the crowds.

“Well better start. Here come the priestess,” Amon pointed towards the glint of silver appearing in the gaps between the blue robes of the eram in front of them.

Hasim held his breath and began to focus. Unlike the others of the crowds in the standing room, who turned their backs to the ceremony, he remained looking forward like the eram. He concentrated on letting his eyes unfocused and slowly let out his breath, trying to direct his attention out and around him while keeping focusing on taking long deep breaths. He would reme-

—

Great lights so bright they blinded him twice over. He felt pain in every inch of his body. Pleasure too but only as a light salt to the sweetness of the pain. There was agony all around him; cries both human and inhuman echoing through the stadium. Escape was all he could think of. He walked. He pushed. He ran. He jumped. Nothing changed but he knew he was making progress. Red filled his vision, then silver, then blue. The screams where omnipresent but further away now. The chanting was closer. There was warmth but greater pain.

Then there was clarity.

He knew not the creature before him. It denied all words of description he had been taught. Around it were the priestess, their robes discarded, prostrate in a circle around it. He stood just inside the great circle but outside of it were the masses. Light streamed from every direction, a multitude of flowing colors, from the crowds that he had been apart of towards the creature. If it had something resembling an orifice, he was unsure, it used it to feed upon this light, while other parts of its anatomy writhed across the floor to touch not just the priestess but the eram in the seated benches before it.

He stood transfixed, taking all of this in. He was not alone. Where were several other fellow terum who had made it to the circle. They too stood looked around in confusion. One he recognized. The woman who had taught him the memory techniques. He opened his mouth to call out to her.

Then the creature touched him.

—

-ber. Hasim screamed. The rest of the people around him were shaking their heads as if trying to shake grogginess from their minds. Several startled and back peddled away from Hasim. Hasim clutched at his head. There was no calm. There was no peace. No fuzzy memories. He remembered the pain. He remembered it all. And all of it pained him.

“Hasim? You’ve been chosen?” Amon asked worriedly, reaching out to touch his friend who was wildly looking down towards the stadium floor now. The eram and the priestess were gone, as was usual. “Hasim? What’s wrong?” Amon asked, grabbing the younger man’s shoulders. The orb too was dim, shedding no light. There was no sign of it. Hasim broke the older man’s grip and leapt over the stone divide, into the forbidden place of the eram and towards the circle. Amon reached to grab him but it was too late. “Hasim!” Amon yelled.

Hasim ran for the circle, tugging at his robes. He could feel where it had touched him. There was not just a numbness but an emptiness so profound. His robes fell away as he entered the circle. Already the guards of the eram were filling into the floor, spears pointed towards him but he gave them no mind. Those who looked directly upon his chest actually hesitated a step.

He was marked. His skin a horrible pale stain of asymmetric design that resembled nothing natural. Hasim touched it and felt nothing, not even the tips of his fingers. What was worse he could feel the mark growing. Not across his skin but down into it. He had to stop it.

“Hasim!” Amon yelled again, as if he could scream some sense into his friend from afar, but Hasim realized that his voice was too close. He turned to see his older friend had followed him to the floor of the stadium. He was also yelling to warn him of the guard who brandished a spear and charging at Hasim. By turning around he showed his disfigurement to the charging guard. The guard’s eyes bulged at the sight and he stumbled back involuntarily. Amon too, being several strides away, halted his run with a skid, staring.

“I have no heart!” Hasim screamed up towards the darkening sky. It was true. He could no longer feel his heart beat nor his lungs filling with air. He was numb on the inside and the feeling only grew. As if to assist his claim, the guard who had stumbled back gathered his courage and thrust the spear forward. A solid blow driven into where Hasim’s heart should have been. Instead the spear struck the pale mark and was swallowed, no blood spewing forth. The tip and haft simply sunk into the man impossibly far, not merging from the opposite side.

The guards fled then. The few spectators in the stadium who had the willpower to stay now too found their courage fleeing them and left to chase it. Only Amon remained, kneeling in the sandy floor strides from his friend. Hasim looked at Amon sadly. Amon stared blankly at his friend, his mouth agape.

Hasim carefully pulled the spear from his breast intact, his the mark unmarred. He was numb now, from the neck down. He knew he would be dead. His body might yet remain animated but that which made him Hasim would cease to exist in moments. “Good bye, my friend. Please, do not remember,” Hasim said to Amon, then turned and fell head first upon his spear. His body and the spear clattered to the ground, spraying blood upon the orb.

Amon continued to stare in shock, only barely registering his friend’s suicide, or that the orb beneath him had begun to glow. In that blue glow he reme-

—

He felt the pain and the pleasure but he did not scream like the others. He felt it not as they did but as he would around them. Their pain and their pleasure radiated from them. Beside him his partner and friend screamed the loudest. He always screamed the loudest. Unlike before he was flailing. The eram had taken notice and were removing him from the stands, carrying him to the circle where it stood. He couldn’t look at it. He knew that if he did, it would notice him and he would feel the pain the others hand. He had to pretend. He had to shake, writhe, and worship. It was the only way to survive.

—

-bered, his own repressed memories surfacing. “No,” Amon whispered, defiantly climbing to his feet. More guards had appeared, as did several priestesses. The guards kept their distance but the silver swathed women were hurrying towards him. Each step he took strengthened his resolve and he covered the strides between himself and his friend’s body easily. He grabbed the haft of the spear and pulled it free. The tip was stained with Hasim’s blood.

“No!” hissed the closest woman as he held the spear in two hands above his head and pointed the tip down towards the orb. Up close it glowed brightly and while it held his attention, his anger and fear kept his wits from being absorbed by its false promise.

He thrust the spear down. The orb shattered. Amon knew nothing more.

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I’m still reading through the archive of 8-Bit Theater as I never finished it. I’m in a section of comics I never read before and this one struck me as rather hilarious. Particularly Red Mage’s comment in the second to last panel.

8-Bit Theater: 2007-03-22: Half of a Good Idea

That last line is golden.

Girls With Slingshots: 2012-05-02: Guest Strip: Dave Barrack

I laughed out loud at this one. Especially it being a work in progress.

Questionable Content: #2178: Graven Imagery

The girl’s interpretation amuses me greatly.

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Used in a sentence:

• The horse had alacrity but it just didn’t have nimbleness it needed to dodge the obstacles.

Source: Wiktionary

Commentary:

I want to say this word was on one of my spelling lists back in grade school. It is hauntingly familiar. While not as fun to pronounce as some of our words it is still a very useful word to know if you’re trying to describe a map or a location a long a coast. What person hasn’t had that come up in conversation every other day or so?

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Word Count: ~800

Actually it might be more. Hi! Its been awhile. I’ve been writing, mostly. Perhaps not as much as I should or as diligently as I’d like. I’ve written 3,593 words on everlasting since my last update, and fleshed out around five pages of Matrix since then. Also been keeping up with my free writes for the website, as I’m sure you’ve noticed. That’s been taking up my hour and a half or less long session of writing twice a week. If I get any more done, I’ll probably need to start scheduling more time.

Writing sessions have been chaotic affairs. As per norm they mostly encompass me or sometimes Daniel. I’ve found no one else interested in joining regularly. I’m starting to get to the point where I’m going to need critique on my work, so I may have to resort to looking for writing groups in my area, which will be hard for me. We’ll see though.

Everlasting Update

Word Count: 111, 434

I emailed Mur Lafferty of I Should Be Writing regarding if I should keep working on Everlasting or just skip to writing the ending and get to editing. Her advice, of course, was just to push through. Which is what I am doing. Writing today came rather easily. I’m trying not to judge or edit as I think about it, but I so want to sit down and plan out a better outline and flow for this story. I’m not even sure I like the ending I have planned anymore. Since its been two months and I’ve only written 3000+ words, I obviously haven’t been writing much on it, which means I’ve been taking a break. Actually I wrote a short story, which now needs editing. But obviously that break didn’t do much to help my motivation. I just need to keep chugging along.

Short Story: Station

Word Count: 6,799

Its working title is Station. It actually came out of a writing prompt from Writing Excuses. I was attempting to write some  Free Writing and it ended up running way longer than a free write but I was enjoying it. So I wrote it. I’ll go back to edit it sometime soon. After I’ve made some more headway in Everlasting.

The basic plot point is a space gas station attendant is bored because she took an extended week-long shift. Due to a strange but well-known astrological effect, all communication with the planet is cut off for the entire week. So no ships were going to refuel at her station. She was basically there in case something went wrong. She planned on using the time to catch up on her entertainment media and get some alone time, only to find out someone had erased all her media. So after a few days of going stir crazy, she wishes for something, anything, to happen. And that’s when something does.

It is a far future transhuman sci-fi story. I’ll probably talk about it more when I get back to editing it.

—

So that’s it for me. I’ll try to post more regularly.

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“And… release,” Justin ordered, smoothly pointing towards the screen. The technician at station two hit a button and the screen when white only to be followed by static. Justin did not have to make a motion for an image filled the screen again, this time displaying camera two’s field of view according to the label at the bottom of the screen. It showed two figures backlit by a huge explosion. They were running away only to be blown forward off their feet. The pair managed to keep a death grip on each other’s hands as they fell forward. The man fell on his face while the woman kept a knee under her.

Justin could feel the tension in the room. He slowly pushed his hand forward and the image on the screen slowly zoomed in towards the fallen man. He was perhaps in his mid twenties wearing a jumpsuit of brown and blue. He was not moving. Justin’s eyes flickered to a smaller screen in a console in front of him which was showing the feed from camera five. An operator at station three was keeping camera five trained directly on the woman’s face. She was coughing and recovering from the explosion. With a flicker on his other hand that feed was now on the dominant screen. He panned it slightly so that both her face and her grip on man’s hand was in view. “Stand by audio two,” Justin said to the room. Behind him the lead audio engineer began typing at his console. Most of the rest of the room, in contrast, had their eyes glued to the screen.

The woman tugged at the man’s hand as she tried to wave away smoke from in front of her face. She opened her mouth to say something. “Audio,” Justin ordered.

“David,” the woman coughed and tugged on the man’s hand again. Justin switched to the wider view, framing both David and the woman, who also wore a jump suit like the man save that hers was red and gray. With his other hand he took direct control of camera five and  manipulated it to zoom in on the woman’s face again. The was not making any attempt to stand up. “David?” the woman repeated, turning towards the fallen man, still on her knees.

“Clean the air!” Justin barked. More technicians began typing away at their consoles. Within a second the view of both of them was clear of the smoke from the explosion. The woman didn’t notice. She shifting her glances between the man’s head and the death grip he had on her hand while trying to shake him awake.

“David, get up. David!” the woman’s cry was far more urgent now. She spared a glance back in the direction of the explosion’s origin. On camera three the operator had a close up of the face down man but it didn’t tell Justin anything. Instead, he glanced at his own console which had to the side a vitals read out. Justin nodded to himself. He scanned the row of small monitors, looking for the prime shot.

“Sir! Camera one is operational again,” the operator at station one reported. Justin saw his smaller monitor of camera one flicker back to life. The static had been replaced with the exact image he was looking for. He waved one hand at the view of the two people and it vanished. A blasted landscape replaced them at the edge of which lay a humanoid robot, scorched and mostly in pieces, twitching. Justin let that image hang for several heart beats before he panned the camera slowly up. Several robotic legs, followed by torsos, arms, and heads, were revealed as they marched forward into view, obviously unmarred metallic skin gleaming in the dusk light. Their optic ports glowing a menacing red.

“Oh no. David, please no,” the woman’s voice was carrying over the speakers even as the view showed the relentless march of at least three more drones. Justin checked his monitors before flipping back to three for the wide view of the pair. The man was now on his side and the woman was touching his face with her free hand. Camera five had a good close up on his face. His eyes were closed and his lip and nose were bloody. He wasn’t responding to anything the woman said.

“Ready cut!” Justin called out. He kept one eye on the main screen, another on camera five, and yet another on camera one. Each time the woman glanced back over her shoulder, he switched to camera one and the relentless march. The woman had stopped pleading for David to wake up and was now just pulling on him and grunting. She showed muscle through her gray and red jumpsuit but she couldn’t bodily lift David. Each time Justin switched back the man’s grip on the woman’s hand was the focal point of the camera.

Time seemed to crawl for everybody in the room. Justin found he was holding his breath. The rest of the staff were leaning forward towards the main view screen or their own consoles. Then Justin’s console flashed a time warning. Justin let his left hand fall and camera five dominated the screen. David’s face filled the entire screen. “Boost audio!” Justin yelled as the side of the woman’s face appeared on the screen. She was leaning in close to press her lips to David’s. Justin’s hand slid to his console and he pressed a single button. David writhed suddenly, mid-kiss, and bucked. The woman gasped and the man’s eyes shot open. “Catherine!” he exclaimed.

“CUT!” Justin barked and the main engineer slapped their console. The main screen went gray and the audio of the two died. Catherine was saying something animatedly, pointing towards the direction of the robots, and tugging on David’s arm, who was now groggily standing up but most of the room was ignoring that. Instead there was applause and even a few cheers.

Justin, at the main chair in the center of the room, looked around the control station, grinned broadly, and raised a hand to acknowledge the applauds. “Thank you, thank you. Settle down. First things first. Post! I need a standard graying between sections four and five. See if you can add a slight hum or ringing. I also need player five a bit more on the pale side until the kiss. And let time slot six know player three has a romantic entanglement and they’ll want to piggy back our raw feed. We’ll all get some bonuses out of this, guys. Good job, all of you.”

The entire room was now abuzz with excitement and some more cheering. Operators stood up and stretched from their pods while engineers clustered to follow Justin’s last commands. From behind him came a quiet clearing of the throat. Justin turned to see a network assistant, out-of-place in her suit and heels. She also wore a not so out-of-place smirk, although most of her attention was still on the data pad she held in one manicured hand.

“Congratulations. The feeds are already reporting the highest viewership yet. Once those scenes past delay you’ll likely have shattered every reality television record for the last ten years,” the woman said. Her tone was cool but Justin could sense the admiration behind the mask.

Justin just smiled broadly and inclined his head in acknowledgment. “Anything for the viewership,” he said, waving to the screen where the pair were fleeing their robotic pursuers slowly. David was leaning on Catherine to support an obvious hurt leg. Terror was evident on both of their faces.

The assistant simply tapped her pad and the monitor turned off, sending the couple to another time slot room to handle. “Indeed,” she agreed. “Anything for the viewers.”

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But there are some social issues that need to be discussed. Over on my Tumblr I posted a video that explains the fight for women’s suffrage to the music of Lady Gaga’s Bad Romance. Do you think at the time discussing whether women had the right to own property or vote in political elections was a polite topic at the dinner table? A good majority of men and women felt different than a smaller group of women regarding the issue. It required people like Alice Paul to bring the issue to people’s attention and get them talking about it, realizing the idea and implications. As more people thought about it, rather than simply forming their beliefs based upon the status-quo, the movement  garnered support until women were considered equal citizens to men, at least in word if not always in practice.

One social issue that also needs to be discussed is sexuality. I could explain why but a recent post by Seanan McGuire, author of over a dozen stories, I think sums it up a little better. Show, don’t tell: why they need to be there by Seanan McGuire.

I was recently talking to a friend* of mine who is also a writer about inclusion and inclusiveness in fiction. He was frustrated. Why did people keep asking him to include a non-heterosexual character in a starring role in his work? After all, he’d said that non-hetero characters existed, and were actually the norm. It was right there, in black and white. So why wasn’t that enough?

…

I explained how, when I was a kid, the only smart blondes I could find were Marilyn Munster and Susan Storm. How I wound up identifying with the Midwich Cuckoos, rather than the humans who they were threatening, because the Cuckoos looked like me and were isolated like me and no one understood them. How, as I got older and realized that what I wanted wasn’t necessarily the kind of marriage my mother had, every gay character became a magical revelation—even the ones I would look at now and think of as stereotyped and cardboard. It was enough for me that they were there.

This argument, of course, hinges on your personal beliefs regarding if certain types of sexuality are morally wrong or right. It appeals to that time when you finally found someone, be it a fictional character or real life hero, who you felt was going through similar problems and conflicts as you, and how you drew strength from the fact that they survived. Maybe not everybody had this experience but I believe that to be unlikely.

Discussing social issues is hard but challenging what we know to be right and understanding that it may be wrong or at the very least, partially incorrect, is a part of what makes us human and what helps us to continue to improve ourselves.

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This includes awesome novels like Playing For Keeps, Marco and the Red Granny, and the Afterlife series. I particularly suggest Playing For Keeps and the novella Marco and the Red Granny. You can download the books here.

If you still would like more info about the series, you can read SF Signal’s book descriptions or all the books. Here are the descriptions for Playing For Keeps and Marco and the Red Granny:

Playing For Keeps

The shining metropolis of Seventh City is the birthplace of super powers. The First Wave heroes are jerks, but they have the best gifts: flight, super strength, telepathy, genius, fire. The Third Wavers are stuck with the leftovers: the ability to instantly make someone sober, the power to smell the past, the grace to carry a tray and never drop its contents, the power to produce high-powered excrement blasts, absolute control. over elevators. Bar owner Keepsie Branson is a Third Waver with a power that prevents anything in her possession from being stolen. Keepsie and her friends just aren’t powerful enough to make a difference. at least that’s what they’ve always been told. But when the villain Doodad slips Keepsie a mysterious metal sphere, the Third Wavers become caught in the middle of a battle between the egotistical heroes and the manipulative villains. As Seventh City begins to melt down, it’s hard to tell the good guys from the bad, and even harder to tell who may become the true heroes.

Marco and the Red Granny

By bringing back the patronage system, a new alien species has transformed the moon into the new artistic center of the universe, and Sally Ride Lunar Base soon gains the nickname “Mollywood.” These aliens can do amazing things with art and the senses, allowing a painting, for example, to stimulate other senses than simply sight. When someone asks a starlet, “Who are you wearing?” she could as easily say “J.K. Rowling” as she could “Gucci.”

Every creative person in the world wishes for a patronage. It’s quite competitive.

Marco wanted one, once. But then his girlfriend got one and shuttled off to Mollywood for fame and fortune, and Marco stayed home, waiting for his own patron. After several years, he gave up entirely. His career faltered. His agent dumped him. And then, one morning, he gets a call. At last he has a patron, at last the aliens want him. But he’s about to find out that an artistic patronage isn’t what it was in the good old days, and that the only friend he’s made, a tiny old woman who’s the star of a blood sports reality series called The Most Dangerous Game, has secrets of her own.

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Used in a sentence:

• Lacunae covered the carapace of the creature, providing a false sense of hope that one might find some sort of hole through which to pierce through.

Source: Wiktionary

Commentary:

Formerly Latin and then Italian, the question is was it an English word before it was a scientific word, or vice versa? Another weird word that I like the sound of. Also much easier to say than “a small pit or depression”.  I’ll be trying to work this into my descriptions.

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They’re replacing the like button on YouTube videos with a Google Plus button.

And some people, like Wil Wheaton, are angry about it.

One of the reasons why is because professional YouTube users rely upon not just views, but likes, in order to gain revenue. Plus YouTube’s new initiative to launch actual produced channels like Geek and Sundry, are going to use likes similar to television ”Nielsen” ratings.

This means that Google is effective sabotaging YouTube’s rating systems by trying to market their social network. And while I like Google Plus, it is not unlike trying to fill out customer service review survey for that especially helpful phone rep who helped you fix that problem you were having, only to learn you need to sign up for the company’s newsletter before they’ll let you take the survey.

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~~~~~~

A Charge for an Arm and a Leg
By Nojh Livic

“Good evening! Good evening,” Rylie greeted the pair of cloaked figures as they hurried to the gate. She moved to stand at the gate, ready to let them in, although her hands remained concealed within her own robes, one wrapped firmly around her focus orb, the other on the pommel of a sheathed dagger. Her smile continued even as the figured drew up short to stand in front of the gate. “Welcome,” she greeted again but made no move to open the iron bars for them. The pair hesitated and Rylie’s smile began to fade.

“Powder Blue Moon,” croaked the smaller of the two cloaked figures, his voice raspy but understandable. Rylie’s smile grew wider and she let go of her dagger and drew her hand out of a pocket and began to make a complicated series of finger gestures in front of the gate. She felt her orb glow faintly warm but then the chains that held the gate locked glowed and began to unravel themselves. She stepped back and the gates opened for the pair and they took several steps inside. The gates shut and the chains locked themselves back up.

Rylie drew out her remaining hand and spread her arms wide, bowing her head slightly. “Welcome to Mezzel’s Emporium for the Dead! Repeat customers I see? You’re welcome to lower your hoods. The scrying protections about the grounds are top-notch, let me assure you. Now, how may I serve you this evening?”

—

“And over there we have our latest batch, freshly interred this sun down,” Rylie motioned to a patch of dirt that had six obviously freshly disturbed mounds. “They’ll be up and at them in a few hours no doubt. Plus we have home, lair, or dungeon delivery, if you’d prefer not to hassle yourself with the details.” The shorter of the pair, who turned out to be the husband of the pair of necromancers, looked eager to go and inspect the selection. His wife who seemed the far more practical one, was looking towards an area marked “Spare Not-So-Spare Parts” in arcane runes. The woman had mismatched eyes and she kept her left arm hidden under her cloak. She likely wanted some new grafts. If Rylie let the customer into the item bins she might as well as kiss her commission good-bye.

“Newly animated, of course, have some of the freshest parts,” Rylie explained, catching the woman’s attention again. “I have depictions stored in gems of our selection that you might peruse through. All ages and body types.” Rylie smiled as the woman focused her attention on the crèche. She could almost  hear the gold coins clanging.

—

Rylie looked over her notes, directing the quill with a slight wave of her hand. She sat in what served as the general sales office that any of the staff could use. It was decorated generally enough to be anybody’s office but the manager felt offices somehow made the deal feel more official to the client. Less chances of them deciding to send a horde as payment rather than gold.

“That’ll be two small, one large, and the petite. Extra soft dirt on the petite. Extra ravenous on the large. A rush order on all four?” Rylie confirmed. The pair nodded their agreement and Rylie passed the clipboard for them to look it over and empower their mark into. “Just cast into the circle provided and we’ll be set.” She hadn’t guessed these two would be such a gold mind when they approached. The way they hesitated to give the password actually had her nervous but now with the cut from this commission she could bribe her way into a cushy managerial position or perhaps even take a day off!

As she watched the pair sign, there was a slight itching sensation she had only felt once before. It was so long ago that she didn’t immediately place what it meant. She didn’t have time to ponder it as everything started to go wrong. She felt the barriers around the emporium fall before the stone of alarms began to blare. Shouts of the authorities began to echo through the castle as well as moans of hunger as the automated defenders rose from their cubby holes to meet the unwelcome intruders. Rylie stood and began to udder a platitude of comfort for the pair when she saw the woman had removed her cloak completely. Under it was not an arm grafted to the shoulder made of dead flesh as she had expected but a ghostly ectoplasmic appendage that mimicked an arm and held, much to the young woman’s chargin, a seal of the Royal Adventurer’s Brigade. The woman was a psionist.

Rylie shoved her hands into her robe, drawing her dagger and wrapping her hand around her orb tied at her belt. The shorter man suddenly slumped over onto her desk, as if he were a puppet who strings had just been cut. The woman stood and was shouting for her drop her weapon and Rylie was happy to oblige. The dagger fell from her hand but rather than fall to the ground, it rocketed forward directly at the adventurer who was taken off guard. The dagger only managed to embed itself in the woman’s shoulder but that would be enough. As if on cue, the door to the office exploded open and two zombies stumbled in and lunged.

The dagger would be a beacon to any unintelligent undead, not just drawing them but angering them. It had been a defensive charm Rylie had devised herself. She hadn’t properly tested it but she didn’t feel the need to stand around to see how well it worked. She began chanting quickly under her breath. Her orb began to burn quickly and the light could be seen even from under her robes.

The adventurer had dodges the first zombie but the second had her in a grapple. Her ectoplasmic arm whipped around the zombie’s neck and with a snarl she pulled it free, serving the half skeletal neck from the zombie’s shoulders. The first zombie had slightly recovered from its lunge but the adventurer gave it a swift kick that sent it back to the ground. Pulling out the dagger with a slight cry she turned and threw it at Rylie with an expert hand.

Rylie watched the tip spin directly at her head, her eyes wide as she muttered as quickly as possible. With the dagger less than a hand’s width from her face, she felt her gut wrench and then suddenly there was darkness.

—

Some hours later, the young necromancer sat on the ground, robes spread around her, watching her former place of employment go up in flames. Leek, Gorbash, and Quentin had joined her some time ago but they were staying inside the tree line where they couldn’t be spotted. Below a handful of Royal Adventurers were escorting prisoners out of the gates and chopping the heads off of her merchandise. She sighed. “I hate writing resumes. I wonder if Deadmart is hiring…”

~~~~~~

So this time I felt I was very up front about everything. There was magic. The place was selling dead or undead things. The ending wasn’t well forecasted but I wouldn’t say it was a twist like some (read: most) of my other flash fiction. This story came out of a small idea I had where someone would sell zombies like a salesperson might sell a fine wine. That didn’t come out when I started to write but I rather like the idea that did come out. The plot could probably use some shaping up. What do you think?

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So hot off the heels of finishing The Legend of Zelda: Skyward Sword, I finish off Uncharted 3: Drake’s Deception. The end came actually as a bit of a surprise. I was expecting maybe two or three more hours of game play from where I picked it back up, but I managed to finish it in about an hour and a half, even though the final areas required me to die no less than three times each.

Uncharted is the video game series that proved the PS3′s graphical superiority to just about everything save some of the best computers out there and most of those don’t have software support to rival the PS3. The first Uncharted was a fun ride with impressive graphics, decent game play, and a good sense of humor. The closest thing to an action adventure film the game industry had seen in a long time. You controlled the main hero, who’s quips were often too hilarious for me, and solved puzzles via climbing, jump, and contextual buttons interspersed with cover based firearm combat. The second game upped the scale with more impressive death-defying scenes and interactive cut scenes, similar if improved combat, and even better graphics. Whether or not the story improved is up to personal opinion and whether or not you like the main character.

The third game, on the other hand, upped a few things but not by much. They worked heavily on having your character interact with the environment in a bit of a believable way. For example if your character runs into a wall, he lifts his hands to stop himself from hitting his head on it. Walking down a stairs with a railing or along a wall causes your character to reach out and touch the wall itself as you might do while you’re walking beside it. Little things like that. Combat improvements included a melee system that more or less worked on a basic strike, counter, grab that was neat during interactive cut scenes but less useful during actual gun fights.

Some of the nitpicking I have were that the graphics didn’t really seem to improve at all. If they had I didn’t really notice. The environment layouts were still interesting and breathtaking but I was still getting some uncanny valley on some of the characters. Additionally the game had no install time, which meant that loading the game, and then loading your save, took forever. Plus advertisement credits at the beginning of the game meant a total load time of at least a minute if not more, before I actually started to play the game.

Another weird area was the story. I’m not sure if I liked it better than the second game or if it is on par. I do not really remember the second game’s story other than Drake was having woman problems between his love interest in the first game and a new “edgier” woman who may or may not have betrayed in him the second game. The third game, however, focuses on Nathan’s long-term father-like figure, Sully, even having several flashbacks which help explain how they met, and how everything ties together. Where the story seems to fail for me is the characterization of all the new characters. There is an ally we’ve never met before who, while funny, seems slightly out-of-place. And the two major villains of the story never really explained what they were doing, what they wanted, or what was happening, other than they had a history with Sully and Nathan and were willing to use them to get the treasure everybody was supposedly hunting. It wouldn’t seem like a big nitpick except that all the scenes with the villains played out like Nathan had a serious vested interest in their failure, while I the player, didn’t really know or care.

On other aspect of the story that I felt was touched upon but never really brought to fruition was that we’re giving a back story of how Nathan and Sully meet, which involves pointing out that we don’t really know who Nathan Drake is, or his past, or that he really is or isn’t related to the original Sir Frances Drake. Given the title being Drake’s Deception, I was expecting more revelations regarding Nathan, not just what Sir Frances Drake did many years in the past.

So sadly the story did not meet my expectations. The game play, while fun, was more or less the same old bag. The cinematic nature of the game was upheld but not as memorable as some of the scenes from Uncharted 2. One advantage is that the game is relatively short although the story does seem to end a bit abruptly for me. Overall I liked it but I likely won’t play it again.

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Used in a sentence:

• The horse had alacrity but it just didn’t have nimbleness it needed to dodge the obstacles.

Source: Wiktionary

Commentary:

What a fun word. Unusual. Fun to say. Has a meaning that would make it easy to work into normal conversation! I have alacrity for the word alacrity!

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That brings us to my latest conquest: The Legend of Zelda: Skyward Sword. I was a big fan of Twilight Princess. Not only did you get to be a wolf, which was awesome, but the ending boss battle was one of the most memorable for in all the Zelda games, hearkening back to the old SNES and NES titles. If there was an issue with Twilight Princess, it was that it was still rather formulaic. It copied most of its game play from Ocarina of Time which was in no way a bad thing but when compared to the latest installment, Skyward Sword, makes it feel somewhat lacking.

The Legend of Zelda: Skyward Sword, turns so many things about the Zelda franchise on its head, yet keeping the spirit of the game and the good aspects of the game play making the entire game very fresh and fun. I was surprised by several turn of events and not by others but I ultimately enjoyed the entire game. The most interesting change, I feel, was that there was a far more consistent plot to the game. Rather than the typical hero’s journey to save the princess, Zelda is not so much the princess as a mayor’s daughter, and while she needs assistance, she is as much apart of a the quest of destiny as you. In fact half the game is spent following her trail that she is blazing through a post-apocalyptic world. No not leather and chains just the surface of the world, which was mostly abandoned by people in order to live in the sky away from an invasion of monsters.

Some of the nitpicks I have for the game is the flying mechanic. Your character spends a lot of time flying on his bird between locations in the sky and to locations on the ground. The “skyworld” is not very large and it takes perhaps two-three minutes to fly across it without any special speed boosts but it is also very boring to fly across. Unlike horse riding in prior games, there’s no scenery to get a sense of motion. Just small floating islands getting bigger or smaller. There are some random birds with gems you can knock down, and some floating rocks have enemies that shoot at you, but they don’t provide that interesting of a distraction. Flying is fun for maybe the first hour but you spend about a quarter of the game flying places and it just gets old after a while.

One nitpick I’ve heard from others is that the game reuses areas too much. There are three main surface world areas and two major skyworld areas. Through the course of the game you open up the pieces of each surface area, which generally requires going through the initial area multiple times. I can see how people might feel a little tired being asked to run through one area a few times to get to a new area but you spend much more time in new areas than you do in old ones, and often even the most trekked areas newly accessible secrets with the gear you’ve newly acquired. The game makes heavy use of modifying the areas you’re in to be new and different, which sometimes works and sometimes doesn’t, but ultimately it worked for me.

Overall I would highly suggest this game for Zelda fans.

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~~~~~~

A Very Important Question
by Nojh Livic

“Ye-” Daring started to say when his visor went dark. He reached up and hit the side of it once, twice, but his vision didn’t return. He also realized that the background music he had been listening to was no longer being piped into his ears. The old thing had likely shorted out. He had been meaning to replace it for a month now.

Daring cursed and ripped off the visor. He reached out and pulled the touch pad from its slot next to the main box into his lap and began tapping at it to force the machine into wide display mode. He he was halfway through the commands when he realized that the room was dark and the main box’s power light was missing. He reached out to hit it once but he already knew the problem wasn’t with the box. His apartment had no power.

Cursing more, he pushed himself from his beanbag chair and made a dash for his bag.

He was in the middle of an important conversation with Quizzical, who he had been dating for three years. Quizzical was an online handle just like Daring. More offline people knew him by Daring than his birth name, however. Daring’s avatar would be just standing there staring at Quizzical. He had been about to answer a very important question and his avatar staring blankly was worse than any answer he could actually give. He needed to message Quiz right now, vide0, voice, or text the medium didn’t matter.

He pulled out the small plastic brick from his bag that served as his MCD. Except that it was acting far more like a brick now than a communication device. He had forgotten to charge it. Daring blinked several times. He felt sweat begin to form on his brow. Forgetting to curse he made a dash to the front door, swung it wide, and then dashed the few steps to the opposite door, the front entrance of his neighbor’s apartment. He knocked furiously. “Hey! Dasher! You in?” he called to the door. Dasher had a top of the line box he could use, assuming she would answer the door. She had a tendency to zone out. He had been offline for a minute now. His avatar would likely auto log out any second. Quiz would think he had logged out on purpose.

He didn’t have time to wait.

Flying more than jumping down the stairs, he exited his apartment building onto the sidewalk. It was mid afternoon and fairly busy. A little cold but Daring wasn’t about to waste time going back up to get his jacket. Across the street was a net cafe that he sometimes used on occasions like this when his main box fried or he forgot to pay his carbon debt. It wasn’t common but he had been glad it was there. He played frogger with the traffic, pulling open the glass door wide and running to a automated kiosk that proudly listed the prices for net time. He reached for his bag and froze. No bag. No wallet. No account feeds. No cash. No net.

His heart was racing now. He wasn’t sure what to do. It had been at least two or three minutes. Was he too late? Had Quiz logged off already? This was turning into a nightmare. He considered, briefly, knocking on the door and pleading his case to an actual person when movement outside caught his attention. A woman holding an MCD to her ear walked by.

He burst out of business and waved his hand to the woman. “Hey. Excuse me. This is an emergency. Can I borrow your ceedee?” Daring panted as he came to a stop next to the woman. She was staring at him in surprise. He was flushed and sweating now. He tried to seem earnest but he could tell he was creeping the woman out. As she debated it he raised his hands. “No it’s okay. Can you just message someone for me. The id is-” He realized he didn’t have Quiz’s id memorized. Who memorized ids anymore when you had your MCDs and your boxes to keep track of them for you? He cursed again, loudly, and the woman gave up and ran away. Several other pedestrians were now staring at him and the exchange, looking worried.

“Come on… think!” He chided to himself, clenching his fists as he watched the vehicles hover past. He bounced up and down on this toes, feeling the frantic need to go somewhere, anywhere, as if he could somehow outrun this problem. He stared into the increasing traffic. A bike zipped in between two conveyors, breaking at least three traffic laws, and sped off. Daring froze in place.

Daring had a full communication suite in his bike.

His feet began moving before he had even decided to run to the garage. There was a line for the vehicle retrieval kiosk. He cut it,  the other would be motorists protesting with angry cries. He exclaimed it was an emergency which did very little to pacify them. It took an agonizing ten seconds for his bike to be delivered to one of the garage receptacles.

He didn’t bother trying to leave the garage but keyed the bike’s entry code, booting the bike’s internal ceedee. A holographic display welcoming him and offering an array of music channels and navigation points hovered an inch above the main screen. He wiped it away to the messaging system. A few more gestures and he access to his account and contacts list, showing everybody who was still connected and their status.

Quiz was still online but an away icon was being displayed.

His fingers motioned furiously, typing out a text-only message as quickly as possible. When he finally keyed send, no relief came. His heart thundered in his ears as he stared at the conversation log. He wiped the refresh nodule several times, until the new message icon flashed green with a confirmation and new text appeared. He blinked several times then laughed a semi-hysterical laugh. He then fell off his bike.

Two strangers ran over to see what was the issue. They help him to his feet. He was feeling light-headed, which helped to dull all the other raging emotions within him: worry, joy, relief, and excitement. When the strangers asked what was wrong he found he couldn’t speak and instead just pointed at the message dialog. It read:

Daring: “Sorry! I lost power! YES! Yes I will marry you!”
Quizzical: “Are you on your bike? How many times have I told you to not text me while driving? Shut up and get over here so we can celebrate properly!”

 ~~~~~~

I actually pre-planned this one out a little before writing it. Several things changed during writing. When I wrote the summary plot, it wasn’t futuristic but the present day, at least until I came up with the idea of a communication device (Ceedee? Get it? Nevermind) in a bike. I also didn’t know that I was going to keep the gender of Daring’s significant other ambiguous. Did you even notice that I didn’t even reference the gender at all? You might also be questioning the feasibility of someone asking someone else to marry them over the net. I suggest searching the web for terms like ‘geeky marriage proposals’ and see the multitude of video games, online comics, message boards, and other mediums used to propose to someone.

Oh and despite what I said at the beginning, the title for this story was actually rather easy.

Hope you enjoyed the story!

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In case the humor of the last few panels wasn’t enough, the context is that the hologram is a representation of the space station’s AI, who would like the woman to stay aboard because he misses her.

Girls with Sling Shots: 2012-04-11: #1372

Open Mouth, Insert Van.

Shortpacked!: 2012-04-12: Wen

I didn’t so much laugh at this as gaped at the comic. Not a usual response for me. It was awesome.

Girl Genius: Volume 12: Page 72

“Ahh. That kind of Princess.”

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Knite is a flash comic about a city without stars and a boy who dreams of them. It is being distributed for free via deviant art by its creater, ‘yuumei. Chapter four was just released. Below is chapter two and you can find links to the other three below that. The chapters are not long but beautifully drawn with a compelling story, so please take some time to read them.

Knite: Chapter 1 by `yuumei on deviantART

Chapter Links

Knite: Chapter One
Knite: Chapter Two
Knite: Chapter Three
Knite: Chapter Four

Extra Content

Gallery of Knite related content

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Used in a sentence:

• The use of a word that obviously wasn’t very weird was a flagrant misuse of Nojh’s editorial power over A Singularity.

Source: Wiktionary

Commentary:

Okay okay so flagrant isn’t really a weird word. I hear it a lot on television, particularly law shows. It is a word that I like the pronunciation, although I also tend to misspell the word as fragrant, which is kinda funny. I challenge you to go read something that uses the word flagrant and mis-read it as fragrant. Also the archaic meaning is kinda interesting. “That was a flagrant abuse of the law!” “Well go get some water then!”

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He floated in an infinite space, quietly watching the small bits of light as they zipped to and fro. He liked to bask here. There was probably some sort of existential or psychological reason for this odd behavior. Why hang around in the space between places? There was nothing to do and barely anything to see. With no sensation save sight, it was like being disconnected from everything, viewing it all from a distance, except there was nothing to view save the little dazzling bolts of light..

A small chime that only echoed between his head informed him that he didn’t have a second more to spend on his dalliance. Ghost wanted his attention. With a sigh he drew out a small charm from the pocket of his jacket. It began to glow almost immediately and he gave it a squeeze. “Yo yo yo, Blitz! Where you at?” A gauzy image of Ghost projected itself from the stone, from its shoulders up. The stone already gave most people a translucent quality. With Ghost he was near invisible.

“Just watching traffic. What’s the score?” Blitz asked. The lights and space began to blur as he began flying through the space, letting the tails of his jacket whip around behind him. He preferred to stand while he traveled, rather than assume some sort of pose that suggested he obeyed some sort of aerodynamic rules.

“TryTex. Off the Hou-Dal-Ft link. You’ll want to come in hot. Surly already woke the beast.” Ghost chuckled when it saw Blitz roll his eyes. Surly was Ghost’s nickname for Surreal who was the third of their little troupe and the most hot-headed. She was also on the record, having found the best scores yet, so if she got them into a little trouble now and then he wasn’t going to complain.

“I’ll be there in a cycle,” Blitz said, increasing the speed of his flight. He could have been there faster, of course, but he wanted to prepare. Stowing away the glowing stone he began pulling more objects out from under his jacket: A few rings, three bangles, goggles, a pair of daggers, a pair of ornate slug throwers with shiny black leather holsters, three different necklaces, and finally a long wooden staff. Nearly all of the items glowed in some form of fashion, as his jacket did each time he pulled out something new. Finally he buttoned the leather long coat up. As he did, it shifted from its usual brown to a shiny black with faintly glowing blue lines following the seams. Re-checking that he could reach his equipment and weapons through various pockets, he lifted his staff high and struck what would sure to be an impressive pose and readying an offensive maneuver just in case he needed to keep Surreal’s ass out of a sling.

He arrived at TryTex exactly one cycle later. Darkness and blurry lights gave way to an immediate cacophony of alarms and a kaleidoscope of shades of red intermixed darkness. He saw Surreal between the flashes of darkness, in her dragon form, but rather than tearing a swath through the entire area, was instead pinned down by hordes of tiny red skinned devils with pitchforks. He flew directly towards the melee, staffed pointed, words already on his lips that would send bursts of wind and force down upon his cohort’s foes.

Then a net surrounded him. Disoriented, he flew backwards, only to find himself caught in another net. He let go of his staff to draw his daggers but the net suddenly glowed with blue flame. Ignoring his jacket completely, the flames sent sharp painful chills down his arms. His fingers went numb, letting the daggers slide from his grip. The net grew tighter, surrounding him until he couldn’t move his arms or legs. He squirmed and each time was rewarded with another blast of cold that numbed him even more.

On the ground, Surreal jerked spasmodically, frozen, then slowly began to grow transparent. The devils began cheering, pumping their pitch forks up and down. Blitz tried one last effort, summoning all his strength to try to break the net that surrounded him. That is when he blacked out.

Ronald tore the headband off and threw it on the ground. The pain lancing through his head was enough to blind him but despite that he leapt for the wall and jerked the connection cord out of the socket. That done, he curled up into a ball of pain, trying to ignore the smell of charred metals and plastic that used to be his hacking rig. After an eternity he let his eyes open. The tiny enclosed space that was his apartment surrounded him. No star filled landscape. No flashing lights. Just darkness, smoke, and pain.

~~~~~

So I wanted to go for a fantasy vibe that turned out to be kinda science fiction. The premise is based on a roleplaying game I used to play called Shadowrun. Think The Matrix, but less “super real” and more “fantasy real”. I’ve also recently read Ready Player One and The Dresden Files, which made its way unconsciously into this story I think.

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Used in a sentence:

• Carl’s demeanor was anything but gubernatorial, which is likely what earned him the praise of his constituents as much as it rubbed the nobility wrong.

Source: Wiktionary

Commentary:

So you rarely hear this word except during election time in the United States. I like it because it has the sound “guber” in it, which sounds kinda fun. Goooober. One word which is very similar that you hear far more often is presidential.  So if you can use the word gubernatorial in any place where you might use presidential, assuming you’re talking about a governor instead of a president.

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~~~~~~~~~~

Keeping Score
By Nojh Livic

“A22,” Clark said, leaning forward slightly in anticipation. Andy’s eyes searched the grid in front of him. He cringed dramatically and pressed a button on his console.

“Hit,” Andy sounded resigned but Clark grinned in excitement.

“A23,” Clark said with only slightly concealed glee.

“Hit.”

“A24.”

“Score. Carrier 3.” Andy’s shoulders had slumped and he was hunched over his console.

“That just leaves your support vessel,” Clark reminded his opponent. His attention was half on Andy, half on the grid in front of him. The little abstract symbols representing his opponent’s various units. All but one group had a red outline while his own units remained a nice neutral blue, showing Andy’s superior strategic skills.

“C1,” Andy said after taking a sip from his cup of coffee. There was a pause and Andy lifted his head from his console to look over at his opponent. “Clark? C1.”

“Score. Support Group 3, 4, 2, and Carrier 5.” Clark intoned, his voice barely audible, his face hidden from Andy by his own console. Andy gaped in astonishment.

“You mean you-” Andy began but Clark raised his head and glared back in response. Andy quickly ducked and began searching his grid, now that he understood his opponent’s supposedly superior strategy.

“F3.”

“Score. Support Group 1. Frigates 1 through 4.”

“Y31.”

“Score. Carrier 3 and 4.”

Clark watched his forces slowly disappear in gleaming red borders, his face becoming more and more flushed with each score. Systematically Andy discovered all the pocket grid points that would allow multiple units to cluster and targeted them until all but one of  his units remained. He had yet to discover where Andy’s last support vessel was hiding.

“I’m sorry to interrupt gentlemen,” a female voice intoned over a speaker in the war room. Clark looked up towards the ceiling, momentarily distracted from making what he was sure his last decision. Andy too looked up.

“I regret to inform you that we have received communications from Commander Clark’s homeworld. A cease-fire has been declared effective two standard hours ago. Your battle shall now be terminated.” To punctuate her words, both consoles flickered and ceased projecting the battle grids. “Thank you for using WarCom’s intergalactic battle command center. We hope you will consider our services for your future intergalactic conquest needs. Please follow the blue and yellow lines respectively to your delegations.”

“Close one,” Andy said as they stood up, gathering its things.

“Yeah,” Clark said, offering a shaky smile.

“Same time next week? Assuming negotiations break down?” Andy asked, offering a hand.

“Sure. Your turn to bring the coffee though.” Clark shook his hand.

~~~~~~~~~~

Ever seen a movie called Robot Jox? It was about nations of the world using giant robots to determine the outcomes of war. People controlled the robots from inside them. It was very cheesy but I loved it as a kid. I’ve always been fascinated with the idea of civilized warfare. So the question remains, were they actually controlling real forces or was it all simulated?

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Let me introduce you to Mary Robinette Kowal. I am not one of her readers, although that might change in the future, but I am one of her listeners, as she recently joined one of my favorite writing podcasts Writing Excuses where she has proven herself very capable of offering advice and knowledge regarding writing.

Unsurprisingly she is an author of several books of which the most recent one, Glamour in Glass, had a printing error. The printer somehow omitted the first line of the novel. Does she rant and rave to the net? No. She takes the problem, stays classy, and turns it into something even better: A way to advertise her new book and interact with her fans.

Her blog post regarding the subject discusses the first lines of books in general, offers an interactive pop quiz, and then proceeds to enumerate a list of ways readers can correct their novels including asking her to pen the initial line herself if one attends a signing of the book. How awesome is that? The list also includes digital stickers, a digital book mark, a free signed bookmark with a self-addressed & stamped envelope (SASE), a temporary tatoo with a SASE, and the best part, she is selling a t-shirt with the missing first line. And of course you could read the first line on the webpage itself, if you wanted, or just start with the second line!

Despite Glamour in Glass being the second in a series, I’m tempted to purchase it. For those of you who don’t know, book collectors often see more value in a book that has a miss printing than perfectly bound books. I make no assumptions or assertions regarding Mary Robinette Kowel’s bibliography’s future worth but it does add some appealing value, aside from the story within.

So aspiring authors out there, take notes. This is how you handle someone else’s mistake of your work and turn it around into something awesome. Don’t believe me? Mur Lafferty, author and creator of my other favorite writing podcast, I Should Be Writing, agrees with me.

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This is why I always warn people.

El Goonish Shive: End of Summer: 2012-03-28

EGS is an oldie but great comic with a lot of history. I don’t expect you to find the first few panels funny but the punchline at the end amused me greatly.

Counting Stars By Katie O’Neill

I actually found this comic on Tumblr and managed to find the artist’s portfolio site. Her site doesn’t have much more information than her Tumblr but it at least had the name of the comic. Not humorous but very touching. Enjoy!

Something Positive: 2012-04-05: Hippity-Hop

Exactly! That’s why I only trust the cardboard boxes. They’ll keep me safe.

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Used in a sentence:

• The robot traveled across the lava pits with insouciance that bordered on self-destructive but held the medicine as a parent might their child.

Source: Wiktionary

Commentary:

Before you ask, no. I don’t know how to pronounce it. It’s a word stolen from French I believe. So I am sure most of the letters don’t sound like how they are supposed to sound. Interestingly enough, a noun for a meaning usually reserved for an adjective, ie carelessness or indifference. I believe it’s more common form is apathy but I might start using this word more.  If your curious how to be sure you’ve used this word correctly, just replace it with the word ‘care’ and making sure the word ‘caring’ doesn’t make sense, and you’ve got it!

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~~~~~~~~~~

A Fateful Meeting, Part 2
By Nojh Livic

“Thank you. As I was saying, I am here to inquire about the tutoring position,” Marla repeated, offering a smile and leaning forward slightly in an attempt to model eagerness. She even let her hands slide from her lap slightly. Lilly did not look as surprised as she had at the door but the expression on her face did suggest that she was unsure what to make of Marla’s statement. So Marla continued, “I read in the paper this morning that there was a tutoring position for the Warlam family and I thought I might apply. I have brought my associate Lady Trayark to both vouch for my credentials and that I am a sentient citizen in good standing.”

To add further to her claim, Marla reached into the small brief case she had brought from which she produced several papers and held them forward. “I see,” Lilly said as she took the papers. Her eyebrows slowly raised as she read over Marla’s credentials. Resume writing for Marla was a difficult task as most did not want to read several centuries of career history. This particular version focused on her academic research and her prior teaching experience at the Qualsburg University.

“Amazing.” Lilly said finally, after a moment. She set the papers down on the table as the teapot let out a simple and short whistle, followed by the plate below slowly beginning to dim. Lilly began pouring tea as she talked, even taking time to do so for Marla. “Well, even my husband could not find fault with these papers and I admit, given his profession, I doubt he would see a problem with hiring you. However I must ask at least one question and it won’t be simple, I’m afraid, but here it is. Why do you want to be our tutor?”

Marla had expected a question along similar lines. It would have been impolite to ask the direct question. Although Lilly hid it well, Marla gave the mother credit for being more circumspect. As it was, Marla already had a prepared statement but she took a moment to appear as if she was considering and organizing her thoughts on the matter.

“To say simply that I am bored would do my motivations injustice. My current position as a free citizen grants me an excessive amount of time that I did not have access to before the new laws. And while the new laws have provided for me decently enough, I do feel that fetching a wage is of personal benefit not only of the body but of the mind. As to why your family specifically, my experience lends itself to seeking out tutoring positions and your ad in the paper was the only position available. Mostly thought, I would like to tutor your progeny out of a want to feel useful. I’m sure you can surmise how difficult it might be for one such as myself to find a career in service and yet that is what I find myself compelled to do. I hope that answers your question?”

Before Lilly could respond, a young boy of certainly no more than five years of age came running into the kitchen. He had on shorts and boots but no other clothing save for a set of goggles that were pulled down enough to let one eye see through a set, while the other eye remained free. The boy was wielding some type of metal trinket in his left hand, and a wrench in his right, and he was beaming.

“Mama. Mama! I got it to- Wow! A robot!” the boy exclaimed and immediately walked up to Marla, peering up at her. Marla turned her profile slightly to address the boy while she looked down at him. She could see her own reflection in his small brown eyes. A well dressed lady perhaps, were it not for her metallic silver skin.

“No dear, not a robot a, uh,” Lilly stood and reached for her son but her correction trailed off.

“Automata,” Joan supplied helpfully. “Hello there. My name is Joan Nel Haryark and this is my friend Marla. What is your name?”

“Leonard.” Lee said deftly side stepping his mother’s reach. He didn’t even look to Joan, his attention was so riveted on Marla.

“Hello, Leonard,” Marla said, smiling. “What is it you have there? Is that a pressure valve system?” Lee’s eyes opened wide as the silver woman spoke to him and his mouth slide open slightly. Marla slide her eyes to see that Lilly had sat back down and was watching their interaction. She decided to handle this as a hands on interview. To prompt the boy, Marla slowly brought her hands up, palm open. “Would you show it to me?”

Lee seemed to recover at this request and quickly brought the item he was carrying around from behind his back. “Well kinda. I mean, yeah. See I hook this end into the steam chamber and it’ll fill up here…” the boy began to explain his device. It become obvious very quickly that this young boy had built himself the equivalent of a steam-powered potato cannon. By her best estimate of the volume of the primary load chamber suggested that at full power, it would either explode in his hands, or propel an object fast enough to puncture a hole in the wall or even dent her, to say nothing of a human.

“That is a very impressive contraption.” Lilly said with motherly pride, clasping both hands together, the danger of her son’s creation eluding her. Joan too had a face of quiet admiration that Marla knew all too well for she used it any time she was caught in a conversation with one of her father’s newly hired scientists.

“You will, of course, be fully testing the output of the primary load chamber with a gauge before you attempt to operate the firing mechanism?” Marla asked adding a hint of authority to her tone. She focused her full attention on the boy but kept her facial features passive. It helped convey seriousness that some found unsettling. Lilly turned her attention to the prospective tutor with a slight frown at the edge of her lips and Joan’s demure expression faltered as she cast a side glance at her friend.

Lee, however, seemed fascinated by Marla and took a step closer, his eyes wide as she stared into her faintly glowing eyes. ”Uhh. Oh yeah. That’s a good idea. I can calculate the distance the potatoes will travel if I know the pressure exerted,” Lee’s excitement was subdued slightly until Marla smiled. She reached out and gently patted the boy on the head. He beamed up at her.

“Very good. I’ll want to see your notes on the device. Perhaps you could invite me to the test firing once you have it fully tested?” Marla retracted her hand to her lap but continued to smile and tilted her head. The movement was wasted. Lee was already looking down at his device, taking a wrench to the primary nozzle.

“Ooh yeah! We could invite the neighbors too. Can we ma?” Lee asked without looking up.

“We’ll see dear.” Lilly arms were crossed but her frown was gone and she was now studying the interviewee with a bemused expression. Marla had likely made an impressed. “Go on and fix your thing and let the grownups talk awhile longer.” Marla watched Lee scamper off again before she turned towards his mother. She sat up straight and offered the woman an attentive expression with a slightly raised eye socket ridge.

“Can you start tomorrow?”

~~~~~~~~~~

I have a bad habit of trying to create a slow reveal. I really should stop that. Still I think this came off well. Marla didn’t have any real fear of the interview so this was not as riveting as a normal interview but I thought the ticking time bomb of the potato gun add a slight thrill, even if only Marla was aware of it. She was the narrator so the reader was now aware of it to. There is obviously knowledge hinted that but not discussed, such as the laws that have made Marla a free citizen. Anyway tell me what you think?

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Used in a sentence:

• She leaned in close to the circuitry, espying the loose wire that was keeping the entire contraption from exploding right in her face.

Source: Wiktionary

Commentary:

So here is a word that is actually a word, that I will likely never use. Why? Because spy works just as well for everything espy does. Okay I take that back. I totally could see using espy to fill out the grammar of a haughty know-it-all, or a character that is out of touch with modern language. So I do have a use for it. Espy likely was used before spy and it wouldn’t surprise me if it was one of the words Webster decided was too British and therefor lopped off the e to make the American version of spy. Or some other strange tale of why spy encompasses everything espy means.

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~~~~~~~~~~

A Fateful Meeting
By Nojh Livic

“Really though, the entire thing is quiet absurd,” Joan assured her companion as they walked down the street. It was mid afternoon and the heat was only partially mitigated by their parasols. Unlike Joan, Marla could not sweat to help keep her internal systems cool but  she expected to reach their destination before she was required to seek out a source of coolant. Their destination not far.

“Absurd but none the less entertaining. I quiet thank you for relaying the story to me,” Marla said politely. She was grateful for Joan’s companionship however a story regarding two men possessed of enough spirits to participate in dueling during a garden party was not as entertaining for one who did not attend. Although it was just as likely Marla was not one to enjoy gossip. The two came upon their destination, a house of a size that likely shocked Joan’s sensibilities. Although the woman had enough good manners not to say such in public, she had often lamented that her family’s manor in the city lacked enough space to properly host. The house before them certainly also fit into this category to a much greater degree but did take Marla noted that its entry way and facade were well-kept, unlike similar houses which they had passed.

Marla held open the small gate for her friend. ”Are you sure about this?” Joan asked quietly as they approached the door, pretending to lightly scratch an itch on her cheek with one gloved hand to cover her question.  Marla forced herself not to roll her eyes.

Instead she began looking herself over. Setting her small briefcase down, she folded her parasol and hung it from one arm before smoothing out some wrinkles in her skirt and adjusting the fit of her jacket. ”Yes I am sure. I am in need of a diversion and I have no family to look down upon me for collecting pay for my skills and knowledge. There is respect to be had in tutoring. Now how do I look?” Marla presented herself after finally adjusting her hat and gloves.

“Perfect dear, as always. I dare say a bit conspicuous given the locale but you’re always drawing attention to yourself as it is.” Joan sighed dramatically. “If only I could have your skin…”

Marla smiled graciously in order not to smirk. ”You could always paint yourself like the women on clank street.” Marla faced the door again and applied pressure to the house’s announcement plate. Above it was a name plate set in copper with the etching of the family name. Warlam. The faint sound of a bell clanging could be heard from beyond the door.

“Don’t think I haven’t thought of it,” Joan admitted quietly, a faith flush to her cheeks. “But really, I wouldn’t have a thing to wear if I were to take on your shade of silver. I’d have to borrow-” She was cut short by the door opening.

“Hello?” An older woman in a simple day dress and apron inquired, opening the door fully to greet the two women. Past her Marla could see a small view of the house. It was clean but sparsely decorated. In the background there were loud noises that could only be made by children. The woman’s greeting was directed to the pair but her attention directly fell to Marla. She had that effect upon most who had never met her before and she believed Joan preferred her company because of it. In their normal circles, most ignored Marla in favor of the young woman. In the greater world, Marla was the popular one.

“Good afternoon, ma’am. My name is Marla and I am here to inquire about the tutoring position,” Marla asked, curtsying fully.

The woman hesitated a moment before nodding, more to herself than to the two visitors. “I am, um, Lilly Warlam. A pleasure to meet you,” Lilly made her greeting sound almost more of a question than a statement of fact. She had managed to look away from Marla to address Joan but her attention remained divided.

“May I introduce my associate Joan Nel Trayark. She will be providing my references. I do hope the position is still open?” Marla inquired. She clasped her hands together in front of her and offered an earnest expression. She found people got over their initial amazement at meeting her quicker if she kept them engaged with questions and made a point of emoting. It helped them to think of her as a person.

“Oh. Welcome, my lady,” Lilly said to Joan, quickly curtsying. “Would you like to come in?” The question was directed at Joan but Marla was happy to see that Lilly made a point of looking at her in order to include her in the query. She would most certainly prefer to work with someone who would not treat her as subhuman.

“Of course. Thank you,” Marla accepted while Joan smiled and nodded her agreement. The two ladies were escorted into the house. The front door opened into a small foyer where they paused to deposit their parasols before being led into a small hallway that exited not into a receiving room but a small dinning area.

Marla now observed that while the house was indeed clean it was also cluttered and in a state of disarray that did not feel out-of-place. They passed a small study on their way through the hallway that Marla let herself peek. It had the usual wall of scrolls and books and a desk one might expect to find in a study. It also had two tables, one covered with papers, the other with obviously mechanical objects.  On the floor in the hallway were several wooden and metal toys likely left out by children. There were no pictures for decoration or rugs covering the floor. Furnishings were obviously chosen for function as much as comfort or appearance. Overall it made Marla feel a bit more comfortable.

As they entered the dining area which was dominated by a large circular wooden table with chairs surrounding it. Lilly moved to it and quickly scooped several items that were upon it into the large pocket the front of her apron formed. Inviting the women to sit, Lilly then excused herself to start some tea while the ladies sat. Marla spied as she bustled away that clutter was yet more mechanical trinkets.

“I suppose the men of the house are guildsmen then?” Joan asked quietly as she looked around at the furnishings. As she spoke a loud banging began, as if someone were hammering on a pile of pots, from an a joining room.

“Yes. The Warlam family has been an associated with the airship guilds for generations, I understand,” Marla settled herself into a chair and laid her hands into her lap. She listened to the banging and surmised it was actually a hammer and the material being struck was likely some form of tin.

“Um,” Lilly said as she entered carrying a small tray laden with cups. A contraption that vaguely resembled a teacup  sat at the center. A pressure gauge sat atop it, and there were at least three valve openings that were all closed. The most interesting part seemed to be the lower plate, which was glowing slightly suggesting some kind of energy transference. Lilly set the tray down. “Tea will be ready in a moment. Now how can I help you?”

To be continued.

~~~~~~~~~~

Well that didn’t turn out short at all. Sorry. The final part will post next time, I promise.

To help explain, Marla is a character in my novel, Everlasting. This story takes place considerably earlier than Everlasting. Since I’m writing this before Everlasting is even done, I don’t expect you to guess why this is a fateful meeting but perhaps, if Everlasting ever gets fully finished, this will have more meaning.

Stay tuned next week for Part 2!

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Hehe. I love how angry Cricket looks in the last panel.

Girl Genius: Volume 12: Page 055

The last few comics have been hilarious. I need to learn how to write science-y scenes like this. “I’ve already got one of those!”

 Johnny Wader: #364: water cat

I’ve never used a spray bottle on my cat. She does love faucets though.

Extraordinary: #221

It’s true. It really isn’t a party until my cat joins in either.

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Used in a sentence:

• The trinket could be no further ensconced than in the fingers of the little girl.

Source: Wiktionary

Commentary:

I like this word because of its pronunciation and its meaning. It is somewhat archaic which gives it a intelligent connotation or an old fantastical feeling. I would expect to hear this from the lips of Bilbo or a Lannister.

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Unless you have access to the internet. Then you can totally watch the premier at KorraNation.com! Apparently Nick was running a promotion to get 100,000 likes on Facebook. And they got it.

The series already has 28 episodes produced, with an expected 2 season of 14 episodes each.

For those of you who missed it, here is the official trailer:

Source

And two other trailers:

Second Official Trailer

Teaser Trailer

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Also, in case you didn’t notice, Free Write has returned! For those of you not aware, Free Write is my attempt at daily writing. Just small pieces of flash fiction where I write out whatever comes out of my head, edit it up into something vaguely worth sharing with the world. Today’s Free Write I think is rather adorable and worth checking it.

I spent all last night editing several of the free write stories I had left over from last year. Expect them about once a week now on Wednesdays. If I get into the habit like I am planning, you may see additional stories on Mondays as well.

As always, if you’re interested in more than just writing content, A Singularity has a Tumblr which posts random stuff found throughout the internet. Summary posts here will be implemented soon, hopefully.

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~~~~~~~~~~

Nemesis
By Nojh Livic

She scampered after the ball of yarn, little paws barely finding purchase on the polished wood floor. A strand fell loose from the ball as it rolled away and she leapt, bringing her front paws down on the piece as if it might wiggle away were she to not put her full might upon it.

For a brief second, she was torn. The ball was rolling further and further away but the string would most certainly escape if she lifted even a single paw. She agonized for an eternity before she was off again, chasing the yarn ball. She would deal with the offending string later.

The ball was easy to catch for it had been tiring, its rolling growing slower and slower. Yet, when she used a paw to deal the death-blow, the ball would spring to life again and go zooming in a different direction. Each new direction required a sudden change in velocity that slippery wooden floors would not allow. More than once the ball had alluded her only because wall that the smooth floor decided to introduce her too.

This time was different however. The ball had rolled into a corner. A mistake she would make sure it would never make again. Letting loose a fierce hunting meow, she pounced the ball and pulled it close, sliding on to her side so she could bring her hind claws up to rake at it while her front paws held it close. She sank her fangs into the yarn. It tasted terrible and fuzz filled her mouth.

Hissing she pushed the yarn ball away and got back to her feet. The yarn had been tricky and tried to suffocate her with its foul insides. It was now limply rolling away from the corner. A small strand was sticking out one side. She had injured it. Now it was the time to go in for the kill.

She stalked after the ball, keeping low to the ground so it wouldn’t see her approach from behind. It slowed to stopped near the doorway and she laid low and observed. Slowly she calculated the exact distance between herself and her target. She lifted her hind legs in preparation. It wasn’t moving.

“Aww. Aren’t you so cute!” the girl gushed, giant hands swooping down to pick her up. “So fierce!” She was being wrestled into the girl’s arms. No amount of pawing kept the giant girl’s over whelming strength from clutching her. She watched as her nemesis grow smaller as she was lifted up so high. She mowed her challenge to the yarn even as the girl began rubbing at her ears. She did like that. But she had to vanquish her foe. Now the girl was rubbing her chin and it felt so good. She began to purr and let her head relax.

“I think someone is ready for bed, yes.” The girl coed as she continued her hypnotic petting. She was sure there was something she was supposed to watch, or to, or… The hand rubbed her from head to tail, repeating, and her entire body relaxed, all thoughts of conquest purred away.

~~~~~~~~~~

Sometimes I feel bad for taking away my kitty’s toys late at night. Then I remember that she’ll keep me all up playing if I don’t. Plus she’ll just find another toy for me to take away in a few hours time anyway.

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Used in a sentence:

• It was brackish, the filet, which according to one companion had a primary ingredient donated from a three eyed and yellow-skinned fish.

Source: Wiktionary

Commentary:

Writing the sentence for this word was kind of hard. Not sure why. I guess because I’ve only ever heard the word used in conjunction with water and learning it could be used elsewhere meant stretching my literary muscles? Either way this is another word that sounds as negative as it means. The syllable ”ack” definitely helps with that, I believe.

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Batman: Arkham City, is the sequel to the video game Batman: Arkham Asylum. In some ways it exceeds its predecessor and in some ways it falls behind. In both games you play as the world’s greatest detective, Batman, facing off against Batman’s numerous villains and their henchmen. The first game was limited to the contents of Arkham Asylum, the prison/psychiatric facility where a majority of Batman’s super villains are sent to once they are captured. In this game, you are limited to an area of Gotham City that has been re-purposed into a giant sprawling prison renamed Arkham City, run by the former warden of Arkham Asylum.

I admit, the idea that any city would let someone build a giant wall around a section of itself, then populate it with criminals and super villains seems insane to me and even at the beginning of the game I was questioning if it wasn’t just some way for the game to “think bigger” like some sequels like to do. However by the end of the game, after unlocking back story that helps explain what happened in between the two games, I feel much better about it. Still it would have been nice if that information was available from the beginning and not an unlockable.

So game play aside, Arkham City manages to tell as interesting of a story as it’s successor did if in a bit more haphazardly way. Since the game is “sandbox” style, the story is told through a main story line that can be abandoned to do numerous types of side quests and collection quests, or just playing around. This means that the main story suffers a little, especially since there are so many collection quests thanks to The Riddler, and more than ten different official side stories to complete, some of which you can’t complete till the end of the game.

Despite the confusion, the game does a good job of providing reminders of the main story line and what you’ve been doing, during loading screens, which really helps keep the narrative together. While I won’t divulge the full story here due to spoilers, trust me in that it is a story well worthy of Batman, and (some of) the twists at the end will leave you wondering if maybe the game was trying to fool you.

All of this culminates in a game that will steal at least forty to sixty hours of your life. More so if you decide to do the optional challenges, the extra characters you can purchase for download (I highly suggest Catwoman, as her story is somewhat integral to the main plot), and trophy gathering. I spent a weekend completing the predator challenges as Batman, the final challenge taking me well over two hours and quiet a bit of frustration, despite being ultimately satisfying.

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I don’t think I’ve ever managed to get an entire cat’s head in my mouth… they usually run away before I do that, unless I’ve eaten tuna. Why are you looking at me like that?

Something Positive: 2012-02-15: Seasonal Spirit

Does this service exist? It needs to. I have so many friends who would love to get this!

xkcd #1022: So It Has Come To This

I am so doing this from now on.

Questionable Content: #2135: They Also Serve Drinks

I am so loving Hannelore now. She is my favorite. More so than Faye.

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Used in a sentence:

• The difference between the various clans of Emo could take years to explain but for the purposes of this class we will identify each but their primary disagreement: What is the right level of murk to sulk under after finding our your favorite band has betrayed you?

Bonus Word (Because I think the definition of the adjective form of murk sucks)

Source: Wiktionary

Commentary:

I like the word murk. I also found it interesting that murk is both a noun and adjective, although I suspect murky slightly more grammatically correct for the adjective role than murk. Murk is also fun to say.

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So basically we had a bunch of bad science back in the dinosaur gathering age. People who collected dinosaur bones for museums weren’t looking hard enough, and found different dinosaurs everywhere they looked, rather than determining that the dinosaurs they were looking at were actually different, or just juvenile versions of ones already discovered.

The good news is that, despite what the news may have told you, the triceratops still exists. It is its older, more adult form, Torosaurus, which no longer exists, since it was found after the more juvenile triceratops. Suddenly all those cartoons with dinosaurs wearing shades doesn’t seem so crazy anymore, huh?

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There is already content there waiting to be looked at. Here is the RSS feed for the Tumblr site. The Tumblr site still acts as a repeater for the main A Singularity website. For those of you who don’t want multi-daily updates, at some point in the near future I’ll start posting summary posts which collect all the unique Tumblr posts from the past week into one entry for your pursing.

Not all content will be disappearing. Weird Words, Comic Links, Writing Time, and the occasional random article will still be appearing here on A Singularity. Also look forward to the revamping of Free Writing sometime soon.

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I’ve done this before as well. I don’t own cable. I don’t see the value in it anymore. I like watching certain shows and I’d rather pay for the right to watch those certain shows. Some shows, I have checked every single possible paid site for access to what I want and found nothing. Now I understand that there is still a fallacy here. A viewer is not entitled to watch a TV show whenever they want and obviously HBO doesn’t want their show available via streaming.

However the real situation is that piracy isn’t going to go away. HBO (in this case) is in an open courtyard sitting on a huge pile of diamonds, loudly exclaiming that you’re only allowed to buy a diamond from them if you run the obstacle course over there. Around HBO are streaming sites begging to offer money to hand deliver the diamonds with HBO refusing. Behind HBO are the piracy, carefully stealing the diamonds and then hand delivering them for free. And the only defense HBO has against the pirates is to really just shout at them and maybe start harassing the people he catches with a diamond.

The analogy is flawed but perhaps you see my point? You can’t sell ice to an Eskimo. In a world of streaming and direct access, not providing such features will lead some level of people to piracy. This goes back to one of the reasons I talked about in a prior post about piracy. In a world where things are easily copied, you need to provide a better service and quality to compete.

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Used in a sentence:

• “Really, you don’t have to be so pugnacious. I’m fully capable of stabbing myself, I assure you,” Sumit explained as he drew the now bloody dagger out of his arm, making no obvious sign of discomfort.

Source: Wiktionary

Commentary:

So I can’t help bug wonder if pugnacious is one of the reasons why those so ugly their cute dogs are named pugs. They’re somewhat known for being feisty little guys right? Otherwise I do like this word. It’s another one of those words that sounds like how it means. You can tell pugnacious is negative even without really knowing its meaning, likely due to the root word of “nacious”, which is similar to nauseous or nausea.

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Word Count: ~1,020

So I managed to make it to both writing sessions this week. Which is an improvement over last week where I managed to make it to absolutely none, although I did have a small makeup session on Friday. Writing Sessions have been going well. I’ve been making about a thousand words in word count, then switching over to my video game design. Daniel joined me for writing session today but otherwise I’ve been alone. The restaurant that I frequent has been starting to bore me so I’m considering looking for a new location. Although they have improved the wi-fi recently.

Everlasting Update

Word Count: 107,841

So about three thousand words since last update. Everlasting is slowly chugging along. I came to a realization the other day that one of the reasons why I’m still in the “swampy middle” and over a hundred thousand words is because my while my outline seems concise, each entry that would be a scene is instead an entire chapter or at least two scenes worth of action. Or at least I suspect so. It has been elongating my book significantly.

One other thing that has bothered me is that, given how there are three groups of main characters and none of these groups interact until the very end of the book, I’m starting to wonder if perhaps I’m writing three books at the same time, rather than one big book. I know I’ve accidentally started writing an epic given how may characters and story lines I have but could I instead break each of these into three books that all center around the same event and have the same conclusion? Something to consider in editing. I think it is an interesting idea though.

Matrix

So aside from writing I’ve started up another project I’ve been wanting to do for forever. I want to program a video game/simulator of the rules from a tabletop roleplaying game known as Shadowrun. Specifically I would like to emulate the “decking” rules, which in Shadowrun terms is the computer hacking rules. The tabletop game has a significantly fleshed out mini-game where in characters can hack a virtual reality computer grid. Unfortunately in practice the mini-game is too cumbersome for the game master to run while also running the rest of the game. To make things worse, the premise that hacking the matrix takes milliseconds means that in reality, it doesn’t take deckers very much time to do what they do, even though in real world terms, it takes up a lot of time. Plus the mini-game’s rules are actually very interesting rules. Actual players of the game should note I’m referring to the 3rd edition Matrix rules, not the currently 4th edition.

So I want to create a simulator. I’ve started by writing out a design specification where I am slowly defining everything about the rules as defined by the Shadowrun game. I’m planning on expanding from there into a user interface design and major feature design, then get into planning out architecture and doing some iterative programming to try out different designs before I sit down to really program it. Since most of this will be writing, I’ll be keeping track of my progress here in writing time. I may also start-up a new article series Programming Time or Designing Time if the project gets further off the ground.

So as for the design. Part of my problem in starting this project has always been my architecture/programming focus. I’ve always felt that I already kind of knew the game (since I played Shadowrun enough as it was) that I could skip defining every little aspect. Years of software development, however, have taught me that users generally do not know what they want and in this case, I am the user. Already in trying to write down and define how I want the game to play, I’m learning more about stuff and ideas I didn’t think of before. So this design process is a really good first step. Next time I’ll go into more details, I think.

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Neil Gaiman brings up some really good points for books. But I’d like to expand the conversation to all media and fill in a few gaps I think he missed.

Thoughts on Digital Piracy across all media

What should have been said above is “Mileage may vary”. But I’ll get to that in a minute.

Piracy does something really interesting in my opinion. It puts the power and control in the hand of the consumer rather than the distributor. What I mean by this is that consumers, thanks to piracy and actual legal forms of free media distribution, are allowed to consume content, then decide to support the content by paying money. It says “Here. View this. If you like, please realize that the person who made it needs money in order to make more like it. Pay them.”

Reasons why it works

Continue reading at A Singularity: Thoughts on Digital Piracy as advertising

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An excellently told story about a relationship and one of the hurdles it had to face.

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A new Commodore Hustle video! For those of you who don’t know. Commodore Hustle is a series of videos by the loading ready run sketch comedy group that features slightly funnier, slightly more asshole-like versions of themselves. In this episode, they meet My Little Pony and hilarity ensues.

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Because everybody respects a big hat, not just jaguerkin.

Johnny Wander: #344: 2012-01-10

I’m pretty sure Zoe knows her own name… pretty sure. She also knows “no!”.

Johnny Wander: #345: 2012-01-12

How fun would that be to see outside of a convention?

Super Stupor: 2012-01-27: Poser

Oh I just about died laughing at in panel 8. If you wondering what inspired this comic, read the blurb at the bottom of the image.

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Used in a sentence:

• To renege like this was to spit in Terra’s face which is what Tommy did in, showing his intention of not following through with the plan.

Source: Wiktionary

Commentary:

This word gets weird status mostly because it isn’t spelled how it is pronounced, at least how I was told it was pronounced, when it was used a lot in the movies of my childhood. I don’t think I’ve heard the word spoken by anyone other than myself in years. That being said it is another weird word that is fun to say, once you figure how it is pronounced.

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Dreamless is about two people sharing their lives in an extraordinary way in perilous times. I don’t want to give much more away than that.

Dreamless by Bobby Crosby and Sarah Ellerton: Page One

You can purchase a physical copy of the book here.

You can purchase a PDF copy of the book here.

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