Beginning the Wild Rumpus

Hang on tight, because this is going to be a wild ride.

It didn't take me long after I started this blog to realize that my chosen blogging platform and host (chosen because of prior familiarity) were going to limit what I was able to do here.  Still, once the mistake was made, I had to ride it out.  It is not legal to transfer a domain name such as geekcentricity.com to a new host for a minimum of sixty days.  So I waited.  I bided my time.

The sixty days ended in early May.  But I had "irons in the fire."  I had "things going on."  The "timing just wasn't right."  I got my domain unlocked about a month ago.  Still, I waited.  I didn't want the down time on the site.  Also, I couldn't find a wordpress theme that I liked as much as I like the current theme here at good old Blogger.  Today, I found a theme.  It was difficult.  I really wanted to keep my current logo and color scheme.  So I couldn't use any old wordpress theme.  I had to find one that was either set-up for the current color scheme or could be customized to that color scheme.  My new theme is ready to roll.

Now that I'm giving more time and mental energy to my non-blog writing, the timing is right to make the move.  This post is to warn you that you may see some strange things here at times over the next few days.  Once or twice (hopefully not, but the possibility is there), you may not see anything related to Geekcentricity.  As soon as it smoothes out, I will get the word out through Twitter and Facebook.  I am keeping the same domain name, so once things come back up, you won't have to change anything rss feed or bookmark related.  Please wish me a smooth transfer.  This space should be back to the new normal within about 72 hours.  I'll see you then.

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Yes, I'm Propositioning You

It's been over a week since I last filled this space.  It's a shame too, because I was averaging an all-time high in page views per day and when I disappeared, that fell off a cliff.

Where have I been?

If you follow me on Twitter or Facebook, you have some clue about how I've been filling my days without filling these screens with funny little characters that string together to form funny little words that mean something to us. If you don't follow me on either of those forms of social media, the briefest synopsis I can offer you is this: Work called.  I answered.  I'm going to spare you the details of most of it.  Let it suffice to say that the responsibilities of my day job temporarily far exceeded my time allotment for it.  It spilled over into everything else.  Those responsibilities grew like kudzu in the southern heat and I had to grab a machete and spend some time hacking it down.  Okay, so a machete and a flamethrower.  My writing related activities have been almost non-existent for the past week.  My sleeping related activities even suffered drastic cuts.  I can't help it.  I need my job and the money it provides us to almost-but-not-quite meet basic necessities every month.  But I'm back in the writer's saddle again.

One of the activities that forced me to unplug from the matrix for a bit was a camping trip.  Yes, the outdoor kind.  With tents.  And fire.  Ooooh, pretty colors.  Wait, what?  Sorry.  So, I went camping.  In a tent.   On the beach.  On the hottest day of the year so far in coastal North Carolina.  Believe me, it was definitely not by choice.  It was a work thing.  It was organized as a stress release by and for my colleagues and I.  It wasn't bad.  Compared to taking a knife in the eyeball.  It was hot.  There were lots of small biting insects that seemed to know how to squeeze through the netting on my tent.  There were a lot of people drinking tremendous quantities of alcoholic beverages (THIS is phenomenal with juice).  Did I mention that it was hot?

The whole trip did remind me that my wife and I used to go camping.  When we were younger, we'd load the tent into our van and drive to the mountains of North or South Carolina and spend a night or three.  Now, we've been thinking that we should do that again.  Except, our giant two room plus screened porch extremely expensive cabin tent is mysteriously missing its poles.  And an air conditioning unit.  Seriously, I can't figure out what happened to those poles.  I had to borrow a tent for the trip.

When I returned to the real world and plugged back into the matrix, I was reminded by a friend on Twitter that I had missed the release of some phone that came out last week.

For those of you who are regular readers, if any of you are left, you remember that I wrote some flash fiction for a couple of contests over the last few weeks.  I've decided that I'm going to be posting more fiction in the near future.  I am going to have to decide first what is the most appropriate venue for said fiction, but I will be sharing more of my writing with you as soon as I figure it out.

Here are my three options:

1. Continue posting fiction here.  This allows it to be seen by a larger number of people who visit here, but tends to crowd out the other content (news about that will be later in this post).
2. Start a fiction blog.  This option allows me to get a clean start for a blog, but will require setup and design work, as well as the marketing work to get people to go there and read.  I'm not sure I have the time for that effort.
3. Start an online fiction magazine/community/blog beast.  This is my favorite option.  If I could find a few other aspiring writers who want to share writing duties on a fiction blog/online magazine, it would be a great opportunity (I think) to get short fiction out on the web for people to read and critique.  It might also give some other new writers a chance to get some exposure and confidence.  I wouldn't mind designing a wordpress (NOT Blogger) site to host this.  I just don't have the money for the hosting or domain name right now.  The basic premise would be that a group of writers, myself included, would each retain administrative access to the site and each of us would post one piece of short fiction (typically 1,000 words or less - but if it runs long, hey it would be our site, damn it!) each week (serial works are also acceptable).  We would also invite others to post their original works to the blog (as guest writers), showcasing original talent.  I'm not attached to setting up/maintaining this, so if someone else has a burning desire to do that, it's fine, but I'd be more than happy to do it, allowing others to just be responsible for their writing.

Please give me feedback on the above ideas.  If you are interested in #3, please let me know!

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I also have a proposal to throw out into the void of cyberspace regarding this wonderful place I call Geekcentricity.  I think that the wide variety of interests and pursuits that are geekcentric offer an excellent opportunity to cover more aspects of geekdom than I can possibly cover alone with my interests and limited time (remember, I'm in the "Learn My Craft" phase of my very own Operation: Awesome, so I need to have time to write other projects - my game, The Broken Veil, has suffered a horrible lack of attention of late). 

With this in mind, I am initiating my own contest. More like an open call.  Here's the deal: If you have an interest in some geekcentric topic (video games - console/pc/mmo/whatever, board games, ccg's, pen & paper rpg's, photography, technology - phone/computer/whatever, geek-related pop culture, whatever - the possibilities are staggering) and a desire to share your knowledge/passion/expertise with the wider world, then I have an opportunity for you!  Here's what I need:

1. Comment on this post and tell me that you would like to write for Geekcentricity (it is totally voluntary for you, just like it is for me - I have no money to pay anyone). 
2. In your comment, include the type(s) of topic(s) you are interested in writing about.

That's all!  I will contact you and we will decide on a topic and when the post will be finished and ready for posting.  I will retain editorial control (but will let you know in advance about any major revisions) and will set up access for you to post your content here as a guest blogger.  If it works out and you enjoy it, then we can talk about continuing the process, but writing a single post in no way obligates you to any long term commitments.  The way I see it, if you're interested in geeky stuff and enjoy writing, this gives you the opportunity to share that with others without having the responsibility of coming up with daily content or dealing with the setup, marketing or maintenance of your own blog.  It also helps Geekcentricity gain more content and the perspective of fresh minds and voices.  Have a video game that you loved/hated?  Have an rpg you want to pimp?  Got a book you want to tell people about?  Cool iPhone app whose features you want to share?  Awesome new video card coming out that you think would be perfect for gaming?  Want to share the joys and trials of raising a little geek in today's world?  All of those things and more would be perfect!  What do you think?  Is anyone interested?

Okay, there are some things I need your feedback on peeps!  Help me out here.  Drop me some comments.  I'm waiting with bated breath.  Or at least a trickle of drool on my lip.

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Casa Diablo

First of all, thanks to all of you who voted for my story in Chuck Wendig's "I Wanna Do Laser" flash fiction contest.  My piece finished second in the voting against some tough competition.  What follows is my entry for another contest, this one sponsored by Julie Summerell at her blog.  It weighs in at 1,498 words.  Thanks in advance for reading.  I hope you enjoy.

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             The left rear tire of the Buick disintegrated about six hours after Armando shot the state trooper.  They were out in the middle of bumfuck nowhere and now they were without a ride.  Armando kicked the car door in frustration and settled on the hood while Carter paced along the dusty shoulder beside the car.  Jennings was still in the back seat.  The temperature in the damn car must be at least 120 degrees easy, but that crazy fuck was still back there.

            Jennings chimed in from the back seat "Hey Armando,  have I told you how in-fucking-credible it would be if that smart ass statie you capped back there would've been a sheriff?"  Jennings cackled like a hyena on speed.  The guy was wearing on Armando's nerves, and fast.  He'd used that same line about 40 times now. If the count got up to 50, Armando was gonna drag the crazy fuck out into the desert and beat his brains out with the tire iron.

            The irony of having a tire iron and not a spare wasn't lost on Armando.  It was Carter who had come up with the idea to leave the tire.  He'd figured they needed some of the goodies the cop had in his cruiser.  Shotgun, laptop, road flares.  Carter took the spare out of its nest in the trunk and repacked everything,  including the tire iron.  Then Armando drove the cruiser into a nearby ravine with the dead trooper's body in the trunk.  Somebody would find that cruiser soon, if they hadn't already.

            In the movies, Armando thought, this would be where we'd see a plume of dust and the glint of glass and chrome headed our way.  It was as if his mind called it into being.  "You seein' this, or is it one of them mirage things?"

            Carter broke out of his reverie and glanced down the road.  "Fuck. We're toast, man.  I'm bettin' that's one of them staties lookin' for our asses, so he can have himself a little fun with us for what you did to his colleague."

            "What I did to his colleague?"  Armando was getting sick of taking all the responsibility for this entire situation.  He felt like the motherfuckin' babysitter here.  "If I remember correctly, it was you who put the crystal in the glovebox with the registration.  If I didn't shoot him, your ass'd be playin' pincushion in a local jail by now!"

            Jenning decided to join the conversation, "You'd be on the receivin' end of of some local hokey's pokey, Carter!  And that ain't what it's all about."  Another raucous cackle.

            "Just play it cool guys."  Armando was thinking now.  He always worked best under pressure.  He could already see that it was an old stake truck on the road and not a police cruiser.  Of course that didn't mean that the driver hadn't heard a news story about a cop with half of the left side of his had blown off found taking a long snooze in the trunk of his own cruiser. 

            In the car, Jennings launched into some Bob Marley.  Forty-one.  "Carter, I don't care if you gotta stick your corn dog in that guy's pie-hole, just SHUT HIM UP!"

            The old stake truck had more desert on it than paint and as it slowed to a dusty stop next to the Buick, it looked like the front fenders were going to shake themselves loose.  The driver, afine looking blonde, leaned over the passenger side of the ruptured bench seat.  "You gents in need of some assistance?"  

            Things had just gotten interesting.  Armando had been running with the movie script version of events, so he fully expected the driver to be an old codger headed into town for food for whatever kind of animals farmers kept out here.  And while she was indeed headed into town, this driver was definitely neither old nor a codger, whatever that was. 

            Armando tried to sound homey, "Why yes, ma'am.  My friend there," he pointed at Jennings in his Buick cocoon, "his mom took real sick, so we're takin' him back home to Bakersfield to visit with her one last time.  We sure could use a lift into town."  Armando didn't have a clue where Bakerfield was, but he hoped they were headed in its general direction. 

            "I'm headed into town on my way to work," the driver motioned towards the back of the truck, "but you guys just hop up in the back and hold tight.  This truck's faithful, but she bucks like a wild stallion on this shitty excuse for a road."

            Carter led a miraculously quiet Jennings out of the car and into the truck.  It wasn't until he climbed up into the back and looked at the Buick that he burst into song, "You picked a fine time to leave me, loose wheel..."  If Jennings knew more of the words, Armando never found out.  He was asleep before the girl forced the truck into drive.

            When Armando woke up, it was night.  Carter and Jennings were still snoring.  The truck was parked outside of some dingy roadside diner.  He spotted their driver working behind the counter.  Armando wasn't sure if she had left them asleep out of kindness or a hope that she wouldn't have to deal with them again.  Oh, she'd deal with us, he thought.  But for now, they had time to kill.  Armando chuckled at the thought and kicked at his two compatriots awake.

            After hashing out their plan for the girl, they took stock of what they might find to occupy them until the diner closed.  The town consisted of  no more than a dozen buildings clustered in a few blocks of scant sodium light as if they were scared of the dark expanse of desert.  It was Carter who spotted the strip club.  Armando thought it looked like the place in that old Tarantino vampire flick, but there were a few bikes in the lot, about a half-dozen dirty pick-up trucks and even a couple of big rigs snoring side-by-side under a large flashing sign.  Casa Diablo.  Fitting name.  It might a decent enough place to blow a few hours and some of their stolen cash.  If they could score some cute strippers, it would be a bonus.

            As their eyes adjusted to the dim haze of the club, Armand saw his hopes  evaporate.  There wasn't a female in the place who had even recently been considered young.  The "girl" who was lethargically working a pole on the main stage had visible needle tracks and a large purple bruise on one cheek.  And stretch marks.  The place was like Shrivel Tits' House of Chicks Who've Bred.  But they needed to kill some time, so they kept buying table dances for Jennings, who actually seemed to be enjoying himself.  At least he wasn't singing.

            After Jennings returned from a stint in some nether room of the club, Armando decided it was time to finish the business with their driver.  The three men were hiding themselves the best they could as the diner's lights shut down and their driver emerged.  Armando congratulated himself on his sense of timing.  She didn't even bother to check the back of the truck before climbing into the cab and starting the engine.

            It was at least twenty minutes before the truck turned off the main road and onto a trail through the desert scrub.  Armando saw a farmhouse bounce past as they slowed. The girl brought the truck to a stop inside a barn before she cut the engine and jumped down from the cab. As she walked along the side of the truck,  Armando and Carter were waiting for their moment to pounce.  They had planned this before the Casa Diablo.  Jennings was asleep again.

            As they jumped down from the truck on either side of her, the girl sighed. "I sure am glad you boys decided to come home for a visit with me tonight."  As she spoke, her form seemed to lengthen in the darkness of the barn.  A large dark pair of leathery wings unfurled from behind her as a pair of dark bony horns split the skin on either side of her forehead, sending a trickle of blood curling seductively down each side of her face.  Her fingernails lengthened.  She glanced at Jennings, still sleeping in the back of the truck, a slight smile on his idiot face.  "I see my daughters treated your friend well."

            There was no chance to run.  One moment she was speaking; the  next, she had her fingers in Carter's chest, digging out his heart meat.  Armando saw her take a bite out of Carter's still quivering heart even as she advanced on him like a storm across an open field.  His bladder let go as she closed the distance.  Her talons sliced through muscle and bone with ease.  Her impossibly red lips, beautiful and terrible, followed him into perfect darkness.

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Moving the Ball

Last week, I wrote a post about my process of re-inventing myself that ostensibly began a few years ago, but ran afoul of life and what James Scott Bell calls "The Big Lie."  Since I wrote the post (June 9th if anybody is keeping score at home), I have concentrated on moving the ball as much as possible on as many of the writing  projects that I'm tossing around as possible.  The day I wrote that post was the day that Jason L. Blair inspired me to actually make a plan and start making some concrete steps towards accomplishing my re-invention as a writer.  He detailed his steps in his post on his own "Operation: Awesome."  I have been running on a crazy manic of excitement ever since.

My own version of "Operation: Awesome" involves similar steps:

1. Start thinking of myself as a writer:  I thought when I ended my career a few years ago and started my first blog that I had this covered, but it didn't take.  I was still under the influence of "The Big Lie."  Now, I have that one behind me.  My bio here on Geekcentricity begins with my conception of myself as a writer.  I have business cards made up and have actually had occasion to hand out a few.  James Scott Bell said that the first thing he did was "buy a black coffee mug with Writer written in gold across it."  I have always been a believer in visualization and learned from Dr. Tim Lautzenheiser that in order to accomplish something, you have to consider yourself as already having accomplished it.  In order to become something, you have to see yourself as the thing you want to become.  I restarted this step in earnest when I started Geekcentricity.  I just wasn't exactly sure how to accomplish the next step, or even exactly what it was, until Jason helped me out.
2. Learn the craft:  I have always had a natural talent with words and creating stories.  That, along with a buck seventy-nine, plus tax may buy me a cup of coffee.  I had taken some writing courses in college and was encouraged by a professor that I discovered way too late in my days as a college student, but I really found that I didn't know shit about the meat and bones of a story.  I had been getting by, or actually not getting by, on talent.  You can only go so far with that and I recently realized that I was pretty close to my ceiling.  I knew that I couldn't afford to take writing classes or seminars right now and I didn't know where else to turn.  After reading Jason's post, and how he learned how to write screenplays from Blake Snyder's Save the Cat! series, I started digging around for some books that could teach me more about the craft of writing.  I eventually wandered over to Writers' Digest (thanks Jane Friedman) and discovered their Write Great Fiction series of books.  I clicked my way over to Amazon and discovered that they could be purchased quite affordably, so I bought them.  They arrived today.  Today is the day I launch this step of the process!  I'm so excited!
3. Writing and selling myself:  I've already started this step, so I guess this list is out of order, but I think you have to write as you learn and learn as you write.  I also believe that you have to start selling yourself as a writer from day one.  Jason includes steps related to defining himself as a writer and doing research, but I already know what type of writer I want to be.  I also have already started researching, since I started defining some projects I wanted to work on very early in the process.  The "selling myself" step will no doubt intensify once I actually make some headway into actually getting published, or at least have hope of getting published.

Like I wrote in my list above, I have a short list of projects I am concentrating on writing.  The main two are the tabletop role-playing game I am working on (working title: Breaking the Veil) and a novel, which I now have a title for: Breeders.  I am really picking up steam on that one and I'm excited about where it's going.  I'm sure I will pick up other projects along the way, like the flash fiction piece I recently finished for Chuck Wendig's contest.  I am also leaning towards submitting something for Julie Summerell's flash fiction contest.  Stay tuned for that one.

With all that said, Geekcentricity is a little lower on my priority list right now.  It will still see new posts, but they may be shorter, and with my vacation time coming to an end at the end of this week, they definitely won't appear every day.  I think a reasonable frequency is 3-4 posts per week.  Which is about what I've been doing the past few weeks.  I will also be updating on the progress of these projects, posting game reviews as I can, and generally continuing to run this place according to the status quo.  Please keep visiting, reading and commenting.  Without you, my readers, this is just me talking to myself.  Right?  Is this thing on?  What do you think?

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That Golden Day

If you're a regular reader of Geekcentricity, you know that every now and then I post some of the strange search terms that people have used to arrive here.  Nobody gets stranger search terms than Chuck Wendig over at Terrible Minds.  Well, nobody that isn't running a fetish porn site.  A really bizarre fetish porn site.  His "Search Term Bingo" always makes me laugh my ass off, which is what inspired me to share some of my strange search terms.

Now, one of the more ridiculous search terms that some poor soul probably typed into the computer in his basement apartment in his mom's house, only to arrive at Chuck's blog, has inspired a bit of a writing contest.  The 996 word piece of flash fiction that follows is my entry into that contest.  I was going to wait until later in the week to post it.  That was my strategy, damn it.  But I lost my cool.  I decided to get it up here (stop thinking that way) before somebody else pulled my story out of the ether and wrote it themselves (which happens).  Here is my entry.  I hope you like it.  If you don't, blame Chuck.

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That Golden Day
by Darren G. Miller

             September 3rd.  Jaydon's 5th birthday fell on the Saturday of Labor Day weekend last year, so we decided to throw a huge combined family reunion/birthday party hybrid thing.  It was awesome.  There were people there that I barely knew.  Family that had never seen Jay before.  Brenda's dad kept hauling Jay up onto his lap.  Every time he got up there, Jay would yank on his beard like he was a department store Santa and it was going to come off or something.  He took it well, always giving a deep belly laugh and saying, "My beard" in a high pitched voice like Curly from the Three Stooges.  There's a picture in my wallet of Jay up on his grandfather's lap, happy in a way that only little boys can be, Spider-Man t-shirt already dirty from a busy day of being a boy. 

            At one point, my aunt Bernice leaned down to tell Jay what a handsome boy he was and Jaydon, my boy, looked up at her and said, "So fat," before scurrying away, giggling.  Kids say the damnedest things.  Bernice wasn't quite as amused as everyone else was.  She stewed over by the food tables with a couple of the other old aunts and uncles for most of the day.  Truth is, she really was fat.  Bernice passed away six months later when her heart gave out.  I got some leave to come back to the funeral and couldn't help thinking of Jay's words  when I looked at her in the coffin.  I had to stifle a quiet chuckle as I gazed down at her in final repose.   I'm surely going to hell for that.

            The day of that party sure was beautiful, though.  We'd even gotten one of those outdoor laser tag companies to come set up a course in the field beside the house.  I remember thinking that Bren was going to have to hire someone to cut all that grass after I deployed.  Most of the kids played laser tag all afternoon.  Jay put on the smallest vest they had and wore it pretty much all day after that.  It was really too big for him and the damn thing kept sliding off to one side, one of Spider-Man's eyes peeking out from beneath.  But he sure loved running around out there with all the bigger kids, pointing and pulling the trigger.  Shouting, "You dead.  I kill you with my laser!"  Seemed like every few minutes, or at least every time I sat down with a cold beer, Jay would run over with his vest all crooked, shouting for me to come play laser tag with him.  "Daddy, come on!  I wanna do laser!"  Every time, I left my beer, put on a stupid vest, grabbed a plastic gun and joined the game.  I wasted a lot of beer that day.  What can I say?  I love my son.

            It was a golden day all around.  A picture book day.  It was one of those days that gets you through the harder ones.

            Today was one of the harder days.  We were pulling presence patrol duty in some province I couldn't pronounce even if I'd cared enough to try.  Some locals motioned for us to drive over, waving their arms and calling out in whatever fucking language they spoke.  That was when the world came apart.  Must've been a roadside bomb.  One of those fucking IED's.  I think it was wired to the old sand-covered car that was next to us.  That car looked like it hadn't moved in years until it moved in every direction at once in a burst of flame and hot metal.  My ears were still ringing from the explosion.  My vision was shit.  The whole world had gone fuzzy and red.  One of the locals who'd been calling us over was screaming and grabbing at his beard, which was on fire, along with whatever he was wearing and most of his lower body.  I couldn't hear what he was screaming.

            I was having trouble moving.  Fuck.  Stop denying it.  I was having trouble breathing.  A piece of something, looked like a piece of the armor sheeting that was supposed to protect us from shit like this, was stuck into the ground through my left shoulder.  There was blood everywhere and a smell somewhere south of roasting meat.  I raised my right arm and wiped my face.  I had a beard of sand and shattered glass and whatever the hell else was stuck to my face.  As I tried to wipe it off I thought of my son pulling on his grandpa's beard that golden day.  "My beard..."  I wondered if that's what the burning guy was screaming as he grabbed at his flaming chin.

            Burning guy crumpled into the dust just as a large local woman, a relative perhaps, arrived on the scene and started beating at him half-heartedly with a rug.  As I watched her futile efforts, eyes failing, I thought, "So Fat!"  I chuckled, or tried to chuckle, through the blood in my throat.  Definitely going to hell for that.  Or maybe I was already there.

            "Daddy, come on!"

            I heard the words clearly despite the ringing in my head that was still the only other thing I'd heard since the explosion.  It took most of my strength to turn my head and look to my right.  Towards my son's voice.  A few feet away, the sand of this desert hellhole ended and turned into the lush green grass of the field beside our house.  My son was standing there, with his arm outstretched, waiting to take my hand.  He was wearing that too big laser tag vest that was still sliding off to one side, with Spider-Man peeking out from underneath, just like that day last fall.  His birthday.  He looked at me with his big, beautiful eyes and said, "I wanna do laser!"

            I set down my beer and took his hand.

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Re-Invention

I'll be honest with you.  Re-inventing yourself is a bitch.  Seriously.

If you've known me for a while, then you know that I set out to re-invent myself a few years ago.  To make a long story as short as I can make it, bad shit happened.  It freaked me out.  I mean, it literally caused me to completely doubt life as I'd known it up to that point.  It illuminated me to the fleeting nature of our existence and all that.  I went through some seriously rough times.  In short, somebody died.  I blamed myself.  I decided I could no longer live within the status quo.  I struggled with how to change the status quo while being too scared/stressed/whatever to think rationally.  I jumped into the first escape pod I could find.

"Life is a process of becoming, a combination of states we have to go through. Where people fail is that they wish to elect a state and remain in it. This is a kind of death."
- Anais Nin

If you've ever undergone a major life re-organization, you understand.  If you've ever gone through post-traumatic stress, you understand.  I was there.  I was trying to figure out how to get out of being something I no longer wanted to be, while figuring out what I wanted to be... hell, what I could be.  I believed, at the time, that the job I was in contained my only marketable skill set.  That was a huge obstacle.  What I really wanted to do...  What I had always wanted to do, was write.  I have always considered myself a writer, even when I hadn't created a single piece of writing not directly related to my job for quite some time.  Yet, I did write things for my job.  So, I was writing in some form.

I decided that I wanted to re-organize my life so that I could begin to pursue life as a writer.  I started a blog for the dual purposes of getting my thoughts and feelings out there in front of me and to get used to writing every day, whether I felt like it or not.  I got a job in the video game industry, albeit in retail management, but still working with video games.  There I was able to combine my love for gaming with my years of leadership experience.  But things got complicated, as things often do.

Somewhere along the way, I stopped writing.  I got sucked into the daily grind and lost focus.  It's easy to do.  There are bills to pay, family and friends to spend time with, there is work to be done.  I took me almost two years to discover that I had lost the path again.

Now, I'm back.  I may not be completely on the road yet.  I haven't gotten to the point of publication yet.  But I'm at least headed back towards the right road.  I'm writing again.  I can't say for sure that life won't bite me in the ass again.  It has such sharp teeth.  I am trying to avoid being pulled back towards the old status quo.  I'm trying to focus on my goals.  I am visualizing the outcome.

I am (and I can't stress enough how important, how vitally essential this is) surrounding myself with people who have their eyes on a similar prize.  Sure, right now the contact is all online.  I am following them on Twitter.  Some of them are following me on Twitter as well.  I need this community in order to see that it can be done.  They have already given me so much, mostly without even realizing it.

Yesterday, this community gave me several things.  If you aspire to be a writer, as I do, or any sort of creative artist, from musician to graphic designer, you need to check out these links.

Daniel B. O'Shea is writing a serial novel on his blog.  This is amazing.  Yesterday, he wrote about moving the ball.

Jason L. Blair, creator of the Little Fears role-playing game, told us about Operation: Awesome.

Author and game designer Jess Hartley shared some inspiring news with the world yesterday.

These stories tell me that it can be done.  It's just up to me.  I have to keep moving the ball.  I have to keep putting the pieces into place and not let myself get discouraged with the pace of my progress.  I have to start my own version of "Operation: Awesome" and set measurable goals.  I have to apply myself and get words on pages, no matter what it takes.  But first I have to educate myself on process.  And I have to also find time for reading and research (which does include video games, especially in the genre I'm going to be writing, horror/thriller).


Here's to moving the ball.

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Making a Good Bad Guy

Take your average hero.  I don't care if it's Neo or Luke Skywalker, Harry Potter or Batman.  Now set him down in a peaceful, quiet town and watch what happens.

What happens?

Neo continues to work at his day job, while doing small-time hacking on the side.

Luke works on the farm and on weekends races stock cars on the local dirt track.  He keeps talking about joining the air force, but there's always some piece of machinery on the farm that needs his mechanical skills.

Harry Potter continues to study magic and is one of the brightest pupils in his class.

Batman doesn't even exists.  Bruce Wayne is the founder and CEO of one of the largest corporations in the world.  He does his job, donates to charities (including the Fraternal Order of Police), and sleeps soundly at night.

Wait... isn't there something missing?

Damn right there is.

Heroes are easy.  They're a dime a dozen.  It's the villain that makes the story.  Without Hans Gruber, John McLane is just a wise-cracking cop with relationship problems.  Neo is lost in the Matrix.  Luke Skywalker is just a farmer who likes to drive fast.  Harry Potter is a nerd with funny glasses who studies magic.  Batman doesn't even exist without a villain to cause Bruce Wayne to put on tights when he gets home from his day job.

The tricky part is, what makes a good bad guy?  Or, what makes a compelling villain?

It's not enough to just be evil.  There's evil all over the place unworthy of being a foil to one of the above heroes.  Does a villain have to be strong?  Smart?  Cunning?  What is it that makes us love to hate them?  Or hate to love them, as the case may be.

Let's look at some of the greatest movie villains of our time.

One of the most memorable movie villains ever started out as a whiny teenager who thought the world owed him something.  He was seduced by a power he didn't understand, and crippled while losing a fight to his former teacher.  He wasn't particularly smart.  He was just seduced by power.  His name?  Darth Vader.

Another of the most memorable movie villains of recent times is The Joker.  Whether portrayed by Mark Hamill, Jack Nicholson or Heath Ledger, this guy is a lunatic.  He is driven by a love of chaos.  He isn't particularly intelligent, just cunning, crafty, crazy like a fox.  He isn't attractive or strong.  But he drives the Batman nearly insane with his clever morality traps.

My favorite movie villain isn't even a person.  He/It is a computer.  Or, more correctly, a Heuristically programmed Algorithmic computer.  You can call "him" HAL 9000, or just HAL for short.  HAL isn't necessarily evil.  He isn't seduced by power or driven by greed.  HAL is just trying to stay alive.  He's basically just Johnny 5 (from the movie Short Circuit) with an attitude.  HAL is a computer that has developed sentience and is trying to keep from being, in Johnny 5's words, "disassembled."

So, what makes HAL, or any of these villains for that matter, so great?  So memorable?  So... hero-worthy?

For one, they all have extremely engaging personalities.  So, is that the key to writing a good villain?  Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I submit to you one Agent Smith.  This guy has less personality than the box that my breakfast cereal was packed in.  Nope.  It isn't personality.  Or at least, not entirely personality.

Are you ready?  Do you want me to give you that magic ingredient for creating the best villains?

Well, I don't have it.

That's right.  I don't know exactly how to do it.  It's not a precise formula.  It's more of a guy thing.  It's more of the interaction between the hero and "his" villain.  Like Ledger's Joker says, they "complete" each other.

I can tell you one thing that all of these villains have in common, though.  To their respective heroes, they're all completely alien.  No, I don't mean they come from outer space, though to be fair, Darth Vader does.  But that's beside the point.  What I mean is, the villain is something that the hero, the protagonist of the story, cannot relate to.  The villain's drives and motivations cannot be comprehended by the hero.  Sure, Luke Skywalker knows what power is, and definitely comes to understand how a person can be seduced by the promise of it, but until he learns that he is a simple farmer with a taste for adventure.  John McLane has arrested his share of criminals, but he has never been in such close proximity to someone so truly mad and devious.  Harry has no concept of how someone can be as twisted and evil as Voldemort.  Bruce Wayne has to never encountered a force of chaos quite like The Joker.  Neo begins by not even knowing that the Matrix exists and must learn the nuances of the program that is Agent Smith in order to even consider eradicating it.  And Dave?  The protagonist of Kubrick's masterpiece can program a computer, but has no concept of what it would be like to actually be one, and be threatened with destruction.  Ironically, in sequels, Dave and HAL form a symbiotic relationship of part man - part computer.

Is that the magic trick?  Alienness?  Is that even a word?  No, it's just a potential first step to creating a memorable... a worthy villain.

What do you think?  What are your favorite, your most memorable villains?  What do you think are key ingredients that go into cooking up a good villain?

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The Hollow Kingdom: Camelot

I've been thinking for several weeks about writing a post on Camelot as the perfect fantasy setting.  A few days ago, I got the prod that I needed to make this post a reality.  Thanks to Justin Achilli for kicking me into action.

"Ask ev'ry person if he's heard the story;
And tell it strong and clear if he has not:
That once there was a fleeting wisp of glory
Called Camelot."

Camelot.  It's one of the most enduring "fantasy worlds" ever created.  The earliest stories of Camelot, of King Arthur and his court, were written in the 8th century.  That means that for about the past 1300 years, there have been stories, poems, movies, songs, video games, and all sorts of things created, all based on this same fantastic kingdom.  Forgotten Realms, eat your heart out.  Azeroth, you're just a baby.  Greyhawk?  A drop in the ocean of time.  Even you Middle Earth, are a youngster compared to that grand-master of fantasy worlds, Camelot.

This is a world so enduring, so accessible, that it became the symbol of a period of American history known for both its prosperity and its turbulence.  Like the Camelot of the medieval romances, John F. Kennedy's American Camelot was known for sterling ideals and unrivaled prosperity, set against a backdrop of lies, betrayal, family rivalries and, ultimately the destruction of the ideal.

Almost everyone knows the story.  The boy, Arthur, is merely an innocent lad.  He is seemingly not destined for power or greatness, but he is chosen by the universe to lead.  He establishes a grand kingdom.  A seat of reason and enlightenment called Camelot.  From there, Arthur leads his kingdom to a time of great peace and unparalleled achievement.  Chivalry rules the day.  Knights pick flowers for the ladies.  Things can't get any better.

"The candle that burns twice as bright, burns half as long."
        - Dr. Eldon Tyrell, Blade Runner

Everyone also knows the rest of the story.  The king's love and bride betrays him.  His family, his queen, his best friend all set the stage for the fall that must come.  We know it must, because nothing that seemingly perfect can last forever.  Even Kennedy's American Camelot ended in a dramatic, violent collapse.  The thing is, with any Camelot, we know it is coming right from the beginning.  We can sense it.  There is an undercurrent of impending doom even in the beauty and perfection.  It is the imperfect fantasy.

The imperfect fantasy.  That's the thing.  I've spent a lot of time over many years constructing fantasy worlds for my players.  If there's one thing that most world builders know, it's that the perfect fantasy is just too damn boring.  There has to be conflict to move the story.  You have to know, in the back of your mind, that Camelot is likely to fall.  Almost sure to collapse.  But for that one special band of heroes.

Look at our literary fantasy worlds.  Middle Earth is on the verge of falling to the Dark Lord of Mordor.  There is corruption everywhere.  It is only by the successes, against all odds and all reason, of the most unlikely band of heroes, that the dark tide is beaten back.  This is not the story of a perfect kingdom.

Look at our comic books.  Gotham is beset by vile villains on all sides.  Crime is rampant.  The city's leading philanthropist is murdered in cold blood on the streets of his dark Camelot.  If it were not true, Gotham would have no need of the Dark Knight.

Look at our video games.  Rapture, the ideal society, is sinking into chaos while Andrew Ryan practices at golf.  Frank Fontaine plots to control the citizenry.

There stories of Camelots are innumerable.  There is always the veneer of prosperity and perfection, but under it all lies the ugly truth.  The queen is false.  The best friend a betrayer.  The energies of the realm's protectors are spent in fruitless pursuits.  They are off questing for their holy grails while the kingdom's seamy underside is asserting itself.  The hero's family are plotting against him.  It is up to the most unlikely of heroes to, if not attempt to save the kingdom, at least to tell its tale so that Camelot may live on.  Sometimes they succeed.  Sometimes they fail.  That is in the hands of those who weave the story.  Maybe your protagonists are agents of the fall.  That is up to you.

In the end, it isn't Camelot's shining example of the ideal society that makes it the perfect fantasy setting.  It's the coming fall that makes it engaging.  It's the imperfection that makes it the enduring legend.  After all, it's but a thin veil that separates the shining Camelot from the abyss.  It could all come apart at any moment.  With as little as a single bullet or a well-placed spear.

Do you find this model to be present in any fantasy worlds you may have built?  Are there any examples in popular culture that I've missed (I'm sure there are)?

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Star Wormwood, or How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love Backstory

Note:  Before you read below and assume I've gone completely batshit insane and have joined the ranks of those predicting the end of the world in 2012, I want to warn you that this is all backstory for the game I'm working on.  I'm still crazy, but the following is just one possible explanation I will be including as to what causes the incredible conditions of the game world.  I will explain more in a near future post.

---

"On the 17th of June, around 9 in the AM, we observed an unusual natural occurrence. In the N Karelinski village (200 verst N of Kirensk) the peasants saw to the North-West, rather high above the horizon, some strangely bright (impossible to look at) bluish-white heavenly body, which for 10 minutes moved downwards. The body appeared as a "pipe", i.e. a cylinder. The sky was cloudless, only a small dark cloud was observed in the general direction of the bright body. It was hot and dry. As the body neared the ground (forest), the bright body seemed to smudge, and then turned into a giant billow of black smoke, and a loud knocking (not thunder) was heard, as if large stones were falling, or artillery was fired. All buildings shook. At the same time the cloud began emitting flames of uncertain shapes. All villagers were stricken with panic and took to the streets, women cried, thinking it was the end of the world.

The author of these lines was meantime in the forest about 6 verst N of Kirensk, and heard to the NE some kind of artillery barrage, that repeated in intervals of 15 minutes at least 10 times. In Kirensk in a few buildings in the walls facing north-east window glass shook."
                  - Sibir Newspaper, 2 July, 1908

30 June, 1908 - 0 hours, 13 minutes, 35 seconds Greenwich Mean Time:   A powerful explosion occurs near the Podkamennaya Tunguska River in a sparsely populated region of Siberia.  The cause of the explosion sparks decades of debate, with the most commonly held explanation being the air burst of a large meteoroid or comet fragment approximately 3-6 miles above the Earth's surface.  The energy of the blast is believed to have been the equivalent of 10-15 megatons of TNT, or about 1,000 times as powerful as the atomic bomb that would later be dropped on Hiroshima, Japan.  The blast leveled more than 1,000 square miles of forest.

"Kezhemskoe village. On the 17th an unusual atmospheric event was observed. At 7:43 the noise akin to a strong wind was heard. Immediately afterwards a horrific thump sounded, followed by an earthquake which literally shook the buildings, as if they were hit by a large log or a heavy rock. The first thump was followed by a second, and then a third. Then the interval between the first and the third thumps were accompanied by an unusual underground rattle, similar to a railway upon which dozens of trains are travelling at the same time. Afterwards for 5 to 6 minutes an exact likeness of artillery fire was heard: 50 to 60 salvoes in short, equal intervals, which got progressively weaker. After 1.5 - 2 minutes after one of the 'barrages' six more thumps were heard, like cannon firing, but individual, loud and accompanied by tremors.

The sky, at the first sight, appeared to be clear. There was no wind and no clouds. However upon closer inspection to the north, i.e. where most of the thumps were heard, a kind of an ashen cloud was seen near the horizon..."
                  - Krasnoyaretz Newspaper, 13 July, 1908

 13 August, 1930 - 08:00 local time:  During the annual Perseid meteor shower, three house-sized meteorites fall from the sky near the Curuca River in Brazil, close to the Peruvian border.  The blast energy, which registered on seismographs in La Paz, Bolivia, is believed to have been close to 1 megaton of TNT.  Less than a tenth of the energy released in the Tunguska Incident, but still many times more powerful than the bomb dropped on Hiroshima.  The resulting fire burned in the Brazilian Amazon for months, deforesting an extremely large area.

"When the sun began to rise on the morning of 13 August 1930 like any other morning, little did the inhabitants along the banks of the River Curuçá in the Brazilian Amazonas region, near the Peruvian frontier, realise what was about to happen. The women of the community had started washing clothing and the fishermen and rubber-tappers had begun their days work. Suddenly, at about eight o'clock, the sun became blood-red and a darkness fell over the region. A large cloud of red dust filled the air, and then a fine white ash descended to cover the trees and plants. There then followed ear-piercing whistling sounds, three in total, after which three mighty explosions were heard in rapid succession. Immediately after the explosions, the whole forest became a blazing inferno which lasted for several months, depopulating a large area. These terrifying events caused the inhabitants to believe they were about to face death."
   - John McFarland, The Day the Earth Trembled

6 June, 2002:  As India and Pakistan stared each other down with nuclear threats over the disputed Kashmir region, early warning satellites detected an explosion in the Earth's atmosphere roughly the size of the bomb that destroyed Hiroshima.  Instead of occurring in the disputed region, this blast took place over the Mediterranean Sea.  It was the result of the atmospheric entry of an asteroid about 30 feet in diameter that had approached the Earth undetected until the blast occurred.  If the explosion had taken place 3 hours earlier, on the same latitude, India and Pakistan are likely to have escalated their conflict into a nuclear war.

Credit: NASA, ESA, and A. Dyer

"And this is the Ninth and Last Sign: You will hear of a dwelling-place in the heavens, above the earth, that shall fall with a great crash. It will appear as a blue star. Very soon after this, the ceremonies of my people will cease."
- White Feather, Hopi Elder of the Bear Clan Tribe, "Prophecy of the Blue Star Kachina"

¹When he opened the seventh seal, there was silence in heaven for about half an hour. ²And I saw the seven angels who stand before God, and to them were given seven trumpets.
 ³Another angel, who had a golden censer, came and stood at the altar. He was given much incense to offer, with the prayers of all the saints, on the golden altar before the throne. ⁴The smoke of the incense, together with the prayers of the saints, went up before God from the angel's hand.⁵Then the angel took the censer, filled it with fire from the altar, and hurled it on the earth; and there came peals of thunder, rumblings, flashes of lightning and an earthquake.
 ⁶Then the seven angels who had the seven trumpets prepared to sound them. ⁷The first angel sounded his trumpet, and there came hail and fire mixed with blood, and it was hurled down upon the earth. A third of the earth was burned up, a third of the trees were burned up, and all the green grass was burned up.
 ⁸The second angel sounded his trumpet, and something like a huge mountain, all ablaze, was thrown into the sea. A third of the sea turned into blood, ⁹a third of the living creatures in the sea died, and a third of the ships were destroyed.
 ¹⁰The third angel sounded his trumpet, and a great star, blazing like a torch, fell from the sky on a third of the rivers and on the springs of water— ¹¹the name of the star is Wormwood. A third of the waters turned bitter, and many people died from the waters that had become bitter.
 ¹²The fourth angel sounded his trumpet, and a third of the sun was struck, a third of the moon, and a third of the stars, so that a third of them turned dark. A third of the day was without light, and also a third of the night.
 ¹³As I watched, I heard an eagle that was flying in midair call out in a loud voice: "Woe! Woe! Woe to the inhabitants of the earth, because of the trumpet blasts about to be sounded by the other three angels!"
                    ~ Revelation 8 (NIV)

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What's In A Name? Announcing My Working Title

Just because I haven't added anything new to Geekcentricity for a few days (I sure fixed that today) doesn't mean I haven't been involved in the writing process. I'm working on setting and mechanics for the game I'm writing. I have the second draft of my outline finished and I even have a working title.

That's right.  I finally have a name for the damn thing.  It's really too long and not nearly catchy enough, but I just like it.  I like what's behind it and I just think it fits my concept well.  So, unless I come up with something better, this is the name I'm using.

Are you ready?  Drum roll please...

A Hollow Rumble of Wings

With a hollow rumble of wings, with a movement of darkness on darkness,

And we know that the hills and the trees, the distant panorama

And the bold imposing facade are all being rolled away

                    - T.S. Eliot, Four Quartets

What do you think?  Please let me know.

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What's a Little Exchange of Bodily Fluid Between Friends?

I have a plethora of things to share with you today, so strap in, buckle up and get ready for the ride.


First of all, plethora is a great word.  I use it to mean something along the lines of "a metric shit ton."  Or what my friend and frequent commenter here at Geekcentricity, "Snapper" would call an "ass load."  I'm not sure why he's so fond of that terminology and I'm afraid to ask.  It actually originated from Latin and first made it's happy little way into the English language in the mid-1500's as a medical term meaning "an excess of bodily fluid."   That means that in my first sentence above, I basically told you that "I have an excess of bodily fluid to share with you today."  In addition to straps and buckles, we may need some rubber gloves or... something.  Which brings me to my next point.


I've been losing fans.


No, that doesn't mean that the cooling devices on my ceilings have been disappearing, it means that people have been dropping off my fan list over on Geekcentricity's Facebook page.  Sure, I've been gaining new ones, but I've been losing others.  I don't like it when that happens.  I know, I know.  I shouldn't even look at that stuff, or take any stock in it.  But still.  It bothers me.  I feel like I need to have an exit interview.  Or at least I can send my buddies Big Tony and Vinny the Snake over to the former fan's house and have them ask a few questions.  No pressure or anything.  Just tie them to a chair, pull out the rubber house and get some answers.

"Our boss wants to know why you don't like him no more."

 I figure the most likely responses would be one of two things.  Okay, the most likely, and desirable, responses would be screams of pain segueing into tears followed by smashed fingers on the mouse and keyboard correcting their sorry mistake.  But I'm not bitter.  Actually, what I would expect to hear would be either just a general lack of interest in the topics at hand or that I had said something that offended them.  The first one I can understand.  Not everyone is a geek (I know - shocking).  Even some who are geeks aren't interested in everything I'm interested in (also shocking).  After all, at this point, this is still a personal blog, so my personal interests and endeavors are strongly featured.  I get that.  As for the latter issue, I get that too.  I know that some of my fans have more delicate sensibilities than others.  It may be uncomfortable for some people to read about my excess bodily fluids.  Hell, some of you might even flinch when I use profanity.  I realize that I know a good number of you personally in one way or another.  Many of my readers have a concept of who I am.  Or of who you perceive me to be.  Got it.  I've served many roles in my life for many of you, from teacher to nephew to uncle to fellow congregant to student, etc.  So, what I plan on doing is writing something inspired by what Wil Wheaton wrote on his blog when he started using Twitter.  I referenced it recently in my Geekcentric Guide to Twitter.  By the way, if you found that post useful, you should check out Dane of War's Guide to Twitter.

I used to be anonymous.  My first blog didn't contain my real name, photo, or any references to my real identity.  There was comfort in anonymity.  I didn't tell people who I was.  I only posted under my pseudonym.  I could write whatever I wanted without offending people who knew me in "real life."  After all, I was still teaching when I started that blog.  I tended to keep my private life a bit private.  That just got old after a while.  I spent so much time as "teacher me" that I got sick of always being somebody I wasn't.   Geekcentricity embraces who I am.  It's ugly and offensive sometimes, but it's genuine.  Writer and game designer Rob Donoghue wrote something a few weeks back about the benefits and dangers of internet anonymity that I found helpful.  Do yourself a favor and check it out.

So stay tuned for my disclaimer.  If you're still with me after sharing my excess bodily fluids, you're doing pretty well.

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May the 4th Be With You, But I Need a Fifth

I know that I wrote a post only a few days ago that was basically a link dump, but here I go again.  I wish I had time for more today, but this is going to be one of those weeks where time is at a premium for me and I'm choosing to spend a good chunk of what little writing time I have this week working on the crunchy bits for the still-untitled tabletop rpg I'm developing.

My starting point for those rules is a framework called Fudge (which used to be called FUDGE, but is now "new and improved" with fewer capital letters - by "new" I mean about 10 years ago).  You can follow the link above to see what Fudge is all about.  I'll be using the Fudge SRD as my jumping off point (actually, I'm using this PDF of the SRD) and completely customizing Fudge, a bit like the guys over at Evil Hat did for the excellent looking new Dresden Files RPG, but I'll be going in a much different direction (they created a new system based on Fudge called FATE).  You can do that with Fudge, since it's more like a framework than an actual ruleset.  It allows you to build a ruleset out of that basic framework without tying you down.  A huge bonus is that it is royalty-free and completely OGL compatible, thus easy to license and customize.

As far as the game goes, I am still sans title, but otherwise, things are rolling along rather smoothly (other than my huge lack of time to write - damn that day job!)  Yesterday, I received some awesome fan art from someone I've been gaming with for a long time.  I also exchanged emails with someone about potentially doing the art for the game (I know that's a long way down the road, but it felt right).  Hopefully it will work out because she's really good, likes where I'm going with this game, and I'm giving her a free plug right here.

Since art really has the power to set the mood for a story, or even a game, I went looking for some art that I could share here that captured my "shift-world" of Morior.  Here is one to get you in the mood (wink, wink):

http://www.flickr.com/photos/subzeroconsciousness/ / CC BY 2.0

Tomorrow is Cinco de Mayo, which I think is Spanish for "get really drunk" and is somehow in direct competition with St. Patrick's Day, which is Irish code for "get really drunk."  That means today is that very special holiday known as Intergalactic Star Wars Day. So, "May the 4th be with you."  Which, coincidentally is Geek code for "get really drunk."  Happy holidays, everyone!  Please check out the posts on my game development and keep the feedback coming!

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Sheppard's Pie

Have you ever eaten shepherd's pie?  Unfortunately, I have.  From what I can tell, it's an unappetizing mish-mash of whatever happens to be leftover from previous meals.  At least it was when I was eating in school cafeterias.  Which wasn't all that long ago.  This post is the shepherd's pie of Geekcentricity.  These are odds and ends.  Leftovers that I covered in mashed potatoes and served up for your eating... enjoyment?  Or tolerance.  Yes, I know that some of you may like shepherd's pie.  Yes, I also know that I spelled it wrong in the title.  I promise I intended to spell it that way.  You'll understand in a few paragraphs.  Now, open wide...

I'm glad to see that things have picked up around here a little bit.  There are a few discussions that have originated on some of my most recent posts.  That gives me a clue about what you, my readers, find interesting.  Or at least care enough to comment on.  Which is actually easier to do now that I fixed my comment form.  Apparently the comment form was a victim of my redesign.  Anyway, it's all better now, so comment away.

Here are the posts that have been generating some comments:

• Laying the Cornerstone of Concept - Building an RPG, pt. 1:  The post in which I laid out the concept for a project that has been beckoning to me for a long time.
• Fear Itself:  A look at what scares us and why.  It is really more thoughts for the rpg I'm working on.

What those two seem to have in common is that they are the two posts about the survival horror rpg I'm working on.  With that in mind, look for the next installment sometime tomorrow.

I am now the proud owner of a shiny new (okay, so I've had it for a few weeks) Google Page Rank (cue the heavenly chorus of "Aaaahs").  It's only a "1" and I know it really means nothing at all, but still.  It's good to know that the Matrix has taken note of my existence.  Speaking of which, people are starting to come here from search engines.  The number one search term that people have used to get to my site?  Of course.  It's obviously "i4e for iPhone."  Something I've never written about.  Until now.  Here's a link to at least make your visit somewhat worthwhile.  I guess this means it'll continue to be my top search term.  Unless it get taken over by the ever popular "mi llamo es bob brent spiner."  At least I included Brent Spiner in my Geekcentric Guide to Twitter.  By the way, Mr. Bob Q. Googlesearcher, it should be "me llamo es bob."  I'm not sure why.  Actually, I know exactly why.  It should be that way because my wife said it should be that way and she's the Spanish speaker in the family.

Finally, I want to share another link that has been brought to me by the Great and Powerful Twitter.  Someone I should have included in my guide is Stephen Lea Sheppard.  You probably have no idea who that is.  Unless you've seen the excellent but short lived television show Freaks & Geeks.  Stephen played Harris Trinsky.  That's the guy who was Dungeon Master for the geeks on the show.  Yes, he's really a gamer.  He has actually written some gaming materials.  He also reviews video games.  I had the good fortune of participating in some great conversations with Stephen on the rec.games.frp.dnd newsgroup many years ago.  

Wait... I was saying something about a link...  Right?  Okay, right.

So, Stephen tweeted a link to the blog post he wrote today.  It involves something near and dear to my heart... horror gaming!  It turns out that Stephen is a fan of Dead Space, one of my favorite video games.  He too has read the interview regarding the upcoming Dead Space 2. I was disappointed to learn that Dead Space 2 would be more of an action game than a survival horror game.  Except that it won't be.  Yet, it will be.  Now I'm confused.  It will be everything!  It slices!  It Dices!  You can even make julienne fries with it while cutting through a tin can!!!  What???  I'll let you read the conflicting statements for yourself.  Visceral says they want to empower the protagonist.  But Stephen brings up an excellent point about horror gaming:

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but doesn't horror traditionally entail giving the audience the impression of a disempowered protagonist?"

That's exactly what I've been thinking since I first watched the interviews.  I agree.  That also sets the stage for tomorrow's (actually, now later today's) post.

EDIT:  Twitter brings me yet another example of a horror game being written with the "characters as ordinary people in extraordinary circumstances" theme in mind.  The game is Razed, by Will Hindmarch.  Today, he tweeted a link to his latest design diary about the game.  That entry contains a quote I'd like to use here:

"This creates a hybrid environment where the familiar is rendered strange, yet the people who inhabit it are immediately understandable. They are us. My goal is to make Razed about ordinary people rendered extraordinary by their circumstances."

That's Once again, that's exactly what my thoughts are about the game I'm working on.  The world is going to be strange and unfamiliar, so I want the characters to be easy to identify with and familiar.

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