tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31913230159712106522024-03-21T09:52:35.360-07:00Staining The TimbreThe personal blog of Jake Sparkman, containing reviews, fiction, and personal musings.Staining The Timbrehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13045487703620041881noreply@blogger.comBlogger14125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3191323015971210652.post-34448229272777113102021-07-15T12:50:00.000-07:002021-07-15T12:50:59.650-07:00Review: "The Secret Goatman Spookshow and Other Psychological Warfare Operations" by Jonathan Raab<p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMB3gkE3KftMGdFZvfN-y7cqnJHPjMVqtd_RnsBwJQKisyzqQQ2G4VHtjsiMsvvOaAH5TuAtHnEIlBahSCX1t3c_HpjPsstQXlqKWYU4tjDnYj6Ma_8QpVkSh78O6AsgLbS_QniEZU-dTS/s1023/The+Secret+Goatman+Spookshow+and+Other+Psychological+Warfare+Operations.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="The Secret Goatman Spookshow and Other Psychological Warfare Operations" border="0" data-original-height="1023" data-original-width="689" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMB3gkE3KftMGdFZvfN-y7cqnJHPjMVqtd_RnsBwJQKisyzqQQ2G4VHtjsiMsvvOaAH5TuAtHnEIlBahSCX1t3c_HpjPsstQXlqKWYU4tjDnYj6Ma_8QpVkSh78O6AsgLbS_QniEZU-dTS/w270-h400/The+Secret+Goatman+Spookshow+and+Other+Psychological+Warfare+Operations.jpg" title="The Secret Goatman Spookshow and Other Psychological Warfare Operations" width="270" /></a></p><p>My first experience with Jonathan Raab's work was <i>The Hillbilly Moonshine Massacre</i>, a pulpy tromp through the high strange that I reviewed two years ago. I reread it before starting this review and I can confidently say I was too harsh. Maybe the near-collapse of democracy and endless emotional assault of recent times has changed my mind, maybe my tastes have just changed, but either way I can say with confidence that Raab is a true artisan of the High Strange, horror or otherwise.</p><p><i>The Secret Goatman Spookshow</i> is a new collection of Raab's short stories and flash fiction, some previously published but most freshly released into the world. The wonderfully over the top cover art sets a high bar for the stories and they reach it with aplomb. The opening tale, "Huntin' Them Hills with Joel and Big Howie" is one of the most bone-chilling things I have read in a long, long time. It also sets the tone for the rest of the collection; it's a weird, unyielding story calling back to the early days of found-footage horror films that provides you with many questions, few answers, and enough thick, eerie atmosphere to fill a lake.</p><p>Most of the stories are appended with an authors note providing appreciated context for its development, be it the other bits of media that inspired the work (mostly movies or video games) or the frame of mind the author was in during its creation. It's a nice inclusion that doubles as a palate cleanser when binge reading. The individual pieces are all great but you can get a little whiplash, tonally, going from something like the over-the-top hyper gore of "Dr. Coagulants Splatter Lab" (which is exactly as fun as it sounds) to the slow-burn psychodrama of "A Face in a Cardboard Box". <br /></p><p>There's even space made for a reprint of a short from one of Raab's Kottoverse books: "Pause for Station Identification" from <i>Freaky Tales From The Force: Season One</i>. It wasn't my favorite from its original collection but it fits wonderfully with the rest of <i>Spookshow</i>, telling of a numbers station deep in the New York wilderness that has less than noble plans for Sheriff Cecil Kotto, Lieutenant Abraham Richards, and their <i>Freaky Tales From The Force</i> production crew, Veronica and Dean.</p><p>That story actually draws from another indie horror author's work: Matthew M. Bartlett's "WXXT" mythos. It's one of the joyful things in reading indie books, especially by authors well-embedded in their industry: The readiness these authors have to let others pull from their work and build a sort of collective mythology that spans multiple works by multiple authors, lashing together a world that feels more and more real with each variation to the canon, is inspiring.</p><p>Make no mistake, Raab does plenty of world building of his own throughout<i> Spookshow</i>. He references his other pieces as often as Stephen King, weaving a world split between Colorado and Cattaraugus County, New York but tethered by psychological manipulation and supernatural destruction. That's part of what makes his characters so engaging and his stories so much fun to read. They all live together in this world filled with terror, government conspiracy, and paranormal activity but none of them recognize it outside of their limited purview. To each cast their problems are theirs and theirs alone and that makes things all the spookier; you, the reader, know there's no help coming for these people even if they don't.<br /></p><p>The titular story, "The Secret Goatman Spookshow" is the cherry on top of the book sundae. Ostensibly it's an early-00s horror film: A spooky, nonsensical video (or in this case, series of videos) is making the rounds and the main character gets caught up in its miasma. What makes it so intriguing is that there's nothing <i>expressly</i> nefarious about the videos. They're graphic, yes, but no one's dying. There's no actual harm being shown, though it might be implied. There's a lot of blood, a lot of violence, but nothing one could use to justify an investigation, and that ambiguity leaves the reader to decide whether the main character's ultimate path is good or bad (and whether or not they actually have a choice). It comes off almost like a parallel of the induction of so many young men and women into the alt-right's hate machine. "Sure,<i> </i>our actions <i>look</i> bad, but is any of it <i>specifically</i> unconscionable?" Maybe I'm reading too much into it, but even without a deeper meaning the story is still exceptional as a piece of horror fiction.</p><p>I'll leave a short list of standouts from the collection below. I don't like giving ratings anymore, because you can find good and bad in any creative endeavor in whatever quantities you like, but I love to give recommendations and <i>The Secret Goatman Spookshow and Other Psychological Warfare Operations</i> deserves more than just my own. It's the type of collection you expect from an author with 10 times the recognition Raab gets and to have these stories disappear, the vision they bring to their respective genres unregarded, would be a disservice to genre fiction fans around the world. You can purchase it right now from <a href="https://turntoash.storenvy.com/products/32392537-the-secret-goatman-spookshow-and-other-psychological-warfare-operations">Turn To Ash</a> for the low price of $15 and I guarantee, if you like genre fiction of any kind, you'll find something in there to love.</p><p>Standouts: "Huntin' Them Hills with Joel and Big Howie", "The Secret Goatman Spookshow", "A Capable Man", and "Observer-Experiencer".<br /></p><p></p>Staining The Timbrehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13045487703620041881noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3191323015971210652.post-13456294810467937142021-03-25T13:47:00.024-07:002021-03-25T14:14:43.578-07:00The Totem Attunement
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEis7qHkUbL-Xs2k4dfHOIsFz5cnQP4DaRm1ebh1hZ5wJySywhRMJPRfB2GdEhTShlcpeD_xmBryrrmA4ZgHIQ-BO9-grQbCJhPggdC0siFTazEZ0qpqrSh_jq8cUSoxaTSaN5sNIMYJTAtW/s2048/The_Brook_in_the_Woods_MET_DT5642.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1605" data-original-width="2048" height="502" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEis7qHkUbL-Xs2k4dfHOIsFz5cnQP4DaRm1ebh1hZ5wJySywhRMJPRfB2GdEhTShlcpeD_xmBryrrmA4ZgHIQ-BO9-grQbCJhPggdC0siFTazEZ0qpqrSh_jq8cUSoxaTSaN5sNIMYJTAtW/w640-h502/The_Brook_in_the_Woods_MET_DT5642.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span></span><span style="font-size: medium;">Patience
was running out of it. When she decided to try and tame this
beautiful, long-feathered, pink avian of The Swamp, she expected it
to be quick. She had been waiting on the bird now for fifteen minutes
and didn't have much more time to waste. It had hopped closer and
closer but was very timid and soon she would be forced to come back
for it later, if at all.<span></span><span></span><span><span></span></span> </span></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The
bird hopped closer, now less than a foot from the pile of seed and
herbs she'd poured on the rock. It was a specially mixed concoction
that would first put the bird to sleep and then allow her to channel
the spiritual connection between the two of them and cement the
taming. She had used the last of her torparia, the herb that would
lull the creature to sleep, so this was the only chance she'd have.
</span></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">It
finally closed the distance to the feed and started to peck at it,
timid at first but then voracious. Once the majority of the feed was
gone to be sure the spell would take; it was always hard to gauge
with smaller creatures, on top of which the taming process wasn't
exact anyway. It was, in her opinion, one of the more egregious
failings of the game, one the developers had been promising to fix
since launch five years prior. Two expansions down the road and it
hadn't been so much as tweaked. In their defense, with no class built
around the mechanic it wasn't very popular anyway. Even her guild
mates had never bothered with it but Patience liked the little
menagerie she had collected.</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span></div><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The
bird was pecking sluggishly now, bright blue eyes half closed,
fighting sleep as best it could. "Sleep tight, Peaches,"
she whispered. The taming spell required you to have a name chosen
prior to channeling, and though she had been given plenty of time to
mull it over she wasn't entirely satisfied with her choice. With the
clock ticking, it would have to do.</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span></div><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Peaches'
eyes closed and it hunkered down, then unceremoniously fell over off
the rock and into the standing water, limp and unconscious. Patience
crept forward through her hiding place in the tall grass, trying her
best not to splash too much. Her boots were soaked through and felt
three times their weight. She loathed having wet feet but it would
all be worth it for the bird. It was a rarity, specific to The Swamp,
which was most of the reason she had jumped on the opportunity when
it first caught her eye. When she finished this quest line and
finally attuned, it would be the first thing she'd show her guild
mates. Right after they forked over her winnings.</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span></div><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">She
was about halfway to the bird when disaster struck in the form of a
hungry alligator. It too had been eying the bird, as oblivious to
Patience as she was to it, and was making its move from a much closer
vantage point. With lightning speed and crushing strength, it
snatched the bird and swallowed it in one bite. Satisfied, it receded
back into the murky water from which it had sprung to wait for more
prey.</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span></div><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Patience
groaned in frustration. Flocks of nearby birds scattered and unseen
amphibians hopped into the water with a smattering of wet plunks.
Normally she would've kept more quiet but everything in this zone was
too low level to attack her outright, even the alligators, so she let
the frustration wash over her. "Waste of my time," she
grumbled, trudging to the walkway made of old wooden planks. It ran
the length of The Swamp, splintering off for access to different
areas, and was in such disrepair that most of it sank into the water
under any weight and large portions were missing entirely.</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span></div><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The
swamp, to say the least, was not her favorite place in the game.</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span></div><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">A
request for voice chat, in the form of a little purple exclamation
mark, pinged her Heads Up Display with a username underneath:
The_Chloser. Patience accepted the invite and a narrow audio bar
popped up in the lower right corner of her HUD.</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span></div><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">"You
make it to Spires yet?" The voice was filtered through something
that made it sound as if it were coming from a walkie talkie; Chloe
felt it contributed to her style.</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span></div><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">"No,
I just wasted fifteen minutes trying to tame a bird," Patience
said. "I should be heading there soon, just need to grab the
totem."</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span></div><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">"You
spent fifteen minutes trying to tame a bird?"</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span></div><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">"I
spent fifteen minutes wasting my time."</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span></div><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">"At
least you can be honest with yourself. I didn't realize 15,000 gold
was such a pittance. I'll make sure to tell Sam and Kris you're Aunt
Moneybags so they can hit you up next time they have repair bills."</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span></div><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Patience
huffed and shoved some low hanging branches out of the way. The swamp
was filled with overgrown willow trees. Long-dead logs and piles of
branches dotted the water's surface throughout the zone. The hanging
overgrowth made it difficult to see clearly more than a few dozen
feet ahead. "Please don't, I don't need more sass from Sam."</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span></div><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">"Imagine
having to live with him," Chloe said. "Don't worry too
much. I missed my target so I'm here for at least another 30 and Kris
has to hike across two zones because he somehow lost his mount. Last
I heard, Sam was making headway but still lagging behind after he
went radio silent. Still won't respond to my pings."</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span></div><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">"Maybe
he's trying to focus?" Chloe mocked her in a nasally voice and
Patience smiled. "You can't blame him. It's a lot of money."</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span></div><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">"I
can and will. He knows I like to keep tabs on everyone, he's just
doing it to be a brat."</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span></div><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Patience
laughed and ducked under another heavy branch. A building was peaking
through the tangles far ahead but the foliage and distance made it
had to tell much else.
</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span></div><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">"Totem
time.”</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span></div><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">"Roger,
keep me updated," Chloe said, and the audio bar winked out.</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span></div><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">When
the quest text had referred to her destination as a Hermitage she
hadn't expected much, especially since it was in The Swamp, but it
still managed to undercut her low expectations. This place was barely
a shack. It was made of dark, rotting wood that looked like it would
snap with a stiff wind, standing on risers a couple of feet above
water level. There were no proper windows, just one square hole in
the wall that she could see. A half-destroyed, leaning brick chimney
peaked above the angle of the roof from the opposite side. No smoke
was a good sign. In the game, chimneys acted as visual shorthand: If
a building was occupied its chimney would always billow smoke and if
it was unoccupied it would always be still.</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span></div><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The
door was made of the same wood as the rest of the shack and had no
latch, swinging inward freely at the gentlest touch. Patience tiptoed
over the threshold and was immediately thrust into dank, stinking
darkness. She winced and put her wrist over her nose; there was
definitely a pile of rotting carcasses in here somewhere. The stench
of death clung to the air and convulsed her stomach. With a thought
she opened the settings menu on her HUD and disabled the olfactory
options on her VR suit. It was a nice feature to have for the sake of
immersion but she didn't take the game that seriously. The
development studio, CV Entertainment, spent a lot of time on
perfecting their sensory feedback and some players, unlike Patience,
were die hards; they'd refuse to turn any of the senses off, even
during battle. It helped that damage taken was rendered more as a
gentle shock than true pain.</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span></div><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Her
eyes began to adjust and a room of shelves faded into view. They were
lined with all sorts of items: Body parts suspended in liquid-filled
jars; knickknacks in styles reminiscent of distant zones; even
bleached skulls. At the far end of the room was the base of the
chimney flanked by two rooms. A bulbous black cauldron sat inside on
top of old ashes and bits of charred wood.</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span></div><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Patience
took her time perusing the shelves, looking for anything good to
loot. She wasn't expecting much given the state of things, so when
she came across a jar filled to the brim with torparia she couldn't
stifle a gleeful squeak. It was a rare herb; finding this much in one
spot, especially for an herbalist like herself, was like winning a
lottery. There was far more than she had space to carry so she
refilled the sack she'd emptied trying to tame the bird and replaced
the jar.</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span></div><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Like
any good herbalist she had close to 20 pouches slung off her belt,
each containing a different plant or mineral that could be used to
craft all sorts of medicines, poisons, and oils. She had intended to
store the majority in her vault before heading out here but had
forgotten. She had been thanking herself for being so scatterbrained
while mixing the taming feed but now she regretted it. Finding the
cauldron empty and nothing else of note on the shelves, she entered
the room to the left of the hearth.</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span></div><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">This
was the source of the stench. It was very small and one corner of the
floor was completely removed. It apparently served as scrap disposal
judging by the bones poking up through the still murk below. A
butchering table stood nearby, laden with a what she assumed was the
middle section of an alligator, partially butchered and almost
certainly spoiled. Blood stains covered the table and the floor. She
considered checking the carcass for hidden loot, it wouldn't be the
first time CV had hidden good stuff in disgusting places, but decided
against it. Instead she backtracked and went through the other
mystery doorway. The clock was ticking and she doubted they'd hide a
quest item in a carcass.</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span></div><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">This
room was a little more spacious that the butchery but not by much.
Three corners were taken up by beds: short wooden frames covered with
thin reed mats and even thinner linen blankets. The fourth corner had
a single dresser with three drawers, the perfect place to hide a
small trinket like the totem she was after. The top two drawers gave
no joy, but the bottom was a winner, the palm-sized totem its only
occupant. Dark gray and worn, it must have been chiseled judging by
the ridges, but it was so old they were well on their way to being
rubbed smooth. It looked to be some sort of coiled beast but the head
had been snapped off so she had no way to identify the species. Eager
to be on her way and ever-closer to the 15,000, she dropped the totem
into a pocket of her sirwal and made to leave.</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span></div><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">To
her surprise she was no longer alone in the shack. Two women had
entered while she was snooping. One was rail thin, bony and hunched
with sparse, wiry hair. She was also missing an eye and three fingers
on one hand. The other was much beefier with pale, mottled skin, and
a large wart on her forehead. Instead of a left leg she had a wooden
peg from the mid-thigh down. Both wore ill-fitting, moth-eaten rags
and were presumably the inhabitants of this hovel. Peg-leg spoke with
a voice like nails through a grinder.</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span></div><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">"Did
you find what you were searching for, deary?"</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span></div><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">"I'm
so sorry," Patience lied. "I thought this building was
abandoned."</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span></div><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Bony
snorted. "I tell them all the time we need to glamour this pit."
</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span></div><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Peg-leg
shushed her. "Here to make off with our trinkets, then?"</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span></div><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">"No,
not at all, I was just exploring the swamp and your home looked like
an exciting place to visit." The women cackled and that
confirmed Patience's suspicions: these were witches, one shy of a
full coven.</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span></div><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">"Exciting!"
Bony wiped a tear from her eye with a crooked, long-nailed finger.
"Oh dear, oh my that's exceptional." She looked to Peg-leg
with wide eyes, repeated the words, and the two cackled again.</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span></div><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">"No
need to lie to us, pretty," Peg-leg said. "At least not so
boldly. No one explores this far into the swamp; the gators are
bigger than I am and even powerful magic can't keep all the
mosquitoes away." Her face twisted into a menacing grin.
"Besides, we don't much like liars."</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span></div><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Patience
didn't have high hopes of getting out of this without confrontation.
Fighting wasn't her favorite thing, but she had her scimitar and
shield for a reason. They were relics to her at this point, loot
gained ages ago that other players at her level would have scrapped
without a second thought, but they held sentimental value. The
scimitar did, at least; it had saved her skin numerous times with its
magical bonuses and effects. Her shield was much more simple but had
a high durability rating which made it very reliable and kept her
repair bills down.
</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span></div><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Regardless,
she preferred to avoid conflict where possible, and given she wasn't
squaring off with a full coven she at least had a chance of talking
her way out of this. "I apologize, you're right," Patience
said. Peg-leg broke from the conversation and began to peruse the
shelves, clunking loudly with every other step. "I did come
looking for loot, but I promise I haven't taken anything."</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span></div><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Bony
tapped the side of her empty eye socket. "I have the means to
see without eyes, deary. You have one of my sister's items there in
the pocket of those wonderful pants." Patience decided against
correcting her.</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span></div><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">"Some
of our precious torparia has gone missing, sister," Peg-leg
said, inspecting the jar before turning back around. "Do you
know why we keep so much on hand?"</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span></div><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">"I
would imagine powerful witches like yourselves could find any number
of uses for it in potions or tinctures or even as a spice."</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span></div><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">"As
a spice?" Bony asked, eyes wide with genuine surprise. She
looked to her sister, "Why did we never think of that?"</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span></div><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Peg-leg
ignored her. "Without it my sisters and I could not catch a
single wink of sleep. Part and parcel with the profession, I'm
afraid. Wakefulness is an unfortunate side effect of the many
components we handle for our spells."</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span></div><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">"I
do love to dream," Bony said wistfully.</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span></div><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Patience
needed to get out of here. She was wasting precious seconds jabbering
with these two. "You've got me on the totem but I didn't touch
the torparia. I do really need this though, and I'd rather we not
escalate things."
</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span></div><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">That
horrible smile cracked open Peg-leg's face again and she took a few
clunky steps toward her. "Oh, deary, you should know better than
to threaten a witch."</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span></div><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">"Much
less two," Bony said.</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span></div><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">"Did
you not just say we were, 'Powerful Witches'?" Peg-leg stopped a
few steps short and stared with a hungry glint in her eyes. "Thieves
don't get to leave," Peg-leg said. "Least not in one
piece." Then the sisters came at her, arms up and teeth
gnashing, hungry for their pound of flesh.</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span></div><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">In
a fluid movement Patience side-stepped, ducked, and twirled past the
witches. Before either sister could turn Patience was already pushing
through the door. She made it one step over the threshold and was
slapped down by a hand as big as her head. The hit was so powerful it
lifted her off her feet and sent her sprawling in the mud. The shock
from the VR suit made her cheek throb and she quickly turned her pain
settings off as well. She rolled onto her back to see what had hit
her.</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span></div><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Regal
was the first word that came to her mind. Her attacker was a
towering, beautiful woman in red, standing with both hands clasped in
front of her and impeccable posture. She wore a flowing gown that was
terrifically out of place in the swamp; she looked like she would be
more at home in a ballroom or at court, presiding over the petty
squabbles of peasants and nobility alike. Though the hem dragged
along the ground it seemed to repel all muck, grime, and water,
leaving it as dry and spotless as the day it was sewn. Her wavy black
hair, hanging far past her shoulders, framed a face both pore-less
and unblemished, accented with a large and slightly crooked nose.
</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span></div><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">"My
sisters, may I ask what you have brought to our doorstep this
afternoon?" Regal said as the other two came out of the hut.</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span></div><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">"We
didn't bring her here, she brought herself," Peg-leg said.</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span></div><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Bony
pointed a finger at Patience for emphasis. "A thief!"</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span></div><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Regal
leaned forward, peering at Patience more closely. "Is that true?
Are you a thief?"</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span></div><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">It
was then that the severity of the situation collapsed on Patience.
This was obviously the missing sister witch, completing the coven's
triad. Her scimitar and shield would be little help against a full
coven, not if she was by herself; with their combined power they
could rattle off a few words and squish her into the swamp like a
swatted mosquito. She would lose everything but her sirwal and
bandeau; even her boots would go, thanks to the minor speed bonus
they gave her. She could return and try to reclaim it all but she
would still have to defeat the coven.</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span></div><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">"Have
my dear sisters already cut out your tongue?" Regal asked,
bemused.</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span></div><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">"We
were just about to sit down to a meal," Peg-leg said with hungry
eyes.</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span></div><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">"Quiet,
now. Let our visitor speak." Peg-leg crossed her arms and
furrowed her brow but remained silent.</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span></div><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">"Your
sisters are right, I did take something that wasn't mine,"
Patience said, hoping they would take pity on her if she came clean.</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span></div><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">"You
didn't take something," Peg-leg said in frustration, "you
stole it!"</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span></div><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Regal
straightened up and turned to loom over her sister. Patience was
still a little dizzy from the slap but she could have sworn the swamp
dimmed. "I will not tell you to be silent again." Bony
stifled a chuckle and Peg-leg's face turned red. She nodded and
glared at Bony, shoving her with an elbow.
</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span></div><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Regal
turned back to Patience. "What is it you have taken?"</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span></div><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Patience
pulled the totem from her pocket and loosed the sack of torparia from
her belt. "This trinket and a bit of sleeping herb. If you'll
allow it I would return both and be on my way." Patience had
written off the 15,000 gold at this point. Once her guild mates had
attuned they would all come back here, lay waste to the coven, then
finish her own attunement quest.</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span></div><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Regal
tutted and placed one hand gracefully on her chin. "That seems
an unfair trade, doesn't it? You invaded our home and took our things
and we are to simply let you return what you've taken and go free?
No, as in all things there must be repercussions. Balance."
Regal's eyes drifted down to the hilt of Patience's blade. "What
is it you have there?"</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span></div><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Patience
turned, moving the weapon out of Regal's sight. "A simple blade
for cutting through the swamp, nothing of note. I'm sorry, I travel
light so I don't have much to trade. Perhaps you could use some
curatives? I'm a healer by trade so I try to stay stocked on the
necessities, plus a few rarer specimens." She made a big show of
the many sacks around her belt but Regal remained uninterested.</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span></div><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">"No
one has use for a liar, dear. Let me see the blade." Regal
beckoned with one finger and before Patience could stop herself she
was handing over her scimitar, compelled by the witch's magic.</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span></div><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Regal's
tested its balance, gave it a few swings, sliced the edge along one
finger. Blood oozed for a moment then went right back in, the cut
healing over with no trace in an instant. Satisfied, she rested it on
her palms and raised it to her nose, taking a deep, long breath. "The
aura...sisters, do you smell it too?" Peg-leg and bony eagerly
agreed and Regal rolled her eyes. "There is barely room here
from one liar, let us not make it three. Come up out of the mud."
She beckoned again and Patience was lifted into a standing position
by unseen hands. "Ancient power imbues this weapon. The steel
reeks of the forgotten fires from which it was forged and the blood
it has spilled, more than could be spilled in one lifetime. You will
keep what you have taken from us and we will keep this blade. That is
a fair trade."</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span></div><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Patience
went to protest but Peg-leg beat her to it. "What she took
belongs to me! She needs to give it back and if she will not then we
must take it back!"</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span></div><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Regal
swung her hand backward with astonishing speed, catching her sister
in the cheek and sending her to the ground. "You had your
warning," she said and returned her attention to Patience.
"Leave this place and never return or you will face the full
wrath of this coven. I don't expect a frail creature like yourself
would fair well."</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span></div><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">"Please,
let me offer you..." Patience was drawing a blank on anything
she could possibly offer the witches that would entice them more than
the scimitar, so she went with a desperate measure. "...my
shield!" She unslung the metal, mud-covered disk from her back
and wiped it clean as best she could. It was a simple, circular
shield with little adornment save for the emblem of her monastic
order on the center. "It has protected me through many
encounters and it means a great deal to me," she lied.</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span></div><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Regal
smirked and tilted her head. "This sword is quite powerful. What
contrast does your shield boast?"</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span></div><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">"Well
like I said, it's very good at protecting." Patience had never
been great at talking her way out of things. She preferred solving
puzzles at her own pace with less pressure. "It also has a
special coating to prevent corrosion." This was technically
true, and the coating was high quality, but it wasn't magical in any
way. It was just an oil she had to reapply every few days, which of
course she did not have with her. Regal only stared at her.</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span></div><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">"My
dear, our trade has been made. I don't need to hold that shield to
know it is adventurer trash. In truth, given the quality of this
weapon, I'm surprised at its plainness." Regal beckoned her
sisters to come with her and the three made for the door. "We do
not want your shield. We will have this blade, you will be on your
way, and I will not be repeating myself." Before Patience could
offer any further protest the witches had disappeared into their
home, leaving her alone in her despondence, covered in the smelly
filth of The Swamp.</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span></div><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
After walking for a short time Patience found a flat rock beneath a
willow to sit and rest on. She resented herself for carrying so
little but moreso for never bothering to upgrade her shield. If she
had just spent a little money she could be on her way toward 15,000
gold right now, but instead she'd spent it all on potions instead of
just making them herself. Her laziness had stolen her only
protection. She pinged Chloe looking for some sympathy.</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span></div><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">"Looking
for your cash, moneybags?" Chloe asked.</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span></div><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">"I
lost my scimitar."</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span></div><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">"What?
Did someone gank you?"</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span></div><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">"No,
it was witches."</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span></div><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Chloe
was silent for a long beat. "Okay?"</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span></div><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">"There
was a whole coven."</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span></div><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">"And
you didn't ask for help because...?"</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span></div><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">"You're
all busy trying to win the bet," Patience whined.</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span></div><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">"It's
a bet, not a blood oath, Pat." Chloe sighed. "Sorry you
lost it. I've got some blades in my vault, you can have your pick."</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span></div><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">"Plasma
swords don't mesh with my aesthetic." Because the game was so
detailed players tended to craft their appearance with great care,
and CV catered to it. Most items had dozens of variants you could
find to match your style: horror, fantasy, steampunk, anything you
wanted as long as it was reasonably well known.</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span></div><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“My
sci-fi stuff is all stealth and firearms so don't worry about your
'aesthetic', picky bitch. I have plenty of fantasy swords."</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span></div><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">"But
they won't be my scimitar."</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span></div><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Chloe
sighed over the sound of shuffling papers. "Keep moping like
that and I'll keep all my garbage to myself. I have a map of The
Swamp with me, I can get you to a Fountain."</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span></div><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Patience
perked up. "I don't have anything to mark the positioning sigil,
though."</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span></div><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">"If
you just carried flares like me you wouldn't have this problem. Find
something."</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span></div><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">She
frantically patted her pockets, knowing she had nothing. For a
fleeting moment she considered outlining the shape with poured herbs
but it wouldn't work; the marking substance had to be cohesive or the
heat would break the shape before the spell could cast. She kicked at
the water in frustration and her foot stuck in the mud. A realization
struck her and she made a face. "Ugh, gross."</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span></div><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">"What?"
Chloe asked.</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span></div><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">"Hold
on." After a few tries Patience was able to yank her boot free.
She bent down and scooped up a large handful of swamp goop. Using her
free hand she marked the swooping sigil on the rock. "Incoming."
She placed her hand on top of the design and rattled off a few mystic
words. The wind picked up around her and the sigil began to glow like
a hot coil of iron. With a flash it dried instantly, blowing away
with the final gusts of wind. Patience frowned, fearing the worst.
"Did you get that?"</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span></div><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">"Do
you have a compass?"</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span></div><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">"You
know damn well I don't have a compass, Chloe."</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span></div><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">"Oh
I'm sorry I forgot you don't carry <i>basic survival equipment</i>.
You need to go straight east. Clock's ticking. Run."</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span></div><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Patience
had a means of telling direction, it just wasn't high-tech like
everything Chloe used. She glanced up, straining to see the sun
through the thick canopy. It was more a guess than anything, but she
went with her gut and bolted. "Hope this is east," she
mumbled to herself.</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span></div><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">"Look
at the damn sun!"</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span></div><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">"I
did," Patience shouted, "there's trees!" She barreled
through the swamp, running blind and shouldering through low hanging
branches as best she could. The water grew more shallow as she
progressed, eventually turning into slippery mud and then mostly dry
land. She could see a clearing up ahead peaking through the leaves
and in her moment of elation she tripped over a fallen log. She
turned the trip into a roll, popping back up and bursting through the
edge of the clearing.</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span></div><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The
Fountain sat in the center of the clearing, glimmering white in the
unobstructed sun. A dome of dark blue water cascaded out from the
verticalspout, shrouding its workings in a shimmer curtain. The water
fell into its low-walled reservoir with a much gentler sound than one
would expect given the apparent volume of water falling. Fountains
were a means for players to travel quickly between zones; as a player
leveled they tended to use these less and less, relying instead on
teleportation items or mounts. Patience had no mount of her own; she
spent so much time around her guild mates she could always depend on
riding shotgun in one of theirs. She'd even grabbed a ride with Kris
to the edge of The Swamp. She hadn't needed to use a Fountain in ages
and the sight of one now, in her moment of need, filled her with
renewed vigor.</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span></div><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">It
was a bad idea to rush through a Fountain's curtain but she didn't
have time to slow down. She cleared her mind and focused on her final
quest destination: The Spires. She vaulted the edge of the reservoir,
took a couple of splashing high-steps before losing her footing, and
dove through the Fountain's deep blue curtain.</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span></div><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">She
was transported in an instant. The air was suddenly chill and thin,
filled with a cacophony of chirps and roars and the sound of rushing
rivers. She loved The Spires, it felt like home to her. It was
expansive, dominated by hundreds of towering rock spires of varying
size, each shaped different from the last; some impossibly narrow at
the bottom and wide at the top, others thinner than the a person but
climbing miles into the sky, and still others thicker than some small
towns. There were some powerful beasts as well, but the scenery was
beautiful and as long as you avoided the lairs of those creatures you
could find a good deal of calm. Not to mention it was home to a huge
variety of flora, some of which found their homes along the river
beds, others clinging high above to the sides of the spires
themselves. Getting to them was almost a game in and of itself.</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span></div><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Patience
regretted her decision to not slow down as soon as she came out the
other side of the Fountain. Her arc of descent took her straight
toward the edge of the reservoir. It was upon her before she could
get her hands up for protection but rather than slamming into the
side she came down on top of its narrow ledge. She cried out as she
bounced off the ledge and then twice more on the ground before
rolling to a stop.</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span></div><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">"That
sounded like it hurt," Chloe said. Patience spit out a mouthful
of dirt and vegetation and laid in silence for a moment. Using a
Fountain didn't inherently soak you; the reservoir would get you wet
but the curtain was only a visual that had no real effect. She was of
course still damp from the witch sending her into the swamp muck
earlier, and her splashing steps before diving into the Fountain
hadn't made her any drier. The chilly air grabbed hold of her quick
and made her shiver. As she lay on the ground she quickly turned off
the rest of her sensory options. No sense letting them distract
further at this point if she wanted to win that money.</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span></div><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">"Because
it did." She stood and swatted at the clumps of grass and
pebbles stuck to her.</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span></div><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">"Lucky
for you I've got a map for The Spires as well. Remember where you're
heading?"</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span></div><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">"Quest
marker was dead center of the zone."</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span></div><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">"You're
close. Straight west, you can't miss it. No need to thank me, just
beat Sam," Chloe said, then closed the voice link. Patience
would thank her later, but right now she needed to move.</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span></div><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Her
destination was hard to miss: the base of the rock tower was about
500 meters thick, the largest in the entire zone. A gaping archway
was carved out of it at ground level, flanked by two giant statues
covered with moss and lichen. They watched, silent and unmoving, as
Patience slowed to a walk, gasping for breath and wasting no time
disappearing into the sucking blackness within.</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span></div><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
After only a few steps the hallway made a sharp left turn and started
a gentle decline. The space was broad and pitch black. Patience
trailed her hand along the right wall, noting the hallway's gentle
curve to the right. She wished there was more light so she could move
faster but after the fountain she would rather not be blindsided by
anything else, even with the sensory options off. Just because she
couldn't feel pain didn't mean she couldn't hurt her character;
joints and limbs became more difficult to move the more damage they
took.
</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span></div><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The
hallway went on longer than she expected and just as the concern for
time passing was getting to her, she saw a faint glow ahead. She
started to jog and bumped into the opposite wall. The hallway had
narrowed a great deal, so much so that were she in a party they would
have to move in single-file.</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span></div><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">She
was spared having to squeeze through any tight spaces, finding
herself in a vast cavern. Light filtered down from the tip of the
spire high above in a single column, illuminating a waist-high
pedestal in the center of the room. The majority of the floor was
flat rock, excepting a few dozen feet around the rim which was much
more irregular and covered in patches of bright green moss. It was on
this slippery moss she almost had a second accident while rushing to
the pedestal, catching herself only just and avoiding a fall.</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span></div><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The
pedestal was simple and unadorned, free of even the simplest
carvings. It really did look as if someone found a tall rock and
placed a wide, concave rock on top of it. In its center was a hole
the exact size and shape of the totem's base and she wasted no time
slotting it in. To her dismay nothing happened and her mind started
to race. Had she missed a step? Maybe this was the wrong totem? She
hadn't taken her time in the hut; there were hundreds of tiny objects
on those shelves and she easily could have missed her actual goal,
but that didn't sit right. The one she had grabbed matched the
description in the quest text perfectly.</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span></div><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">A
deep rumble brought her out of her worry and she breathed a sigh of
relief, "There we go." The rumble persisted and she looked
around for the source. She saw nothing; the walls were bare and
mostly smooth, the entrance hadn't been covered, and the pedestal was
still. Then she noticed the moss-covered ring around the edge of the
room moving.</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span></div><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Rotating
was a better word. It began to pick up speed and a screech like
shearing metal tore the air, so loud it made Patience wince. As the
moss-covered portion of the floor spun around her a section started
to rise, bending upwards like it was being pushed from beneath by
some massive piston, and her final trial came into view.</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span></div><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The
massive Rock Worm, no longer a flat ring around the room, reared up
from its slumber. The beast had no head, just a gaping maw on one end
filled with rows and rows of teeth as big as her hand, spinning
around its mouth like a horrible grinder. It slithered up the wall at
an angle, climbing higher and higher. She would have to defeat this
massive Worm with nothing but her wits and a useless, non-magical
shield.</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span></div><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">"Oh,
fuck you," she said in frustration.</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span></div><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">This
thing was the size of an endgame boss. She was expecting to fight
something like this with her guild mates at the end of the expansion
content she would get access to <u>after</u> she finished this quest.
The implications were exciting but she couldn't stop herself from
fuming at the circumstances. The worm let out another screech,
shaking the room. She kept her eyes on it while it climbed and sent a
voice ping to Chloe.</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span></div><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">"That
was fast," Chloe said.</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span></div><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">"I
have to fight a huge fucking worm."</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span></div><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Chloe
sounded just as crestfallen as Patience felt. "Without a
weapon," she said.</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span></div><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">"There
wasn't even a warning! I just waltzed in here. They named the quest,
'The Totem Attunement'. How was I supposed to expect to fistfight a
giant worm?"</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span></div><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Chloe's
response was muffled beneath another screech. The worm had stopped
climbing and somehow clung to the wall far above, its mouth bent
toward her. The whole body convulsed and two globs of green sludge
hurled out of its throat right toward her. She had enough time to
draw her shield and tuck behind it before they slammed into it like a
pair of war hammers. She held against the first hit but the second
knocked her back onto her butt.</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span></div><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">"Hello?"
Chloe said. She could only hear Patience's voice, not the environment
she was in, so she had no idea the fight had begun. Patience looked
around, surprised she was still standing. In the game green goo was
usually acid. The air was filled with the sound of sizzling as the
globs spattered all around her ate into the rock, confirming her
suspicions, so how was she still alive?</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span></div><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Then
she noticed her shield, still lashed to her arm and completely
undamaged. "The oil," she whispered.</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span></div><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">"What
oil? What are you talking about?"</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span></div><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">"Can't
talk. Worm," Patience said and closed the voice link. She would
apologize later.</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span></div><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Patience
was one of many players that had been crying for more puzzle solving
while the expansion was being developed, and they had been met
halfway. This was definitely puzzle solving, but on the game
developer's terms. She wanted to move boxes around and flip switches
in a precise order, not brawl a leviathan.</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span></div><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The
monster jerked and leaped toward her, arcing through the air with
deadly precision. She dove and rolled out of the way before it
slammed into ground, shaking the platform. It rolled away from her
then started slithering back up the wall. Patience got to her feet
and started moving around the platform, strafing back and forth just
to keep it on its toes. It took its time climbing back up to its
perch which gave her at least a few moments to think.</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span></div><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">She
did a quick inventory: a shield; her clothes; about 20 different
pouches of herbs. Not a great list. Most of the herbs were completely
inert by themselves and it wasn't as if she had the time to sit down
and properly mix them. In her mind she saw herself throwing her
shield like Captain America and almost laughed. She had terrible aim,
plus it wouldn't return to her like the Captain's. She was more
likely to toss it over the edge into the newly-revealed abyss than
get another chance, and then she'd be without her only defense
against the beast's acid spit.</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span></div><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">An
alarm sounded in her ear and she felt something grab at her foot. She
had been so focused on her thoughts she'd wandered into one of the
puddles of acid and taken damage. Nothing serious, but the sole of
her boot was eaten clean through.</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span></div><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Patience
jumped away and the worm saw its chance. Its horrible, rippling body
convulsed and two more blobs of acid spewed toward her. She brought
the shield up again but was too slow. She blocked the first blob,
save for a small bit that shot past the edge of the shield and
clipped her shoulder. The second blob impacted just as she was
turning to look at her shoulder and splattered harmlessly away, but
the force knocked her once again to the ground.</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span></div><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">She
gritted her teeth in anger. Even that small amount of acid had eaten
into her skin, leaving an irregular, bleeding burn. With pain off it
felt like a heavy hand was giving her shoulder and unrelenting
squeeze.</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span></div><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The
worm screeched down at her, relishing its small victory, and she
glared back, returning to her feet. Patience flung a few remnants of
goop stuck to the shield away and stared the worm down, resolving
herself to her only option.</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span></div><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">She
would have to tame it.</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span></div><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Patience
had no idea if she had the quantities to make it work. The larger a
creature was, the great the quantity of herbs you needed, and the
worm would be far and away the largest beast she had ever tried to
tame. At that moment the biggest pet she had was a blue pig named
Petunia, won in a duel against another player long ago. It came up to
her knee and smelled like its namesake.</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span></div><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The
worm wiggled a little on the wall, telegraphing its intent, and threw
itself at her again. Patience smoothly stepped out of the way and let
it ram face first into the rock. This time it took a little longer to
gather its wits before moving, which was good news. It took damage
whenever that attack missed. The beast had no health bar she could
see, so she had no idea how much damage it was taking, but every
little bit would help.</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span></div><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">She
used the lull in the fight to double-check her stock of taming herbs.
She had about half a pouch each of the spell ingredients, and of
course a full pouch of torparia. Even with that much she wasn't sure
she could put the beast to sleep. Not to mention she'd have to get
her hands on it for a solid ten seconds to channel the spell.</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span></div><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">She
untied the first ingredient from her belt and brought her shield up
just as the worm settled into its perch. Just as she expected, the
worm spat two clumps of goo at her which bounced harmlessly off her
shield. The splattering was starting to cover an decent amount of the
platform so she needed to wrap this up soon, lest she roll into a
puddle of acid rather than just stepping in it.</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span></div><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The
worm threw itself at her again but this time she didn't move. It
rushed toward her and she hurled the pouch down its throat at the
last second, diving away to safety and narrowly avoiding being ripped
to shreds by its grinder-mouth. The worm slammed into the rock and
groaned in a tone much lower than its normal screech. It spent awhile
rolling around in pain but Patience didn't dare approach. She had
learned its attack pattern now and didn't want to add a variable that
might change things up. Still, it was hard to resist the urge to
banter.</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span></div><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">"How'd
the appetizer taste?" The worm groaned again in reply, then
slithered back up the wall.</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span></div><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Patience
loosed the next ingredient bag from her belt and brought her shield
up, bracing for the double impact that came shortly after. She flung
the dregs off her shield and looked up just in time to see another
pair of blobs screaming toward her. She cursed and dove out of the
way, accidentally putting one leg in a puddle of acid as she rolled.</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span></div><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">This
one was more serious. It had burned down to the muscle, which was
twitching like crazy. The thigh, knee, and ankle were undamaged so
she could still move the leg but it felt like her calf was clamped in
a vice. The worm let out another victory screech to taunt her. "Laugh
it up," she shouted, standing back up. "Main course is on
deck. Come get it."</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span></div><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The
worm rushed toward her again and she repeated her method: wait,
throw, dodge. The second pouch soared into the worm's mouth and it
plowed into the platform, shaking the cavern and letting out another
pained groan as it writhed in pain.</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span></div><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">"Hey!
Over here!" The worm rolled its head to screech at her and she
used the opportunity to huck the last spell ingredient into its
mouth, leaving only the torparia. Before she could loose the final
pouch the worm was climbing the wall again.</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span></div><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Feeling
confident, Patience pinged Chloe again. The response took longer than
usual and by the time she answered the worm was preparing to spit at
Patience again.</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span></div><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">"I
can't believe you hung up on me," Chloe said.</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span></div><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">"I'm
taming the worm!"</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span></div><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">"Is
that a euphemism?" Patience hid behind her shield and weathered
the double volley of acid. She peeked out to make sure it wasn't
firing another salvo.</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span></div><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">"The
Moss Worm I'm fighting, I'm going to tame it. It's primed, I just
need to channel the spell."</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span></div><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">"How
did you get it to eat plants in the middle of a fight?"</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span></div><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">"Sec."
She dove out of the way and the worm crashed into the rock, howling.
Patience wasted no time and rushed over, tossing the last bag into
the beast's massive mouth and darting away in case it started to
thrash. "With my impeccable aim and precise timing," she
gloated.</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span></div><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">"But
you can't aim, that's why you're a monk. All melee."</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span></div><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">"Can
you just celebrate with me, please? I'm about to have a giant Moss
Worm!"</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span></div><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">"Hooray!"
Chloe's response was dripping with forced enthusiasm. The worm had
stopped groaning and its movements were minimal. The best part about
torparia was if it was going to work, you would know immediately.
Satisfied that the worm was no longer a threat, Patience slung her
shield onto her back and sauntered over.</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span></div><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">"That
didn't sound very genuine," she said. Chloe was silent again and
Patience grabbed onto the worm, favoring the undamaged arm as she
started to climb up. The creature was at least three times as tall as
her so it took some effort. She could have just as easily leaned
against it from the ground and channeled the spell that way but she
was feeling triumphant and cocky.</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span></div><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">"Sorry,
busy. Be right back," Chloe said and closed the voice link.</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span></div><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Patience
hoisted herself up atop her bested foe and grinned. "Worth it,"
she said, placing both hands on the worm. She closed her eyes and
realized she hadn't picked out a name for it. The spell wouldn't work
without one and she was pressed for time. One floated to the
forefront of her thoughts and she smiled. "Peaches," she
said, then closed her eyes and started to chant. The air tingled
around her and green light glowed from beneath her hands.</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span></div><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The
worm moved. Her eyes snapped open. The torparia was already wearing
off; she had wasted too much time. Sensing her on its back the worm
screeched and made for the wall at ludicrous speed, nearly jostling
her off. She clung as tightly as she could to the patch of moss
beneath her but the worm started to climb the wall and roll sideways.
If she fell off now she would either disappear into abyss or splatter
on the platform, wasting all her effort either way.</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span></div><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">In
desperation she unslung the shield from her back, held it high above
her in both hands and rammed it into the worm, jamming it halfway
into the beast. It screeched in pain and she started to slide,
grabbing the protruding portion of the shield, feet dangling above
certain death far below. "No!" She shouted, readjusting her
grip as her fingers slipped.</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span></div><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The
worm continued to climb, going higher than it had before. Patience
was out of time and options; if she held out any longer this thing
would probably turn upside down to shake her off. She couldn't risk
taking one hand off the shield to channel the spell because she was
barely hanging on with both. She didn't know if the spell would work
through an intermediary like the shield but it was the only course of
action she could take, so she closed her eyes and started chanting.</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span></div><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The
air around her tingled again and the entire shield glowed green. The
light grew and sprouted tendrils that snaked their way across the
worm's body, wrapping around it from front to back. The worm felt
something and let out another screech, wiggling along the wall, still
trying to shake her off. Patience felt like an eternity had passed
before a familiar warmth rushed down her arms and into the shield.
The air went still and she opened her eyes. The worm whimpered and
came to a shuddering stop, sticking to the wall in place. Patience's
eyes went wide and her giggle turned into a laugh. "I did it!"
she shouted.</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span></div><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Then
the worm fell.</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span></div><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The
descent was quick and its body rolled in midair, taking Patience with
it. She became disoriented in the turmoil and gripped her shield as
tightly as she could. The ground rushed up to meet them and she
squeezed her eyes shut again, preparing for the familiar serenity of
respawning after death. But it never came.</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span></div><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The
worm landed with a mighty crash that fractured the rock platform and
Patience had lived to hear it. She opened her eyes to see she was
lying safely on top of the worm. They had landed smack in the middle
of the platform and the light from the tip of the spire far above
shone down upon her, plumes of dust swirling in the light.</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span></div><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The
last echoes of the impact faded away and were replaced by a
victorious fanfare. The four most beautiful, smoky blue words she had
ever seen swam into view: Attunement Complete, Zone Unlocked.</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span></div><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Patience
let out a scream of joy and threw her hands into the air, staring up
into the light. Her mind was racing. She had tamed the worm! She had
Attuned! She could access all of the new endgame content! But had she
beaten the others? Chloe sounded busy when they last spoke, maybe she
was about to complete her quest. Kris was a notorious slowpoke on
quests so she doubted he'd beaten her but what about Sam?</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span></div><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">She
sat up and jerked her shield out of the worm. Its skin had changed
from its previous rocky gray to a deep, healthy tan. She slid off the
beast and it immediately started to vaporize from top to bottom,
mixing with the swirling dust. After a few seconds it had disappeared
entirely, leaving no trace besides the crushed pedestal it had landed
on. Patience took a few seconds to breath and enjoy her victory. She
would have to ask some other monks if they had to fight the worm
without a weapon as well. She suspected not; nothing had prevented
her from going to get a new one before coming to The Spires other
than her own urgency. She would brag about this to everyone who would
listen for months.</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span></div><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Regardless,
she didn't want to proceed without her guild mates. She sat down and
pulled a few pouches from her belt, pouring their contents into a
pile on the ground. She wouldn't be able to make a proper poultice
with only the herbs and no proper container, and she would have to do
a rough grind with the edge of her shield, but she could heal most of
the damage done to her before she left the cave. She choked down the
concoction, thankful she didn't have to taste the dirt from the
platform, and hopped up feeling rejuvenated.</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span></div><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">She
left the cavern with a jaunt in her step and sent a voice ping to her
entire guild. "Pay up, losers," she said. "I've got a
crazy story for you."</span></p>
Staining The Timbrehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13045487703620041881noreply@blogger.com1St. Louis, MO38.531135 -90.37199138.504280232710428 -90.406323275390619 38.55798976728957 -90.337658724609369tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3191323015971210652.post-49777061202807331172020-11-08T11:18:00.003-08:002020-11-08T11:39:05.569-08:00Dear Centrists<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj49f_kvfXVKZ-nKtUpKugR76I-N1yFIIzdVX13txZqNulmVSbVzdBiD5HZOOHi6C_nlb570VnLq0lT0EonvkPed_4hrzp0WbWvn8O2zIwmN1JVFo5F8a954y6OJPdezV48jInZkOROKOTL/s1045/ipw1tkw2v06z.png" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="621" data-original-width="1045" height="238" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj49f_kvfXVKZ-nKtUpKugR76I-N1yFIIzdVX13txZqNulmVSbVzdBiD5HZOOHi6C_nlb570VnLq0lT0EonvkPed_4hrzp0WbWvn8O2zIwmN1JVFo5F8a954y6OJPdezV48jInZkOROKOTL/w400-h238/ipw1tkw2v06z.png" width="400" /></a></div><span></span>In the wake of Joe Biden being declared presumptive president-elect and four of the most ruthless, combative, and generally disdainful years in modern US history, there has unsurprisingly been push back from the losing team while the winners gloat. It varies from group to group but what I want to address is the notion that those who oppose Trump should somehow show deference or literally a modicum of kindness to those who back(ed) him.<br /><p style="text-align: left;"><span> </span>Under normal circumstances I would agree that, when in doubt, it's best to operate by the Golden Rule, "Treat others how you would like to be treated." It's served many people well thus far and I don't expect it to ever falter. It stokes a worldview of inclusion and fairness, assuming you're using it in good faith and not as justification for an "eye for an eye" attitude. It's a simple rule, easy to learn and easy to master, and is a universally agreed upon beacon for humanity's behavior. At times, though, strict adherence to an ideology can <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Paradox_of_tolerance">blur the lines of what's right and just</a>; an idea that has taken on a special significance since the rise of the Tea Party and its objectively villainous child: The Alt-Right.</p><p style="text-align: left;"><span> These are not normal circumstances and they shouldn't be treated as such.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span><span> </span>I'm concerned that people pushing talking-point-spin like, "They feel now like you did four years ago" and "Give them time to process their feelings" have somehow forgotten the past four years. How that's possible I genuinely don't know, so maybe it's better to err on the side of caution and say they haven't forgotten, they just never knew in the first place.<span> </span>Again, I don't really know how that could happen, but here we are.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span><span> </span>These arguments generate a false equivalency; they assume that both sides have nominal issues but at their core still believe in doing what's best for humanity as a whole. That's both naive and objectively incorrect. 20 years ago a persuasive argument could have probably been made, but we are long past that. The issues that divide us, whether we're being played by Big Money or The Media or whoever, are no longer based on minute differences. No one's dickering over abstract bureaucracy or marginal legislation, and they shouldn't be! Those are the types of things the Golden Rule is good for, because it prevents you from losing your cool over something that, in the grand scheme of things, is mostly irrelevant.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span><span> </span>What we are dickering over is logic and basic human rights. Things like:</span></p><ul style="text-align: left;"><li><span>The <a href="https://www.vanityfair.com/news/2020/07/how-jared-kushners-secret-testing-plan-went-poof-into-thin-air">intentional mishandling</a> of a pandemic and the subsequent deaths<a href="https://covid.cdc.gov/covid-data-tracker/#cases_casesper100klast7days"> of 238,000 people</a> (as of this writing).</span></li><li><span>Keeping literal <a href="https://www.hrw.org/news/2019/07/11/written-testimony-kids-cages-inhumane-treatment-border">children in cages</a> (REGARDLESS OF WHO BUILT THE CAGES) and <a href="https://www.bbc.com/news/world-latin-america-54265571">sterilizing them</a>.</span></li><li><span>The normalization of <a href="https://www.bbc.com/news/election-us-2016-37595321">rape</a>, <a href="https://www.brookings.edu/blog/fixgov/2019/08/14/trump-and-racism-what-do-the-data-say/">bigotry</a>, and <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2018/10/27/us/active-shooter-pittsburgh-synagogue-shooting.html">po</a>li<a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2018/10/25/us/louisville-kroger-shooting.html">tic</a>al <a href="https://www.sandiegouniontribune.com/topic/shooting">vio</a>le<a href="https://www.cnn.com/2019/08/09/us/el-paso-shooting-friday/index.html">nce</a>.<br /></span></li><li><span>The <a href="https://theintercept.com/2019/10/10/trump-crimes-law/">suspension of the Rule of Law</a> with regards to those in power.</span></li><li><span>The importance of<a href="https://blogs.scientificamerican.com/guest-blog/who-are-you-calling-anti-science/"> science and the scientific method in informing our decisions</a>, and understanding what those scientific findings mean.</span></li><li><span>Gross negligence and <a href="https://news.berkeley.edu/2020/09/29/stacking-the-deck-how-the-gop-works-to-suppress-minority-voting/">active voter suppression</a> which as been confirmed <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/us-news/2020/mar/30/trump-republican-party-voting-reform-coronavirus">by the party doing the suppression</a>.<br /></span></li><li><span>The importance of having leaders who (and I cannot stress this enough) <a href="https://projects.thestar.com/donald-trump-fact-check/">don't lie</a>.</span></li><li><span>The inaction of those leaders when they find out our military troops are <a href="https://www.militarytimes.com/news/pentagon-congress/2020/07/01/russian-bounties-on-american-troops-further-strain-trumps-bond-with-veterans/">literally being hunted</a>.</span></li><li><span>The threat and <a href="https://election.princeton.edu/2020/06/04/trumps-authoritarianism-checking-the-2017-checklist/">normalization of authoritarianism</a>.</span></li><li><span>Widening wage gaps between the<a href="https://inequality.org/facts/income-inequality/"> ultra-wealthy and the rest of us</a> and the perpetual spectre of <a href="https://www.npr.org/2019/09/10/759512938/u-s-census-bureau-reports-poverty-rate-down-but-millions-still-poor">poverty</a>.<br /></span></li><li><span>Attacking <a href="https://www.cnbc.com/2016/12/08/union-leader-who-called-out-donald-trump-says-hes-getting-threats-from-trump-supporters.html">your own citizens</a>, even as you represent them (whether they like it or not), for using their 1st amendment rights.</span></li><li><span>Whether White Nationalism is bad or <a href="https://www.politifact.com/article/2019/apr/26/context-trumps-very-fine-people-both-sides-remarks/">acceptable</a> (it's bad, full stop).</span></li><li><span>The ethical obfuscation of the use of tax payer money for <a href="https://www.bbc.com/news/election-us-2020-54493575">personal ventures</a>.</span></li><li><span><a href="https://www.citizensforethics.org/reports-investigations/crew-reports/nepotism-and-conflicts-of-interest-jared-kushner-and-ivanka-trump/">Nepotism in government</a>.</span></li><li><span>Actively, and loudly, <a href="https://www.msnbc.com/rachel-maddow-show/offered-daily-intelligence-briefings-trump-takes-pass-msna929186">ignoring the findings of our own intelligence agencies</a>.</span></li><li><span>Whether electors should be <a href="https://www.rawstory.com/2017/01/bombshell-report-claims-at-least-50-trump-electors-are-illegitimate-and-should-not-have-voted/">l</a><a href="https://www.rawstory.com/2017/01/bombshell-report-claims-at-least-50-trump-electors-are-illegitimate-and-should-not-have-voted/">egally appointed or not</a></span></li><li><span>The importance of keeping <a href="https://thefulcrum.us/balance-of-power/trump-religion">religion separate from governance</a>.</span><span> </span></li><li><span>The <a href="http://www.ibtimes.com/donald-trump-white-house-dress-code-policy-female-staffers-must-dress-women-president-2485576">objectification of women</a></span></li></ul><p style="text-align: left;"><span><span> </span>I could keep going for a very, very long time. In fact, if you want to, feel free to peruse <a href="https://theweeklylist.org/">The Weekly List</a>, which as been posting a weekly list of all the things Trump and his admin have done since November 2016, all in the hopes of helping us remember what having a normal, functioning democracy looks like. It's curated by Amy Siskind, who is also the president of The New Agenda, </span><span>a national women’s advocacy organization.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span><span> </span>But for the sake of ease let's just look at the list I provided. Many of those happened early on in the presidency and others happened more recently. There is a big of gap in the presidency's middle years, but that's not for lack of content, just for lack of time.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span><span><span> When you vote for trump, or you defend those who voted for Trump, you are saying those things should be normal. You're saying, "I hold none of these things more important than whatever the reason is I" (or they) "voted for Trump." In fact I can prove that, because in a <a href="https://www.pewresearch.org/politics/2020/08/13/important-issues-in-the-2020-election/">Pew survey released in August of this year</a>, the top five issues for Trump voters (and their percentage support) were as follows:</span></span></span></p><ol style="text-align: left;"><li><span><span><span>Economy (88%)<br /></span></span></span></li><li><span><span><span>Violent Crime (74%)<br /></span></span></span></li><li><span><span><span>Immigration (61%)<br /></span></span></span></li><li><span><span><span>Gun Policy (60%)<br /></span></span></span></li><li><span><span><span>Foreign Policy (57%)</span></span></span></li></ol><p style="text-align: left;"><span><span><span><span> </span>Those five things and Trump's stance on them are more important to the majority of Trump supporters than any of the things in the list further above. Not <i>were</i> more important, <i>are</i> more important. Again, this was as of 3 months ago.</span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span><span><span><span> </span>Bear this in mind when you defend them or offer them an olive branch. The people to whom you're reaching across the aisle support imprisoning children because of where they come from, applying laws only when it benefits themselves, police brutality, and letting hundreds of thousands of people die from negligence more than they support <b>not</b> doing any of those things. And that's just four things! Abhorent, despicable, degenerate things that this administration has committed to multiple times.<br /></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span><span><span><span> </span>The more you allow them to normalize this behavior and the more you let them get away with these illegal, immoral, unethical belief systems, the more a reasonable and just world slips out of our grasp.</span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span><span><span><span> </span>We <i><b>cannot</b></i> keep abiding this. It's unsustainable for democracy and it's unsustainable for the average American citizen's livelihood. You can nitpick and hedge with me about whether any of this behavior actually constitutes them being a Nazi, but even if they aren't you're still playing directly into their hands. They want you to waste your time making excuses for them. Every moment you spend debating whether what they're doing is bad, they get away with more.<br /></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span><span><span><span> </span>I'm not asking you to agree with my politics, or to research the day-to-day events of our nation more thoroughly. I'm not even asking you to take up arms and go to war. I'm asking you, one human being to another, to recognize the face-value reality of the situation we're in and the futility of finding the gray area with a group who uses that gray area to further their divisive, violent agenda.</span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span><span><span><span> </span>They don't deserve our kindness or our respect. They deserve, at best, our pity. The more you play nice with them, the worse they'll play in return, until eventually they won't need you to play nice anymore because they'll be dictating the rules of the game.</span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span><span><span><span> </span>In fact, now that I'm thinking about it, they may be doing so already.<br /></span></span></span></p>Staining The Timbrehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13045487703620041881noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3191323015971210652.post-31718712914031856002020-01-24T13:08:00.002-08:002020-11-08T11:19:08.830-08:00Supplemental: Animated Armor (D&D)<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5S7EvV6vVLz-jxaUpT1K2fhl90Rq-6W12szVyE2SqR3WFhepRZ0TbnJ9V01Y_NJYayhxMBV520jbunpdn9I1UxKkueO9uDeRFPBGlI4FJw3dqmAnHe8iJeDSCmkxQctKzTSrZiJF2S_pL/s1600/Bees.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://www.blogger.com/u/1/blogger.g?blogID=3191323015971210652" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://www.blogger.com/u/1/blogger.g?blogID=3191323015971210652" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://www.blogger.com/u/1/blogger.g?blogID=3191323015971210652" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><img border="0" data-original-height="446" data-original-width="345" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5S7EvV6vVLz-jxaUpT1K2fhl90Rq-6W12szVyE2SqR3WFhepRZ0TbnJ9V01Y_NJYayhxMBV520jbunpdn9I1UxKkueO9uDeRFPBGlI4FJw3dqmAnHe8iJeDSCmkxQctKzTSrZiJF2S_pL/s400/Bees.png" width="307" /></div>
<br />
<a href="https://www.blogger.com/u/1/blogger.g?blogID=3191323015971210652" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a><a href="https://www.blogger.com/u/1/blogger.g?blogID=3191323015971210652" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a><a href="https://www.blogger.com/u/1/blogger.g?blogID=3191323015971210652" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a><span dir="ltr"><span class="_3l3x _1n4g">DM: "You push
through the now-unlocked wooden door and find yourselves in an expansive
cave. Floor-to-ceiling pillars are equally spaced in rows, stretching
to the far side of the room 200 feet away. Every other pillar has a lit
brazier, casting an eerie, dim glow across the dirt floor."<br /><br />Rogue: "Checking for traps. 17."<br /><br />DM: "You are unable to find any traps in your immediate vicinity."<br /><br />Barbarian: "So it's just a big empty room?"<br /><br />Sorcerer: "I cast light on the furthest pillar from me I can reach."<br /><br />DM:
"A pillar 60 feet away from you shines, casting harsh, white light in
all directions. The room grows significantly brighter, but it is now
more difficult to see in the shadows behind the pillars."<br /><br />Druid: "Can I Commune with Nature to get a layout of the room?"<br /><br />DM: "Sure. What info are you looking for?"<br /><br />Druid:
"Any exits or secret areas attached this room, any living creatures in
there with us, and if there's any influences from other planes afoot."<br /><br />DM:
"You close your eyes and reach out, the ethereal tendrils of your bond
with nature poking and prodding the corners and crevices of the cave but
find nothing exceptional. You feel the natural ebb and flow of nature
wash over, signifying no extraplanar influence, however you do sense a
small amount of rapid movement at the far end of the room."<br /><br />Barbarian: "I draw my hammer."<br /><br />Rogue: "I slip into the nearest shadow and quickly apply poison to my daggers."<br /><br />Druid: "Do I know what's moving?"<br /><br />DM: "You do not. Everyone roll perception for me."<br /><br />Barbarian: "8"<br /><br />Rogue: "12"<br /><br />Druid: "19"<br /><br />Sorcerer: "14"<br /><br />DM: "Druid, you hear a faint buzzing in the distance."<br /><br />Druid: "Buzzing? Like machinery?"<br /><br />DM: "More natural. You all hear the heavy clank of moving armor on the other side of the room."<br /><br />Barbarian: "I shout into the room, 'COME AND FIGHT IN THE LIGHT. THE SHADOWS ARE FOR COWARDS.'"<br /><br />Rogue: "Uh, rude?"<br /><br />Barbarian: "You heard what I said."<br /><br />DM:
"The buzzing has grown loud enough for you all the hear it now, and it
grows louder by the second. The clanking of the armor is getting nearer,
but the cavernous nature of the room makes it difficult to pinpoint
where the noises are coming from."<br /><br />Sorcerer: "I cast light on another pillar. This one on the other side of the room from before."<br /><br />DM:
"A different pillar illuminates, rearranging and minimizing, but not
entirely removing, the many shadows in the room. You all see a large
humanoid in shining, silver armor step out from behind a distant pillar.
It makes no further movement or sounds."<br /><br />Sorcerer: I say, "Hello! We aren't looking for a fight, we're just exploring. Is it okay for us to be here?"<br /><br />DM: "The sound is muffled, but you hear a voice come from within the suit of armor say, 'Be...here?'"<br /><br />Sorcerer: "...yeah. Are we allowed to be in this cave? We don't want to intrude, so if we are we'll just turn around and leave."<br /><br />DM: "The suit of armor stumbles forward a couple of steps then falls to one knee, head down."<br /><br />Rogue: "Should we be worried?"<br /><br />DM:
"The armor looks back up at the party. The air is tense and filled with
a cacophonous buzzing. Your hear the voice again, 'Bee...here...'".
With one guantlet the armor reaches up to its visor and flips it open. A
horrible, tumbling, buzzing, whizzing torrent of bees shoots out from
the helmet, barreling toward you all en masse, enveloped in a dark aura
of evil. Before any of you have a chance to react, they are upon you.
Roll for initiative."</span></span>Staining The Timbrehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13045487703620041881noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3191323015971210652.post-58247894722661551202019-12-10T10:25:00.003-08:002020-11-08T11:19:20.063-08:00Review: The Outer Worlds (PC)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrjs6llxR_o6iOtONvK9co3IZMwMZjwTOVFo_6R3XJ96q3IIBcTqiI_uxOtELD4R9jELKi8cPu5ISWDZi46QlPDcT_QpEar6MDv8lNyw1l1WANfnP_wJ5C2QYgmj6MKofQdyi97lb04Ci8/s1600/tow-splash-100799083-large.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="675" data-original-width="1200" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrjs6llxR_o6iOtONvK9co3IZMwMZjwTOVFo_6R3XJ96q3IIBcTqiI_uxOtELD4R9jELKi8cPu5ISWDZi46QlPDcT_QpEar6MDv8lNyw1l1WANfnP_wJ5C2QYgmj6MKofQdyi97lb04Ci8/s400/tow-splash-100799083-large.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
Let's get this out of the way right up front: It is both appropriate and inappropriate to say <i>The Outer Worlds</i>, the first-person scifi RPG developed by Obsidian Entertainment and published by Private Division, is <i>Fallout</i> in space. The core mechanics are largely similar, the dialogue system is very reminiscent of the <i>Fallout</i> series (save for <i>Fallout 4 </i>and the lifeless, emaciated husk that is <i>Fallout 76</i>), and the unique weaponry all smack of what we know and love as <i>Fallout</i>.<br /><br />HOWEVER, I think what many people don't realize is that those traits aren't unique to <i>Fallout</i>, they're unique to a designer who helped create <i>Fallout.</i><br />
<br />
Leonard Boyarsky, as far as the average gamer goes, doesn't get the celebrity he deserves. He made his mark at Interplay (eons ago in the ancient 1990s) as Art Director of the first <i>Fallout</i> game, pulling double duty as well polishing dialogue, and cemented that notoriety with his broad stroke involvement in nearly every aspect of <i>Fallout 2</i>. Thought Boyarsky was obviously not alone in the creation of those games, he is largely responsible for their unique style of art and at least marginally for its literary tone.<br />
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After leaving Interplay he formed Troika Games with Interplay alums Tim Cain and Jason Anderson, where he was the Project Lead and Art Director on the cult classic <i>Vampire: The Masquerade - Bloodlines </i>(whose sequel is currently in development at Hardsuit Labs). He followed this up by joining Blizzard Entertainment as the Senior World Designer for <i>Diablo 3</i> and its expansion <i>Reaper of Souls</i>.<br />
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So why do Boyarsky's career highlights matter? Because I think giving credit where it's due is important. His influential reach, whether it's noticed or not, blankets the entire RPG genre to this day, and <i>The Outer Worlds</i> is a perfect microcosm of everything he does exceedingly well.<br /><br />
The setup for <i>The Outer Worlds</i> is pretty straightforward videogame fare: You're a space-faring colonist who is awoken from cryosleep by a more likable version of Rick from <i>Rick & Morty</i> who goes by the name Phineas Welles. You are then tasked with helping him take down the malevolent "Board", a group of extreme-capitalist companies who collectively manage and oversee your new home: the distant space-colony of Halcyon.<br />
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Boyarsky's games have always had player agency at their hearts, and <i>The Outer Worlds</i> is no exception. From the moment you're dropped on the stylistically-Seussian tutorial world of Emerald Vale you are able to craft your own destiny. The story moves you through at a pretty quick pace, especially in the beginning, and soon you pick up a couple of companions (most notably Parvati, a likable engineer with a heart of gold) and make your way off planet.<br />
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By the time you leave Emerald Vale you'll have leveled up at least a few times. The leveling system allows for a great deal of specialization without forcing you to min-max for optimal performance like many RPGs. Skills are grouped into sets of three, and when you level up you receive a set amount of points to put into those groups as you see fit. These allocations increase each skill contained within the group simultaneously. Once you've got 50 points (out of 100 total possible) in any one skill in a group, that group "locks" and you can only increase the skills within it individually, allowing for you to specialize without being forced to leave behind any related (though perhaps less important) skills.<br />
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In this way you can add depth not only to your playstyle but also to your character. Did you create a melee-wielding corporate stooge only to find the game too difficult without the ability to hack computers or pick difficult locks? Just spend a couple of levels dedicating skill points to the Stealth skill group (thereby increasing your Hack and Lockpick skills simultaneously) and you can quickly return to maximizing how much destruction you can cause.<br />
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The Halcyon system is as expansive culturally as it is visually. Each planet is distinct in its landscapes and creatures, while the humans who inhabit them have markedly unique problems and ideas. No one planet or faction feels like a rehash of another, and the attention to detail is sometimes staggering.<br />
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As is tradition with Boyarsky's RPGs, your actions will absolutely change how different groups react to you and early on you're faced with a difficult decision between two warring factions. As I neared the end of the quest I had an unsettling feeling that I would be forced to choose between the two, when I was already piecing together a way for them compromise in my mind, only to be pleasantly surprised that compromise was a choice! It wasn't an immediately apparent choice, and it's one that's not even available to you unless you read a specific computer entry in a nearby area, but the simple fact that it was there was enough to impress me. Where most games would force you to pick a black or white conclusion, <i>The Outer Worlds</i> allows you the agency to find the middle ground yourself, and that's not a common occurrence even in modern day RPGs.<br />
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In this same vein, as the game progresses, this once starkly contrasted universe of Corporate Evil and Rebellious Good becomes more muddled. I won't spoil it here because it's a fairly big plot point reveal, but suffice to say Halcyon is in much worse shape than you're led to believe, Phineas isn't exactly a saint, and the Board is...well, just play the game.<br />
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There is also a small arsenal of "Science Weapons" that have unique effects, like the Shrink Ray (which does exactly what you think it does) and the Prismatic Hammer (which knocks your enemies to the ground with elemental damage from afar). These are unique and not easily obtained, meaning there is only one copy of each in the game and you have to go out of your way to find them, but if you've got a decent Science skill they can make an already fun game a little wackier.<br />
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What <i>The Outer Worlds</i> gets right is the same thing that Boyarsky's games have always gotten right, with varying degrees of success: Allow the player to make their own choices, give those choices meaningful consequences, and create a unique universe that keeps the player coming back for more. I think you'd be hard-pressed to find anyone in the industry as accomplished at those three things as Boyarsky, and I think it's time he's more broadly recognized for his contributions not only to the games he makes, but the effects they've had on video games as a whole.Staining The Timbrehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13045487703620041881noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3191323015971210652.post-27947626243112961802019-06-26T08:25:00.002-07:002020-11-08T11:19:32.423-08:00Review Series: XXL Magazine's Freshman Class of 2019 - Dababy<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzsdlko5zSdN5MsKWc-QlvXJyA3jqD9Nr3RUGOD2WEZyYOU7orlZK4jM5jFmgChfWlWHN_TNwTPCgVro4LMWOs03aN3yIaRjQkGS3hFuxd1HemUGlVFGXeohvZACfkwSzjyM8uIe6AP4Tv/s1600/Dababy_BabyOnBaby.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="320" data-original-width="320" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzsdlko5zSdN5MsKWc-QlvXJyA3jqD9Nr3RUGOD2WEZyYOU7orlZK4jM5jFmgChfWlWHN_TNwTPCgVro4LMWOs03aN3yIaRjQkGS3hFuxd1HemUGlVFGXeohvZACfkwSzjyM8uIe6AP4Tv/s400/Dababy_BabyOnBaby.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<i>This article is part of a review series covering XXL Magazine's
Freshman Class of 2019. For reviewing purposes any content covered is
exclusive to the artist's most recent or highest acclaimed work, with
the latter taking precedence.</i><br />
<i></i><br />
<a name='more'></a><i> </i><br />
Most of this year's XXL Freshmen came with a decently-sized backlog of tracks, giving weight to their skills and abilities as emcees beyond simple inclusion. That being said, even among his classmates Dababy is unique in his prolificity. Touting a staggering <b>eight</b> mixtapes in 2 years, plus his first studio venture<i> Baby on Baby</i>, Dababy has clearly put in the work to be deserving of his placement among the rising elite.<br />
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His standout traits are easily his flow and lyricism, both of which are top quality and have already earned him one hit: "Suge", debuting in April at #87 and rising by June to #8 on Billboard's Hot 100 chart. Don't mistake his ability for seriousness, though, as Dababy does anything but take himself seriously. In the music video for "Suge", for example, he dresses up like the eponymous producer, muscle suit and all. In 2017, shortly after changing his stage name from "Baby Jesus", he also popped up at South-by-Southwest dressed only in a diaper (for the publicity, of course. Probably.)<br />
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To say he's a new-age Ludacris would be both correct and incorrect. He treats the industry, and his own talents, with the laze-faire attitude of someone doing what they love for the love, but musically they're starkly different. Luda spends a lot of his time lampooning behaviors and attitudes in the hip hop community, whereas Dababy spends his parody time going largely after himself.<br />
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Case-in-point: In the music video for "Suge" (the second track on <i>Baby on Baby </i>and its first single), most of his time is spent impersonating Suge Knight and masquerading as a villainous mailman. Then again maybe we have no reason to expect any level of seriousness from someone who graduated from "Zebulon B. Vance High School", an institution who has won the "Weirdest High School Name Ever" award every year since its inception.<br />
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With such an impressive backlog and an attitude of laid back positivity, you might be asking yourself why it took him this long to blow up in the first place. Here's the thing -- it really didn't. His first mixtape was released in January 2017 and just over two years later here he is, sitting on top of victory mountain and edging into international renown.<br />
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Despite all this, listening to <i>Baby on Baby</i> leaves one with the desire to scream from the rooftops, "SOMEONE GET THIS MAN A DECENT HOOK" because, for all his ability on the mic and in the studio, the closest he gets to something the average person will wiggle their ass to are tracks like, "Best Friend" (featuring Rich the Kid) and "Suge".<br />
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But maybe that's Dababy's point. He doesn't need to write catchy hooks and be world-famous to enjoy what he does. He's just here because he likes making music. Staining The Timbrehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13045487703620041881noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3191323015971210652.post-30607739582553663352019-06-24T18:20:00.001-07:002020-11-08T11:19:39.535-08:00Review Series: XXL Magazine's Freshman Class of 2019 - Megan Thee Stallion<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3voDZhcK8oZ8NxAPRgYS5YiN5Ln9AF71FDtulf-JyOLF7Kt_cIWwbO4FBkSv8yWv8MJEpIcK0i_np_6sbc0wHYq9zusWx_XBO4xZHLcbvN5hy2I428lgxTNfn0ZUxpHH1MHhaAT0g2EI4/s1600/megan-thee-stallion-fever-review-01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="800" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3voDZhcK8oZ8NxAPRgYS5YiN5Ln9AF71FDtulf-JyOLF7Kt_cIWwbO4FBkSv8yWv8MJEpIcK0i_np_6sbc0wHYq9zusWx_XBO4xZHLcbvN5hy2I428lgxTNfn0ZUxpHH1MHhaAT0g2EI4/s400/megan-thee-stallion-fever-review-01.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<i>This article is part of a review series covering XXL Magazine's
Freshman Class of 2019. For reviewing purposes any content covered is
exclusive to the artist's most recent or highest acclaimed work, with
the latter taking precedence.</i><br />
<a name='more'></a><br />
Megan Thee Stallion is a blast to listen to. After trying very hard to come up with an accurate description, I think it can be best explained as "music to rob a bank to." Normally I listen to Kanye when I want to get pumped, but frankly with tracks like "Money Good" and "Realer" Megan's definitely entering the mix.<br />
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The cinematic cover of her most recent and first studio work, <i>Fever</i>, is no small stylistic choice. The tracks here feel very much like the soundtrack to a modern blaxploitation flick with plenty of booze, boobs, and bullets. Ms Stallion prides herself on her sexuality and, despite critcisms from her own rapper-mother Holly Thomas (stage name Holly-Wood) over the "ratchet"-quality of her lyrics, continues to write hyper-sexualized, confident tracks like "Cash Shit" (featuring fellow XXL Freshman Dababy), much to the pleasure of her fans.<br />
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She's actually pulling double duty as her music career starts its main ascent; she's a third year Health Administration student at Prairie View A&M due in part to her mother's insistence that she wait until she was 21 years old to start her rap career.<br />
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Megan is a strong presence in a Freshman class with no shortage of strong females, or strong artists in general. She's a big fish in a big pond and she clearly realizes it. In an interview with Rolling Stone, she explained by saying, ""I don't feel like we ever really had a female rapper come from Houston
or Texas and shut shit down. So that's where I'm coming from."<br />
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With her sights set on stardom and the tracks to back her up, Megan Thee Stallion set herself up to be the next big thing long before XXL came along, but no one will blame her for icing that cake.Staining The Timbrehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13045487703620041881noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3191323015971210652.post-24945898534458607292019-06-22T09:49:00.000-07:002020-11-08T11:19:57.533-08:00Review Series: XXL Magazine's Freshman Class of 2019 - Gunna<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<i>This article is part of a review series covering XXL Magazine's
Freshman Class of 2019. For reviewing purposes any content covered is
exclusive to the artist's most recent or highest acclaimed work, with
the latter taking precedence.</i><br />
<i></i><br />
<a name='more'></a>The first time I saw Gunna he was resplendent in an orange, designer suit, figuratively leading his surrounding classmates in XXL Magazine's Freshman Class of 2019 announcement. His sense of style immediately apparent, I was drawn in and decided he would be the first artist of the announcement I would cover. In fact, I spent my time collecting the various projects I needed for this reviews series listening to <i>Drip or Drown 2</i>, and to be honest I was hooked by the third track, "One Call".<br />
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Gunna is a Georgian native who cites Cam'ron and Outkast as two major influences and he embodies that fairly well. If you mashed Big Boi and Andre 3000 into one person, for example, you would probably end up with Gunna. That's not to say he's simply taken component parts of his favorite artists and formed an identity around them, of course. His style sets him apart but his melodic, steady flow cements that individuality. He's not an amalgamation, he's an evolution.<br />
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<i></i>
With backing from Young Thug and access to Turbo and Wheezy for production you'd think Gunna would ride those coattails to victory and, truthfully, he probably could, but that's not enough for him. He's working on his own fashion line (whose name has yet to be released) while continuing his musical work now through his inclusion in XXL's Freshman Class.<br />
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It's a well-earned mantle; <i>Drip or Drown 2</i> is loaded with potential hits. It's not perfect, as few first outings often are, but with tracks like "Richard Millie Plain" and beats like those on "Yao Ming", it's difficult to make an argument that this work is one you can ignore. You can expect to keep hearing his name for a long time.<br />
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Gunna is just the first in a stout list of heavy hitters in this review series, but he's a very apropos primary. He well embodies the aesthetic and mindset of his classmates: confident, unique, and ready to fuck up the game.Staining The Timbrehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13045487703620041881noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3191323015971210652.post-41872523569345848912019-05-27T17:49:00.002-07:002020-11-08T11:20:12.278-08:00Review: "The Hillbilly Moonshine Massacre" by Jonathan Raab<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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It's little secret that I'm a fan of the high strange; weird tales of grim fantasy and supernatural supposition meant to scratch the parts of our minds that beg for answers to the unknown. Those that ring true give vigor to the falsities and, at its core, conspiracies as people most frequently intend amount to little more than world building exercises. You start with an established, objective fact and spin wildly from there.<br />
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In this effort <i>The Hillbilly Moonshine Massacre</i> succeeds, eventually. The story's thrust follows Abraham Richards, a war veteran recently returned to Cattaraugus County, a backwater conglomeration of acreage that resembles a town as much as any other 500 population fly-over. Plagued by wartime traumas, and perhaps hoping a job might give him some much needed direction, Abe falls under the employ of Sheriff Cecil Kotto as the County's newest deputy.<br />
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As any <i>good</i> pulp story asserts, the main character (Abraham Richards, in this case) will always play second fiddle to the their more interesting counterpart, often a campy, caricatured totem representing facism. Raab skips the political commentary this time around and leaves us with a less shout-y Alex Jones, rampant alcoholism and beer belly to boot.<br />
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Kotto hosts a local AM radio show called, "Kotto's Crazies" in the vein of Coast-to-Coast AM. Given his lawful mantle by way of a mass meth-based exodus of local government officials, Cecil ends up being one of the only things that stands between the world and a true-to-goodness alien invasion of warped and terrible proportions.<br />
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It's unfortunate that it takes so long for the book to pick up. The front half is spent almost entirely on building character (some of it seemingly needless and other parts redeeming themselves with humor) not for Abraham, but for Cecil. It isn't until they enlist the help of a local newswoman and her "oafish" cameraman halfway through (and a biomechanical satanic alien UFO attacks a main thoroughfare in Cattaraugus County) that the story shifts into proper gear and you begin to soak yourself in utter, blissful nonsense.<br />
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<i>The Hillbilly Moonshine Massacre</i> isn't perfect, but nothing in its wheelhouse ever is. In fact I'd go so far as to say it's better <i>with</i> its flaws. This isn't trying to be the written equivalent of the Conjuring franchise, or Jordan Peele's latest take on horror. It's not trying to make a statement, though it makes a rather clumsy one about the feeling of lost belonging when a soldier returns home. Like Grindhouse films and schlocky B-movies, it revels in its flaws and amplifies them at every chance it gets.<br />
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Speaking of, this book is <i>graphic</i>. At one point a character's face is literally melting off and Raab spares no details, nor on any of the instances of violent cannibalism or multi-story bone pyres made in worship of some unseen gore lord. To describe the amount of blood and guts as "buckets" would be appropriate, if a little tacky.<br />
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Let us not forget the rampant drug abuse. It's a core part of the plot, even! A concoction of magic mushrooms, mescaline tea, and Cream Ale tall boys takes Abraham and Cecil on a truly psychedelic astral projection in the hopes of locating Larry "Bucky" Green, the mostly-off-screen antagonist of the novel who also serves as the distiller and distributor of his signature, blood-craze-inducing moonshine.<br />
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Larry often feels forgotten. His arc is interesting enough but we see so little of it that he may as well have been involved in name only. Because of this the climax falls a little flat, despite its overt theatrics and gleefully weird events. Raab wraps the story quickly afterward, leaving us only with a transcript of Sheriff Kotto's new cryptozoology TV show and the equivalent of a post-credits scene setting up further adventures with Cecil (found currently in the sequel, <i>The Lesser Swamp Gods of Little Dixie</i>).<br />
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I give <i>The Hillbilly Moonshine Massacre</i> 3 Jakes out of 5 possible Jakes. This is a complete story, a wild ride, and is tons of fun to read. It also lacks a level of character development and pacing from which it could have benefited greatly. If you're a conspiracy fan or enjoy alien fiction, I highly recommend this piece. Otherwise skip it and let your crazy uncle fill you in at Thanksgiving.Staining The Timbrehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13045487703620041881noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3191323015971210652.post-15657026797352300962019-05-08T05:31:00.000-07:002020-11-08T11:20:22.865-08:00Review: "Chambers" Season One (Netflix)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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To describe <i>Chambers</i> from only its trailer you'd say it was a young adult horror show with good scares but a middling story. Don't misunderstand me, you'd say, the story isn't bad, it's just nothing new. The issue, you'd insist, was the acting, or maybe the camerawork, or maybe you just didn't like the characters. The main character is a teenage girl, after all, and only half of us can really say we relate, right?<br />
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You'd be...mostly right.<br />
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There are problems with <i>Chambers</i>, let me say that up front. They're not egregious sins in the face of God to be repented by begged forgiveness. They are, however, simple things you wouldn't expect from a show of such quality storycraft<i>. </i>Before you can grasp how out of place they feel I think it prudent to explain how well made the show is as a whole.<br />
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The plot itself is where the careful attention paid shines most brightly. After guiding us through the night main character Sasha's heart stops and she receives a shockingly prompt transplant, we return often through many new lenses. At first it's a poorly timed accident, then it's a miracle, then it's something worse. This all while the story of today trots along at an appreciable pace.<br />
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Sivan Alyra Rose, playing the lead, is a convincing teenager, presumably pulling from very recent experience as Netflix's first Native lead actress was in the waning months of 18 when production began. She feels strongly, dances when no one's watching, lashes out, and just wants to get laid. At least in the beginning. Unfortunately for Sasha, as with most teenagers, life takes a turn after that fateful moment.<br />
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Griffin Powell-Arcand plays opposite Rose as her reservation-born boyfriend, TJ Locklear. Though it's not clear if the character description specifically called for a Post Malone look alike, Powell-Arcand manages to act beyond his hairstyle's presumptions and be a caring, genuine, if somewhat aloof beau to Rose's more withdrawn, internalized Sasha. At the least, the pair work on paper and on screen.<br />
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It isn't until we're introduced to the LeFevres, Sasha's donor family, that the show starts to stretch its ridged claws and get your heart rate pumping. It's difficult to offer many examples without giving too much away, but suffice to say shit gets serious <i>real quick</i>.<br />
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Uma Thurman, here playing the grieving mother LeFevre, looks for purpose after the loss of her daughter, Becky. She quickly forms a strange bond with Sasha, a dissonance born of her grief for Becky and her joy of having a "new" daughter. As with most other things, this relationship gets <i>way</i> out of hand by the end of the season, but it makes for some of the most engaging acting in the show.<br />
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Through the LeFevres, Sasha and her cadre, including best friend Yvonne (played by Kyanna Simone Simpson), become privy to the strange business of the Southwest Annex, a holistic congregation with strong cult vibes and a sanguinary appreciation for the healing properties of crystals. The LeFevres are members of the Annex, though it's quickly apparent Uma Thuman's Nancy participates primarily to support her husband, Ben (played by Tony Goldwyn). This becomes an ever-widening rift between the two.<br />
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In the midst of all of this is Sasha's uncle and guardian, Big Frank Yazzie (played by Marcus Lavoi), an oft-forgotten character who serves mostly as the parental wall off which Sasha bounces her emotional volleys. Sasha's problems grow rapidly and Frank loses his relevance proportionally, which is unfortunate because he's the only sane, reasonable, adult character in the show.<br />
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Categorically the biggest problem I have with the story is that it feels incomplete. There are so many characters that are robbed of any real developmental time because of the necessities of the central plot (that is, the crazy nightmare hallucinations Sasha begins to have after meeting the LeFevres). Ten episodes seems to have been a few short of necessity, and the season suffers as a whole for it. One could argue that this leaves more plot open for a potential next season, but the twist that pops up in the last two episodes, thereby setting up a significant cliffhanger, leaves plenty for a further season to interpret and expand upon. These are things that now run the risk of feeling shoehorned into the story later.<br />
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Speaking of the ending, it's not entirely unexpected in a sense, but the specifics of it are certainly underwhelming. The show spends so much time focusing on Native culture, including their rituals and beliefs, that you worry their choice has turned them away from that influence toward a more traditional, "safer" story. Then again, throughout season one we see multiple examples of these writers reinventing tradition (trading Ayahuasca rituals for good ol' DMT in a crack pipe, for instance) so perhaps any concern is misplaced.<br />
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Still, where the story strides its technical execution stumbles. Much time is spent on severe close ups of characters talking, nullifying any use of the space around them and making a fairly expansive story feel cramped, especially given the discussions being had during these moments. With such wonderful set design and costuming, I'd have loved to see these characters in broader view for longer, giving these actors a chance to incorporate their physicality during more personal scenes with emotional intensity.<br />
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The scares are limited, only a few per episode of varying spookiness, and as more of the story unfolds and we begin to recognize them they are less striking. This causes a strange power creep where things are only mildly spooky in episode one, and by episode ten everything has gone completely fucking bonkers. It escalates very quickly, is what I'm saying.<br />
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In fact were it not for the overtly horrific elements of some of the early scares I would hesitate to call it a horror series at all, and more of a supernatural thriller, though I suppose the distinction is arbitrary.<br />
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All told the story is engaging, the acting ranges between passable and noteworthy, but some of the directorial techniques come off less auteur-ish and more weird-idea-that-didn't-work-ish. The Native representation is rich, though the twist at the end bitters it, leaving a creative longing for what could have been. As Young Adult fare it does well, but I don't see it being a prize winner outside of specialty ceremonies.<br />
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I give <i>Chambers</i> Season One 3 Jakes out of 5 possible Jakes. A solid story and set design carry the project above mediocrity, but its flight is stunted by strange shots and a mildly disappointing (though unexpected) twist ending.Staining The Timbrehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13045487703620041881noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3191323015971210652.post-42926858138613429092019-05-04T16:38:00.002-07:002020-11-08T11:20:35.179-08:00Review: "Bedroom Music" by Steph Castor<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmiogOaoatl4R158Xdzk3YQzXnS9QgCtoPBljiakejCViUMalHgD_qWljNX-H0e19X_dzEUJ3b3-4qiSiV6w-DEPeLjGtwqkeFKlI9M-yaox1a5CYQnERqETfYiUdJZte5o57lRznEHo2F/s1600/BedroomMusic.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1360" data-original-width="880" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmiogOaoatl4R158Xdzk3YQzXnS9QgCtoPBljiakejCViUMalHgD_qWljNX-H0e19X_dzEUJ3b3-4qiSiV6w-DEPeLjGtwqkeFKlI9M-yaox1a5CYQnERqETfYiUdJZte5o57lRznEHo2F/s400/BedroomMusic.jpg" width="256" /></a>Poetry has never been my forte. I prefer prose only in that I don't have to try as hard, and as such I have a special respect for proper poets; those who can string a verse with poignancy and grace without fracturing the flow of the piece. These authors are in touch with themselves and their emotions more closely than I could ever hope to be, and that only comes from a place of brutal honesty with oneself. Coincidentally, that's exactly how I would describe <i>Bedroom Music</i>: brutally honest.<br />
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You don't get that feeling when you first crack its pages, because the overture ("How to Give a Purple Otter Pop") is a brightly-light painting of youth tinged with Castor's characteristic physicality. It's a beautifully candid way to start the collection and serves as the foundation for the rest of the first half.<br />
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The book itself is informally divided into two sections: the first focusing on experimentation ("Hacienda Avenue"), taking the knocks life serves you ("Recess"), and defining ourselves by what we're not ("Astronaut), while the second half is pure sex ("Honey/Whiskey"), drugs ("Paraphernalia"), and rock'n'roll. <br />
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To the reader's eye Castor sets out to recount the memories that trouble her and help us (and perhaps herself) move beyond this familiar pain and heartache for the better. It would seem an oddly optimistic tone to take if you were to read only, "Exegesis" or "Chicago Pretty", but these brief moments of teeth-gnashing brutalism are a welcome addition. They offer a jagged edge to her verses' otherwise smooth curves.<br />
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"Industrial Affair", which also happens to be one of the more prose-like of the bunch, is of particular note here because it widens the scope of this very personal project to paint a picture of the world spinning on while we deal with our own troubles. Another brutal truth Castor relays through seemingly personal experience.<br />
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In that same experiential vein, "Easier, Healthier, Happier" is a stream of consciousness realization of the mundanity of, and the specific type of insanity brought on by, customer service work. Midwesterners might recognize the title as a portion of the grocery chain Hy-Vee's slogan.<br />
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<i>Bedroom Music<b> </b></i>isn't Steph Castor's first publication (you can find her previous work in Guitar Girl Magazine, Guitar World, Revolver Magazine, and Tattoo.com, among others) but it is her first formal foray into poetry, a leap for which she came well-prepared. Each poem within is a moment captured by flashbulb in vibrant technicolor, a tactile experience that lets your senses feast.<br />
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I give <i>Bedroom Music</i> by Steph Castor 5 Jakes out of 5 Possible Jakes. It's a life-so-far experience dotted with ferocious reality and romantic fervor, one that satisfies a guttural part of our humanity that may not yet have a name.Staining The Timbrehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13045487703620041881noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3191323015971210652.post-53042799010705605752019-04-17T10:02:00.000-07:002020-11-08T11:20:43.778-08:00Review: "Wool: Omnibus Edition" by Hugh Howey (2012)<br />
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The <i>Silo Series</i>, by which it is referred to in totality, is a popular sci-fi book partly because it's a quality work of art, but also because of the mythology surrounding its publication. Originally only the first book (simply titled <i>Wool</i>) was meant to stand alone. Hugh Howey self-published the story, having previously decided to do so because of the increased artistic freedom, and let it ride.<br />
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Driven by the story's popularity he wrote more entries, starting with <i>Wool: Proper Gauge</i>, which expands upon the grim events of <i>Wool</i> and follows a new set of characters met only briefly in the previous foray. In less than two months he had written the next three entries, <i>Casting Off, The Unraveling, </i>and<i> The Stranded</i> respectively, and completed the core story of the <i>Silo </i>series. This isn't even covering the alleged seven-figure publishing rights
payday Howey turned down to maintain online publishing rights while the
series was sent to print by Simon & Schuster. He has since expanded upon the universe but I won't be discussing those works in this review.<br />
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When Hugh Howey first sat down to write what would become <i>Wool</i>,
at the time intended to be a single short story chronicling the final days of a
Silo sheriff as he tries to come to terms with the loss of his wife 3
years previous, I don't think he dreamed it would be as successful as it
has become. I think when Hugh sat down and poured his guts onto the
page he wasn't trying to create the premier example of what
self-published artists can achieve, I think he was just trying to
perfect his art.<br />
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The first story is exquisitely paced, richly developed and horribly entertaining. It sinks you into a vivid world full of strange rules and customs that still feels so much like home. The Silo dwellers live, breath, love, and work together in a unique environment but still are tested by the toils that come with being human. The connection with the tired, waning Sheriff is easy to make and the summation of his actions hits surprisingly hard given the brief time we're given to get to know him.<br />
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Unfortunately that's where things get dicey. After this wonderful opening, <i>Proper Gauge</i> fills the much needed purpose of broadening our understanding of this strange world where people live underground in an immense Silo, not dissimilar to something like a Vault from the <i>Fallout</i> series, escaping the desolate, arid, toxic outside. So feared is it that discussion even tangentially related to the outside is reserved for quiet moments with one's spouse, and only then with trepidation.<br />
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What makes <i>Proper Gauge</i> dicey from a quality standpoint is its pacing. While <i>Wool</i> had the benefit of Howey surely poring over every small detail for a very long time, its successor expands almost too much. There's a lot of exposition, is what I'm trying to get at, and a lot of it could've been easily inserted later in the series. Some of it could have even been excised entirely, if I'm being honest, but not much.<br />
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That's part of what makes the series so appealing: Even when the story drags and it begins to feel like a slog, Howey's ability as a writer more than makes up for it. Make no mistake, these first two books in particular could have done with another editing pass, but they're endearing in that way. Just as Hugh was mastering his craft (then having published only his <i>Bern Saga</i> and a short story titled <i>The Plagiarist</i>) we learn to love these characters he chisels out of literary marble. They aren't perfect, they make mistakes just like all good characters do, but they come across as uniquely relatable each and every one.<br />
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<i>Casting Off</i>, better paced than <i>Proper Gauge</i>, fulfills another sorely needed function: character development. From <i>Casting Off</i> onward the series follows Juliette, a mechanic from the lowest levels of the silo who is hired as the aforementioned Sheriff's replacement due to her help with a murder investigation years prior. Named for the titular character in Shakespeare's tragedy, Juliette shirks melodrama as a down-to-brass-tacks type. Make no mistake, Juliette does not see herself as a leader and when we first meet her she surely isn't. She likes fixing things and helping people but wastes no time trying her hand at emotional repair.<br />
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Howey really hits his stride somewhere in the middle of <i>Casting Off</i>, but you don't notice until <i>The Unraveling</i>. Having gotten through the slog of exposition, all of it starts paying off almost immediately. The final two stories in the omnibus are perhaps the most novel-esque of the bunch, even ignoring their length and structure. Here is the work of a craftsman at their best, enjoyable with the whole or even by themselves. Honestly you could probably skip book 2 and 3 and be no worse for wear. Much of what's introduced in those books can be picked up on in the later entries. Still, if you're partial to lengthy character development and world building, they're tomes you'll likely want to read.<br />
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Reading the <i>Wool: Omnibus Edition</i> is a lot like watching a writer perfect their craft. The process is even mirrored, in some ways, in Juliette's arc. In the beginning she's skilled but hampered by a somewhat callous affectation, and by the end she's the master of her domain (in more ways than one). Hugh Howey used this series as a way to sharpen his skills and it ended up launching his career. We should all be so skilled and lucky.<br />
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I give <i>Wool: Omnibus Edition<b> </b></i>by Hugh Howey 3 Jakes out of 5 Possible Jakes. I highly recommend reading this, but the slog that comprises books two and three (though useful and necessary) is too much to ignore. That coupled with the need for another editing pass on the earlier stories drags it down.Staining The Timbrehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13045487703620041881noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3191323015971210652.post-4097014978750478152019-04-09T09:47:00.001-07:002020-11-08T11:20:54.725-08:00Review: Stardew Valley (2016, PC)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I first encountered farming simulators at the tender age of seven. I was staying the night at a friend's house and he let me play Harvest Moon on his Gameboy. At the time it seemed like a boring concept (even as an adult the idea of simulating farm work sounds objectively lame) but I found myself enjoying the game far more than I expected. After we went to sleep I secretly pulled out the Gameboy and kept playing for hours under the cover of darkness.<br />
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For a long time Harvest Moon was basically the only option you had if you wanted to virtually farm. Eventually you had cash grab imitators like Farmville pop up with the advent of social networking, but they never scratched the same itch. They had stripped the gameplay to its bones and forced you to wait an arbitrary amount of time just to progress, leaving them as poor facsimiles of a fondly remembered childhood.<br />
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I was thus blindsided in 2016 when Steam recommended to me Stardew Valley. Harvest Moon hadn't had a publicly-notable release in ages, the market was saturated with ad-driven mobile games and retro visuals, and it was a breath of fresh air to be able to smash rocks, milk cows, cut down trees and plant poorly-organized gardens again. At first I played it only briefly, real life keeping me from getting sucked in too deep. In fact it wasn't until my 3rd attempt at playing (in as many years) that it really dug its hooks into me.<br />
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The premise, if you're unfamiliar with these types of games, is simple enough: You inherit a farm from a now-deceased relative. Looking to get away from the stress of city life, you decide to move in and rejuvenate the decaying ruins of this family farm while making a name for yourself in the titular surrounding area.<br />
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Broken into days, months, and years, time passes surprisingly quickly in the Valley. The first couple of days are straightforward as you spend most of your time pulling weeds and chopping down trees to clear out a space for your future plots, but very soon the game opens up and becomes much more. You can fish, forage, and explore the nearby mines to your hearts content. There's also a surprisingly robust relationship mechanic with the townspeople that can earn you special cooking recipes (which you can cook with the produce you grow yourself), gifts, and a spouse if you put forth enough effort.<br />
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None of these things are unique to Stardew Valley, mind you. These are mechanics you can find in many of the Harvest Moon games, with varying degrees of success. What makes Stardew Valley standout is that it handles these aspects far better than any Harvest Moon game ever has. Fishing, for example, is handled by a fairly intuitive minigame reminiscent of the now-ancient <a href="http://www.helicopter-game.org/">Helicopter Game</a> from the days of the early-00s internet.<br />
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Not everything is perfect, as few things ever are. The keyboard & mouse interface could do with a handful of quality of life improvements (like the ability to cycle through your inventory bars without opening your inventory, a feature present when using a controller). Searching for specific fish can be a little confusing if you don't use an online wiki for assistance, and on festival days the entire town shuts down. If you attend said festivals for any length of time you're always dumped back on your doorstep too late in the day to accomplish anything else. This seems like a design choice meant to encourage players to engage with the townsfolk, but more often than not I found it to be little more than a "forced day off". Still, you're notified when the events will be happening so you can prepare in advance.<br />
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The game "ends", for all intents and purposes, at the outset of Year 3, at which time you're visited by the ghost of your dead grandpa, here to compliment you on how much you've accomplished in such a short time and definitely not answer any questions about what it's like to be a ghost. They wish you well and you're left to your own devices in perpetuity. There are no credits that start rolling and there's no indication of real finality, but it's at that point that you have experienced all of the pre-planned content (television shows, festivals, and the like) and it begins to repeat.<br />
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It's difficult to review video games because, as an artform, they combine so many different mediums. How do you fairly weigh story quality against gameplay quality? Or the visual accomplishments against sound design? A quick way to tell, for some, is to go by how much time you spent playing the game, but I find that approach wanting. All that being said, in the interest of being succinct, I give Stardew Valley 3.5 Jakes out of 5 Possible Jakes.<br />
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The gameplay is superb, the art style meshes with the tone very well, and there's certainly plenty to do, but the lack of any real story has and always will hamstring these types of games. Additionally, the cost of some end game upgrades seems to be balanced around arbitrarily extending playtime rather than adding anything significant to the game.<br />
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I highly recommend you try out Stardew Valley, even if you're not a fan of the genre. Its problems are few and will be largely acceptable to the layperson. Plus, it's just downright fun.Staining The Timbrehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13045487703620041881noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3191323015971210652.post-30875230267311841232019-04-05T09:00:00.003-07:002020-11-08T11:21:01.701-08:00Review: "Children of Time" (2015) by Adrian Tchaikovsky<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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For a long, long time my favorite book was <i>Infinite Jest</i> by David Foster Wallace. This was in part because it's objectively a hugely influential novel, and also because I made the decision at a very young age. When you're 14 and you want to sound smart in front of your friends, you pick the most "academic" book you've read and double down on it. That's just how it goes.<br />
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Luckily reading, unlike the rest of my adolescence, wasn't just a phase. Until my mid-20s I would devour pages and pages in a single sitting, enjoying my time but having convinced myself that, no matter how good a book was, it would never be my <i>favorite</i> book because that slot was already spoken for and, as we all know, favorites are permanent.<br />
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It was last year when my mother, of all people, told me about<i> Children of Time</i>. She was in the midst of listening to it on audiobook and wasn't having a great time, which was unsurprising given that she's not big into highbrow scifi. If I recall correctly she made a point to note that the book wasn't <i>bad, </i>it just wasn't for her. To this day I don't believe she's finished it.<br />
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The premise seemed traditional enough: Humanity has been forced off of Earth due to climate change and unending war, spurred on by ideological terrorists. They've dumped all their money into a fleet of colony ships that will be setting course for various worlds determined to be likely inhabitable. From there things start to get weird.<br />
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Near one such planet light years away, an ongoing experiment goes terribly wrong when one of those ideological terrorists reveals themselves and literally blows up a research vessel, inadvertently trapping its lead researcher in a life pod run by an Artificial Intelligence of her own design. Hoping the exploded ship's payload (literally a giant barrel of monkeys and a large amount of experimental evolution-juice) made it planet-side safely, she puts herself into habitation and waits for her future creations to contact her.<br />
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Going into it I had reservations. I had no doubt it would be a fun read but I was suspicious that it would be too convoluted or rely too heavily on tropes to further the story (something you run into a lot in scifi and fantasy). That being said, clocking in at a <b>hefty</b> 609 pages it was certainly the type of book you could use to kill a man, which for me is a check in the "pro" column believe it or not, so I dove in.<br />
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Let me explain this as plainly as I can with as little hyperbole as possible: I read this book in less than a week. It was such a beautifully worded, perfectly plotted, intellectually stimulating piece I would literally wake up mad that I had obligations that <i>weren't</i> reading <i>Children of Time</i>. I have never, and likely will never again, read a book as clever or creative as this one. As an author, if this manuscript was given to me and I was told, "This is the only copy in existence", I would have had no choice but to eat it out of jealousy.<br />
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Something that really grabbed me early on was how much I was connecting and identifying with one of the main characters, Portia. Her name refers not to one specific character, but an entire lineage spanning hundreds and hundreds of years that we follow throughout the book. All of her iterations that we see are both distinctively individual and grounded in a degree of familiarity.<br />
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It's difficult, sometimes, for authors to write dialogue and motivations for the opposite gender. To me is frequently comes out stilted or disingenuous. For example, as much as I love the <i>Harry Potter</i> series to death, the male characters in that book (particularly later in the series) feel off. Their behaviors, their motivations, the way they converse, everything falls into this literary uncanny valley where it <i>looks</i> perfectly normal, but it doesn't <i>feel</i> normal. This isn't unique to J.K. Rowling's writing, but I won't bog this post down with further details.<br />
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The reason I bring this up is because I never once had that sensation with Portia. Maybe this phenomenon speaks to a deeper, unrealized part of me and how I process gender differences, but I have never related as closely to something that was both decidedly inhuman and of the opposite gender. She's an incredible character to read and, if you read <i>Children of Time</i> for no other reason, let it be so you can experience Portia.<br />
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Stangely enough, the primary male <i>human</i> character felt the most alien. This isn't to say he was poorly written or that I wish something was changed about his arc, far from it, only that it was strange to feel so disconnected from a character archetype that matched my own. Maybe this means secretly, deep in the darkest recesses of my mind, I identify as a female spider. Who knows. Given the themes of the book, however, I'm almost positive this type of dissonance was intended by Tchaikovsky.<br />
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The cast of supporting characters is equally well-formed and not a single one gets lost in the crowd. This should come as no surprised given Tchaikovsky's bibliography if you're familiar with it, but as someone who had never read his previous works, reading a scifi book with well-realized characters that jumped off the page was a breath of fresh air. You'd think genre fiction would be rife with memorable characters, and it is, but it's more rife with tired stereotypes and cliches.<br />
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This is all of course to say nothing of the magnificent set pieces. Adrian doesn't shy away from the grandiose here, specifically in the third act, and it pays off in spades. The level of wonder at work in these pages is unlike anything I've seen in my objectively short time alive, and it's made even more impressive when you realize that, ultimately, the book only has 3 main "sets": The planet, the colony ship, and the researcher's life pod.<br />
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That researcher (Dr. Kern) and her pod-AI serve together as a vessel for an intriguing look at a central theme of the book: What does it mean to be<i> alive</i>? If you read sci-fi or fantasy you've no doubt read many an author's take on what it means to be human, but that question is already answered here by the machinations of the colony ship crew and the countless problems they have to face, at one point going so far as to form an entirely new, ship-based society governed solely by the law of one man who is <i>decidedly</i> crazy.<br />
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To say the ending of <i>Children of Time</i> is optimistic is to do a disservice to the work. To my knowledge at the time of publication there was <i>nothing</i> in the public eye that had tried to do what Tchaikovsky does here for at least a decade. Though I'm hesitant to call him a trail blazer in that respect, I have no qualms saying that he reinvigorated the otherwise dead genre of hopeful scifi.<br />
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All in all, I give <i>Children of Time</i> by Adrian Tchaikovsky 5 Jakes out of 5 Possible Jakes. The lanugage is musical, the characters genuine, and the locales vivid. It's everything I could ask for in a novel and I think it will be for you as well.Staining The Timbrehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13045487703620041881noreply@blogger.com0