Psynexus Blog

Lost in the Haze.

noreply@blogger.com (Psynexus) — Tue, 15 Nov 2016 11:05:00 +0000

Concrete ribbons. Lost in a haze.
Lately I've been trapped in a maze.
Strong, stubborn, unique, yet weak.
I don't even know who I was last week.

Take your medicine and then you'll seek.
The answers to what happened last week.
Tell me what made you so meek?
Why has your outlook become so bleak?

You love her, but tell me why?
All she ever did was make you cry.
Why's the reason you stay up at night?
You're anticipating another fight.

She made you wait.
Maybe it's fate.
Maybe it was instinct.
Trying to invade her precinct.

We put our love on a shelf.
Because to love someone you have to love yourself.
There's no excuse, for abuse.
To think otherwise would be obtuse.

She said she would be there for you.
But words are fleeting when you can't identify the hue.
Is it love or desperation that makes you blue?
It's time to take your cue.

I'm talking to myself; I already know.
But maybe that's the thing that will help me grow.
I write my feelings on paper and in this I'll show.
That I left a legacy; hear my crescendo.

Is the real life? Is this just fantasy?
I don't know if it's reality or just a dream.
I hear words but I don't catch the meaning.
I don't know whether to feel love, or if they're demeaning.

I should be upset, but I still feel whole.
You didn't just break my heart; you broke my soul.
In the end, maybe it was best you leave.
Maybe behind your back I'll grieve.

But always remember what I did for you.
And remember how I stood by your side after the pain you put me through.
Everyone has their drug of choice; most wouldn't mind.
I just want you to know that you were mine.

noreply@blogger.com (Psynexus) — Sat, 26 Jul 2014 16:55:00 +0000

The Journal of Markus Livingston

March 20, 1877

I do not know exactly how to put into words my current predicament. I suspect that this journal may never be read by a living soul and that indeed I may never have the chance to it’s survival nor my own.

I awoke today in a place that was not my own. It’s a place seemingly out of time and sense; like a dream that I cannot awaken from. I know that it cannot be a dream because I am terrified yet have not awoken. Perhaps I am dead and this is hell.

I do not know for sure what events have transpired. In fact, I do not know much of anything anymore besides the painfully obvious; I am utterly alone. Perhaps if I start at the beginning, seeing the words will provide some small clarity to me. I will attempt to do so now.

Yesterday, I awoke to the smell of bacon and eggs the same as every day I can recall. I ate, and then attended to the daily duties a farmer must attend to. The day was not remarkably unlike another… in fact it almost seemed to be more dreadfully plain than most. After I had finished the day’s chores, I attended supper with Amy and the kids. After supper, the kids washed themselves and were sent to bed, after which I layed down next to Amy. After reading a few chapters of a book, she presented me with a kiss and went to sleep.

It occurs to me now that I did not fall asleep immediately as I usually do. Upon further reflection I have a daunting memory of some sort of turmoil beyond my inability to sleep that night. There was a light. A flash of light. Blue like the night sky after sunset. I suspected lightning at first, so I approached the window to have a look-see. There was no lightning and no thunder… but the light persisted.

Then a voice, or perhaps a feeling called to me, beckoning me towards it. I was afraid at first, but intrigue got the better of me and I felt compelled to get closer. I opened the window and the light filled the room, wrapping me in its’ wispy, otherworldly tendrils. Then I felt myself begin to slip away into unconsciousness. When I awoke I found that the world I had been in before was now closed to me.

I found myself in a new place… whether a twisted version of the world I know or a new one entirely I cannot possibly say. I am alone, and there has been no sign of any other person here except for me. The initial shock of waking not in my bed, but in what I can only describe as some kind of forest took some time to come to terms with, but once that had passed and I realized that this was no dream world, I began to explore.

This place I am in, this “forest”... is unlike anything I have ever seen nor could ever imagine. It is defined by large, dark tree-like plants that extend into the sky for many dozens of yards. They would remind me of great Redwood trees, had they been black and diseased. Although they are entirely alien to me, it seems as though they should not be like this. As a farmer, I am familiar with several varieties of plants and know a healthy, thriving crop when I see one. This is not one such crop. Why they do not flourish in seemingly fertile soil is a mystery to me.

I can hear sounds from beyond my sight, the sounds of creatures stirring in these woods. I do not recognize any of the calls that they make, which adds further weight to my fear that I have stumbled into a place where I should not be. As the night set in I began to feel a sense of urgency tugging at me, prompting me to move and find some sort of shelter, water, and food.

As I stumbled through the woods, lost, scared and confused, to my utter disbelief I came across a small, ragged shelter, abused by the ravages of time. As I approached it, I could see a skeletal hand protruding from within. The thought of another person having been here before me gave me some small hope, so I entered the shelter, hoping to learn what I could from this unfortunate soul, my first companion in this strange place. But as I entered, my heart sank - for there were more than just a single skeleton inside. There were a dozen or so, all clad in clothing several centuries apart. An English merchant, a Spanish Conquistador, a Roman soldier, a Native American, an Ancient Egyptian, and one dressed in an animal pelt. All had died here, trapped like myself… and all had carved their names into the bark of the tree upon which the shelter rested which, at the bottom, read;

THIS IS THE OUTER WORLD. MAY THE NEXT YOU ENTER BE MORE FORGIVING.

S.T.A.L.K.E.R. "Crossfire": Coming To YOU 2012!

noreply@blogger.com (Psynexus) — Sat, 28 Jul 2012 06:11:00 +0000

S.T.A.L.K.E.R. "Crossfire": Coming To YOU 2012!: S.T.A.L.K.E.R. Crossfire was originally conceptualised as a work of fan-fiction with an illustrated / graphic novel feel to it. Since then...

Weekend Workshop: Out of Oblivion

noreply@blogger.com (Psynexus) — Mon, 04 Jun 2012 16:34:00 +0000

Crashnexus presents, with art by Cyrus Crashtest and story by Psynexus,

Out of Oblivion

Art by Cyrus Crashtest

This will be my final entry before I enter the hibernation pods with the rest of the crew. With Earth weeks behind us, we leave with the best wishes at a time of turmoil and fear for our species. I’ll never forget how I felt as the familiar blue sphere grew smaller and smaller in the display and we bade our home farewell. It’s shocking to think now that the beautiful little gem in space that bore such beauty now drifts broken through the void, a crimson red.

Our ship, The Exodus, is a cradle for the remnants of humanity – a symbol for a new beginning somewhere beyond the star that spawned and nurtured us from children to adults. It glides through interstellar dust and solar winds, carrying us along like baby Moses drifting down the Nile to escape certain death. That’s who I am – who we all are. We are nothing more than helpless children, being pushed through space at the whim of the cosmos. The deadly currents that lay mere inches from our outer hull act as a guardian, holding us captive as it aids us along our journey.

Our destination is an earth-like planet known as Kepler-22b, some 600 light-years from Earth. Our journey will take thousands of years to complete, and Earth as we know it will no doubt be unrecognizable by the time we get there… if it still exists at all. The planet is smack-dab in the middle of the habitable zone –the range of conditions in which humans can survive – and is just over twice the size of Earth. For all intents and purposes it is paradise… much like Earth used to be in our infancy before we grew up and began to devour it like a plague of locusts.

I remember first seeing the Exodus from a docking port back on Earth before the bombs fell; it’s large, round hull strapped to enormous boosters reminiscent of an egg, carrying child. It looked like a tiny new world escaping the confines of an older, dying world… and that’s exactly what it is. The Exodus is a colony ship – but more than that, it is our last hope. The warnings went unheeded as our natural resources dwindled away into nothingness and our planet became a barren wasteland; a mere shell of the once lush and fertile habitat that once sustained us.

In the final days, an emergency summit of world leaders was convened and all remaining resources were committed to Project Exodus in hope that humanity could start over again. The decision was met with anger, confusion, and fear;sacrificing billions to save thousands seemed ludicrous. In a cruel twist of irony, the world united in a final fight for survival, committing every resource to the destruction of Exodus in order to claim the last resources for themselves. Words like “inhuman” and “cowards” pelted our hull along with small arms and IEDs. Humanity had made its last mistake in our long history of mistakes on planet Earth, and one last time we would learn that you never appreciate what you have until it’s gone. That’s when the bombs fell.

As we ascended towards the heavens, light like the fire of a thousand suns erupted beneath us, blotting out the skies. Nuclear explosions sent ripples through the air decimating clouds and pulverizing the skeletal remains of our cities, erasing the aftermath of our mistakes but not their memory. I sometimes dream that life continues to survive and thrive, unhindered by the virus once known as “humans” and it brings me hope, but every time I think aboutthat shriveled, burning ball of death I realize that such thoughts are nothing more than the fantasy of a madman.

Despite the bleakness we leave behind and the blackness before us, there remains small shimmers of light that guide us along our journey. The blue-green light of nebulae and newborn stars glowing faintly in their nurseries dance across the bulkheads, beckoning us further into the unknown.No one knows what the future holds, but when I look back towards Earth and see our sun winking back at us, I know that there is hope. This is the feeling that I choose to hold on to as I enter my thousand-year slumber, and will hold on to until my eyes open again under the light of a new star, a new sky, and a new place to call home.

The City in the Mist

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

Image by Cyrus Crashtest

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 (Psynexus) — 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 (Psynexus) — 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 (Psynexus) — 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..."

Weekend Workshop: Sierra Forlorn

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

Crashnexus presents, with art by Cyrus Crashtest and story by Psynexus,

Sierra Forlorn

Art by Cyrus Crashtest

“We’re here in Sierra Leone, a place torn by civil unrest and violence. Located in western Africa, control of the government is currently being disputed between the Revolutionary United Front and the Momoh government. Already, thousands have been killed over control of alluvial diamonds and the RUF has taken over much of the eastern and southern parts of the county in their campaign of blood. I’m standing with my friend Abubakarr in a small town in the Kono District, which is in the Eastern Province of Sierra Leone. Tell us what has happened to your town.”

“Yes. Terrible things happen.” The African man spoke in broken English, as he began to tell the tale of his broken town. “Men come from other country, they come here to murder and steal. We have nowhere to go. Soon they will come here too and take everything from us.”

“That’s terrible.” I said, making sure the camera got a close-up of the emotion in his eyes. The networks loved that.

“White men are not safe here, they will kill you for being here.” He went on, looking around desperately for any sign of the men he was referring to.

“We know that, and we’ll be leaving soon, but we had to make sure your story was told.” I assured him. He nodded and stared off into the distance. I put my hand on his shoulder and continued my report.

“This is the fear that the RUF has instilled in local population of this once peaceful town. Many African countries are plagued with what is widely referred to as the ‘resource curse’. Countries, rich in diamonds, are often burdened by the corruption of their leaders who use the resources to further their own agen-“

Before I could finish the sentence, gunfire erupted from somewhere on the eastern side of town. Abubakarr began shouting in his native language to one of the villagers as he ran by us, who shouted back and continued on his way.

“What’s happening?” I asked, looking from my shrugging crew to Abubakarr for an answer.

“They are here!” he shouted and began running with blinding speed into the thick jungle in the opposite direction.

Screams began to fill the village, and my crew took it as their cue to move and began hastily packing their equipment so we could get the hell out of there. I completely agreed with them.

“Come on, just throw it all in and go.” I urged them as men in uniform began to appear in the village, beating or shooting anyone who got in their way.

“They blocked the road.” Our driver announced from the front seat of the van. “We’ll have to hoof it.”

“We can’t lose the tape, this footage is too valuable!” I protested.

“Our lives are more valuable!” he shot back as he exited the vehicle and began to run into the thick jungle with the fleeing villagers. The remainder of my crew looked back at me impatiently for further instruction... shooting glances longingly at their fleeing companion.

“Follow him,” I ordered. “I’ll be right behind you.”

Without hesitating, they began to run – not daring to look behind them as the rebels advanced towards the edge of the village. I jumped into the back of the van, located the camera and pulled the tape from it. Then, just before I decided to make my run for it, I stopped… realizing that this could be my chance to really capture the true violence of this civil war and convince people that something had to be done about it. So I grabbed the camera and locked the van, pressing it against the tinted window to get a good view of the action taking place.

To my shock and horror, the men invading the village weren’t men at all, but children. I watched as they marched through the village, holding weapons and wearing clothes that barely fit them, beating and shooting people who were old enough to be their parents. It was heart-wrenching. I never would have thought that children who could barely hold the weapons they carried were capable of the violence I witnessed.

These weren’t children… not anymore. They had been turned into the monsters at the hands of a corrupt military that sought to further its own selfish agenda above anything else. They mimicked the acts of violence the RUF had imprinted on their susceptible minds ruthlessly, and without mercy – torching houses, beating men with pipes, and the older ones even raping women two or three times their age. They had been stripped of their innocence and turned into cold-hearted machines; tools of the RUF. I had come to this county for a shock story that would boost my career as a war correspondent. What I got, was first-hand experience of just how cruel this world can be.

They eventually found me, and took me hostage. I was forced to travel with them for months until the Sierra Leone Army pushed them back to the Liberian border and I was rescued. During that time, I learned more about human violence and its limitless than I had ever imagined and hoped to be possible. When I had been rescued and made it back home, I was praised for my bravery and offered the promotion I had been hoping for before my capture. But the experience had changed me forever, and from that day forth I became a humanitarian. I never again took for granted the things that most people do every single day and instead began to fight my own war for peace.

Too long have wars been named for the places, times, and ideas for which they took place. I am a soldier in the Human Civil War, and this is my call to battle. We are at war with ourselves, and it’s time for us to pick a side.

Live on Facebook!

noreply@blogger.com (Psynexus) — 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

Weekend Workshop: Transhuman

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

Crashnexus presents, with art by Cyrus Crashtest and story by Psynexus.

TRANSHUMAN

Art by Cyrus Crashtest

“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 confusion flowing around me, making me increasingly nauseous 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.

Tingling sensations surge through me as my world grows and shrinks like I’m nearing the surface of a deep ocean. The shroud around me begins to clear and shapes form. I recognize this place; I've walked through it many times. But something’s out of place; I've never felt as alien here as I do now.

Something catches my attention. Movement. I freeze in my tracks, conscious of my every breath I take as my eyes dart towards it and I slowly adjust my head to face it. I see a flame flickering in the world beyond my own; out of my reach but within my sight. Jets of flame shoot out into the void from a vast structure that looms before me. It is unfamiliar to me and, inexplicably, it is also the source of my horror.

We murdered God and her cruel humor is our end...

Those words that brought me back to this place repeat in my head suddenly, overwhelming my senses. The beast that lurks beyond these walls taunts me, taking credit for inspiring the author of that message before his demise. My breath begins to fog the transparent surface of the barrier between us, I swear that I can hear its threats as words in my head. I do not know why or how, but I do know that whatever it is is evil, and desires to end me at all costs.

Voices! I must be going mad. I hear them in my head... random, nonsensical. Are they talking to me? I hear rushed words, yells, deafening screams. Where are they? Who do the voices belong to? Questions race through my mind and I race further down the path before me. A light at the end presents itself, bright and welcoming; surely it holds my salvation.

I burst out of the tunnel and into the light, feeling renewed as I enter the realm beyond. This is it; I have been led here for a purpose. Surely everything will be made clear now.

The voices and blaring sound are gone, making the low hum of the room stand out like the growl of an unwelcome animal. This place is death. I realize now that the light wasn't my salvation as I survey the shells of the dead laid out before me. Their faces are familiar to me and I sense that they are like me, or that we were at some point. But like the familiarities of the world before this one, there is something out of place that I can’t explain, and it fills me with dread.

The urge to touch them is overwhelming, so I reach out with the hand I forgot I owned to find that it is identical to theirs. My fingers quiver and the hairs on my arm begin to stand as I draw closer and closer to the corpse of a young man. At the moment before my skin touches his dead flesh, his eyes burst open like black holes forming after the collapse of a star and I am sucked into the world behind his eyes.

I am engulfed in void. Time and space have ceased to exist, and I have left my body behind. I float for an impossible eternity, with nothing but paradoxical time on my noncorporeal hands. But, as in the world before, I discover the ability to navigate this place – able to move not only through space, but time as well. They exist sorely as concepts in my mind now; I control them here.

I see myself back in the tunnel at a time before the one I awoke in. The dead are alive once more, and I am among them as they go about their daily routines. Then panic strikes and the world is covered in the red light and the warning sound begins again. We awoke the beast that dwelled in the world beyond our own, prodded it with our tools, tried to understand it, tried to become it. In the end, we got what we wanted, got what we deserved.

The memories come flooding back in torrents as the words begin to make sense to me now. The beast tempted us with great power, knowing that we would give into our lust and become the makers of our own destruction. Throughout the ages many have dedicated their lives in hopes of answering the single greatest question of their limited existence; what is the meaning of it? Though they were destined to fail, they never gave up the pursuit of the answer. The one thing they all overlooked, however, is what would happen if they didn't like the answer.

The beast offered us the key to unlock the secrets of our own bodies; those forms which would carry us from one plane of existence to another like a vessel across a vast ocean of life. We accepted graciously, wasting no time in deciding what to add and what to remove. When we had finished and the answer didn't present itself, we strayed from the path – spitting in the face of God and declaring ourselves the masters of our own evolution. We gave our species a new name, going forth beyond the confines of our limited dimension based in time and space and becoming “transhuman”. A wise man once set that those who do not learn from their mistakes are doomed to repeat them. How naive we were to think that we could play God.

So here we exist, barred from reality as we once knew it for an eternity; a word that’s very definition mocks us with promise of a finite purgatory. I do not know what we became, but we ceased to be children of the God who created us, listening instead to the beast who tempted us with knowledge. Just as it was then, we were punished for out sins – though instead of being cursed to grow old and die, now we are cursed to live on forever in nothingness until the end of the universe. Now I understand the dread I feel; the inability to die.

It’s a cruel irony that our species greatest fear should become our greatest hope – and that which we sought to be our eternal salvation would become our eternal destruction. I wish I could just go back and warn them them all of their impending doom. But I know it would be fruitless; its human nature to question the unknown and to pursue knowledge. It’s in our nature to destroy ourselves.

If thousands of years weren't long enough to keep us from repeating our very first sin, then I can only pray to the God who we forsook that we will learn our lesson soon while we continue timelessly down the path of our existence... the hell we have chosen as punishment for our final sin.

Weekend Workshop Delayed - Double Feature This Weekend! :D

noreply@blogger.com (Psynexus) — 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 (Psynexus) — 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.

My Own Private Hell

The dead of night; if only those who used the phrase truly understood its meaning. If only they could walk these desolate streets like I have; see the sky burn, smell the ash and decay, hear the screams. They pass me by, blissfully unaware of the hell they occupy, the hell that they share for a fraction of a second when their eyes meet mine and they see the demons tearing me apart from the inside. The spires of the Minster - standing watch over the shop-lined streets like ancient protectors – offer no refuge, damning me from the paradise it promises to others.

I wear their skin, their clothes, eat like them, act like them – but I am not one of them. That’s not to say that I am not human – to my knowledge I still am – but they aren’t capable of what I am. They look at me with their probing eyes; judging me, labeling me, and then move on having done more damage than they could ever possibly know in their limited minds. The man who said “ignorance is bliss” didn't realize the devastation those words would cause.

A cool night wind whispers through my ears, teasing me with just enough temporary pleasure to remind me of the world at stake. I pull the parka over my shoulders closer and brace myself for the path I am about to travel – a path that I've walked many times. A path I fear with every fiber of my being.

I take the first step into the cold, paved road. It quivers and sizzles around me like the surface of the sun as I begin my journey through my own personal hell.

I walk down Stonegate Road of Yorkshire, UK. People go about their business, stopping in shops, drinking in bars, or just passing through. I feel like crying out to them as they pass. How can they not see what I see? How do they not know?

Shadows shift in the amber light of the lanterns hanging over the street, like burning silhouettes desperate to escape the scorched city. I move into more welcoming light, stopping at the window of a nearby restaurant. Inside are happy people, enjoying their meals with their friends and loved ones... blissfully unaware of the devastation that will tear them apart.

Then another figure appears inside – a hooded form. As I look closer, I recognize it as my own reflection. I see the haunted look in my eyes - buried in the shadow of the hood over my head - unable to block out the dying world around me.

But wait... it isn't my reflection - it’s the great shadow: the Invoked. The figure turns black and the eyes burn with flame. I can feel myself being drawn toward it as it beckons to me. It reaches out with its dark hand, inviting me closer. It feels like I’m falling down an impossibly dark hole, waiting to hit a bottom that doesn't exist. It whispers to me. I don’t understand the words but I know their meaning. It is a warning – a warning of things to come. As it’s deathly hand meets mine the glass cracks and shatters. I jump back suddenly as its horrible screech echoes through the street like a banshee’s wail.

The people inside the restaurant stare at me, startled by my sudden movement. I walk briskly away to avoid any more stares. I’m near the end of the street now. Paranoia sets in and I can feel the shadows closing in behind me. The amber light intensifies behind me... but I don’t dare look back.

Then, an earth-shattering boom shoots across the sky. The shockwave knocks me to the end of the road as a hail of glass shards from the blown-out shop windows fall around me. I shake with fear, unable to resist the urge to look back down the hellish street from whence I came. I shield my eyes as the black clouds of night intensify into a fiery yellow-orange. Flame roars through the sky like a match hitting gasoline. I can feel the air being sucked form my lungs and my bones ache as intense pressure pushes down on them from some invisible force. Just before the flame reaches me I see the dark figure standing at its center at a distance I can’t calculate. Is it a man or beast? These questions haunt my memory to their conclusion as I am engulfed in the flames and eaten alive...

Weekend Workshop: The Dark Visitor

noreply@blogger.com (Psynexus) — 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 (Psynexus) — 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 (Psynexus) — 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 (Psynexus) — 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...

Mining Facility 23

MIN-FAC23: the station is all I’ve known and, from the day I had the misfortune of being born on it, I’ve wanted nothing more than to leave. All my life I’ve been raised to be a miner, “Because that’s what you were born into.” my father said. That was before the accident. He dug right through one of the rock walls of the asteroid the station was built into and was sucked out into vacuum. He wasn’t even given a proper funeral since the cause of his death was “far too common to merit any credits to be allocated to a funeral”. Bastards. I’ll never forgive them for that.

What can I say about this decrepit old station that couldn’t also be said about a scrapyard? It’s rickety, rusty, and damp. I think the ancient Romans had better idea of pipe layout than the builders of this floating piece of space junk did. The days are long and the work is grueling. I’d be willing to bet that prisoners on slaveships have it better than I do… probably make more than I do too. All day long it’s the same story… smash some rocks for scientific progress. Lack of progress more like it; this station has been around since the beginning of time and we’re no closer to the stars that they all insisted were just within our reach.

So we’re digging for Helium-3: some element that’s supposed to make travel time between here and the inner colonies much faster… fast enough that I might actually get off this rock someday. Nobody admits it, but I think that’s the only thing that keeps people working with so few incidents; the hope of leaving this place far behind them. The eggheads say they can use it as some sort of nuclear fuel for the fusion drives they’ve been working on for God-knows how many decades now. Their plan to “conquer the stars” has become more of a rescue effort than anything.

About a generation or so ago, we started to look beyond earth and establish our first colonies on the Moon. Mars followed right after that. The eggheads said that establishing colonies on new worlds would be the catalyst for a golden age of scientific discovery. But, in reality, it turned out to be the most expensive failure in our history. Every day they spend trillions of credits putting people in stasis pods and flying them towards the outer colonies using slow, conventional engines. I takes anywhere from a few months to a few years for the supplies we need to reach us. It really does a number on your morale after a while… not knowing when the next supply of food or medicine is coming in.

If all that weren’t enough, there’s been an increasing amount of reports coming in from the outer colonies about pirates attacking freighters and stealing their cargo. It’s only a matter of time before one of ours is hit… then, I don’t know what we’ll do.

It’s been over a month since our last shipment, which means one of two things: either it’s late, or it’s been hit. I fear the worst. It’s my hope that, if that shipment never makes it, someone will find this letter and give the guys upstairs this message: YOUR GREED IS KILLING US ALL!

Miner 230243 - Jacob Pierson

Weekend Workshop #3: The Next Genesis

noreply@blogger.com (Psynexus) — 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!

The Next Genesis

“And I will make thy seed as the dust of the earth: so that if a man can number the dust of the earth, then shall thy seed also be numbered.” – Genesis 13:16

Earth, 9253 AD. I can’t believe I’m here. This place is like a putrid ball of slime covered in maggots. But this is what I agreed to, so here I am. The entire planet is covered with our cities, our people, our ideas. I remember old holo images showcasing all the blues and greens, white clouds, clean skies, glistening cities… my how it’s changed. I don’t think there’s a living person who remembers what it was before it became the dumping ground of the galaxy. It’s no coincidence that a bunch of disease-ridden parasites claimed this festering boil of a planet we used to love.

Being here now forces me to remember what set these events in motion. 3000 years ago, an age that will never be forgotten, we faced the very real threat of overpopulating the galaxy. Millions were being born every minute and we were forced to constantly annex new planets to support our overgrown population. I think that was when we stopped being human. Our finest scientists, biologists, philosophers – none of them could come up with a solution to the problem. That’s when the government came up with a solution that would change everything.

Every possible idea was discussed and debated ruthlessly, but in the end, the solution could not be ignored. It was our only salvation. We were a plague that threatened all life in the galaxy, and we had to be exterminated… at least, that was how they justified the mass genocide of hundreds of worlds and the war that started and still rages to this day. The idea was humble; willingly killing ourselves to save the remaining life in the galaxy - but our methodology was flawed. Long after the war began, another solution finally came to light; a solution that would end the war and give us another chance. But that idea will never be heard… not while the overlord is in charge.

I am part of an alliance of worlds that believe that we can prosper symbiotically with other life in the galaxy, like the organisms that once populated earth in ancient times. I carry a unique gene that, once introduced into the planets ecosystem, will allow us to transcend our bodies and transform into a form of pure energy. Though my mission is critical the survival of our species, my opposition will be great. Too long have we allowed self-destruction and bloodshed to be our ultimatum; it must end here.

I stand in the middle of a massive, bustling street filled with human drones; an endless sea of scared, hopeless individuals disgusted at their very existence. Many thousands of years ago, this was one of our most prosperous cities, before it became the planet-spanning supercity it exists as now. London, it was called – part of the European continent of earth’s eastern hemisphere. It was a beautiful green island, surrounded by clear, glistening water and flowing with its own unique culture. Now, it exists merely as an extension of the dark towers that pierce the exhausted, polluted skies above; all traces of individuality and inspiration far removed – save for one thing.

My destination may very well be the last surviving place in the entire galaxy that retains any resemblance of the cultures of old. The Palace of Westminster, an ancient meeting place for the houses of the Parliament of the United Kingdom, stands alone as the last surviving landmark from that era of history. It was claimed by the overlord 3000 years ago as his personal residence to oversee the operation of the galaxy and the subsequent purge of all life he deemed unfit for the final order. It is here that I must go, and deliver myself. I am the final hope of life in our dying galaxy.

The streets are lined with soldiers who constantly scan the thoughts of passerby, ready to suppress any opposition at the first stray thought of harm directed at the overlord. My thoughts linger on our bible, an ancient writing called “1984”. My commanders treat this writing as an ancient premonition, and the author, their prophet. Though I have never considered myself a religious man (since most of that died out thousands of years ago when we realized that there was no god) I can understand why they would adopt it. Their prophet – Orwell - saw what we were destined to become and had tried to warn us. But, as is true for the countless problems we have faced as our species has developed, it is only in our darkest hour that we find the motivation to act. This is our final hour.

The soldiers eye me suspiciously, no doubt wondering why they cannot probe my mind as easily as the others. My unique genome has altered my brain frequency to function at a much higher range than the garden variety human. The effect will be like radio static to their minds. No doubt they will just think I am just a particularly suppressed individual and pay me no heed.

Up above me, masked behind the noxious grey clouds, an atmosphere of flying transports herd millions of people off of this rock, bound for destinations unknown. Most will no doubt live a few years only to be exterminated in accordance with Law 2128-B. Some will be fortunate enough to find themselves on one of the few remaining planets where life still thrives. And the rest will be like me; fighters recruited into the last war that we will ever fight.

My body tingles with anticipation as I round a corner and find myself confronted with my objective. It stands before me; its dull, brown exterior threatens to overcome me with emotion as it presents itself gracefully against a backdrop of dead, emotionless grey. This is it – there’s no turning back now. I approach it with my head hung low, doing my best to blend into the surrounding drones. I mustn’t be so careless; another emotional outburst like that and I’ll be detected and all hope will die with me.

I am at the doors. The guards eye me suspiciously as I probe their minds and convince them that the overlord has sent me. They understand and open the doors. The doors open slowly, the ancient squeal of their obsolete design welcomes me inside like a ghost of the past begging me to return life to its barren halls as I step inside.

I sense the overlord in his chambers, watching meticulously over the galaxy and all life within it as the self-appointed god he proclaimed himself to be. I am close now, anticipation threatens to overwhelm me as the fate of our past, present and future reaches the moment that will define our eternity.

Suddenly, an alarm in my mind begins to sound. I have been detected. I can feel their minds enter mine, their thoughts stab at my mind in an attempt to shut it down. I must remember my training if I am to survive the assault. Pain… such pain… hurts to think… resist.

The overlord’s chambers are before me. The guards at the door are alerted by my presence and return my gaze with wide-eyed stares. I can feel their thoughts join the others. They are the strongest I have ever encountered. They are compromising my objectivity, preying off the desperate nature of my mission and using it as a weapon against me. NO! I must not lose! Too much is at stake. Quickly… regain your objectivity – do not let your feelings cloud your judgment! Why can’t they understand what I am trying to do? All hope is NOT lost!

That’s it! I must make them understand.

“Give up. The overlord cannot be defeated.”

They threatened me audibly in an attempt to intimidate me.

“Two plus two equals five.” I countered.

“Incorrect.” They riposted.

“Two plus two equals five!” I insisted.

“Incorrect!” they shouted back.

This isn’t working. They told me this would work! The prophet must have been wrong. I must unleash the weapon. I was warned that it was it would surely compromise my thought process as well as theirs, but that it would render them defenseless. I am recalling the memory they implanted and am projecting it into their minds.

“Somewhere over the rainbow

Way up high,

There’s a land that I heard of

Once in a lullaby.

Somewhere over the rainbow

Skies are blue,

And the dreams that you dare to dream

Really do come true.”

My legs have stopped functioning and I have collapsed to the floor. Tears fall from my eyes as I crawl past the guards and into the chamber of the overlord. The chamber, which at one time was a regal and inspiring place, is choked with fat and veins poisoned by the technological monster now lingering within. The stasis pod that contains the overlord, taps into the very heart of the planet, drawing on the heat of the core for geothermal energy – but more than that, it draws from the life energy of all living things. This is what gives him the power that so effortlessly controls our fate; by holding hostage our own mother, the one who has protected us through millions of years. Time has given us all the tools we needed to hone our aggression to its finality.

I place my hand against the glass of the stasis pod in which he resides and project the thought as clear and concisely as my enhanced genome will allow me.

“Somewhere over the rainbow

Bluebirds fly.

Birds fly over the rainbow.

Why then oh why can’t I?

If happy little bluebirds fly

Beyond the rainbow

Why, oh why can’t I?”

I can feel the effect of the words, written by our poets of old and buried under layers of neglect and repression manifesting in the consciousness of the overlord. Has it really been so long since another human being shared such emotion with another that it would have such a profound effect? He analyzes every word, every note, the mathematics of the symphony – the whole is no mere sum of the parts, the effect was not a predictable one, there was no defense against it. The aggression of our race, which he had preyed upon in an effort to become the undisputed ruler of our destiny, had failed to realize its antonym: compassion. There truly was hope for us all, but it lay over the rainbow. We simply needed to shrug off the burdens of our senseless violence and learn to fly.

Conflicting data overloaded the overlord’s thought patterns. The stasis chamber exploded and the 3000-year old overlord who had decided our fates for far too long came tumbling out. His frail body, overcome with age and the stress of the inhospitable environment disintegrated immediately and his presence vanished from our galaxy forever, allowing us to finally ascend unhindered by our infantile impulses. I ceased to exist in any form your limited mind might understand, but the story of our vindicated race would live on into the stories of the next genesis.

“In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth. “ - Genesis 1:1

Weekend Workshop #2: Terran Twilight

noreply@blogger.com (Psynexus) — 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 (Psynexus) — 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:

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 (Psynexus) — 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 (Psynexus) — 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 (Psynexus) — 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.

The story begins with the main character, David Drayton, emerging from his home with his wife and son Billy the day after a violent storm tears up his yard and sends a tree through his window, destroying a painting he had been working on the following evening for his job. After exchanging a few words with his neighbor, his wife remarks that there is a strange mist coming down from the mountains. She muses that it's strange to see mist moving over the lake, but David doesn't think much of it as he takes his son and neighbor Brent into town for supplies.

As soon as they get there they start to realize something's up when the police and fire departments start moving towards the mist in a hurry and a few soldiers enter the store, looking eager to get out as quickly as possible. Their fears are confirmed when Dan Miller, one of the locals, runs into the store with a trail of blood coming from his nose shouting, "Something in the mist!". Moments later, the approaching mist completely envelopes the store followed by a large boom that shakes the store, panicking the dozens of people inside. They immediately begin to discuss what the mist could possibly be while a few people stuck outside begin screaming after the mist has moved over them. At this point, they decide going into the mist is probably a bad idea.

That can't be good...

Now that they're all in agreement that the mist is bad, they decide that waiting for rescue is the best idea. So the first order of business is to get the store's generator working. David volunteers and proceeds into the back of the store to see to the generator, leaving his son in the care of sweet old lady Irene and attractive young blond Amanda. The generator is backed up, so he shuts it off - killing the lights in the back of the store. After stumbling around in the dark for a little while, he hears a noise coming from the loading door. As he goes over to investigate, he sees it start to bend inwards and something begins banging violently on the outside of it. Frightened, he runs back into the store where a handful of other men are coming to check on him. He asks if any of them heard the noise at which point they decide to go investigate together.

They attempt to fire up the generator again and realize that the exhaust vent must be blocked outside. One of the young employees - Norm - offers to go clear it to which two of the volunteers - Jim and Myron - agree but David protests. Ignoring his plea, they open up the door enough to get a good look outside and start joking about how un-scary the mist actually is. Their tones quickly change though as a large tentacle slowly begins to emerge from the mist towards the turned employee. They try to warn him but he quickly finds the tentacle wrapped around his leg, pulling him off his feet and into the mist beyond the door. David rushes to him, fighting against the tentacle as others emerge, yelling at the others for help. They remain frozen with shock as the tentacle begins tearing at the young employees flesh and he screams in pain. Finally Ollie, the more reasonable store employee who also came with them jumps into action, breaking a fire axe out of its case and fighting back against the tentacle. But their heroic actions are for naught as the unfortunate employee is wrapped in the tentacles and forcibly dragged away screaming. In a last ditch effort, David manages to sever the end of one of the tentacles as the other store employee rushes to close the door.

I told you so...

They take a moment to catch their breaths and take in the reality of what they have just seen. Jim does his best to apologize but starts making excuses about how David should have been more clear about what he heard. David responds with a punch to the face and stomach; a reasonable outcome considering Jim egged the kid on and was ultimately responsible for his death. He instructs everyone to remain calm and not to tell anyone what happened just yet, though Ollie thinks it's an inevitability. He approaches Brent first, thinking he'll be reasonable enough to keep an open mind and listen to what they have to say. He calls them all crazy and refuses to go see the evidence in the back of the store, insulted that they would try to take advantage of him in such a way. Things get out of hand as David tries to force him to go look and he puts up a fight, drawing the attention of the entire store. Faced with no other option, Ollie gets everyone's attention and tells them to listen to what David has to say.

David warns them all that there is something in the mist. Dan Miller supports his claim, but when asked what it is he can't answer saying it all happened too quickly. David speaks up again, saying he doesn't know what they are either and that all they could see were tentacles. The crowd is immediately skeptical and calls bullshit on him and the manager of the store even threatens to file a police report, to which David invites him not to take his word for it and go see for himself. They enter the back room, seeing blood from their previous encounter and the severed tentacle by the door. They poke it with a broom handle, which causes it to twitch, startling them all as it begins to disintegrate before their eyes. The store manager, seeing enough, informs the store patrons that they have a serious problem on their hands and they begin to get to work fortifying the pane-glass windows at the front of the store.

Look, this is gonna sound weird but hear me out...

Some of the skeptics in the crowd, including Brent, begin to voice their unrest and try to gather followers to go into the mist and seek help. The other try to dissuade them, but are ineffective - though David is able to convince them to tie a rope around their waist so they can at least make sure they got away from the store safely. They agree then leave the store, fading into the mist enshrouding the parking lot. David and the store patrons continue to feed them rope slowly as they continue deeper and deeper into the mist. They think they might be in the clear when the rope suddenly shoots forward, giving David a rope burn as he and the others struggle to fight against whatever's pulling on the other side. Finally the rope goes slack and they begin to reel it back in. Horror begins to seep in as the rope reddens the more they pull inside the store. They stop short when they see the severed bottom half of the poor soul who volunteered to take the rope and immediately cut it and lock the door, seeing no other choice now but to stay put.

During the night, one of the men on watch behind the fertilizer barrier stacked up at the front of the store freaks out when a large creature of some sort smacks into the window directly in front of him. At first glance it looks like a giant mosquito, about the size of a human head. Dozens more begin smacking into the window before an even larger creature resembling a small winged lizard smashes through the glass and begins terrorizing the store along with the smaller creatures. What follows can only be described as complete chaos as people flee for their lives and attempt to put up whatever kind of defense they can muster, which includes flaming mops, blunt objects, hairspray + lighters, and the only gun in their possession - a single revolver. They manage to take out a few of the alien creatures and eventually drive them off, but not before nearly burning down half the store and losing several people in the process.

That is a big bug.

After they re-barricade the windows and get a few moments to catch their breath, the town bitch Mrs. Carmody begins spewing her religious philosophy on them all as she has been since the mist first rolled in, saying that the creatures are beasts sent to exact judgement upon humanity for its sins. At this point, some people are actually beginning to pay attention having seen the creatures with their own eyes. The people who are still sane after the whole endeavor begin to discuss their next move, deciding that their next immediate concern is one of the soldiers who was badly burned when the flaming mop idea went terrible wrong. Unfortunately, they do not have the proper drugs needed to help him in the store and realize that the only way to help him is to enter the pharmacy across the parking lot. As much as they hate the idea, they know he'll die unless they do something so they decide to risk it.

A small group of volunteers including David, Jim, Ollie, Dan, Private Jessup and sweet old lady Irene Reppler head over to the pharmacy armed with the blunt objects, hairspray + lighter, and the pistol. They move quickly and manage to make it inside with no problems... little do they know, the worst is yet to come. They get to work looking for what they need when Jim latches on to the phrase "Oh God." as he backpedals away from a group of people hanging from the ceiling in webs. As he backs away, he runs smack into the unfortunate MP from the nearby military base who had stopped into the store earlier along with the soldiers. He grabs Jim by the shoulders, which causes him to scream hysterically and painfully mutters the line, "It's all our fault..." before his skin begins to tear and dozens of baby spiders begin to break out of his body-turned-cocoon.

A pretty reasonable reaction all things considered.

They all go intro panic mode as the mothers of the babies come to tend to their children and, seeing the intruders, begin shooting acidic webs at them. They grab what they need and retreat, but not before taking their own losses as they find themselves caught between acidic webs being shot across the room threatening to burn off their skin while the spiders impregnate them orally with a fresh batch of babies. Luckily, Irene keeps her cool and roasts a couple spiders alive with hairspray flamethrower in hand and balls of steel in pants so only two of them have to suffer that fate. They run back to the supermarket where Jimmy Boy immediately keels over and starts bawling and the rest of them do their best to shake cope with what they just witnessed.

The next scene takes place about a day later. David gets up after having slept through most of the events leading up to the current state of things. He learns that the soldier they had risked their lives to save had died in his sleep and that Mrs. Carmody now has most of the store in the palm of her hand listening to her version of what the mist is about. David, no longer in the mood to tolerate any more bullshit, approaches Private Jessup and demands to know what the MP meant back in the pharmacy. He claims ignorance so they all decide to go find his friends and ask them. They find them back in the loading dock, where they hung themselves. David begins demanding answers while Jim, who's gone completely insane from the incident in the pharmacy, follows them and throws Private Jessup into the angry mob awaiting outside.

Don't look behind you...

Jessup tells them everything he knows about Project Arrowhead - a military experiment taking place at the base up in the mountains - and it's goal of creating a window into another dimension. The crowd accuses him of bringing down the wrath of God on them and begin shouting and beating him up, eventually stabbing him as he cries in protest. Mrs. Carmody orders them to feed him to the beasts in order to quell their wrath against them all. They comply, throwing him out of the store and watching as a giant mantis-like creature pierces him through the chest with its claw and flings him away from the door. "The beasts will leave us alone tonight." Mrs. Carmody assures them, rewarding their behavior.

Some time afterward, David and co. finally decide they can stay no longer and make plans to escape in one of the cars outside, thinking that at best they might be able to make it out of the mist but that just getting away from Mrs. Carmody would be a start. As they make their way to the front, they're stopped by Mrs. Carmody, who immediately draws the store patrons' attention to them in an attempt to stop them. She nearly has them detained when Ollie suddenly fires the pistol at her, hitting her in the stomach. She drops to her knees and he puts one right between her eyes for good measure, ceasing her judgmental words once and for all. This was one of the most satisfying scenes in the movie for me, as Mrs. Carmody is a continual pain in the ass; replacing all logical thinking with religious bias.

With no more attempts on their lives, they continue unhindered into the parking lot where they are immediately beset by the mantis-creature that had taken Private Jessup earlier. Ollie is killed fairly quickly by it as he attempts to defend them all and a few others are taken out by spiders from the pharmacy, leaving David, Billy, Amanda, Dan and Irene. At the last moment, David decides it might be a good idea to grab the gun from the hood of the car, bloodied from Ollie, before they continue. He races against a spider for it as it lunges on top of the hood, but manages to grab it and close the door quickly before it can get to them. With gun in hand, they start off slowly into the mist as the remainder of the supermarket patrons watch them depart.

Four bullets, five passengers.

They roll slowly along, committing to go as far as the car will take them on the fuel they have. On the way, David passes by their house where he sees his wife webbed to the outside, either dead or worse. Along the way they pass by an enormous creature the size of an office building, staring in awe as it towers over them. Eventually they reach the end of their journey as the car sputters and dies, completely out of fuel. They had given it their shot, and now saw in silence deciding their next course of action. David eyes the gun in his hand thoughtfully, glancing at each one of them to see if they're thinking what he's thinking. They nod reluctantly as he opens the chamber and counts the bullets. Four bullets - five of them. "I'll figure something out." he says as they ready themselves.

Four shots later the passengers of the car are dead, including his son. He screams in agony, holding the gun in his mouth as he pulls the trigger futilely, wishing for a bullet that he doesn't have. He emerges from the car, shouting "Come on!" to anything that may be nearby waiting to kill him. He doesn't have to wait long before a loud rumble approaches him, assuring him a quick death. He squints into the mist as the source of the rumble approaches. He looks on in disbelief as a tank emerges from the mist, followed by a long line of military Humvees and trucks packed with survivors moving away from the quickly dissipating mist. Soldiers in Hazmat suits pass by, burning away webbing as he looks back at the dead passengers. Two soldiers stop to inspect him and the car as he falls to his knees, overcome by grief and screaming in despair in realizing that they had been mere minutes away from rescue at the edge of the mist.

Moments away from rescue.

The Mist qualifies as one of my favorite horror movies of all time because it leaves a lot to the imagination instead of spelling it all out for you at the end and doesn't use audio cues to make you afraid. The fear is in the unknown happening in the mist around them, and the speculation that they could be the only humans left alive on earth as far as they know. Also, the unknown origin of the mist is a constant thorn in the side of any logic they try to use to analyze it. Is it demons? Aliens? Man-made? They don't have any solid evidence until near the end of the movie, and that still doesn't answer the question of when it all will end. This is manifested perfectly by the end of the movie when David and the rest of the sane survivors accept the reality that they may be the last humans alive and agree to end their lives together after giving it their best shot... only David is forced out of the pact by their limited ammo. When he is the last alive, and the soldiers show up to deal with the situation, carting away survivors the horror comes full circle. Where there could have been a happy ending involving them making it out together after having lost almost everything, instead, he is doomed to live with the fact that the end was only minutes away, and now he would never get friends or little boy back.

If you haven't seen the movie or read the book I highly recommend it. Whether you'r a fan of Horror or Sci-Fi, I think the Mist present the ultimate balance of both and, in movie form, also adds all the thriller elements used in modern movies to keep viewers enthralled by the on-screen elements. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go make a bowl of popcorn and watch it again. :)

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

noreply@blogger.com (Psynexus) — 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 (Psynexus) — 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...

The sequel to the Mario game that came with the system, Yoshi's Island focused on the exploits of (who else) Yoshi and his efforts to rescue baby Mario's twin brother Luigi from the evil wizard Kamek (not Bowser this time), who steals him from the Stork on its way to deliver the twins to their expecting parents. You play as Yoshi and his his friends the entire time while Mario comes along for the ride. You think it's kinda cool at first until you realize that every time you get hit Mario is ejected from his seat on your back and floats off into the air inside a bubble that magically appears. A timer begins counting down from 10-30 depending on how many stars you collect throughout the level and the little bastard cries out "HEY!" the entire time. You will quickly become annoyed with this and wish that something would just swoop down and take him away... which does happen if the timer reaches 0. You also fail when this happens, but at least you get to keep your sanity.

HEY!... HEY!... HEY! *Yoshi puts gun to head*

Most of the time though, you'll be so distracted by the awesome graphics and gameplay that you won't really care. Playing Yoshi is really smooth and you can find yourself getting out of most bad situations easily. Rarely will you die to technical difficulties... especially since you get a limited "floating" ability in case you just miss a small target you may have been trying to jump on. This is a life saver that I quickly came to love.

The scenery and graphics in general were unique to the game and I have never really seen anything similar on the SNES since. Unlike the platforms game before it, it gets away from the blocky feeling of it all with nice, clean transitions between tiles and even adds some nice effects like round, rolling objects (such as giant boulders that chase you through caves Indiana Jones-style).

There are 8 worlds with 8 levels, including 2 boss castles placed at level 4 and 8 of each world. Each boss battle is unique and fun - I went back and played them over and over just because the battles are so amazing. The most memorable battle for me was one where you fight this giant blob of some sort wearing an equally enormous pair of pants, which slowly sink down as you throw eggs at him. When you deal the finishing blow, his pants disappear completely and he turns red (blushing, I always assumed), then flies around the room like a deflating balloon.

Have you no shame?!

Besides him there is a giant Koopa Troopa where the objective is to jump on his head, forcing him to spew out eggs that you can fire at him. You have to wait until he decides to stand up and charge you before firing, which knocks him off balance and leaves his belly exposed. Then you ground-pound the shit out of him. Rinse and repeat. In another battle, you fight a giant water-passed Piranha Plant with tentacles and toxic spores. THEN... as if that weren't enough - you fight a giant crow who picks you up and drops you on the freakin' moon where you literally run around it, wait for him to stand over a stake, then pound down on it from the other side of the moon, driving it up through his insidey parts. Epic!

Suck it Neil Armstrong

The music is very non-Mario-ey - you won't recognize a single track - but, as always, it is very fitting and it'll be stuck in your head all day if not for as long as you have the ability to breathe. This game is truly one of the best evolutions of the platform genre as seen the uniqueness of every level in the game. You spend most of the game taking it all in and enjoying the hell out of it.... but even if you think you've got it down, you're in for a ride when you get to the final level.

No! I'm not Yoshi you idiot! Get the green dinosaur-thing!

In the final castle you finally confront the wizard responsible for all this trouble and meet your soon-to-be arch-nemesis, Baby Bowser. As always, he's too much of a pussy to fight you himself so he instead sends Baby Bowser - who decides he wants to ride you. Baby Bowser can imitate your ground pounds, which he uses in an attempt to mount and ride you like a "horsie" or send a deadly shock wave through the floor to knock Mario off of your back. Seriously, that is his motivation in this battle; he doesn't wanna kill you, he just wants a ride! But you're having none of that - Mario has dibs.

You defeat him by sending the same shock wave back at him, making him trip, and then ground pounding him instead. It's called Karma little guy. When you feel manly (dinosaurly) enough, having sufficiently beaten up a baby, the wizard Kamek will rain magic down on him, like every other boss before you, enhancing his abilities. Apparently he gave Bowser a little too much out of desperation, which results in him growing to ridiculous proportions, destroying most of the castle on the process. Oh well, there's probably thousands of minions who would like to stop pacing in far-off regions anyway.

Nice night were' ha- HOLY DONKEY BALLS!

Now the system changes and you face the background where Bowser looms over you, wreaking all sorts of havoc on the remains of the castle. Every once in a while, giant eggs will rain down - which you can grab like any other - and hurl at Bowser. This totally changes the aiming system you may or may not have mastered by now, and can be a real bitch to figure out, since you're no longer firing in a straight line, but an arc. You'll be forced into a crash course since, the entire time you're trying to hit him he moves closer and closer to you, making the battle a race against time. Every time you hit him he runs several paces forward too so if you manage to beat him -whether by a wide margin or a matter of seconds - he'll be way too close for comfort.

When you do finally defeat him, he'll erupt into magical fireworks and collapse on the remains of the castle before you. Then, you save Luigi and are returned to the Stork who delivers you to your parents. Decades later, a sibling rivalry begins that makes Yoshi will wish he had just stayed out of the whole thing and saved himself the trouble.

For me, the game was a perfect mix of cheeriness and ominousness. Most of the levels are bright and happy with friendly-ish enemies who just happen to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, whereas the castles are dark, dreary, and usually consist of non-biological enemies like spikes, crushing blocks... and spiky crushing blocks. On top of that, the replay value is great because each level keeps a score of how many items you collect and "grades" you for your completion with a percentage. You can go back and see all these percentages on the level select screen and unlock bonus levels upon completing every level in a world. This brought me countless hours of enjoyment as I scoured the levels for secrets like all the good platform games before it.

Not your grandfather's platform game...

But my fascination for the platform genre could only hold me over for so long when I suddenly happened upon a little gem... a game that would go on to be one of my favorite games of all time.

I just came.

The first two adventures had left me craving more... and now it was here, in all it's 16-bit goodness. As had become my custom, I blew through the intro in favor of jumping right into the gameplay without a clue as to what the story was. The game starts out on a stormy night where you - Link - are abruptly awakened from your sleep by a vision of Zelda begging you to rescue her from the dungeons of Hyrule Castle. Apparently some wizard is attempting to free Ganon - your arch-nemesis -from the Dark World where he was imprisoned when he stole the Triforce from the Sacred Realm.

So you wake up as your uncle heads out the door to deal with some situation at the castle. He tells you to stay inside and heads out into the storm. You dick around inside for a while, throwing pots around in a fit because he treats you like a little kid. Wait... you are just a kid. How did that happen? Oh well, moving on. You walk outside and follow the road north to the castle, getting heckled by any guards you talk to along the way, eventually making it to the courtyard of the castle. After being turned away by a rather menacing-looking guard, you find your way in through a hole in the garden and enter the castle dungeons.

Before long, you bump into your fallen uncle who was beset by castle guards - who have gone mad for some reason - and tells you to take up his sword and shield and attempt to finish the task he could not; rescue Princess Zelda. This is where you get your first real experience in fighting - both in-game and out it would seem since you're just a boy now - as you clear the way through the dungeon guards to the cell where Princess Zelda is being held hostage. Once you defeat the jailer and rescue the princess, she asks that you take her to the sanctuary by means of a secret passageway hidden in the castle. You brave your way through dungeon rats, bats, and other perils then finally make it through the the sanctuary where a wise old priest agrees to keep her safe while you try to figure out why the hell you just had to fight through once-friendly guards.

You better not molest her while I'm gone.

The majority of the game involves just that as you traverse all of known Hyrule in search of three pendants of power that you need to obtain the long-lost Master Sword from the Lost Woods. The Master Sword is the only thing that can stop the evil wizard and his plans to enter the Dark Land and free Ganon. The pendants are hidden away in three castles located all over Hyrule. Each castle has items that will help you along your way, like all the Zeldas before it. You can also find items in other places that will help you greatly, which really promotes exploration as a lot of them are hidden away.

The boss battles are exciting and each victory is sweet, leaving you with a great feeling when you manage to kill the boss. Bosses are much more intelligent and Link is much more controllable than previous Zelda installments so it really gives the game a whole new epic feel. The music does nothing but compliment the intense battles and atmosphere of the game, so I was constantly immersed in it. The villages and townsfolk who live there are also a welcome change in pace when you come back from the dangers of distant locations.

Once I had acquired all three pendants I was off to the Lost Woods. As soon as I entered I was immediately hit by the atmosphere of the place; the thick, fog slowly rolling by, the twists and turns of the old gnarled wood and the suspenseful music as I searched for the resting place of the one and only Master Sword. Then I saw it. A beam of light shone down upon the stone pedestal bearing it through the ages. Small critters scurried away as I approached the pedestal and presented the pendants before the alter. With new strength, I claimed the sword and held it high above my head, feeling its awesome power course through me. She must have sensed my success because soon after, I received another telepathic vision from Princess Zelda, once again beseeching me to come to her aid as guards approached the sanctuary that she had been hiding in.

Note to self: do NOT sell this to a merchant.

I rushed to her aid but was too late. The old priest lay dying on the floor - killed in cold blood in a holy temple of the gods. He urged me to pursue the guards on the way back to the castle before they could sacrifice the princess and break the seal of the old wise men. I fought my way through each level of the castle and up to the roof, breaking through the magical barrier with my new weapon. By the time I found the wizard at the top of the castle I was too late. I watched as Zelda disappeared before my eyes, and the seal was broken. With that, the wizard disappeared to attend to whatever business he was occupied with. But I wasn't falling for any bar tricks. Enraged, I followed his image through the curtains behind the sacrificial alter and found him in his lair.

For my next trick... bubbles!

Caught off guard, he went into a flurry, unleashing his foul magics against me. With the aid of the Master Sword, I found I was able to deflect his attacks back towards him. After a long battle of deflecting balls of plasma, dodging lightning bolts, and staying keen as he transported around the room, I defeated him. But he was not willing to give up yet. With his last ounce of power, he opened the way to the Dark Land, sending me through to meet my doom at the hands of the evil trapped within.

As the dizziness wore off I found myself in the tainted Dark Land; a shadow of the former Golden Land that contained the legendary Triforce. In order to restore the land to it's original state and defeat Ganon, I would need to rescue the seven maidens, ancestors of the original wise men who had formed the seal on the Golden Land. Once rescued, they could combine their powers to break the seal on the wizard's fortress atop Death Mountain. The enemies and obstacles I faced before me made the dangers of Hyrule pale by comparison. The seven bosses guarding the crystals entrapping the seven maidens proved to be an enormous challenge as the power of the Dark Land enhanced their abilities greatly. But one by one they fell, and at last I had all seven crystals I needed to break the seal to the wizard's lair.

The not-so Golden Land.

I climbed Death Mountain, battling monsters I had only heard of in legends as I made my way to the peak of the mountain. With the seven crystals in hand the seal was broken and I entered the final dungeon. An immense labyrinth lay before me. After much time and effort I finally found my way to the final chamber. I would end this cruel wizard's life and finally all of this madness would come to and end. He came at me, stronger than ever in the heart of his power. But his arrogance was once again his mistake as I anticipated his attacks and fought bravely to combat them... but again he was unwilling to quit, morphing into a giant bat and fleeing the scene. I was granted a vision, and watched as he broke through the roof of the pyramid-like structure I had found myself on when I had come to this land.

I tracked him down, making my way back to the pyramid and jumping down the hole the wizard had made in the top. Then it hit me; the pyramid was the resting place of the Triforce... and Ganon himself was the new curator. There was no way out now; it was inevitable that we fight... deep down I knew it would happen all along. He tested my abilities like a child tests a bug, toying with me as he threw a trident around the room like a boomerang. I got a few stabs in at him, which he quickly laughed off and proceeded to blow all the lights out in the room, not giving me the decency of fighting him face to face. I scurried to relight the torches, hoping even the dimmest light would give me a glimpse of his shadow as he moved stealthily around the room in full stalker mode. He clawed at me in the dark as I struggled to fight back, sustaining several blows before he finally backed off. This went on for ages until, at last, he let out a final growl and collapsed to the floor. I had done it - I had defeated the greatest evil Hyrule had ever known in the Golden Land, tainted by his power.

He was the only blue pig growing up, and that made him weird.

Deeper inside the temple I found the Triforce. The voices of the ancestors greeted me as I reached out and touched it, instructing me that I could have whatever my heart desired. I thought back to all those who had helped me during my journey and all their troubles and wished them all happiness, then watched as my wish unfolded before me. I was taken back to my home land, seeing it changed for the better and safe from Ganon and his evil minions. I had done it. I was a hero.

Too... heavy...

Whew... epic walk through complete. Needless to say, The Legend of Zelda was the first game that truly made me appreciate the modern RPG and set the bar for what an adventure should truly feel like. After defeating Ganon, I played again, making an effort to search far and wide for any lost secrets that I might have missed the first time through - but mostly it was just to relive the great adventure I had just experienced one more time. The SNES saw many amazing video games - many of which were the blueprint for a lot of modern games that we know and love. Although the aforementioned games had the largest effect on me, there were several other games that I played later that definitely deserve mention for their ongoing impact on me and the industry itself.

To be continued...