Psynexus Blog

The City in the Mist

noreply@blogger.com (Ryan Warren) — Mon, 03 Oct 2011 01:29:00 +0000

They say that on a late autumn or spring day, the city in the mist awaits. It graces the tops of the mountains, kissed by clouds and the angels who guard its gates. Is it real or just a dream cooked up in some old fools head? All who return do so as fools, their eyes speaking of splendor untold. The legend of its towering spires and golden gates drive men mad with lust for adventure; to enter its gates and uncover treasures beyond their wildest dreams. Perhaps more invigorating than the discovery itself is the journey; long and wrought with obstacles. It has broken all who seek it, promising eternal reward in exchange for their very lives. Yet still its call is loud and true; one would need to sever their ears to ignore it. At last I can take it no more…

Northbound, your path awaits

Through the putrid swamp of testing fate

Eastward now, through the scorching dunes

Forward still, towards certain doom.

Through the echoing caverns of nevermore

Demons wait to settle their scores

Cross the perilous river, your journey goes

Down to the hells, from whence it flows

The city waits there, at the end of this road. Its splendor is nothing mere men could know. Perhaps it’s just a dream of a longing fool, tired of this world and all its downfalls. Maybe it’s just a trap meant for the unprepared. Nonetheless, I embark upon this journey knowing the danger, for no matter how it ends, it will be the last journey I ever take.

Back from the hells, you ascend upwards now

Into the heavens, don’t look down

The city can be found on the second cloud

At the seat of the world, it stands watch – tall and proud

The empty promise of reward is what drives me; it’s all I need. I care not whether it exists or not, I tread on just to say I did. Sometimes the reward is in the journey itself, not the destination. To say that you continued onward when others refused because they were too afraid is the biggest reward you could ever ask for. But the reward is useless if the destination means your end. What lesson is there to be taught if you cannot share your success? Perhaps that is why I believe mindless fools; their eyes never lie. They saw the top of the mountain and lived to tell the tale.

Enter ye weary traveler and lay yourself to sleep

Eternity waits just a dream away, a promise I vow to keep

Now ends your suffering, agony, and strife

In the city where daylight shines and drives away the night

I’ve come so far and walked so long. It’s a one-way journey now – I no longer have the luxury of being wrong. I’ve traversed the stinking swamps and scorching dunes, entered the caverns and crossed the river. As I feel my body go weary and insanity seep in I know this is the hell I was promised. The world is a cruel and unforgiving place and we take so much for granted. I look behind me now and remember my past life that seems ages ago as I continue along this path of life lost to the elements. I might have done things differently… I might have stayed, but the only way back now is forward. There will never truly be a return trip, even if I somehow do make it back to the place I once called home. Things and people change, and I have been lost too long in this place. I must continue forward to heaven, or be lost forever in the hells.

As I emerge from the pit of despair, a stone path appears before me. I step into the daylight and am greeted by the green grass and shade of paradise. I fall to the ground and begin to weep. I’ve made it out alive, changed. I had forgotten the beauty of the world, lost in the darkness of days past. The path zigzags into misty mountains that mark the end of my journey. Nothing else matters now… I have made it through the journey alive, scarred, but stronger. As I drink from a nearby pool I gaze at my reflection. It smiles back in a way I have not seen in years, telling a story of pain and happiness. I believe and know it to be true because the eyes never lie.

The path guides me along to glory I’ve never known. The air is fresh and golden… all breaths I have taken before this were a lie. I forget the pain in my limbs and the cuts and bruises from the journey behind me and continue on, renewed. Suddenly the sun bursts from the roof of the world, blinding me with warmth. I can feel the angels flutter around me, their wings blowing my hair back and lifting me off the ground. I peek just long enough to watch as the world I once knew vanishes in a flash of light and my trivial worries of my past life flee from my sight forever.

Enter now and cast off your sins

For now is the time for new life to begin

CRASHNEXUS: The INVOKED Preludes (Free Download!)...

noreply@blogger.com (Ryan Warren) — Sun, 07 Aug 2011 04:05:00 +0000

CRASHNEXUS: The INVOKED Preludes (Free Download!)...: "WE PROUDLY PRESENT THE FIRST DIGITAL DOWNLOAD EDITION OF THE INVOKED. Contains two prelude tails to our upcoming one-shot The INVOKED - as..."

Phantom's Tech DB: How to Show/Hide the Administrator account on Wind...

noreply@blogger.com (Ryan Warren) — Sat, 23 Jul 2011 21:34:00 +0000

Hey everyone - now that I've started a new job my friend Phantom has decided to add me as a collaborator for his Tech DB. Be subscribed to get answers to recurring hardware and software problems across Windows platforms.

Phantom's Tech DB: How to Show/Hide the Administrator account on Wind...: "In Windows Vista, be default the Administrator account is disabled. However, if you use a password reset tool, there is a chance that yo..."

CRASHNEXUS: NO WEEKEND WORKSHOPS FOR TWO WEEKS...

noreply@blogger.com (Ryan Warren) — Sat, 28 May 2011 23:38:00 +0000

CRASHNEXUS: NO WEEKEND WORKSHOPS FOR TWO WEEKS...: "...instead, we are concentrating our efforts to finsh the first volume of THE ZONE - LIFE AND DEATH Special Edition. Halfway between a gr..."

CRASHNEXUS: Weekend Workshop: Sierra Forlorn

noreply@blogger.com (Ryan Warren) — Sun, 22 May 2011 21:40:00 +0000

CRASHNEXUS: Weekend Workshop: Sierra Forlorn: "THIS WEEKEND WORKSHOP WAS INSPIRED BY MANY THINGS, BUT MOSTLY BY THE STRUGGLES OF PEOPLE EVERYWHERE WHO GO THROUGH THE MADNESS AND HORROR TH..."

Live on Facebook!

noreply@blogger.com (Ryan Warren) — Mon, 16 May 2011 03:01:00 +0000

Go F yourself!

For all you subscribers out there who have a Facebook account, you can now get updates more directly by liking my page on Facebook. I thought this would be a much more efficient way to get make updates available to everyone. So go either go click the like button to the right or see the full page at http://www.facebook.com/pages/Psynexus-Blog/165958200127998.

Your ongoing support is always appreciated. :)

Psynexus

CRASHNEXUS: Weekend Workshop: Transhuman

noreply@blogger.com (Ryan Warren) — Sun, 15 May 2011 21:52:00 +0000

CRASHNEXUS: Weekend Workshop: Transhuman: "THIS WEEKEND WORKSHOP IS A DELAYED RELEASE FROM THE WEEK ENDING 8TH MAY 2011. THIS IS DUE TO TECHNICAL PROBLEMS. Transhuman “Abandon s..."

Weekend Workshop Delayed - Double Feature This Weekend! :D

noreply@blogger.com (Ryan Warren) — Fri, 13 May 2011 23:40:00 +0000

As most of you have probably wondered, where in the actual fuck is last week's Weekend Workshop? Well, lots of fun exciting things happened but suffice it to say, we didn't get it out in time. My part has actually been done for a while and a few of you may have seen the draft I posted for Cyrus around Monday. We don't mean to alienate you, especially since the list of subscribers is increasing more and more all the time - so for this week, we're posting a double feature, for last week's workshop and this week's.

Here's a teaser of last week's stuff t give you something to look forward to. I was alloted 4 hours instead of the usual 90 minutes or so to work on this one and, because of the difficulty of the challenge, I ended up spending every minute of that to give it the quality it needed.

A picture of something for no particular reason whatsoever...

Excerpt from "Transhuman":

“Abandon ship! Abandon all hope! Abandon reality! We murdered God and her cruel humor is our end...”

... the words wake me from my dormant state.

My world is a flashing red light. My vision pulses from dark to light in a pattern and dark shapes drift around the edges like ghosts haunting the corners of my mind. It is cold around me, like dark places in the earth where life refuses to live. I am a being of unknown nature, alive or not I have no way of knowing. Trying to remember how I got into this world hurts me, so I am forced to surrender myself to the sea of confussion flowing around me, making me inceasingly nautious by the second... assuming, that is, that time even exists here.

The ghosts fade from my vision and the blurs begin to define themselves as shapes that seem somehow familiar to me. A blaring noise echoes in my head, warning me of some danger I can’t decipher. I feel myself come back to life and compelled to move. I find myself caught in the middle of a tunnel, which sways back and forth as I will myself to move through it. I shake violently; on the verge of collapse as the tunnel spins like a child shaking a jar that contains an insect he captured. A horrible sense of dread washes over when I realize that I am completely alone."
Check out the rest of the story as well as Cyrus' art this weekend along with the double feature that's currently in the works! In the mean-time, check out Cyrus' art on his blog and our new collaborative blog where we feature all our combined works!

Cyrus' Blog: http://cyruscrashtest.blogspot.com/
Crashnexus Collaborations: http://crashnexus.blogspot.com/

Weekend Workshop: My Own Private Hell

noreply@blogger.com (Ryan Warren) — Mon, 02 May 2011 06:11:00 +0000

As I mentioned last week, for this week's Weekend Workshop we decided to focus on some atmospheric scenery for our new collaborative work in the making, Crashnexus - which is now live and can be found here: http://crashnexus.blogspot.com/. So go check it out!

It was my week to set the challenge, which I did with the following theme and parameters:

Theme: Dark, contemporary

Cityscape with ominous undertones
The Invoked will be manifested in the scene somehow, whether it's hiding in shadows or hallucinated in the sky or building windows.
The focus will be on the main character and/or what he is doing. The city revolves around him because it is his hell; nobody sees it through his eyes.

Once again, Cyrus did not fail to impress and came up with the following beauty. See the step-by-step process as well as video detailing the entire process on his blog here: http://cyruscrashtest.tk/.

My Own Private Hell, by Cyrus Crashtest

In turn, I used his piece as inspiration for my own writing. So once again, I present you with another descriptive write detailing the haunted life of a man and his visions of destruction on an epic scale.

See full article and comments >

Weekend Workshop: The Dark Visitor

noreply@blogger.com (Ryan Warren) — Wed, 27 Apr 2011 00:03:00 +0000

For this week's Weekend Workshop Crashtest and I have decided to shift away from scenery and on to characters instead. I've had some experience with this doing my characters for my book "The Zone: Life and Death" so I was pretty excited to take on the new challenge.

Though I was rushed for this one, I pulled it together at the last minute (literally, I finished edits at 11:59pm my time) and believe that I used my 90 minutes to the best of my ability. I think that the characters I came up with will work well for next week's Weekend Workshop and are interesting enough that they could really bring any story to life. No more stalling now, I gotta get this thing posted before this Easter-candy hangover makes my brain explode! Here are the parameters I was given:

You must write 3 base character profiles, around 200 words each.
The characters inhabit a world upon the brink of doom - both due to conventional `real world` issues and means, but also the threat of ancient conspiracy, occult fanaticism and transdimensional beings.
The setting is contemporary
The 1st character is a protagonist type. someone who shouldnt be a typical hero - try and make this happen through a mix of their past, flaws etc etc.
2nd character. a disposable `bad guy` - but not neccesarily the nemesis of character 1. just have fun with this one.
3rd character. a transdimensional being - some spirit, old god or great evil given corporeal form. get WEIRD AND ABSTRACT on this one. check hp lovecraft, alan moore and grant morrison for reference.
Ill produce some thumbnails / sketches for each and develop ONE into a `final` design.
90minutes minimum

This week he did several teasers for the concept which can all be found on his blog, so be sure to check them out as well as the step-by-step process for this week's concept below!

See it's creation on Crashtest's Blog

More teasers!

Here are the 3 characters I came up with:

Thomas Page

A typical brown-eyed brown-haired male in his 30’s. Currently un-employed, he struggles to maintain any job he can but, due to insomnia, PTSD, and other forms of as-of-yet undiagnosed mental illnesses he tends to drift in and out of reality, making it difficult for him to remain focused on a task for any extended period of time. He lives in a small, decrepit apartment in a normal city where he is just another typical person as far as anyone is concerned.

Abused as a child, he struggles with relationships of any kind, finding it difficult to express himself emotionally or physically to others. Though he is full of emotion, thoughtful and even friendly to most people, they quickly find that a long-term relationship is impossible due to a lack of reciprocation. He does not maintain contact with any family and it is supposed that they have severed ties with him.

It is common for him to wake up screaming in the middle of the night for no apparent reason and to believe that, though awake, he is still in the nightmare. It is reasonable to believe that he suffers from paranoid delusions and hallucinations. All attempts to further diagnose his mental health have been unsuccessful.

Ron Edward

A state politician quickly working his way up the political ladder thanks to his rising popular vote. An ex-cop, he is an idealist and a visionary, using promises of prosperity and security to propel his campaign forward. He hopes one day to be president and, with his current track record, it is likely that he will succeed. Though he is an older man it is merely a disguise for his notable physical and verbal strengths. He is both an expert in public speaking and martial arts. Most people have come to idolize him as the embodiment of the 21^st century man; strong in every aspect.

On the surface it would seem that you could want nothing more in a leader or a man. This fact has practically erased all his past blemishes from the public eye, such as reports of his past occult activities, falsified police reports, and even rumors of human sacrifice. All attempts to uncover any evidence of such activities have been met with utter failure, almost as if the information has been completely eradicated from all forms of existence.

The Dark Visitor

A mythological creature buried under millennia of denial and fear. Like most ancient records, the details are vague and highly speculative. Though there are many opinions and conflicting truths, there are some commonalities which lead to a generally accepted version of the creature to the few who believe in its existence. Most accept it is a dark, shadow-like being that appears in times of great despair. Some like to think it is the physical embodiment of the “Grim Reaper”.

It is said that its appearance marks the beginning of a cataclysmic event, and that it has appeared many times throughout history as far back as written history itself. Most do not know what it is, where it comes from, or why it chooses to present itself, but it is believed by some that its appearance is a warning or even a mockery of impending destruction.

There have been a few isolated reports in recent times of its appearance in dreams on the night before a major disaster. Reports state that the affected individuals witness a premonition of the event to come in which they are an active participant. That is to say that, they are offered a choice of whether or not the event they are a witness to is allowed to take place or not. The specifics of this are not elaborated on and the subject tends to drift into a trance-like state shortly after revealing this information. Most subjects are admitted to mental institutions shortly thereafter.

Weekend Workshop: The Chapel of Many Angles

noreply@blogger.com (Ryan Warren) — Mon, 18 Apr 2011 05:46:00 +0000

The latest Weekend Workshop has been completed and uploaded (and just in time!)

This week, I set the theme and parameters and Cyrus did the art, followed by my story which was inspired by it. The theme and parameters were as follows:

A Classical Era Drama
The main character is upper class, like a Count
The scene takes place in his place of work or refuge. It is esteemed like a chapel or a theater.
Times are troubled - give the majestic scene s sense of dread or depression.
Feel free to exaggerate elements to enhance the story like some media of the era has, but keep it historically accurate whenever possible.
90 minutes.
Bust a nut!

When you're done I'll switch back to a 500 wordish minimum description/short story or just see where it goes. Have fun.

Here's what the old bloke came up with. Be sure to check out the following link to his article to see the steps and story involved in its creation.

See the full piece on Crashtest's Blog!

Once I had seen the art and read the story behind it, I used the remaining 2 hours of the weekend to come up with this little piece. I hope you enjoy it and it suits the art well. :)

The Chapel of Many Angles

The air of the chapel was thick, as though a cloud of smoke had seeped its way up from the cracks of Hell and filled it to the top of its high, stone ceiling. It was here that the father stood ever vigilant over the prince, to whom he had provided sanctuary at his request. The prince kneeled at the altar before him in prayer, shaken over the rumors of the king’s murder at the hands of an angry mob. The father’s eyes remained steadfast on the book he held in his hands as he read a passage that had always given him strength in times of need.

The prince was not a particularly faithful man by reputation - and yet here he was; confessing his life’s sins in what he felt in his heart to be his final moments. The father paid little attention to the man who begged his attention in his hour of despair, unworthy as he was. But it was not his place to judge the man; judgment would come to all in due time.

The door to the chapel burst in suddenly, slamming against the wall with a loud crack. The prince stood suddenly, his eyes pleading with the father to cast his divine protection upon him as the mob advanced before them. They laid their accusations at the prince’s feet and he begged for his life before their tools of justice and strife. It was then that the father spoke, calling upon the wisdom and teachings of his life’s calling to protect the sheep of his flock.

“I stand before you as the Lord’s disciple. His eyes are upon you. It is his will that, for as long as I stand before you, no harm come to this man in His holy sanctuary.”

They ignored his warning with cries of “Blasphemy!” flying from their tongues as they advanced towards him. The prince retreated behind the priest, relying on his faith in his words to shield him from harm. The father clasped the crucifix tightly in his fingers, calling upon the strength of the heavens as the mob drew closer with their weapons raised in malice. His heart fell as the trapdoor to the undercroft slammed shut behind him and the prince fled the chapel, forsaking him. The prince, like the mob closing around him, had failed to realize that there was no escaping the eyes of God.

The father acted quickly, kneeling down to lock the door and pocketing the key in his priest’s robe. His eyes returned to the book that had been his teacher, his protector, and his friend all his life. He read the words as he had countless times before, gaining new understanding in its words as time began to slow and the dull grey halls of the chapel he had walked every day of his life burst into blinding white light.

The book fell from his hands and on to the floor of the desecrated chapel. Just as its pages had given him life, he gave his life now to its blood-stained pages as they fluttered in the breeze flowing through the open door and over his crumpled body. The words of his favorite story, stained forever red, told the final moments of his life - just as they had the man for whom the story had been written.

“Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do…”

Weekend Workshop: Flight to Clandestine

noreply@blogger.com (Ryan Warren) — Mon, 11 Apr 2011 05:29:00 +0000

Another weekend, another workshop! As you may have noticed, there was no weekend workshop last week. This was due to some personal issues (Cyrus' sex change was a little rough on him/her) so we decided to call it off. So, we've changed the titles to reflect the date since instead of the actual number of the project so as not to confuse you, the wonderful viewer. :)

This week, Cyrus laid out the theme. It had a very Final Fantasy feel to it, which was interesting for me because I've never played a FF game in my life. But, having watched a few cinematic sequences and hearing friends talk about it I decided to merge some of the visual elements with some story elements from The Legend of Zelda, basing the piece off a story I've had in my head for a while. The story is intended for a yonuger audience, as you can tell from the word substitution (I decided to take a break from big words).

Anyway, now that I've given you a walk-through of my side of things, here is what Cyrus came up with, accompanied with the parameters and the resulting story, "Flight to Clandestine".

THEME / PERIMETERS

sky pirates
a mix of high end and low end tech - but lets not refer to it as 'steampunk'
think airships, propellers, final fantasy games etc etc
not massively epic in terms of numbers - but potentially epic in terms of scale
if this was a game, this would be the escape sequence
feel free to add any 'sword and sorcery' elements you want
a minimum of 750 words AND 90 minutes work - that is, if you have done writing before then, spend the rest of the time refining the little bugger. feel free to write as much as you want though.
i in turn will do a minimum of 90 minutes postprep - that is, after finding any reference images etc or creating any custom brushes i may need. im also looking at some screencap vid software - so i MIGHT be able to do a vid of me working - depends on whether my system will hack it with ps on the go too

See the step-by-step process on Cyrus' blog!

Flight to Clandestine

The city of Tristen, one of the greatest cities in all of the land, was one of the most prosperous, fair, and good places you could ever imagine. Every day, its streets were filled with friendly townspeople who visited the market, their friends, or simply stood and gazed at the magnificent shining sea that bordered their fair town. Standing watch majestically over them stood the castle Cloudtop - perched atop a great, green hill like a stalwart stone guardian protecting them from danger. The day had started out as wonderful and welcoming for all just as countless many before it had… except for one small soul who darted through shaded alleyways for fear of his life as the castle guards chased him.

“Hey you! Stop there!” the guards shouted as they pushed their way through the crowded streets in pursuit of the young boy wanted for crimes he did not commit. Marcus was his name. He ran across the cobblestone streets as fast as his nimble legs would take him, darting through the alerted passerby looking for an escape of any sort. More guards made their way down from the castle atop the hill, shoving people aside to get to him. He found himself caught in the middle of them, with few options left.

Think! Think! He urged himself as his eyes darted around the town in search of an escape. The alleyways were overcrowded with crates and jars full of goods for the nearby markets and the rooftops of the nearby buildings were at least two stories tall – too tall to climb onto. He was sure that they would catch him now and feared what they might do to him. It was then that suddenly, to his left, he spotted his salvation.

The dock!

He took off; the fear of capture giving him the strength he needed to outrun the guards who drew closer and closer by the second. When he reached the dock, he ducked behind a crate out of sight of the guards knowing that, in seconds, they would be upon him. But he had bought himself a few more seconds that he did not intend to waste. His eyes passed over the ships docked before him, bustling with busy deckhands and dock workers. He knew they would stop him immediately if he tried to run aboard, but he had to get on one of those ships. It was the only way out now.

Then, out of the corner of his eye, something caught his attention. An open container sat alone on the dock, waiting to be filled with goods and loaded onto one of the large boats docked in the city’s harbor. He gathered all of his strength and dove towards the crate, tucking into a roll as he hit the ground before it and disappeared inside. He could hear the heavy footfalls and yells of the guards from beyond the crate’s wooden planks as he pulled its lid closed over the top of him.

“Did you see him? Where did he go?” a guard barked at one of the nearby dock workers.

“I didn’t see nobody come through here.” One of them responded.

“Search the dock – he couldn’t have gotten far. Check those crates!” the guard ordered.

Marcus swallowed hard at the sound of crates being torn open and searched near him. They would surely find him now, and there was nowhere left to go. He heard heavy breathing just beyond the crate and tensed, ready to leap out and dash away at a moment’s notice when suddenly, he heard another voice.

“You there! Who gave you permission to search my cargo?”

“I did – by order of the king!” The proud guard proclaimed.

“Then I presume he no longer cares for the condition of his spices to be delivered to Pelaham? The same voice questioned him.

“His spices?” the guard repeated the words, sounding puzzled.

“Yes. He urged me to get them there are quickly and in as good of condition as possible. I would hate to inform him that his goods were spoiled by a careless guard.”

“Er… uh…” the guard stammered stupidly.

“Now that that’s settled, I must load up this shipment and be off or he’ll have my head... and maybe yours too.”

Marcus sighed heavily, feeling safely concealed inside of his hiding place once again.

The guard grunted with annoyance.

“Search the water. Maybe the little bugger dove in and is swimming away right now!” he ordered the others.

The guards’ footfalls grew more distant as they walked along the length of the dock on a hopeless search for him.

Marcus barely had time to celebrate before he felt himself being hoisted up suddenly. He braced himself against the sides of his hidden sanctuary as he was carried aboard the ship. The air beyond the crate grew cold and the light, dim. He peeked through a small slit to see that he had been taken to the underbelly of the ship. The men carrying him sat him down in a stack of crates and then exited, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

What a mess I’ve gotten myself into. He thought, reflecting on the events that had gotten him here in the first place.

It hadn’t really been his fault; but his longing for adventure that had gotten him in this mess. He was prowling around the castle late at night, looking for secret rooms and treasure that he was sure existed when he noticed a strange light coming from one of its tall towers. So, like any good adventurer would, he went to investigate it. Using the grappling hook he had brought with him, he quickly and quietly hooked it on the window sill above him and climbed up the tower wall. When he reached the top, he peered inside and saw what he thought at first was a shadow, but later realized was actually a man in dark robes standing over the king as he slept.

He watched for a few moments as the man muttered things under his breath and colorful magic crept from his fingers. He was fascinated by it, having never seen any magic beyond the occasional tavern trick, but then he witnessed something that startled him. As the man reached towards the king his hand became exposed. Marcus gasped when he saw its skinless hand reach towards the king, probing his face with a bony, white finger.

“Stop!” he blurted out suddenly.

The creature turned towards him, startled. The king awoke suddenly, sitting up as he began to search for the maker of the sound he had heard. When he saw the shadowy figure standing over him and Marcus staring back at him through the window, he must have thought Marcus was some powerful magician who had conjured the shade to do his evil bidding.

“Guards!” the king shouted as the robed creature evaporated into a cloud of black smoke and he grabbed his sword.

“Your majesty! I saw the man in your room and-“ Marcus began, urgently.

“What are you doing up here? Trying to kill me in my sleep?” the king accused him.

“No your majesty! I-“

“You will not get away with this!” he said as he ran towards the window. Marcus slid quickly down the rope as the king swung his sword at him and dropped into a bush at the bottom of the wall with a thud.

“Assassin!” Marcus heard him shout from the tower above him.

Before he knew what was happening, guards appeared out of nowhere in pursuit of him. He had been hiding from them all morning, flitting from shadow to shadow like a mouse. While he was hiding, the guards had posted wanted pictures of him all around town, offering rewards for his capture. It hadn’t taken more than a few minutes after he had come out of hiding in search of food for someone to recognize him and alert the guards. He didn’t know what the robed creature was or what it was doing in the king’s chambers, but his overwhelming sense of curiosity urged him to get to the bottom of this so that he could return to Tristen a hero… not an assassin.

Suddenly, Marcus could feel himself being shaken awake. His eyes popped open and a large, white-bearded man stood over him.

“I didn’t do it! It was the robed man!” Marcus shouted and scrambled away from the bearded man.

“Whoa lad! I believe you if you say so!” The bearded man said calmly. “You’re safe now. My name is Kentley – and I am the captain of this vessel. And who might you be my little stowaway?”

“Marcus…” Marcus said as he slowly took in his surroundings.

He looked around the ship’s deck to see deckhands hard at work. They paid no attention to him, being far too occupied with their current tasks. Slowly he began to stand, but quickly collapsed back into the smooth deck of the ship when he realized that it was not ocean that they were sailing through.

Kentley erupted into jolly laughter, throwing back his head and resting his hands on his big, round belly.

“Expecting something else, were you?” he laughed as he extended his arms outwards to showcase the ships surprising ability. “This is a skyship, young man. We’re bound for the Great Spire!”

“The Great Spire…?” Marcus asked, perplexed.

“Aye! It’s our city in the sky. Atop it is sits the city of Clandestine – our home!” he said, proudly.

Marcus rose cautiously to his feet once more and timidly approached one of the golden railings encircling the skyship. To his amazement a colorful, silky wing stretched outward from the ship. Though rigid, it fluttered gracefully as the wind caught beneath it. He gathered the courage to lean slightly over the railing, and was amazed again to see a pair of propellers swirling dizzily away at the back of the ship. Clouds passed beneath the ship like a wispy sea, parting as the ship continued along its course. He had to look away when a hole appeared suddenly between clouds beneath him and he saw the entire kingdom far below him. From this height they must have looked like nothing more than a bird flying high up in the sky.

“We’re nearly there. You may want to hold on to something!” Kentley cautioned him with a smile.

Marcus ducked down, holding on to the railing as if his life depended on it. The ship began to moan and groan as an enormous shadow covered it. Marcus gasped as a large, stone structure emerged from behind a curtain of clouds. The Great Spire!

He dared another brave glance over the side of the ship and found that its base stood atop the very tip of a large mountain he had never seen before. It rose high into the sky like an upside-down needle and, nestled within the needle hole, rested a small glittering city. After a few minutes, Marcus quickly began to realize that the city was anything but small. The small, glittering rocks quickly became large spires that dwarfed the ship and, indeed, anything he had ever seen in all the land. Marcus’ eyes remained fixed on the magnificence as the city, unable to look away as the skyship quietly came to rest within one of its many docks.

Kentley rested one leg on the tip of the ship’s bow and held his arms out as if to hug the city he called home.

“Welcome to Clandestine, Marcus!”

Mining Facility 23

noreply@blogger.com (Ryan Warren) — Mon, 04 Apr 2011 03:54:00 +0000

While I'm waiting for Crashtest to finish his end of the Weekend Workshop I decided to take on another piece of art he did a few days ago:

See the original artwork and the creation process on Cyrus' blog!

He supplied me with the following details in hopes that I would write a short story detailing the background behind the piece:

The station is called min-fac23 - or mining facility 23
You can only see a portion of it here - i figured to the left was the main bulk of the asteroid its situated on
Its 'deep' space - although not deep enough to be utilizing any warp technology - consider it being there as the painful outcome of centuries of struggled infancy of humanities efforts to conquer the stars
It mines some kind of ore containing helium3 - think 'moon' if you have seen that
Feel free to go anywhere you want with what you write - Ive just supplied these as background info i decided on whilst doing the doodles

So, with that in mind here's what I came up with...
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Weekend Workshop #3: The Next Genesis

noreply@blogger.com (Ryan Warren) — Mon, 28 Mar 2011 04:06:00 +0000

Another weekend, another challenge! For the challenge this week, I was given the following parameters which my Cyrus then did more shockingly amazing art for:

THEME:

Sci-Fi / Noir / Horror

PARAMETERS:

around 9000+AD - after some 'dark age' of sorts around 3000 years previously - the hows and whys are all yours - this is just so the world can be played about with as much as possible so knock around the year and timeline if you want - and so the 21stC is a distant and threadbare memory not even talked of anymore
it all takes place in a broken feeling old cityscape somewhere in europe - medieval and superstructure archetecture merge to create a unique skyline - think bladerunner, akira, metropolis, dark city etc etc but with some gothic architectural twist
have the tale revolve around the thoughts of a central character caught in some clusterfuck situation and about to go out blazing - or similar - or dont...
revolutionary type setting against a fascist state of some sort - equilibrium, logans run, the original rollerball, 1984 etc etc
some paranormal / demonic edge to it somehow - even if its purely suggested in the atmosphere - perhaps even some odd new religeons have taken over - leaving our 'old' ones naught but heretical practice of the few - i dont know - thats all for you to dream up
feel free to mix tech levels - but please try to avoid making it too 'steampunk'
im gonna try and produce a piece that reflects the city as a backdrop and whatever is happening close up in what you write to complement it best
time: 3hours or 1500 word min

Here is the story, as well the art inspired by it. Make sure to check out his blog to see the work in progress below it!

See the art on his page - here!

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Weekend Workshop #2: Terran Twilight

noreply@blogger.com (Ryan Warren) — Mon, 21 Mar 2011 00:39:00 +0000

Crashtest has given me another challenge... only this time the tables are turned. Instead of him giving me the theme and details to work with, I was given free reign to come up with whatever I wanted that he could then translate into art which we would create in under 90 minutes. Afterwards, I was to write another 300-word entry about the piece and give it a story. I was thoroughly impressed with the results of his work as, once again, it was an incredibly accurate impression of my idea.

Click here to see his blog with the art for this piece and more!

Terran Twilight

The blackening sky began to blot out the remaining sunlight of the dying sun as it plunged the planet into another restless night, full of fear and despair. The bones of humanity's civilization pocked the surface of the broken planet, a mere shadow of the life that had once flourished on her face. Humans, once the defining species of the planet earth with their vast cities, advanced technology, and knowledge of themselves and the universe in which they lived, would leave the stage as a mere echo of all that they had accomplished in their short time on the planet... and there would be no audience to mourn them.

The medal of their deeds loomed in the sky overhead, due soon to be reunited with its mother that had protected it through the millennia. It returned the favor by shining as a beacon of hope in the darkness; a reminder that, even in the darkest of nights, the sun would come out tomorrow. But no longer. It moved sluggishly through the heavens, it's surface scarred and ablaze with the nuclear fires of humanity's self-destructive tenancies. Ablaze, its course would lead it to a destructive finale, sealing humanity's final chapter in its grave.

The last stragglers of the doomed ball of scorched rock and ash followed the light of the sickly orange star that had once shone down brightly on them, spreading life over the surface of their birthplace. It is faith that, in their final moments, the hope of another dawn granted them some small release from the burden that their selfishness had chained upon them, and that their souls would escape the torment of the fires that would soon extinguish the remaining traces of those who had forsaken the paradise that had become their hell.

Weekend Workshop #1: The Shifting Sea

noreply@blogger.com (Ryan Warren) — Sun, 13 Mar 2011 01:03:00 +0000

At Cyrus Crashtest request, I have taken part in a 300-word descriptive writing of a medieval scene, which he then proposed to create in under 90 minutes. The results are amazingly similar to the exact visual I had in my head when I wrote the scene and, as always, I am extremely satisfied with the amazing work he's done. What I didn't tell him about the piece, was that the image was actually part of a dream I had, and will also make an appearnece in The Rift once I actually make it that far.

So, without further ado, below are the scene that I wrote as well as the link to his blog so that you may scene the scene he created. I hope to be able to collaborate with more projects like this, since I can never get enough of writing or his art work. This is something that's needed to happen for a long time:

See the full piece and more on Crashtest's Blog!

The Shifting Sea

"The main character, a Persian-looking man in white cloth and a turban stands at the edge of a cliff over-looking a shining city surrounded by a sea of sand as the sun sets before him. A scimitar hangs at his hip and his pockets and garb are lined with trinkets from his adventures. A few rogue strands of black hair escape beneath the bottom of his turban, the exposed area on his neck glisten with sweat from the long journey he has just endured.

The city sits in a valley with mountains behind it and endless dunes around it. In the distance, and closer to the foreground, rocky hills hint at ancient ruins carved out of sandstone, waiting to be explored by any who would dare risk their undoubtedly treacherous halls. Conical yellow towers reflect the light of the setting sun, the most prominent belonging to the large palace at the center of the city – which is encircled by a sandstone wall which protects the exposed thee sides of the city and connects to the mountain behind.

The atmosphere is warm and calm, though the shadow cast by the setting sun warns of the onset of a cold, restless night ahead, filled with the cries of hungry beasts who call the desert home. Subtle traces of pink and other exotic colors line the sky like a maiden waving her knight’s colors as he nears his goal. Though there is still much treacherous land to cross before the sun sets, the shining city stands as a beacon of hope for our hero as his adventure for the day comes to a fruitful end."

Crashtest's Blog: Click for Epicness

The Rift: March Update

noreply@blogger.com (Ryan Warren) — Wed, 02 Mar 2011 03:04:00 +0000

Progress is being made on The Rift. Here is the link to the official project page on Bioware's new social networking site: http://social.bioware.com/project/4141/discussion/2948/25699/#post_25699

2/9/11 Update. :D

noreply@blogger.com (Ryan Warren) — Thu, 10 Feb 2011 03:54:00 +0000

Hey, I haven't posted anything for a while so this is an update to let everyone (but mostly my future self) know what I'm up to.

First of all, Minecraft has been dominating most of my attention until just recently. I'm so obsessed with it I've been pouring through mods on MODDB and even made my own Derp Zombie skin!

As of most recently, however, I've resumed work on The Rift module for Neverwinter Nights. Bioware has a brand new social site up and I've posted the project there as well. Coming at it after a long break has let me smash a lot of bugs and create a whole cluster-fuck of new ones as well, but I'm slowly overcoming those as well.

I also landed my first website deal in months... so I'll have some real money sometime soon. :D

Also, check out this awesome blog my friend runs: Thew My Controller. All you gamers out there will definitely approve of it. ;)

Anyway, back to work on the module. If you have NWN and want to play or help bug test it just let me know!

The Mist: The Perfect Horror Movie (Contains Spoilers!)

noreply@blogger.com (Ryan Warren) — Wed, 12 Jan 2011 04:10:00 +0000

The Mist, listed on IMDB.com as Horror/Sci-Fi/Thriller, combines and executes all of the genres flawlessly in a perfect blend that you can watch over and over and still enjoy just as much as the last watch. Based on a novel by Stephen King, The Mist contains an eerie and horrifying atmosphere that will keep you intrigued and guessing; always unsure of what will happen next. This is not your everyday horror movie like the ones littering movie theaters across the county out for your money; using loud musical cues and sound effects to literally make you jump out of your seat where there is no real horror. The Mist is not one of those movies.

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Greet the New Year... Because it's the Last One You'll Ever See!

noreply@blogger.com (Ryan Warren) — Fri, 31 Dec 2010 21:43:00 +0000

On behalf of me and my buddy Cyrus who is doing the artwork for my book "The Zone: Life and Death" I'd like to leave you with some words of wisdom to guide you into the next year.

Seize the day, because by 2012 aliens/jesus/earth will kill us all.

I kid. But seriously, I hope that 2011 will be the start of many great things for me - namely getting my writing published - and hope that the new year will bring more good than bad for everyone else out there. I hope you continue to enjoy my blog and that you keep up the supportive comments and emails that have kept me going throughout the entire process.

Now enjoy the bad-assery that follows:

(click-able link to Cyrus' blog: http://stalker-crossfire.blogspot.com/)

Old Skool Gaming Nostalgia - Part IV: SNES (continued)

noreply@blogger.com (Ryan Warren) — Mon, 27 Dec 2010 14:29:00 +0000

There were a lot more SNES games I was introduced to over the years, even as the N64 came out. But the ones that had the biggest impact were the one I was introduced to first and stuck with me. I didn't actually own an N64 until around the time I became a teenager so that left a lot of time for the SNES. These were truly the glory days for myself and the console as there were so many good games that inspired me for years afterwards. But alas, there are a few that come to mind that deserve special mention...

A Lot bigger than it looks...

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Old Skool Gaming Nostalgia - Part III: SNES

noreply@blogger.com (Ryan Warren) — Wed, 15 Dec 2010 01:15:00 +0000

I remember the first day I ever saw the Super Nintendo. It was on demo in the Toys R Us near me, off in a lone aisle. I was pa-rousing the store's wares when I encountered it; the pixels lit up when they saw me - beckoning to me. I took hold of one of the controllers and immediately confirmed that this was a new Mario game on a new system. I didn't get to play long before my mom found me and pulled me away but the small taste that I got was enough to intoxicate me. I had to obtain this system and this game so I could play whenever I wanted.

Gorgeous. You would cheat on your system too.

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Old Skool Gaming Nostalgia - Part II: NES (continued)

noreply@blogger.com (Ryan Warren) — Fri, 10 Dec 2010 22:26:00 +0000

Most of the games aforementioned had a lasting impact on how the next 20 or so years of my life would go. I'll always remember them as the roots that started it all. However I was still too young to really understand exactly what was going on in the games and couldn't quite enjoy them to their full potential yet. It wasn't until the early 90's when I was about 5 years old that the real pants-shitting began.

Super This Game is So Fucking Cool 3.

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Old Skool Gaming Nostalgia - Part I: NES

noreply@blogger.com (Ryan Warren) — Thu, 09 Dec 2010 07:02:00 +0000

Ah... old school (skool) gaming. The words send images of pixalated action whizzing through your head. If you're like me, chances are you were just a kid when they had first come out and they quickly became a permanent part of your childhood. But there's also a chance you were around to see the beginning of it all when home consoles and video arcades began popping up all over your home country. For me, I'll always remember them as a way to enjoy my free time, share adventures with my friends and make my skin whiter than an albino.

Press Start for a lifetime of memories and sequels.

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Chapter 12: The X-Pedition

noreply@blogger.com (Ryan Warren) — Sat, 04 Dec 2010 12:27:00 +0000

After they had all finished drinking they piled into the barracks one by one. Virtue was still drunk by the time he finished writing Nimbus’ obituary. He had snuck one last look at his friend when no one was around, finding him on the table under a sheet in the backroom. Though he was pale and covered with scratches, a look of peace was on his face. Virtue could only hope that his final moments had been pain-free and he had gone peacefully.

He spent most of the night tossing and turning, having nightmare after nightmare. Once he had awoken, he couldn’t remember any of them, but he did remember one unifying element; Nimbus was in all of them.

It’s all your fault.

Why did those words keep playing through his head? He didn’t care anymore. His mind was more of a cluster-fuck now than ever, he was sick of feeling this way. Every moment that had passed since he had decided to return to the Zone was worse than the one before it. He doubted himself. When he had first come to the Zone and had something to fight for. Sure, he was afraid of the dangers, but failure was simply not an option. Now the word success had been completely erased from his vocabulary.

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