Thank you kindly for visiting my blog. My name is Sean, and I'm a professional loafer and procrastinator.
I started this blog in 2014 primarily with the intention of compiling everything I'd written (that I felt was at least worth a skim) into one place. Then I started writing some new stuff, and the whole project turned into this massive nuisance. After over a hundred entries, I thought it might benefit anyone who stumbles into this site to have a bit of organization. As such, this blog provides links to other blogs in my self-proclaimed portfolio, with a brief description warning you of what you're getting into.
What is the wooly side? Boy, you'd think I'd know. I've heard of people being wild and wooly, and the wild side of life is of very little interest to me. But for some time now I've imagined that there must be a wooly side to balance it out, made up of reasonably unobtrusive inhabitants that may not be magical enough to fall into the realm of fantasy, but are also a bit too odd to feel comfortable swimming in the mainstream. To date, I haven't actually taken a stroll alongside a mammoth like the image on the site suggests (that's not even me, by the way), but I've always suspected I would quite get along with a magnificent creature like that.
So anyway, thank you again for stopping by, and please help yourself to any/all of the offerings available.
Short Stories
Not to suggest that writing short stories is easy per se, but I find that (minus a few exceptions) it requires the least amount of planning. Polish certainly, but when the muse hits you just right you can really reap the benefit of an inspired beginning, middle, and end. Here are the short stories that I feel at least work on some level.
The Unseen Kingdom
This is a faerie tale I wrote for my two act stage show End of the World in 2005. Like so many of my short stories, it's meant to be read out loud. The story is clearly a retelling of the opening to Sleeping Beauty, with an emphasis on why laughter is so important.
The Opening Line
A short story about writer's block, probably autobiographical. It's me versus my inner critic and reader, with special nagging by the muse herself. And not to spoil the ending, but the opening line never reaches its predicate.
A Thousand Words
A flash fiction piece that is literally a thousand words. An upper-classed snob has delusions of immortality when her overworked servant Marguerite delivers her portrait. I was trying to tap into an Edgar Allen Poe/Robert Browning mindset. In the end I think I wandered into dark humor territory. No regrets though.
A Current Event
This was just a silly story for which I found the seeds in an old notebook and thought I might try dusting it off to see what became of it. I'll admit it's more of a B-side tale, but I think it has a bit of a charm to it.
A Glass of Wine
I'd had this one in my head for a while, and Short Story Week 2015 was the perfect way to force me into writing it out. After the previous entry which only had one spoken sentence, I wanted to tell a story entirely in dialogue. Royalty, political subtext, and murder, all under 700 words.
Thinking Inside the Box
This was part of one of my early nanowrimo years. I got scolded by a featureless fiction character in my head. I love what came from the encounter, even if there's nothing else I can do with apart from posting it to a blog.
The CORE of PSD
I got to tap into my dark humor a little with this one. I was in graduate school for library studies, and I'd been having to read an endless procession of dull articles that convinced me even the writers couldn't have cared less about the subjects. So I decided to make up my own little anecdote in cataloging history, and then pull my hair out writing an academic article about it.
The Protagonist
My first flash fiction piece! Suppose you turn out to be a completely irrelevant character in somebody else's story? I guess you might be entering the real world or something.
MTV's House of Horror
This one's a bit of an oddity. Celebrating Halloween I created a mental walk-through haunted house based on the golden decade of MTV music videos. Essentially, I'm describing what you see as you stroll down the corridors. The full list of references appears at the end; 79 in total.
Hallmark Presents -A Very Depressing Thanksgiving
Keeping with the holiday theme, I bump into the mascot of Thanksgiving itself. The turkey is having an esteem crisis because the surrounding holidays are way cooler. It's hard to tell, but I think I made things a little better.
The Nothing Special Christmas Special
If this were made into an actual Christmas special, I'd expect this to be the final act. Suzy Snowflake has been unsuccessful getting an official Christmas special off the ground and has returned to the North Pole right at the end of the season. But maybe there's a little Christmas magic left in an unexpected place.
Playing a Glissando
Certainly not one of my favorite titles, but I kind of enjoyed the story of a divorcee dealing with an overbearing ex. This sequence was originally devised as part of The Carousel, but I never could transplant it into Caris's life anywhere. As such it became it's own thing centered around a one-shot character.
Stakes and Ratings
I'd been watching some of Bob Newhart's standup, and I imagine some part of me tried to emulate his unemulatable style. As we were approaching Halloween, I naturally started thinking about things like vampires. One idea, what do vampires dream about? Another, what if vampire hunters had a Rachel Ray type television show? These two ideas congealed into this result.
The Journey to the Journey
Another title I'm really not fond of, and I couldn't even remember what this was about before calling it up. I tried writing in a different style, forgoing plot in favor of a general concept. This is based on a father I once saw at an airport interacting with his son. The encounter just stayed with me.
The Elevator
Man, I had a series of undescriptive titles for Short Story Week 2016. This was a suspense piece I wrote for Flash Fiction Night back in 2011. I've never figured out why I name some characters and not others, but here is a week in the tedious life of Leon, who's working a temp job as an elevator attendant. There is a clear breaking point.
Sacrificing the Lamb
Another 'verbing the noun' title, but at least this one gives some indicator of what's going on. Part fable with a dash of frame story, sometimes things change simply because they do.
The Maul of America
This may or may not become a tradition with me, but I wanted to do another spook house attraction for Halloween. I took Universal's original horror icons and stuck them in a shopping mall setting. Mainly just describing the tourist's experience walking through the attraction.
Three Christmas Short Stories
This was a single blog I did to churn out three very short Christmas themed stories. For "The True Meaning of Christmas" I tapped into my inner sarcastic child and played with a few of the basic tropes. "Angel on Campus" was based directly off of an encounter that happened to my mom while she was still in college (with my own embellishments, since I wasn't there). And "Hurry Down the Chimney" is part of The Carousel (see below). My demon character is in a rarely utilized 'up' mood and she's trying her hand at decorating the condo for Christmas, despite having no former knowledge of what goes where and why.
Kingdom Hearts: The Game That Never Will Be
Kind of in the same vein as my spook house blogs, this is a descriptive account of a Kingdom Hearts spin-off game I would make if I happened to fall into the director's seat of a videogame company. A new villain, new creatures, and a few more Disney properties to check off the list.
The Dragon I Met
This was a story told through six journal entries and a mediocre acrostic poem. A dabble in literary fiction (a genre I hate), this was filler for a breakout room event that our library hosted. I'm writing as an arrogant scholar from London on a walking tour through Scotland in the 1800's. His journey intertwines with tales of a majestic creature of the deep. For Nessie.
Love: Nothing
This is a fun little piece of fan fiction set in the Mario-verse. Princess Peach gets bullied on her own tennis court by a 'Wa-Princess'. It's not always a plumber who comes to the rescue.
It Just Is
Man, I have no idea why this one was so popular! Possibly because it's short. Middle of Short Story Week and my mind went completely blank. So I dug through some old nanowrimo stuff and found this bit of surrealism (probably the same voice from Thinking Inside the Box, see above). I can't and shan't explain it. As per title, it just is.
There's No Pleasing Some People
This could have been a comedy sketch, but I went the short story route instead. Anyone who works in customer service fantasizes about getting away with crap like this.
The Checkered Game of Death
My 2017 haunted house attraction blog, centered around the theme of board games. This time I created a back story for the haunts to offset the over descriptiveness of the walk through.
The Carousel
The centerpiece of my fiction is a little garden I call The Carousel, based around two primary protagonists Caris and Zelphina. Caris is the kind of character you'd expect to find in a cozy mystery, but it seems her story got misshelved in the sci-fi/fantasy section where she fell in love with the demon princess Zelphina. Here's a little introduction.
Not in a Lodge (partial): A short ghost story I hope to finish very soon.
Caris's Welcoming: If I ever manage to get a draft of my first novel up and running, this is going to be the prologue.
Love and Possession: Another partial piece that may or may not ever see completion. Caris's best friend is about to marry a preacher with a teenaged daughter named Becky. But things go sour when Becky becomes possessed by a supernatural force.
Punchline Sold Separately: This was just a silly conversation between the girls, where no-nonsense Zel is having difficulty grasping the rubrics of a knock knock joke.
After the Fall: A snippet from the first novel detailing Caris and Zel's first kiss. Again, based on the current status of the draft I may have to rework it entirely. *sigh* Oh well.
PhantomCon's Panel: Something fun I wrote for myself, as if my fictional characters attended a fictional fan convention to answer questions from a fictional audience. I discovered that Zel really isn't too fond of me. Part two is here.
In Theaters Friday (mid-2078): A nanowrimo exercise. If my story were to be turned into a movie, what would the preview look like? Well not this since so much has changed, but it looks pretty cool anyway.
Splash Fiction: This short piece focuses only on Zel, demonstrating her social awkwardness at a pool party, and the slapstick she tends to attract.
Caris Runs On: The final day of Short Story Week 2015. Caris tells a 648 word story composed of a single sentence.
The Haunted Hayride (100th Post Party): My one hundredth blog. I decided to do another meta-piece by taking some of my characters on a hayride tour of my childhood nightmares. Zel and I come to an understanding.
A Room Without a View: This was part of a creative writing course I took last autumn. I was hoping to use the assignments to create a full story, but that didn't happen. Caris is a scare actor in a fake haunted house that actually turns out to be haunted.
Calm Tides: This was from the same class right around the time I'd given up on the way it was structured. More Zel-centric, she and Anomaly come to an 'understanding'.
The Call of Mardi Gras: I practically went three weeks in a row starting new stories. I haven't come back to this one yet, but it's still on my to do list.
150th Blog: Writing What You Know: I get to hang out with Caris for a little bit; kind of doing a fan fiction of my own fiction. Surreal, huh?
Missed Direction: For Short Story Week 2016 I'd wanted to write a Zel-centric story, but I discovered she's a really hard protagonist to crack. But then I opened up the month of Halloween and I think I found an access point. Zel fills in as a fortune teller. But she's not exactly overflowing with people skills. It's why I love her.
A House Call: This will ideally be a segment of the first chapter of the first book. Slow going, but never abandoned.
Paradise Restructured: A segment from one of my Camp Nanowrimos, strangely not involving either Caris or Zel. This is kind of an experiment to see if I need to reconsider just a first person narrative in order to convey information to the reader. Signs are looking good.
200th Blog: The Wooly Side's Open Mic Night (and a Cow Named Rover): Wow, it's really been 200 blogs! I just kind of turned all of my characters loose for the evening to see what would happen. It turned into kind of a fun combination of poetry, prose, lyrics, and script. Of course Zel had to take center stage. She's a lot more of a spotlight hound than she wants to admit.
Her Weight in Goldilocks: This, I'm pleased to say, is a Carousel short story that actually works as a standalone. You don't really have to know Caris and Zel personally to follow conflicting feelings about babysitting. My Short Story Week 2017 kickoff piece.
Buried Treasure: And this was Short Story Week 2017's finale. Caris is narrating her mini-golfing day out with Zel on International Talk Like a Pirate Day, which she naturally turns into an allegory. I never would have guessed it, but I seem to have a knack for writing romance (in small bursts, mind you).
Next Game: I was writing more Carousel stuff for Camp Nanowrimo. Zel seems lost when she's not in combat, even if it's more psychological than physical. I don't know if Zel is even capable of playing a purely friendly game of pool, but that's hardly an option here.
A Scoop of Mashed Potatoes On Top of a Manhole Cover: I kicked off Short Story Week of 2018 with a bit of an internal argument about what does and doesn't constitute art. I'll admit it's not my best story, but I quite liked framing it amidst a conversation between Caris and myself.
The Bridge and the Troll: This one was better. I always feel at home when I revisit classic folk/fairy tales, and this one gave me an outlet for some character snark to snark combat.
The Semantics of Murder: Sometimes I just have to try a gimmick in a short story. To say what it is would spoil the fun, but suffice to say things are not what they're meant to appear as.
For the Dental Plan: This could just as easily have been a comedy sketch, but I kept it in story format because it's a little easier to keep the plot going that way. It starts with an employee being called into a meeting with the boss, and it slowly derails from there.
I Hope You Like Her: I'd been reading up on the synopses of various Twilight Zone episodes. Not all of them were horrifying, but the pattern had the focus on some sort of odd situation with a reveal at the end. It's kind of a nice writing exercise. This is my result.
Multi-Chapter Stories
I have a group of longer pieces that are encompassing multiple chapters. One is my five chapter Scooby Doo fan-fiction called Scooby-Doo's Unsolved Mystery, with a link to the first chapter.
I'm also writing an EPIC Disney themed fan-fiction called Chasing the Rabbit, again with a link to the first chapter here. It's obviously a work in progress, but I'll be updating the Table of Contents page (see below) as I go.
I also have an ongoing over-the-top humorous piece called The Wax Buzzard Files (obviously a cheap version of a Maltese Falcon). This is what I work on when I have writer's block. Prologue link here. Best of luck.
The Table of Contents to these stories is here.
Poems
Do you like poetry? I'll rephrase that. Do you tolerate poetry? Good. here's a list of things I've posted that rhyme:
Demi Caper -a parody of Because I Could Not Stop for Death by Emily Dickinson
The Kamyl -a parody of The Tyger by William Blake
The King and Me -a satirical summary of the Rodgers and Hammerstein musical "comedy"
The Final Word/EOW Parade -from my stage show End of the World. Parodies (notice a trend?) of Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious and the chorus of Sharing a Dream Come True
Ostrich -also from End of the World, a hoedown styled tale of courage and feathers
End of the World -take a guess. This was our closing song for the show. Call me some time and I'll sing it for you personally
Family Game Night -a song parody of Uncle Cracker's Follow Me, about the hair pulling blandness of playing a full game of Monopoly
Faeriesong/Cruel Tragedy -in my opinion, my best lyrical work. My recurring character Vanessa gets a little help managing her depression from an ethereal admirer
Poetry Slam -a half dozen poems from my younger days. Includes Opening Night, When it's Over, Neurosis, Song of the Spyre, Debbie Kicked Me, and Star of Love
The Siren -day seven of my self-commanded short story week; melancholic lyrics to a Loreena McKennitt type song that currently only resides in my head
My Own Private Grinch -This idea started out very differently. I intended to write a story about an eating disorder using the Grinch as my metaphor. Then I thought I might try opening the story in the typical Dr. Seuss verse. Then I thought I might close it that way as well. Then things got out of control
Giving Me Grief on Logo -after a brief-ish dissertation on what I've learned about parody writing, I demonstrate the lessons by reworking Ricky Martin's classic Livin La Vida Loca into a hate letter addressed to my time in Disney's parades department
An Adolescent Valentine's Day -A full dozen poems from my high school/college years dusted off and commented on. Includes Lee of the Rock, Iambic Tetrameter No. 239 in C Flat, "St. Virginia", "The question's allusion", The First Snowfall, "The snow and the wind and the mist", Eye-Contact, At the End of the Rope, An Overdose of What?, "No deeper cave", One More Chance, and "Every time I think I fall in love"
Return to Nevermore -This is a Janet Jackson parody that I've had kicking around in my head for decades and finally decided to take seriously. I turn "Black Cat" into "Black Bird" (yeah I know, real creative) and cram as many Edgar Allen Poe references into it as I can while still having it make the least bit of sense.
Poetry Slam Revisited: Ten Degrees of Frost -I took another round of going through the old college notebooks. A friend of mine once assured me that no writing is wasted writing. I have yet to receive feedback from her on this one. Includes Slipping Through Woods on a Snowbound Evening, A Question to Lewis Carroll, Innocence, When It's Over (Redux), Kitten, Blind Fury, Visions Fade, "Oh My God I've Been Shot", Footprints, and Connection.
Camino Real -Take Tennessee Williams's most amorphous plot line and cram it into Peter Gabriel's "Steam". On second thought, don't. I've got it covered.
Sketches
I also write short scripts. Here are a few entries that fall under this category.
Grand Exit -A four minute skit involving anthropologists and a mummy.
Casting Feud -My first (debatably) paid gig. This was an unproduced PSA for Disney cast members to receive an info dump about the goings on of the Casting Department. I hear they both loved it, and didn't want to do it.
The Laugh Liberation Front -Can you write a sketch about people who think they're funny, but aren't, and it still be funny? Well, I believe I can.
Every Wolf Has His Day -Part of Short Story Week 2015, this wound up becoming a script instead. I really want to try this with puppets some time.
The Heavenly Court (excerpt) -Another of my many, many unfinished projects. What if Nature filed a lawsuit against God for copyright infringement? That's a question I never quite get around to asking, much less answer, in this opening stage show scene.
Reviews
I also tend to criticize the work of people more successful than me because it makes me feel better. Here is everything that falls under this umbrella.
The Next Food Network Star (2014): Back when my blog was young and directionless, I thought it might be a fun experiment to review season whatever of The Food Network's attempts to salvage its dignity after sabotaging several contestants the year before. Check out my mission statement, followed by reactions to week one, week two, week three, week four, week five, and week six before I finally just gave up and stopped caring anymore. It's a fun ride.
I'm a big Weird Al fan. In a time where the impending release of his presumably final album is in the scope, I do a full retrospective on his music. First, I don't shut up about what I'm planning to write about. Then I delve into his self-titled debut album, In 3-D, and Dare to be Stupid. After that I hit up Polka Party, Even Worse and the UHF soundtrack. Subsequently I take on Off the Deep End, Alapalooza, and Bad Hair Day. Postliminary is the summation of Running with Scissors and Poodle Hat. Ensuing abaft thereupon subsists recapitulations of Straight Outta Lynwood and Alpocalypse. And then I wrap it all up with a review of Mandatory Fun and have to go find something else to do.
You want Muppets? I got Muppets. I do a ranking of the various Muppet films in two parts, one and two to be precise. I also review the ABC series that deserves way more credit than it gets.
I threw in the towel on The Simpsons a long time ago, but I still poke my head in for the Halloween specials. I did a review of Treehouse of Horror XXV, and the following year I did a more encompassing retrospective of the whole series.
Disney films are inescapable. This is an ongoing series where I take a hard look at the films of the past and (eventually) the present. The classes include Princess 101 (Snow White, Cinderella, and Sleeping Beauty), Disney's Animated Dark Age (One Hundred and One Dalmatians, The Sword in the Stone, The Aristocats, Robin Hood, The Fox and the Hound, The Black Cauldron, The Great Mouse Detective, and Oliver & Company) Princess 201 (The Little Mermaid, Beauty and the Beast, and Aladdin), Music Appreciation (Fantasia/Fantasia 2000), the Extended Family (the Pixar films), the Disney boys (Pinocchio, Peter Pan, and The Jungle Book), the Winnie the Pooh films (The Many Adventures of Winnie the Pooh, The Tigger Movie, Piglet's Big Movie, Pooh's Heffalump Movie, and Winnie the Pooh), and the underrated classic (A Goofy Movie).
I haven't seen the National Lampoon's Vacation remake, and I don't plan to. But it doesn't mean I can't review it based on the trailer and personal bias, right?
Maybe not a straight up review of the Paranormal Activity franchise, but a reaction nonetheless.
Another reflective piece, this time on video game company Rare, with special attention to the Nintendo years. You know. The period that matters.
Scooby Dooby Doo! Contrary to popular belief, not every story in this franchise is the same. Some are way cooler than others. You want my top picks? Too bad! You're getting them!
We're in the insanely golden years of superhero films. And what more appropriate way is there for a nerd like me to celebrate than by griping and backbiting over unimportant details. I take on the Marvel Cinematic Universe Phase One and Phase Two, the X-Men trilogy of trilogies, and the Batmen versus the Supermen.
It's hard to take The Rocky Horror Picture Show seriously, but damn it, I'm going to try. Set aside about half an hour to read my review/summary/explication of this cult classic.
Welcome to My Nightmare by Alice Cooper is an awesome album. When I found out he'd done a sequel to it in 2011 I had to review them both together. For Halloween no less. I'm so clever.
Speaking (quite a bit) of horror, I have a love/hate relationship with the Saw franchise, and I'm not afraid to curse about it. Bring the kids.
Who doesn't love James Bond theme songs? No, seriously. I'm looking for somebody to beat up. Well, except not all of them are equally good. Hell, a couple of them aren't even worthy of their opening credits sequences. Yes, I have some pretty well defined opinions on that matter, thanks for asking.
I saw Star Wars: The Force Awakens. Big surprise, huh? I also wrote a review of it. Because I was so sure nobody else would think to do that.
My 2015 movie wrap-up. I just touch on a few highlights, about a paragraph a film. I expect this will become an annual thing. Oh, by the way, I saw Star Wars.
I grew up on Heart's music, and having just procured tickets to see the Wilson sisters live in concert I wanted to spotlight some of my favorite songs from the band. And so I did. And the sun rose a little sunnier the next morning.
Roxette's Joyride is a tribute to one of my favorite musical groups. I have it listed as an editorial, but I was wrong to do so. It will never happen again.
Wow, the Ghostbusters reboot certainly stirred up some heated words amongst the internet dwellers. Was that all for naught, or should the franchise have left well enough alone? Well I have answers.
I was looking forward to the remake of The Rocky Horror Picture Show. But then I watched it. And then I was looking forward to reviewing it.
I was actually in a short film called The Ogre. If you want to know what I thought about the result, then look no further! Seriously don't. The link to it was a few sentences back.
There is an official listing of the Top 10 Animated Shorts (50 actually, but I DO have a life, you know). I run through the lineup to see how well I think they hold up, in two blogs: 10-6 and 5-1.
And here's my 2016 movie wrap-up. Don't you love it when things turn into traditions?
For Halloween 2017 I took Meat Loaf's Bat Out of Hell Trilogy and did kind of a review/analysis hybrid, pretending I was putting on all three albums as a massive opera. The results were...long.
The Ghosts of Christmas Specials was part blog but mostly review of three of my favorite Christmas specials; namely the Mystery Science Theater 3000 version of Santa Claus Conquers the Martians, The Bells of Fraggle Rock, and ALF's Christmas Special.
And...my third annual buffet of film reviews with the 2017 movie wrap-up.
Review of Jesus Christ Superstar Live in Concert. This blog is exactly what it sounds like it is.
Editorials
When I run short of creativity, I occasionally write blogs that are closer to the spirit of actual blogs (you know, taking a topic and rambling incessantly about it). Here they are listed by title.
Is Rock and Roll dead?
The Curse of the Halloween Soundtrack
Eddie Murphy's Law: An Immobile Object Can Never Keep Up
Why Does it Matter if Han Shot First?
Seven Miscast Characters (and One to Grow On)
Five Signs You've Become an A***ole at Disney World
Happy Birthday Pac-Man!
This Week's Shiny Object: Caitlyn Jenner
Giving Katherine Heigl a Left-Handed Compliment
Who is Monty Python?
Shows in Need of a Reboot: Ranma 1/2's Character Changes
This Week's Shiny Object (with Guest Blogger Sarah DeArmond): Quiverfull and the Duggars
Doctor Who and Steven Moffat
It's Your Sequel, Lucy van Pelt!
The Twelve Obscure Carols of Christmas
Seven Little Pitfalls of Caroling
Alice Eve, the Young Turks, and an Offensive Joke
When is Criticism Constructive?
The Obstacle of Shallow Faith
I'd Like to Thank the Academy, But I'm Not Going To
Video Games as Art -Thanks for Everything, jayisgames.com
Sarasaland's Superstar (Why Daisy Needs Her Own Game)
A Tribute to Mystique for a Change of Face
Cowbania's Fantasy Summer Olympic League
Batman Minus Batman
Chromatic Dragon Con -The Other People's Convention
How Christmas Stole the Grinch (A Comparative Look at Christmas Films)
Merry Christmas! Let's Go Caroling!
The Liberal Christian
A Video Game Case of Sequelitis
Six Children's Songs Way Cooler Than They Should Have Been
Because I'm Alternative Batman
Why Does Sailor Moon Resonate?
So You're Locked in a Room
Shows in Need of a Reboot: Snarfquest
How the Odyssey2 Created Magic
Why Maleficent is Disney's Alpha Female
Super Punch-Line!! (Arcade Edition)
Wonder Woman: Arriving Precisely When She Means To
5 Tips for People Who Want to Give Chris Chibnall Tips About Showrunning Doctor Who
Eight Video Game Characters Who Deserve a Comeback
My Top Ten Favorite Death Scenes in Films
13 Frightening Entrances: The Best Horror Theme Songs
9 Trick or Treating Tips: I'm a Fluffy Bunny
Doctor Who: What Would You Do if You Were Steven Moffat?
How to Fail at Humor -A Survival Primer
Why the Rock-afire Explosion is the Greatest Cover Band Ever
A Dozen Break-up Songs -The Bittersweet Candygram (with Guest Blogger Sarah DeArmond)
Cowbania's Fantasy Winter Olympic League
Updates: The Uncooperative Muses and the Librarian Medley
The League of Super Bystanders
Should Elsa Have a Girlfriend?
Unmasking the Bogeyman
Point, Click, Die: The Museum of Haunted Adventure Games (90's Edition)
2019 Movie Previews
Should Radio Stations Pull 'Baby It's Cold Outside' Out of Rotation?
Finding a Host for the Oscars (My Nominees)
Ten Lessons from Ten Years of Marriage (with Guest Blogger Sarah DeArmond)
How I'd Change Endgame if I had the Infinity Gauntlet
The Flightless Bird Pride Parade
An Open Letter: Where is the Evidence of God?
The Halloween Monster Auditions
About Me
Perhaps you're interested in a little bit about me. Aside from the basics, like all the usual toes and vital organs, I have quite a bit of fun giving sarcastic answers to personal questions (particularly in survey format). You can read the ones I filled out in March 2007, April 2008, May 2008, Summer 2008 (obviously a slow year for me), Thanksgiving 2008, September 2009, one long awaited follow-up in May 2015, a November 2016 revival and a March 2018 reunion.
My laptop broke on me and I went a few months without posting anything. Then I got a Chromebook. Wow, I could have just said that instead of the multiple paragraphs in the blog.
I made kind of a big deal about October 2015, doing a massive Halloween celebration. Decorating the Lawn was my show opener, and I gave some personal history about growing up in a Halloween-loving household.
I always try to avoid putting forth opinions about things that actually matter, but the June 2016 shooting in Orlando really hit me hard. This was probably my most personal blog where I took a moment to process what I was feeling about the horrible event and some of the issues attached to it.
My Own Disney Home (Part One: Under the Mouse's Ears) I worked at Disney for six years, and I thought people might enjoy reading what I thought about the company.
My Own Disney Home (Part Two: Through the Donkey's Eyes) Oh yeah, did I mention for five and a half of those years I was a character performer? I may have picked up a couple of anecdotes.
13 Hitchhiking Ghosts Funny thing, I also have a particular phobia of animatronics. Here's a fun look back at some of my more nightmarish memories.
The 3rd Annual Sci-fi/Fantasy Festival: and the Long Walk Back to Reality Our library holds a free mini-convention every year. Being on the development team is one of the most creatively draining (in the best way) experiences I've had. Here is a look back on how I achieved complete mental exhaustion.
Home is Where the Dogs Are -A Thanksgiving Gathering This is a personal tribute to my family of hounds, terriers, and unidentified. Our souls will always intertwine.
Miscellaneous
And finally, here are the posted blogs that don't really fit easily into any other category. Most of these are image heavy.
This is a Test -My first blog! I was way too proud of myself.
Zork Elements -If you've ever played the Zork games, then you're familiar with their 'list parodies' of the months of the year, major holidays, etc. I decided to do that with the periodic table. It took way longer than you'd think.
The Ampersand -This was a class project in Library School. I had to create a mini-graphic novel using toondoo.com. I even drew one character myself. I's as exciting as it sounds.
Thinking Without Portals (part one, two, and three) -One of my contributions to the Hoover Library's adult game night program. GLaDOS is back, and claims to need your help defeating a dangerous virus. Surely there can't be an ulterior motive.
Super Mario P.I. -Another game night entry. A Nintendo relic has been stolen and Toad has rounded up the usual suspects. Can Mario discover the culprit? There is a secret level that nobody seems to have bothered looking for yet. You'll have to contact me directly to get to it.
The Twelfth Toll -My biggest puzzle-based story; this one themed around the survival/horror genre of video games. Visit part one, two, three, and four if you think you've got what it takes.
The Zodiac's Labyrinth was part of my Halloween 2016 blog series. I hadn't done any puzzle design in a while and I wanted another shot at it. This serves as kind of a maze from Aries to Pisces.
The Video Game Christmas Parade -One final game night exhibition. This one was fairly well received. Of course we were bribing the attendees with prizes, but you only get so far on integrity.
S1: The Tomb of Horrors (Live Version) -Did you know you can use PowerPoint to create a Choose-Your-Own-Adventure? As of this writing I've done three for our Sci-fi/Fantasy Festivals, one of which was based on the classic D&D dungeon crawl to end dungeon crawls, the Tomb of Horrors. Here's a taste of what the end result was like, in parts one and two.
Sunday, May 22, 2016
Wednesday, May 18, 2016
Editorial: Sarasaland's Superstar (Why Princess Daisy Needs Her Own Game)
A bit of trivia I learned about thirty seconds ago, Daisy is the only major female character in the Mario series not created by Shigeru Miyamoto.
So let's talk Princess "Hi, I'm" Daisy. When you consider any of the Mario sports/racing titles that progress according to 'cup' difficulty, the sequence always goes Mushroom-Flower-Star-and usually Special. And while Nintendo hasn't given us that "Special" Mario princess as of yet (unless you want to argue in favor of Zelda's extension) we've got our big three represented by Peach, Daisy, and Rosalina.
Now don't get me wrong, I love Rosalina. She's a great addition to the lineup. But I can't help noticing that she got fast-tracked around Daisy, appearing in both a main console platformer and the Smash series before Daisy has been invited into either. As such, Daisy has gone from decades of living in Peach's shadow to a classic middle child relegation. Warning Nintendo: do you really want Miss 'Yay-Hah!' Extrovert to start repressing those feelings?
But let's back it up some. Daisy admittedly started out as a Peach clone, and many of her well-defined characteristics come from various game designers intentionally distinguishing her from her predecessor. And that reminds me of an anecdote.
Do you remember Fraggle Rock? Well, damn it! Go watch the entire series right now! No, not the animated one, just the good stuff. That wonderful performance of the athletic powerhouse Red Fraggle was given to us by a then-scared fledgling Muppeteer named Karen Prell, who wanted so badly to get cast as the motherly artist Mokey (the character she related to). Prell didn't connect with Red at first, and you can see in the earliest episodes how she's playing at the character without really finding the heart of her.
It wasn't until episode 7 "I Want to Be You" where Prell figured out who Red was by figuring out who Mokey was, and stripping that away. From then on, Red became a much stronger character, maybe even an unofficial template for strong female characters before that demand was really voiced. At that time, traits like 'headstrong', 'opinionated', and 'competitive' tended to have negative connotations; especially when applied to females. But through Red, these aspects were presented in a positive light, both as strengths to be used constructively and as weaknesses to be overcome in constructive ways.
There exists a parallel between Red/Mokey and Daisy/Peach. Daisy was created in Peach's mold, and for a while she may as well just have been Peach in disguise. But then the characters started growing and getting voice actresses. Peach became Nintendo's 'Disney Princess'. Peach is proper, refined, and concerned with behaving "the way a princess should", which naturally opens her up to a lot of the same criticisms Cinderella and that crowd get regarding passiveness.
Certainly fair conversations to have, but it's also worth putting into perspective. Peach is in a traditional homemaker role; baking, having dinner parties, pouring tea. In Japanese culture this role is treated with high respect. Here in the States it tends to be associated with patriarchal expectation. Let me go on record at this point and say that feminism is a really REALLY good thing that we honestly all need, but it's also important to remember that people can express feminism in different ways. A woman who wants to be a homemaker has as much claim to feminism as a woman who wants to be an auto mechanic. So no shame in homemaking, that's who Peach is.
Daisy is not that.
The Mario Party series began claiming pretty early on that Daisy was a tomboy, but at that point you just had to take their word for it.
Then she got a voice. God. Bless. Deanna. Mustard. How can you not find that passion for everything contagious? "Woo-hoo! The mail came! Water bill? YES!" Mustard delivers every line at an eleven on the exuberance scale, and it creates a unique dynamic with the character. She's excited. About whatever she's doing. And she's so happy to be doing it. And somehow it comes across as pure confidence without ever crossing into pride. Whereas Peach forces herself into "Oh, did I win?" humility, Daisy doesn't need anyone's permission to feel good about her success. And yeah, I know some people find her annoying, but I happen to find those people annoying so let's never acknowledge them again.
So why should Daisy have her own game? Well, let's look at it from a marketing standpoint. Girls play video games. They've been playing as long as boys have, even if the market itself has been less than encouraging to them. Now I don't think there's any real demographic of non-gaming females who have just been waiting for Super Princess Daisy, but there's something to be said for the industry recognizing a demographic that already exists. With Daisy, there would be a whole subtext that would speak volumes for itself. Namely, if video games appeared within the Mario universe, Daisy would most likely be a gamer girl. And she would kick ass doing it. A game with Daisy as the protagonist would read as Nintendo's acknowledgement and/or gratitude to the vast number of women who have supported the years of Mario and Zelda titles.
There's also the problem of saturation that the revolving door of Mario platformers often seep into. With a platforming game, you want familiarity but you also want individuality. Super Princess Daisy would have a character we already know, but one we also don't know enough about. Hence, there's a real potential to play with the formula and moveset. We already know how Mario, Luigi, Yoshi, and Peach move through a level, but Daisy has some wiggle room. Depending on the hardware, you could create a whole new arsenal of athletic stunts to employ in defeating obstacles; a thing or two that only Daisy can pull off.
And then there's the fact that Daisy has such a strong personality, yet we really don't know that much about her. It would be nice to explore her thought processes a little, get to know her more. Maybe use her to help flesh out a smidge more about the Mario universe as a whole.
This is what I think Super Princess Daisy should be like. It's a platformer (I'm not going to try to describe level design ideas), but unlike her colleagues who always require rescue missions as motivation, Daisy only needs the call of adventure to get her out the door. Maybe it's a mountain that needs climbing or a wilderness landscape that has yet to be explored. Maybe Sarasaland is responsible for building the pipe transit systems that everybody uses to get around, but it requires someone of prowess to get into difficult to reach places first.
From there, it's about style. Mario has a tendency to break the fourth wall at the beginning and end of an adventure, welcoming and thanking the player respectively. Daisy should talk to the player the whole game. She knows she's in a video game and she knows you're out there. Small victories shift from "I did it!" to "We did it!" She cheers you on as much as she cheers herself. And failure results in a death glare from her (you're the one with the controller). In the end, whatever location she's been trying to get to is reached. The reward is the arrival of her Mushroom Kingdom friends through the planted pipe to spend a little leisure time in some virtual playground at the top of the mountain.
Or maybe she even gets to sled or hang glide back down. What could be more Daisy than that?
So let's talk Princess "Hi, I'm" Daisy. When you consider any of the Mario sports/racing titles that progress according to 'cup' difficulty, the sequence always goes Mushroom-Flower-Star-and usually Special. And while Nintendo hasn't given us that "Special" Mario princess as of yet (unless you want to argue in favor of Zelda's extension) we've got our big three represented by Peach, Daisy, and Rosalina.
Now don't get me wrong, I love Rosalina. She's a great addition to the lineup. But I can't help noticing that she got fast-tracked around Daisy, appearing in both a main console platformer and the Smash series before Daisy has been invited into either. As such, Daisy has gone from decades of living in Peach's shadow to a classic middle child relegation. Warning Nintendo: do you really want Miss 'Yay-Hah!' Extrovert to start repressing those feelings?
But let's back it up some. Daisy admittedly started out as a Peach clone, and many of her well-defined characteristics come from various game designers intentionally distinguishing her from her predecessor. And that reminds me of an anecdote.
Do you remember Fraggle Rock? Well, damn it! Go watch the entire series right now! No, not the animated one, just the good stuff. That wonderful performance of the athletic powerhouse Red Fraggle was given to us by a then-scared fledgling Muppeteer named Karen Prell, who wanted so badly to get cast as the motherly artist Mokey (the character she related to). Prell didn't connect with Red at first, and you can see in the earliest episodes how she's playing at the character without really finding the heart of her.
It wasn't until episode 7 "I Want to Be You" where Prell figured out who Red was by figuring out who Mokey was, and stripping that away. From then on, Red became a much stronger character, maybe even an unofficial template for strong female characters before that demand was really voiced. At that time, traits like 'headstrong', 'opinionated', and 'competitive' tended to have negative connotations; especially when applied to females. But through Red, these aspects were presented in a positive light, both as strengths to be used constructively and as weaknesses to be overcome in constructive ways.
There exists a parallel between Red/Mokey and Daisy/Peach. Daisy was created in Peach's mold, and for a while she may as well just have been Peach in disguise. But then the characters started growing and getting voice actresses. Peach became Nintendo's 'Disney Princess'. Peach is proper, refined, and concerned with behaving "the way a princess should", which naturally opens her up to a lot of the same criticisms Cinderella and that crowd get regarding passiveness.
Certainly fair conversations to have, but it's also worth putting into perspective. Peach is in a traditional homemaker role; baking, having dinner parties, pouring tea. In Japanese culture this role is treated with high respect. Here in the States it tends to be associated with patriarchal expectation. Let me go on record at this point and say that feminism is a really REALLY good thing that we honestly all need, but it's also important to remember that people can express feminism in different ways. A woman who wants to be a homemaker has as much claim to feminism as a woman who wants to be an auto mechanic. So no shame in homemaking, that's who Peach is.
Daisy is not that.
The Mario Party series began claiming pretty early on that Daisy was a tomboy, but at that point you just had to take their word for it.
Then she got a voice. God. Bless. Deanna. Mustard. How can you not find that passion for everything contagious? "Woo-hoo! The mail came! Water bill? YES!" Mustard delivers every line at an eleven on the exuberance scale, and it creates a unique dynamic with the character. She's excited. About whatever she's doing. And she's so happy to be doing it. And somehow it comes across as pure confidence without ever crossing into pride. Whereas Peach forces herself into "Oh, did I win?" humility, Daisy doesn't need anyone's permission to feel good about her success. And yeah, I know some people find her annoying, but I happen to find those people annoying so let's never acknowledge them again.
So why should Daisy have her own game? Well, let's look at it from a marketing standpoint. Girls play video games. They've been playing as long as boys have, even if the market itself has been less than encouraging to them. Now I don't think there's any real demographic of non-gaming females who have just been waiting for Super Princess Daisy, but there's something to be said for the industry recognizing a demographic that already exists. With Daisy, there would be a whole subtext that would speak volumes for itself. Namely, if video games appeared within the Mario universe, Daisy would most likely be a gamer girl. And she would kick ass doing it. A game with Daisy as the protagonist would read as Nintendo's acknowledgement and/or gratitude to the vast number of women who have supported the years of Mario and Zelda titles.
There's also the problem of saturation that the revolving door of Mario platformers often seep into. With a platforming game, you want familiarity but you also want individuality. Super Princess Daisy would have a character we already know, but one we also don't know enough about. Hence, there's a real potential to play with the formula and moveset. We already know how Mario, Luigi, Yoshi, and Peach move through a level, but Daisy has some wiggle room. Depending on the hardware, you could create a whole new arsenal of athletic stunts to employ in defeating obstacles; a thing or two that only Daisy can pull off.
And then there's the fact that Daisy has such a strong personality, yet we really don't know that much about her. It would be nice to explore her thought processes a little, get to know her more. Maybe use her to help flesh out a smidge more about the Mario universe as a whole.
This is what I think Super Princess Daisy should be like. It's a platformer (I'm not going to try to describe level design ideas), but unlike her colleagues who always require rescue missions as motivation, Daisy only needs the call of adventure to get her out the door. Maybe it's a mountain that needs climbing or a wilderness landscape that has yet to be explored. Maybe Sarasaland is responsible for building the pipe transit systems that everybody uses to get around, but it requires someone of prowess to get into difficult to reach places first.
From there, it's about style. Mario has a tendency to break the fourth wall at the beginning and end of an adventure, welcoming and thanking the player respectively. Daisy should talk to the player the whole game. She knows she's in a video game and she knows you're out there. Small victories shift from "I did it!" to "We did it!" She cheers you on as much as she cheers herself. And failure results in a death glare from her (you're the one with the controller). In the end, whatever location she's been trying to get to is reached. The reward is the arrival of her Mushroom Kingdom friends through the planted pipe to spend a little leisure time in some virtual playground at the top of the mountain.
Or maybe she even gets to sled or hang glide back down. What could be more Daisy than that?
Wednesday, May 11, 2016
Chasing the Rabbit: Chapter Five -Trouble Shared and Joy Divided
Click here for the Table of Contents.
Most people would find solace in an abandoned beach hut resting along the shore of a soothing tide.
But not Judge Claude Frollo.
Frollo was a type of soul who could find fault in paradise itself. And while a certain sympathy for his current plight was not amiss (he found himself in an unfamiliar setting with no recollection of why, just like several other inhabitants of this place who he had not met) the fury with which his makeshift staff combatted the accursed cocoanut tree that refused to relinquish its bounty clearly stemmed from an insuppressible belief that the world was conspiring against him.
Day and night had swapped places in the time it had taken Frollo to accomplish nothing in the pursuit of obtaining a meal. But as one final strike of the staff against the trunk severed the tip into splinters, he had no rational action left except to hurl what remained of it like a javelin at the palms above. A few seconds later came a splash as the staff hit the calm waters in the moonlight.
A growl appeared in Frollo's throat, building into what may have been a word he'd never dared utter until this very moment, but the slow burn was untimely snuffed by the sudden appearance of Kronk.
"Wow!" he laughed. "What are the odds I'd just stumble across another castaway?"
The large man carried an armful of fruits and vegetables that he'd collected from the jungle; a massive armful that towered over Kronk's head with a defiance of physics.
"What do you want?" snapped Frollo, more violated by the intrusion than surprised to discover he hadn't in fact been alone.
Kronk waved his free hand reassuringly. "Easy there, big guy. Just got turned around. Have you seen a woman? Dark hair? Tiara? About so tall?"
Frollo eyed him suspiciously. "Who are you?"
"Oh, sorry. The name's Kronk." He put his hand out but seemed not to notice Frollo's refusal to take it. "So do you live here alone or are you as confused as the rest of us are?"
"The rest of you?"
"Yeah, we've got this talking panther, and Jasmine, and this serious looking guy up in a tree. What else? A couple of fireflies, a bunny, I think I saw a whale but it may have been a weather balloon."
Frollo rolled his eyes and gave one more scowl to the top of the tree that had been mocking him.
"Here, let me help you with that." Kronk bumped the trunk with his shoulder and a loose cocoanut landed in Frollo's hands.
"How did you do that?"
"It's all in the leverage." Kronk demonstrated again. "Center of gravity. Listen, if you're hungry I can whip you up something pretty quick."
Frollo was about to protest, but a second cocoanut hit him on the head. By the time he'd steadied himself from the dizziness, Kronk had half of the food he'd been carrying minced and diced with a stone shard and laid out like a buffet.
Kronk grinned. "There's nothing paprika can't fix."
Frollo tentatively reached for an hors d'oeuvre as Kronk leaned in hoping for a culinary response. "So, you're not from here..."
"Nope. Not even sure where here is. If you got any details, feel free to jump in. Been thinking about it though. Best I can figure, there's been some natural catastrophe that warped reality itself, sending a few hapless survivors thousands of years into the future where rock monsters have taken over the world forcing all of the plants to huddle together on a tropical island. Either that or we're all part of some kid's imagination."
It was clear to Frollo that Kronk was hardly an intellectual, and he pondered the various ways he could ask the man to leave, searching for the most proper. But before he could narrow the list down, a soft female voice was heard in the darkness.
"Kronk?" said Jasmine, elated to see him after she and Elsa had been trudging through the darkness.
"Jasmine!" he beamed. "You made it! You ladies hungry?"
"Starving," she giggled. She composed herself to her royal demeanor as she turned to Frollo. "Good evening." Frollo didn't respond.
Kronk jumped in. "Oh, sorry. This is Jasmine. I probably mentioned her earlier. And this is..." he gave Frollo a confused look. "Actually we haven't completely met."
"Judge Claude Frollo," said Frollo.
"He sounds kind of important," Kronk gave an aside to Jasmine, unaware that his whisper was audible enough for all four people.
Jasmine exquisitely held out her hand to Frollo. "Princess," she emphasized, "Jasmine." Frollo looked displeased as he took her hand. "And this is my friend Elsa."
Elsa curtseyed politely.
"The name's Kronk." He gestured to the spread of produce. "Help yourself. I'll see about getting a fire going."
"Now hold on-" Frollo said, but his protests were interrupted by Jasmine.
"That's really sweet of you Kronk. Where's Bagheera?"
"I think he was happier in the woods."
"He was," came a deep feline voice from the opposite direction. Frollo blinked when he saw the talking beast but dismissed it out of necessity. "Then he picked up another one of your kind." The panther stepped lightly onto the sand with the human shape hanging back in the brush. "Come on," Bagheera prodded him.
"Hey, I recognize that guy!" said Kronk.
"His name is Tarzan? Apparently?" Bagheera coaxed the ape-man out of his cover.
"The more the merrier!"
"I beg to differ!" Frollo regained the group's focus. "I'm pleased everyone has found each other, but this happens to be my territory. I have not invited any of you onto it."
Nobody but the panther seemed to know how to respond. "And you're laying claim based on..."
"I was here first!" Frollo snapped, refusing to acknowledge the sheer immaturity of the defense.
"Human," snickered Bagheera, "You're not in one of your precious villages. You're in the wilderness. And your kind only survives in the wilderness as a tribe."
"Did you just threaten me, animal?"
"If there's a threat, it's not from me. I'm just giving you a reality. Anyone here wants to live? You stay together. You want to wander off to prove something? It's you're own life in your hands."
The waves lapped at the shore in a soft rhythm, and for a few moments no one said anything. But finally Elsa spoke, with a timid finality. "I think we should stick together." Jasmine smiled at her, and Kronk to himself. Tarzan watched Frollo carefully.
"Fine," said the judge. "The hut is mine."
"Aw come one, guy," said Kronk, giving him a friendly punch in the shoulder. "For one night, let the ladies have the hut. We all get some sleep and tomorrow we'll see about building us something stronger."
"And we try to figure this whole thing out," added Jasmine.
Frollo huffed. This wasn't a debate worth having. And he had to admit, if only to himself, that the panther was correct. He filled his mouth with food and waited for Kronk to get the fire built. A short time later there was warmth and light. Bagheera had curled up on the sand and Kronk was chattering non-stop to Frollo and Tarzan, neither of whom were participating in the conversation.
Elsa had rinsed off the slab where the food had been so as to not attract insects and Jasmine invited her to come over to the fire.
"I'm fine, really," she insisted.
"It's getting chilly out."
"I hadn't noticed."
"You know, you never mentioned where you were from."
"Arendelle. It's a much colder climate."
"Do you have family?"
"I have a sister," said Elsa, barely making eye contact.
In their walk to the beach from the yeti's lair, Elsa hadn't said much. Jasmine had tried talking to her, but Elsa was withdrawn at best. "I do want to apologize."
"Apologize? For what?"
"I think we're all pretty terrified right now. Maybe I've been trying a little too hard. If you just need space..."
"No," said Elsa, meaning yes, "I was thinking to myself."
She trailed off. Jasmine gave her a few moments of silence before accepting that Elsa wouldn't be returning to the conversation on her own. "Do you need me to pry a bit?"
"Oh, that's all right." Elsa smiled. "I'm just wondering. How many of us do you think there are out here?"
The flames on the candelabra ignited on their own producing a green light that cast a gloomy filter through the single roomed library. "Curiouser and curiouser," said Alice.
"That's the fifth time you've said that," said Meg as she removed a book from the shelf and flipped through it. "The pages." She held them up for Alice to see. "Completely blank."
"What do you suppose made the candles come to life?"
Meg pulled another book down and confirmed it was also devoid of words. "I think someone knows we're here."
"Do you believe in an afterlife?" asked Alice.
Meg shot her a look that she honestly didn't deserve but it couldn't be helped. "Believe? Doll, you believe in things you've never seen. I don't have to believe in an afterlife."
"What a delightfully unique answer."
Meg moved behind a table to examine an open book with some writing in it. "Well, as long as you're delighted, it makes skulking around the mystic manor worthwhile. Does this mean anything to you? '1 Rowboat, 20 ft. clothesline, 1 Canary-colour Gypsy Cart and 6 Chickens'."
Alice thought. "It isn't an acrostic. Do the numbers happen to correspond to a letter in the words that follow?"
"Not that I can tell. It's probably just somebody's market list." Meg tried to remove a quill from its inkwell, but the liquid had long since solidified. "Do you have any idea what we're looking for?"
"I think we'll know when we find it." Alice ran her fingers over a large globe next to the table, which seemed locked in place. A large suit of armor stood attentively in the corner of the room. She stepped towards it to get a better look.
"Don't touch that!" said Meg, startling the young girl. "Sorry," she added, "just...woman's intuition."
"Miss Meg, do you think this place is haunted?"
Meg's eyes shifted from Alice to the green candles, to the armor, and back. "No, Lilies. I think something much worse is here."
"Thank you for staying with me. This place would be particularly nightmarish without a friend."
"I'm a lot of things, but I'm not heartless." Reflexively, Meg went down a row on the shelf, tipping books forward in succession to see if anything triggered. "Are you still stuck on the idea that this is all a dream?"
"I'm thinking along those lines. Have you heard of he collective unconscious?"
"Only as it pertains to the political structure."
A small glow appeared in the darkness where Meg was searching the bookcase. At first she thought it was an afterimage from the candles. But then it grew. And hovered in front of her face like a wisp. It commanded her attention. Alice was still speaking, but Meg had stopped listening to her, finding this luminous orb captivating. She forgot about the library. And Alice. And the imposing fortress they had voluntarily strolled into. There was only this light in the darkness.
Beckoning.
"...So it's possible," continued Alice, while taking Meg's lead in checking another shelf for passageway triggers, "that all sentient beings who dream have this 'realm' as it were, beyond the physical, where their minds can be free to touch each other. So it's possible that I am dreaming right now, and you're merely a character in my dream. Or it's equally possible that I am merely a character in a dream that you are dreaming. Or, it is conceivable that this is a dream we are both having, from substantially different perspectives. Perhaps, as the verse goes, life is but a dream."
She stepped back from the bookcase as her efforts caused it to split neatly in half and swing inwards from opposite fulcrums. Alice smiled at her accomplishment.
"And with persistence, the pathway is opened."
At the very least, she was expecting a snide remark. But none came. She glanced at the place where her friend had previously been standing, only to find it vacant.
"Miss Meg?"
There was no answer.
"Meg?" she called louder.
Nothing. Meg was no longer there.
"Miss Megara!" She cried one more time in vain, with a noticeable quiver in her voice.
Alice was alone.
Return to the Table of Contents.
Most people would find solace in an abandoned beach hut resting along the shore of a soothing tide.
But not Judge Claude Frollo.
Frollo was a type of soul who could find fault in paradise itself. And while a certain sympathy for his current plight was not amiss (he found himself in an unfamiliar setting with no recollection of why, just like several other inhabitants of this place who he had not met) the fury with which his makeshift staff combatted the accursed cocoanut tree that refused to relinquish its bounty clearly stemmed from an insuppressible belief that the world was conspiring against him.
Day and night had swapped places in the time it had taken Frollo to accomplish nothing in the pursuit of obtaining a meal. But as one final strike of the staff against the trunk severed the tip into splinters, he had no rational action left except to hurl what remained of it like a javelin at the palms above. A few seconds later came a splash as the staff hit the calm waters in the moonlight.
A growl appeared in Frollo's throat, building into what may have been a word he'd never dared utter until this very moment, but the slow burn was untimely snuffed by the sudden appearance of Kronk.
"Wow!" he laughed. "What are the odds I'd just stumble across another castaway?"
The large man carried an armful of fruits and vegetables that he'd collected from the jungle; a massive armful that towered over Kronk's head with a defiance of physics.
"What do you want?" snapped Frollo, more violated by the intrusion than surprised to discover he hadn't in fact been alone.
Kronk waved his free hand reassuringly. "Easy there, big guy. Just got turned around. Have you seen a woman? Dark hair? Tiara? About so tall?"
Frollo eyed him suspiciously. "Who are you?"
"Oh, sorry. The name's Kronk." He put his hand out but seemed not to notice Frollo's refusal to take it. "So do you live here alone or are you as confused as the rest of us are?"
"The rest of you?"
"Yeah, we've got this talking panther, and Jasmine, and this serious looking guy up in a tree. What else? A couple of fireflies, a bunny, I think I saw a whale but it may have been a weather balloon."
Frollo rolled his eyes and gave one more scowl to the top of the tree that had been mocking him.
"Here, let me help you with that." Kronk bumped the trunk with his shoulder and a loose cocoanut landed in Frollo's hands.
"How did you do that?"
"It's all in the leverage." Kronk demonstrated again. "Center of gravity. Listen, if you're hungry I can whip you up something pretty quick."
Frollo was about to protest, but a second cocoanut hit him on the head. By the time he'd steadied himself from the dizziness, Kronk had half of the food he'd been carrying minced and diced with a stone shard and laid out like a buffet.
Kronk grinned. "There's nothing paprika can't fix."
Frollo tentatively reached for an hors d'oeuvre as Kronk leaned in hoping for a culinary response. "So, you're not from here..."
"Nope. Not even sure where here is. If you got any details, feel free to jump in. Been thinking about it though. Best I can figure, there's been some natural catastrophe that warped reality itself, sending a few hapless survivors thousands of years into the future where rock monsters have taken over the world forcing all of the plants to huddle together on a tropical island. Either that or we're all part of some kid's imagination."
It was clear to Frollo that Kronk was hardly an intellectual, and he pondered the various ways he could ask the man to leave, searching for the most proper. But before he could narrow the list down, a soft female voice was heard in the darkness.
"Kronk?" said Jasmine, elated to see him after she and Elsa had been trudging through the darkness.
"Jasmine!" he beamed. "You made it! You ladies hungry?"
"Starving," she giggled. She composed herself to her royal demeanor as she turned to Frollo. "Good evening." Frollo didn't respond.
Kronk jumped in. "Oh, sorry. This is Jasmine. I probably mentioned her earlier. And this is..." he gave Frollo a confused look. "Actually we haven't completely met."
"Judge Claude Frollo," said Frollo.
"He sounds kind of important," Kronk gave an aside to Jasmine, unaware that his whisper was audible enough for all four people.
Jasmine exquisitely held out her hand to Frollo. "Princess," she emphasized, "Jasmine." Frollo looked displeased as he took her hand. "And this is my friend Elsa."
Elsa curtseyed politely.
"The name's Kronk." He gestured to the spread of produce. "Help yourself. I'll see about getting a fire going."
"Now hold on-" Frollo said, but his protests were interrupted by Jasmine.
"That's really sweet of you Kronk. Where's Bagheera?"
"I think he was happier in the woods."
"He was," came a deep feline voice from the opposite direction. Frollo blinked when he saw the talking beast but dismissed it out of necessity. "Then he picked up another one of your kind." The panther stepped lightly onto the sand with the human shape hanging back in the brush. "Come on," Bagheera prodded him.
"Hey, I recognize that guy!" said Kronk.
"His name is Tarzan? Apparently?" Bagheera coaxed the ape-man out of his cover.
"The more the merrier!"
"I beg to differ!" Frollo regained the group's focus. "I'm pleased everyone has found each other, but this happens to be my territory. I have not invited any of you onto it."
Nobody but the panther seemed to know how to respond. "And you're laying claim based on..."
"I was here first!" Frollo snapped, refusing to acknowledge the sheer immaturity of the defense.
"Human," snickered Bagheera, "You're not in one of your precious villages. You're in the wilderness. And your kind only survives in the wilderness as a tribe."
"Did you just threaten me, animal?"
"If there's a threat, it's not from me. I'm just giving you a reality. Anyone here wants to live? You stay together. You want to wander off to prove something? It's you're own life in your hands."
The waves lapped at the shore in a soft rhythm, and for a few moments no one said anything. But finally Elsa spoke, with a timid finality. "I think we should stick together." Jasmine smiled at her, and Kronk to himself. Tarzan watched Frollo carefully.
"Fine," said the judge. "The hut is mine."
"Aw come one, guy," said Kronk, giving him a friendly punch in the shoulder. "For one night, let the ladies have the hut. We all get some sleep and tomorrow we'll see about building us something stronger."
"And we try to figure this whole thing out," added Jasmine.
Frollo huffed. This wasn't a debate worth having. And he had to admit, if only to himself, that the panther was correct. He filled his mouth with food and waited for Kronk to get the fire built. A short time later there was warmth and light. Bagheera had curled up on the sand and Kronk was chattering non-stop to Frollo and Tarzan, neither of whom were participating in the conversation.
Elsa had rinsed off the slab where the food had been so as to not attract insects and Jasmine invited her to come over to the fire.
"I'm fine, really," she insisted.
"It's getting chilly out."
"I hadn't noticed."
"You know, you never mentioned where you were from."
"Arendelle. It's a much colder climate."
"Do you have family?"
"I have a sister," said Elsa, barely making eye contact.
In their walk to the beach from the yeti's lair, Elsa hadn't said much. Jasmine had tried talking to her, but Elsa was withdrawn at best. "I do want to apologize."
"Apologize? For what?"
"I think we're all pretty terrified right now. Maybe I've been trying a little too hard. If you just need space..."
"No," said Elsa, meaning yes, "I was thinking to myself."
She trailed off. Jasmine gave her a few moments of silence before accepting that Elsa wouldn't be returning to the conversation on her own. "Do you need me to pry a bit?"
"Oh, that's all right." Elsa smiled. "I'm just wondering. How many of us do you think there are out here?"
The flames on the candelabra ignited on their own producing a green light that cast a gloomy filter through the single roomed library. "Curiouser and curiouser," said Alice.
"That's the fifth time you've said that," said Meg as she removed a book from the shelf and flipped through it. "The pages." She held them up for Alice to see. "Completely blank."
"What do you suppose made the candles come to life?"
Meg pulled another book down and confirmed it was also devoid of words. "I think someone knows we're here."
"Do you believe in an afterlife?" asked Alice.
Meg shot her a look that she honestly didn't deserve but it couldn't be helped. "Believe? Doll, you believe in things you've never seen. I don't have to believe in an afterlife."
"What a delightfully unique answer."
Meg moved behind a table to examine an open book with some writing in it. "Well, as long as you're delighted, it makes skulking around the mystic manor worthwhile. Does this mean anything to you? '1 Rowboat, 20 ft. clothesline, 1 Canary-colour Gypsy Cart and 6 Chickens'."
Alice thought. "It isn't an acrostic. Do the numbers happen to correspond to a letter in the words that follow?"
"Not that I can tell. It's probably just somebody's market list." Meg tried to remove a quill from its inkwell, but the liquid had long since solidified. "Do you have any idea what we're looking for?"
"I think we'll know when we find it." Alice ran her fingers over a large globe next to the table, which seemed locked in place. A large suit of armor stood attentively in the corner of the room. She stepped towards it to get a better look.
"Don't touch that!" said Meg, startling the young girl. "Sorry," she added, "just...woman's intuition."
"Miss Meg, do you think this place is haunted?"
Meg's eyes shifted from Alice to the green candles, to the armor, and back. "No, Lilies. I think something much worse is here."
"Thank you for staying with me. This place would be particularly nightmarish without a friend."
"I'm a lot of things, but I'm not heartless." Reflexively, Meg went down a row on the shelf, tipping books forward in succession to see if anything triggered. "Are you still stuck on the idea that this is all a dream?"
"I'm thinking along those lines. Have you heard of he collective unconscious?"
"Only as it pertains to the political structure."
A small glow appeared in the darkness where Meg was searching the bookcase. At first she thought it was an afterimage from the candles. But then it grew. And hovered in front of her face like a wisp. It commanded her attention. Alice was still speaking, but Meg had stopped listening to her, finding this luminous orb captivating. She forgot about the library. And Alice. And the imposing fortress they had voluntarily strolled into. There was only this light in the darkness.
Beckoning.
"...So it's possible," continued Alice, while taking Meg's lead in checking another shelf for passageway triggers, "that all sentient beings who dream have this 'realm' as it were, beyond the physical, where their minds can be free to touch each other. So it's possible that I am dreaming right now, and you're merely a character in my dream. Or it's equally possible that I am merely a character in a dream that you are dreaming. Or, it is conceivable that this is a dream we are both having, from substantially different perspectives. Perhaps, as the verse goes, life is but a dream."
She stepped back from the bookcase as her efforts caused it to split neatly in half and swing inwards from opposite fulcrums. Alice smiled at her accomplishment.
"And with persistence, the pathway is opened."
At the very least, she was expecting a snide remark. But none came. She glanced at the place where her friend had previously been standing, only to find it vacant.
"Miss Meg?"
There was no answer.
"Meg?" she called louder.
Nothing. Meg was no longer there.
"Miss Megara!" She cried one more time in vain, with a noticeable quiver in her voice.
Alice was alone.
Return to the Table of Contents.
Thursday, May 5, 2016
Editorial: Video Games as Art -Thanks For Everything, jayisgames.com
It's almost impossible to bring this topic up without mentioning Roger Ebert, since he was a film critic with enough skill and talent to influence the very nature of written criticism. But as we all know, he made the infamous comment that video games could never be art, and then later revised the statement to mean they could never be 'high art', whatever that is.
The bottom line is, nobody can really nail down a concrete definition for what is and isn't art. And since the subject is so inherently ambiguous, we may find it easier to wrap our heads around it by denying entry into the clubhouse for the newest media. Television got picked on for decades. Before that, the film industry itself was considered a vulgar alternative to literature. Then of course there's the famous quote inspired by the invention of photography (usually attributed to French artist Paul Delaroche) "At this moment, painting is dead." And while this remains unconfirmed, new evidence suggests that Neanderthal Ned got death threats from the Rock Banger's Association for drawing stick figures on the wall.
But let's face it. Art isn't dead. It never will be. If you subscribe only to the rules of nature, art had no business existing in the first place, but damn it, it came! What is it's purpose? I don't really know. Maybe art is its own entity with its own purpose and has no need to share it with us. All I know is, humanity has an inner compulsion to create; sometimes shallowly and sometimes with depth. Sometimes clever and sometimes basic. And while it's possible (and likely) there are many things called art that actually aren't, devised by people credited as artists who are actually narcissists (those two things are incompatible), I don't believe there exists an argument capable of dismissing an entire media form as art on any level. Anything can become an art form if enough people do it poorly.
So that brings me to www.jayisgames.com (at least in my own thought processes). I discovered the site in 2008 and fell in love with the room escapes I could play in my browser. The site was updated pretty regularly with new games from independent developers pouring their time, skill and energy into a product and receiving (what I imagine) nothing in terms of financial compensation. Perhaps just the pleasure of knowing that someone out there is experiencing their work and loving it.
Jayisgames became a sort of virtual museum to showcase gamer exhibits. And while most of the games were standard throwbacks to Atari/C64 type graphics and gameplay, every once in a while a game would come along and say something to me, by challenging a gamer trope or doing something unique with the concepts.
Now that the site is officially no longer updating, I'm guessing soon we'll see broken links and content loss, and eventually the site will shut down entirely. It makes me sad. I've grown attached. But while the site is still functioning properly I want to encourage everyone who stumbles onto my blog to pay the site a visit. There is a LOT to do there.
With that said, here are a few of my personal favorites, each with a certain artistic quality that I'm happy to point out.
6 Differences
Surely you're familiar with the spot-the-difference-between-pictures concept. Take that and add a little movement and you've got this game in a nutshell. But it really begins to shine with the use of music and the careful ordering of the images. You feel like you're going through a night's journey awake and asleep at the same time. A man relaxes in a park with a McDonald's in the distance. Late night traffic creates a sound similar to the ocean waves. Streetlights seem to run at a slower pace. Then the images begin to take a surreal turn. Dreamlike. Maybe even a tad nightmarish. But only for a little while. And then the city starts to wake up again before the sun is anywhere in sight. It's a simple game that makes you earn your serenity.
Air Pressure
Hoo boy, what can I say about this one without spoiling it? This is what's called a visual novel, akin to a choose-your-own-adventure story. The 'novel' is short, but it gives you the exact flavor you need. Your character seems to be in a relationship with a girl, that might have run its course. But depending on your choices, you can receive the sucker punch ending that reveals the game is only presenting a metaphor for something significantly heavier. Mature audiences recommended.
ASCIIvania
This is a short puzzle/platformer but it really hits the sweet spot. Our alphabet has an inherent beauty to it, something I take for granted as I keep mindlessly hitting these keyboard keys. The goal here is to collect the entire alphabet by navigating a cave-like system where words tend to get in the way. The place has a gentle personality to it, and perhaps a subtle hierarchy of which letters tend to be treated as more valuable. ASCIIvania 2 would be greatly appreciated.
The Asylum
Is there a point where a game becomes so much of an interactive story that it ceases to be a game? I would argue no but I tend to lose arguments, so instead I'll say 'Oh, shut up.' This experience could only have been told as a game. If Toy Story convinced us all that our toys had feelings, then this gem demonstrates what happens when those feelings develop into full blown mental health issues. A group of stuffed animals are in a psychiatric ward, each with their own unique pain. The concept requires a certain suspension of disbelief, but the seriousness with which the game takes each creature's therapy is truly inspired. If you have any sense of empathy, the turtle is going to make you cry.
DROD: King Dugan's Dungeon Lite
This is a top-down dungeon crawl and probably the most standard game on this list. But artistry presents itself in a plethora of avenues. The brilliance of this game series lies in its mathematical layout. There is no randomness in the 'Deadly Rooms of Death', every step you take is a cause and effect relationship with the creatures sent to kill (or run from) you. Try the game, and pay attention to how MUCH time you spend figuring out each room. Then imagine if this game you're playing for free had come out on the SNES, and what kind of impact it might have had on Nintendo's other franchises. Despite the limited graphics and dialogue, Beethro may actually be the most likable barbarian in gaming history.
Grace's Diary
This is similar to Air Pressure, but a bit more realistic, and fortunately I can tell you exactly what it's about. Teenaged Grace has a good friend Natalie, who is in an abusive relationship. Grace is about to call her to express her concerns, but first she has to collect her thoughts; hence the visual novel's gameplay. You'll spend about five to ten minutes on this, but it's a poignant journey. The game is sponsored by Jennifer Ann's Group, a charity based out of Atlanta, Georgia for the prevention of teen dating violence. It concisely presents many of the warning signs of abuse, as well as touching on the importance of how one approaches the subject with a friend. This is a wonderful example of how a video game can have a real world positive effect.
Ode to Pixel Days
A bit lighter, but not quite pure clean fun, this semi-platformer challenges the subtext that so many platformers take for granted. Namely, if you jump through enough hoops, you're entitled to the girl-prize. Are Mario-type games harmful in this regard? Do they teach male gamers to think in terms of 'winning' that girl as a trophy? I don't know. I think that problem existed long before games hit the market, but the mentality is certainly an issue. It would be nice to see the videogame industry demonstrate an openness to at least discuss the topic. But for now, check out this entertaining diversion that could easily have been called "Dude, she's just not into you!"
Silent Conversation
Ok, this is the one. When I first started working on this blog, this game was the first thing that popped into my head. It's a platformer. About. Reading. A silent conversation is what we're having right now. By the time you read this, I will have long since finished the blog and posted it. You read the words, maybe hear a voice in your head; mine, yours, Katherine Kellgren's (Why not? She's an Audie Award winner), and have some sort of analytical reaction to it. The conversation may only flow in one direction (you could always start leaving me some damn comments) but it is a conversation nonetheless. In this game, your cursor is the capital I. Your 'I' wanders through narratives (poems, stories, the first chapter of Alice in Wonderland) and touches each word causing it to light up. At the end of the passage you get a score.
What sets this apart is the creative uses of the texts. For example, Alice in Wonderland's chapter opens up into the rabbit hole for your 'I' to fall down. The e.e. cummings poem is naturally all over the place. But "The Nameless City" by H. P. Lovecraft is where the potential for this method of storytelling becomes fully realized. And if nothing else, it's a game that gets people reading.
The bottom line is, nobody can really nail down a concrete definition for what is and isn't art. And since the subject is so inherently ambiguous, we may find it easier to wrap our heads around it by denying entry into the clubhouse for the newest media. Television got picked on for decades. Before that, the film industry itself was considered a vulgar alternative to literature. Then of course there's the famous quote inspired by the invention of photography (usually attributed to French artist Paul Delaroche) "At this moment, painting is dead." And while this remains unconfirmed, new evidence suggests that Neanderthal Ned got death threats from the Rock Banger's Association for drawing stick figures on the wall.
But let's face it. Art isn't dead. It never will be. If you subscribe only to the rules of nature, art had no business existing in the first place, but damn it, it came! What is it's purpose? I don't really know. Maybe art is its own entity with its own purpose and has no need to share it with us. All I know is, humanity has an inner compulsion to create; sometimes shallowly and sometimes with depth. Sometimes clever and sometimes basic. And while it's possible (and likely) there are many things called art that actually aren't, devised by people credited as artists who are actually narcissists (those two things are incompatible), I don't believe there exists an argument capable of dismissing an entire media form as art on any level. Anything can become an art form if enough people do it poorly.
So that brings me to www.jayisgames.com (at least in my own thought processes). I discovered the site in 2008 and fell in love with the room escapes I could play in my browser. The site was updated pretty regularly with new games from independent developers pouring their time, skill and energy into a product and receiving (what I imagine) nothing in terms of financial compensation. Perhaps just the pleasure of knowing that someone out there is experiencing their work and loving it.
Jayisgames became a sort of virtual museum to showcase gamer exhibits. And while most of the games were standard throwbacks to Atari/C64 type graphics and gameplay, every once in a while a game would come along and say something to me, by challenging a gamer trope or doing something unique with the concepts.
Now that the site is officially no longer updating, I'm guessing soon we'll see broken links and content loss, and eventually the site will shut down entirely. It makes me sad. I've grown attached. But while the site is still functioning properly I want to encourage everyone who stumbles onto my blog to pay the site a visit. There is a LOT to do there.
With that said, here are a few of my personal favorites, each with a certain artistic quality that I'm happy to point out.
6 Differences
Surely you're familiar with the spot-the-difference-between-pictures concept. Take that and add a little movement and you've got this game in a nutshell. But it really begins to shine with the use of music and the careful ordering of the images. You feel like you're going through a night's journey awake and asleep at the same time. A man relaxes in a park with a McDonald's in the distance. Late night traffic creates a sound similar to the ocean waves. Streetlights seem to run at a slower pace. Then the images begin to take a surreal turn. Dreamlike. Maybe even a tad nightmarish. But only for a little while. And then the city starts to wake up again before the sun is anywhere in sight. It's a simple game that makes you earn your serenity.
Air Pressure
Hoo boy, what can I say about this one without spoiling it? This is what's called a visual novel, akin to a choose-your-own-adventure story. The 'novel' is short, but it gives you the exact flavor you need. Your character seems to be in a relationship with a girl, that might have run its course. But depending on your choices, you can receive the sucker punch ending that reveals the game is only presenting a metaphor for something significantly heavier. Mature audiences recommended.
ASCIIvania
This is a short puzzle/platformer but it really hits the sweet spot. Our alphabet has an inherent beauty to it, something I take for granted as I keep mindlessly hitting these keyboard keys. The goal here is to collect the entire alphabet by navigating a cave-like system where words tend to get in the way. The place has a gentle personality to it, and perhaps a subtle hierarchy of which letters tend to be treated as more valuable. ASCIIvania 2 would be greatly appreciated.
The Asylum
Is there a point where a game becomes so much of an interactive story that it ceases to be a game? I would argue no but I tend to lose arguments, so instead I'll say 'Oh, shut up.' This experience could only have been told as a game. If Toy Story convinced us all that our toys had feelings, then this gem demonstrates what happens when those feelings develop into full blown mental health issues. A group of stuffed animals are in a psychiatric ward, each with their own unique pain. The concept requires a certain suspension of disbelief, but the seriousness with which the game takes each creature's therapy is truly inspired. If you have any sense of empathy, the turtle is going to make you cry.
DROD: King Dugan's Dungeon Lite
This is a top-down dungeon crawl and probably the most standard game on this list. But artistry presents itself in a plethora of avenues. The brilliance of this game series lies in its mathematical layout. There is no randomness in the 'Deadly Rooms of Death', every step you take is a cause and effect relationship with the creatures sent to kill (or run from) you. Try the game, and pay attention to how MUCH time you spend figuring out each room. Then imagine if this game you're playing for free had come out on the SNES, and what kind of impact it might have had on Nintendo's other franchises. Despite the limited graphics and dialogue, Beethro may actually be the most likable barbarian in gaming history.
Grace's Diary
This is similar to Air Pressure, but a bit more realistic, and fortunately I can tell you exactly what it's about. Teenaged Grace has a good friend Natalie, who is in an abusive relationship. Grace is about to call her to express her concerns, but first she has to collect her thoughts; hence the visual novel's gameplay. You'll spend about five to ten minutes on this, but it's a poignant journey. The game is sponsored by Jennifer Ann's Group, a charity based out of Atlanta, Georgia for the prevention of teen dating violence. It concisely presents many of the warning signs of abuse, as well as touching on the importance of how one approaches the subject with a friend. This is a wonderful example of how a video game can have a real world positive effect.
Ode to Pixel Days
A bit lighter, but not quite pure clean fun, this semi-platformer challenges the subtext that so many platformers take for granted. Namely, if you jump through enough hoops, you're entitled to the girl-prize. Are Mario-type games harmful in this regard? Do they teach male gamers to think in terms of 'winning' that girl as a trophy? I don't know. I think that problem existed long before games hit the market, but the mentality is certainly an issue. It would be nice to see the videogame industry demonstrate an openness to at least discuss the topic. But for now, check out this entertaining diversion that could easily have been called "Dude, she's just not into you!"
Silent Conversation
Ok, this is the one. When I first started working on this blog, this game was the first thing that popped into my head. It's a platformer. About. Reading. A silent conversation is what we're having right now. By the time you read this, I will have long since finished the blog and posted it. You read the words, maybe hear a voice in your head; mine, yours, Katherine Kellgren's (Why not? She's an Audie Award winner), and have some sort of analytical reaction to it. The conversation may only flow in one direction (you could always start leaving me some damn comments) but it is a conversation nonetheless. In this game, your cursor is the capital I. Your 'I' wanders through narratives (poems, stories, the first chapter of Alice in Wonderland) and touches each word causing it to light up. At the end of the passage you get a score.
What sets this apart is the creative uses of the texts. For example, Alice in Wonderland's chapter opens up into the rabbit hole for your 'I' to fall down. The e.e. cummings poem is naturally all over the place. But "The Nameless City" by H. P. Lovecraft is where the potential for this method of storytelling becomes fully realized. And if nothing else, it's a game that gets people reading.
Thursday, April 28, 2016
Table of Contents Page for My Multi-Chapter Stories
As you may have surmised from the title, this is the table of contents page for my multi-chapter stories, ultimately for the sake of convenient navigation.
Scooby-Doo's Unsolved Mystery
An unnamed journalist (also gender non-specific, clever me) has a chance encounter with Shaggy Rogers some time after Mystery Inc. has disbanded. The conversation reveals a curious blemish on the gang's track record, and the journalist becomes intrigued enough to re-open the investigation. I'm quite proud of this story for a few reasons. First and definitely foremost, I feel the mystery works, and that's been an ongoing struggle for me in the past. Second, I feel like I successfully got inside the heads of each character and got their beats and mannerisms down without turning them into caricatures. And finally, I maintain that the best Scooby-Doo stories are the ones that remember to give Daphne something vital to do plot-wise. You can probably guess from the chapter titles that was an important element to me.
Chasing the Rabbit
This is my epic Disney fan-fiction (in progress) which I've had rattling around in my head for well over a decade now. I never thought to try writing it down until I started publishing on fanfiction.net, but when I learned that the site came with a built in audience I couldn't resist. The story: several famous Disney characters from different stories are waking up in an unfamiliar jungle with limited memories of who they are and no idea why they are there. As one mystery unravels, a larger one takes its place.
Chapter Four: The Eye in the Sky
Chapter Five: Trouble Shared and Joy Divided
Chapter Six: Left in the Dark
Chapter Seven: One Step at a Time
Chapter Eight: VIP Treatment
Chapter Nine: An Outside Perspective
Chapter Ten: Fire and Ice
Chapter Eleven: A Rude Awakening
Chapter Twelve: Bugs in the System
Chapter Thirteen: The Unlucky Rabbit
Chapter Fourteen: Bullying a Dragon
Chapter Fifteen: Running Aground
Chapter Sixteen: Through the Looking Glass
Chapter Seventeen: One Little Spark
Chapter Eighteen: Firewalls and Blindspots
Chapter Nineteen: A Cold Welcome
Chapter Twenty: Cat and Mouse
Chapter Five: Trouble Shared and Joy Divided
Chapter Six: Left in the Dark
Chapter Seven: One Step at a Time
Chapter Eight: VIP Treatment
Chapter Nine: An Outside Perspective
Chapter Ten: Fire and Ice
Chapter Eleven: A Rude Awakening
Chapter Twelve: Bugs in the System
Chapter Thirteen: The Unlucky Rabbit
Chapter Fourteen: Bullying a Dragon
Chapter Fifteen: Running Aground
Chapter Sixteen: Through the Looking Glass
Chapter Seventeen: One Little Spark
Chapter Eighteen: Firewalls and Blindspots
Chapter Nineteen: A Cold Welcome
Chapter Twenty: Cat and Mouse
The Wax Buzzard Files
This detective spoof story came out of desperation one week when I was suffering from serious writer's block. I'd vowed over a year prior that I was going to take my blog seriously and post something on at least a weekly basis, but this particular week I simply could not motivate myself. So I decided to just go completely into absurd humor. I wound up liking the result and decided to revisit Detective Guffey any time I wasn't feeling up to a respectable blog. Suffice to say I have NO idea where this story is going, and I find that strangely liberating.
Wednesday, April 27, 2016
Chasing the Rabbit: Chapter Four -The Eye in the Sky
Click here for the Table of Contents.
"Did you know that most dreams speak to you metaphorically?"
This was the latest in a never ending series of anecdotes about the subconscious that Meg's shadow, named Alice, had taken delight in sharing. "No," she huffed for the fourth time in a row, "I was not aware of that."
"For example, if one were to be following tracks which split in two directions, one would be well advised to follow the set leading to one's right. Hence, being 'on the right track'."
Meg was still a few steps ahead of Alice, but she could just feel the young girl was smiling about her wellspring of knowledge. Meg was about to make another futile attempt to convince her that she was in fact not dreaming, but Alice beat her to the pause in conversation.
"I find it fascinating how the human mind plays mathematical games with itself during its state of rest. Perhaps the mind fears entropy in a manner similar to the way most people fear death. What conclusion might you draw, Miss Megara?"
This question was enough to stop Meg in her spot. "Doll," she said, consciously reminding herself that she was speaking to a child, "This probably is as interesting as you think it is. But there is a hierarchy of concerns, and this topic is at least a few rungs below trying not to die out here."
"A hierarchy of concerns?" Alice responded, clearly honing in on the wrong element. "What an insightful way of looking at it."
Meg rubbed her eyes, thinking several incorrect myths about lemmings.
"Oh, Miss Megara!"
"Just call me Meg.
"Miss Meg, there he is again!"
Meg looked where Alice was pointing. "Who?"
"The man in the tree!"
Meg surveyed the jungle overhead but saw only jungle. "Alice doesn't live here anymore," she muttered.
"Well he was there a moment ago. I wonder if he's meant to be hunting the rabbit."
"What is this fictional rabbit you keep talking about?"
"I saw him in the meadow earlier. He was about my height, perhaps taller with the ears, and he stood upright like a man."
Meg decided to push on through the vegetation while humoring her escortee. "Did he say anything?"
"No he seemed to be running somewhere. It's all quite familiar really. I once followed a rabbit down its hole in a previous dream. Except that one was white and carried a pocket watch."
Meg had lost interest. But for the moment Alice was humming to herself, which gave her a chance to try figuring out what to do. Meg was used to being a pawn, but never one without information. She'd been stuck on this horrifying notion that she dared not say out loud. Hercules had made a deal with Hades for her life. He may have been powerful enough to carry her soul out of the Underworld, but that didn't mean the deal was undone.
She pulled an armful of fronds back like a curtain for Alice to step through. The girl smiled blissfully. Meg was trying not to dislike her, but the combination of her blissful ignorance and that melody that was now boring its way into her own head was proving to be a challenge.
"Hades," she whispered, genuinely asking for him now. She swore she wouldn't make any more deals with him, but at least if he'd show up to gloat then she'd know what the situation was. But he didn't come. And Meg couldn't decide if it was better or worse than if he'd shown up.
Then the ground literally fell out from underneath her feet. As she'd pushed through a patch of thicket, the forest ended with no warning. "Oh gods!" Meg yelled as she caught a branch in time to keep from plummeting down a steep drop.
Alice helped pull her back to the former terrain and took in the scene while Meg regained her breath. It was a wasteland; nothing but jagged red rocks and cracked clay as far as the horizon. And just off the right of where they'd emerged, many yards below, was a stone bridge that snaked to the entrance of a huge fortress some distance away.
The place looked almost conical in silhouette with three levels of spires, the highest one clearly towering over the spot where they were. "I wonder if that's really as tall as it looks," said Alice. She checked to see how Meg was recovering.
"This is why I hate heights," she gasped.
"Shall we, then?"
"Shall we what?" said Meg. "Go back the way we came and try reasoning with the headless man?"
Alice pointed at the ominous structure. "That's clearly the place we're meant to go. It stands out as the first concrete image we've happened upon."
Meg gently placed her hands on Alice's shoulders. "Lilies, when you get pinched you are really going to feel it, but until then trust me. That is not the place you want to go."
"On the contrary, that is precisely the place one wants to go."
Meg steadied her own head. "Okay, devil's advocate. If 'one' were in this precise situation and 'one' happened to know 'one' wasn't dreaming, what would 'one's' most mortality conducive course of action be?"
Alice thought carefully. "Still to visit the place with the spires."
Meg stared at her. For quite a while. "How," she said, "do you figure that?"
"Simply put, if one were in this precise situation, stranded in unfamiliar territory with no memory of how or why, and one dreaming it were no longer a possibility, then it stands to reason that answers must lie elsewhere. Possibly coveted by the owner of those answers, and kept in a location where few would dare to look."
"Okay...a follow up question? Suppose the few who dare to look find the owner instead?"
"Why would the architect of such an intimidating façade include a bridge if not for ease of access?"
Meg sighed. "Doll, you are too smart for your own good."
"On the contrary Miss-"
"Just-" interrupted Meg, "take the compliment, Lilies."
Elsewhere.
High up in the foliage, where the tallest treetops blanketed out most of the sky, there was an eye. A round lens encased in a crystal covering.
Tarzan stared intensely into this eye. Waiting. But the artificial iris did not respond to his presence.
He tapped on it with the tip of his spear, the one he'd made himself; wood, vine and bone. It clinked against the surface, unheard by anyone but the Lord of the Jungle. But the eye refused to stir.
Tarzan grumbled to himself, and struck the crystal with a more calculated force. And waited.
The tiniest red dot appeared in the middle of the eye. Slowly, it began to grow. Awakening.
Tarzan was so deeply focused on this eye, he'd been unaware that he himself was being observed. From behind.
He sensed it only at the last possible moment when he only had the ability to react. A familiar-but-not snarl filled his head as a set of strong claws caught the hilt of his spear, sending the ape-man off the branch. He fell.
The various twigs he was able to reach kept breaking off in his hands. Tarzan was halfway to the ground before he was able to pierce the trunk of a tree with his spear, steering himself to a sturdy enough vine for his weight. Somewhere up above, heavy paws shuffled the leaves, but he couldn't make out where they were.
Tarzan used the vines as he was proficient to relocate out of the dense area and into an open section of the jungle where he could see his surroundings clearer. He landed on a thick branch and controlled his breath, scanning the area around and above him.
For several moments he stood ready in silence, spear in defense. The creature had found him. He could hear the low purr, but couldn't make out which direction it was coming from. Tarzan peered carefully at the vegetation straight above him, anticipating an attack from that direction. He was wrong. It came from below.
The dark paw hooked the handle of his spear and pulled with heavy force. The ape-man refused to let go and vaulted over the head of the large cat. Confused, it released its hold on the branch and rolled backwards, sending them both into the throes of gravity once again.
This time there was a web of vines draped across the pathway down, and both combatants became entangled before they knew which direction they were facing. Tarzan got loose first, and used the remaining terrain to slide his way to the ground. He touched down lightly and rolled several yards away from the landing spot.
A few seconds later the panther's feet hit the same spot with an audible thud. It stared at Tarzan, appraising him, dissecting him. Tarzan held his ground as the beast circled him, growling.
He looked at the panther, then at his spear, and back. Slowly, Tarzan released his left hand from the end of the spear closest to the tip. Bagheera glared at him but didn't move forward. The Lord of the Jungle cautiously set the spear down on the ground with his right hand and backed away from it. Bagheera stopped circling, and waited.
The panther stopped growling once he was convinced the ape-man's spear was out of his reach, but continued to watch his movements. The human spread his fingers to show that they were empty and gestured to himself. "Tar-zan" he said.
"Oh no, not another one," Bagheera snorted.
Continued in Chapter Five.
Return to the Table of Contents.
"Did you know that most dreams speak to you metaphorically?"
This was the latest in a never ending series of anecdotes about the subconscious that Meg's shadow, named Alice, had taken delight in sharing. "No," she huffed for the fourth time in a row, "I was not aware of that."
"For example, if one were to be following tracks which split in two directions, one would be well advised to follow the set leading to one's right. Hence, being 'on the right track'."
Meg was still a few steps ahead of Alice, but she could just feel the young girl was smiling about her wellspring of knowledge. Meg was about to make another futile attempt to convince her that she was in fact not dreaming, but Alice beat her to the pause in conversation.
"I find it fascinating how the human mind plays mathematical games with itself during its state of rest. Perhaps the mind fears entropy in a manner similar to the way most people fear death. What conclusion might you draw, Miss Megara?"
This question was enough to stop Meg in her spot. "Doll," she said, consciously reminding herself that she was speaking to a child, "This probably is as interesting as you think it is. But there is a hierarchy of concerns, and this topic is at least a few rungs below trying not to die out here."
"A hierarchy of concerns?" Alice responded, clearly honing in on the wrong element. "What an insightful way of looking at it."
Meg rubbed her eyes, thinking several incorrect myths about lemmings.
"Oh, Miss Megara!"
"Just call me Meg.
"Miss Meg, there he is again!"
Meg looked where Alice was pointing. "Who?"
"The man in the tree!"
Meg surveyed the jungle overhead but saw only jungle. "Alice doesn't live here anymore," she muttered.
"Well he was there a moment ago. I wonder if he's meant to be hunting the rabbit."
"What is this fictional rabbit you keep talking about?"
"I saw him in the meadow earlier. He was about my height, perhaps taller with the ears, and he stood upright like a man."
Meg decided to push on through the vegetation while humoring her escortee. "Did he say anything?"
"No he seemed to be running somewhere. It's all quite familiar really. I once followed a rabbit down its hole in a previous dream. Except that one was white and carried a pocket watch."
Meg had lost interest. But for the moment Alice was humming to herself, which gave her a chance to try figuring out what to do. Meg was used to being a pawn, but never one without information. She'd been stuck on this horrifying notion that she dared not say out loud. Hercules had made a deal with Hades for her life. He may have been powerful enough to carry her soul out of the Underworld, but that didn't mean the deal was undone.
She pulled an armful of fronds back like a curtain for Alice to step through. The girl smiled blissfully. Meg was trying not to dislike her, but the combination of her blissful ignorance and that melody that was now boring its way into her own head was proving to be a challenge.
"Hades," she whispered, genuinely asking for him now. She swore she wouldn't make any more deals with him, but at least if he'd show up to gloat then she'd know what the situation was. But he didn't come. And Meg couldn't decide if it was better or worse than if he'd shown up.
Then the ground literally fell out from underneath her feet. As she'd pushed through a patch of thicket, the forest ended with no warning. "Oh gods!" Meg yelled as she caught a branch in time to keep from plummeting down a steep drop.
Alice helped pull her back to the former terrain and took in the scene while Meg regained her breath. It was a wasteland; nothing but jagged red rocks and cracked clay as far as the horizon. And just off the right of where they'd emerged, many yards below, was a stone bridge that snaked to the entrance of a huge fortress some distance away.
The place looked almost conical in silhouette with three levels of spires, the highest one clearly towering over the spot where they were. "I wonder if that's really as tall as it looks," said Alice. She checked to see how Meg was recovering.
"This is why I hate heights," she gasped.
"Shall we, then?"
"Shall we what?" said Meg. "Go back the way we came and try reasoning with the headless man?"
Alice pointed at the ominous structure. "That's clearly the place we're meant to go. It stands out as the first concrete image we've happened upon."
Meg gently placed her hands on Alice's shoulders. "Lilies, when you get pinched you are really going to feel it, but until then trust me. That is not the place you want to go."
"On the contrary, that is precisely the place one wants to go."
Meg steadied her own head. "Okay, devil's advocate. If 'one' were in this precise situation and 'one' happened to know 'one' wasn't dreaming, what would 'one's' most mortality conducive course of action be?"
Alice thought carefully. "Still to visit the place with the spires."
Meg stared at her. For quite a while. "How," she said, "do you figure that?"
"Simply put, if one were in this precise situation, stranded in unfamiliar territory with no memory of how or why, and one dreaming it were no longer a possibility, then it stands to reason that answers must lie elsewhere. Possibly coveted by the owner of those answers, and kept in a location where few would dare to look."
"Okay...a follow up question? Suppose the few who dare to look find the owner instead?"
"Why would the architect of such an intimidating façade include a bridge if not for ease of access?"
Meg sighed. "Doll, you are too smart for your own good."
"On the contrary Miss-"
"Just-" interrupted Meg, "take the compliment, Lilies."
Elsewhere.
High up in the foliage, where the tallest treetops blanketed out most of the sky, there was an eye. A round lens encased in a crystal covering.
Tarzan stared intensely into this eye. Waiting. But the artificial iris did not respond to his presence.
He tapped on it with the tip of his spear, the one he'd made himself; wood, vine and bone. It clinked against the surface, unheard by anyone but the Lord of the Jungle. But the eye refused to stir.
Tarzan grumbled to himself, and struck the crystal with a more calculated force. And waited.
The tiniest red dot appeared in the middle of the eye. Slowly, it began to grow. Awakening.
Tarzan was so deeply focused on this eye, he'd been unaware that he himself was being observed. From behind.
He sensed it only at the last possible moment when he only had the ability to react. A familiar-but-not snarl filled his head as a set of strong claws caught the hilt of his spear, sending the ape-man off the branch. He fell.
The various twigs he was able to reach kept breaking off in his hands. Tarzan was halfway to the ground before he was able to pierce the trunk of a tree with his spear, steering himself to a sturdy enough vine for his weight. Somewhere up above, heavy paws shuffled the leaves, but he couldn't make out where they were.
Tarzan used the vines as he was proficient to relocate out of the dense area and into an open section of the jungle where he could see his surroundings clearer. He landed on a thick branch and controlled his breath, scanning the area around and above him.
For several moments he stood ready in silence, spear in defense. The creature had found him. He could hear the low purr, but couldn't make out which direction it was coming from. Tarzan peered carefully at the vegetation straight above him, anticipating an attack from that direction. He was wrong. It came from below.
The dark paw hooked the handle of his spear and pulled with heavy force. The ape-man refused to let go and vaulted over the head of the large cat. Confused, it released its hold on the branch and rolled backwards, sending them both into the throes of gravity once again.
This time there was a web of vines draped across the pathway down, and both combatants became entangled before they knew which direction they were facing. Tarzan got loose first, and used the remaining terrain to slide his way to the ground. He touched down lightly and rolled several yards away from the landing spot.
A few seconds later the panther's feet hit the same spot with an audible thud. It stared at Tarzan, appraising him, dissecting him. Tarzan held his ground as the beast circled him, growling.
He looked at the panther, then at his spear, and back. Slowly, Tarzan released his left hand from the end of the spear closest to the tip. Bagheera glared at him but didn't move forward. The Lord of the Jungle cautiously set the spear down on the ground with his right hand and backed away from it. Bagheera stopped circling, and waited.
The panther stopped growling once he was convinced the ape-man's spear was out of his reach, but continued to watch his movements. The human spread his fingers to show that they were empty and gestured to himself. "Tar-zan" he said.
"Oh no, not another one," Bagheera snorted.
Continued in Chapter Five.
Return to the Table of Contents.
Wednesday, April 20, 2016
The Wax Buzzard Files: Chapter Two -A Chapter Without a Very Good Title
You might be wondering what happened before now, but don't feel like searching for the links to the Table of Contents. As usual, I have to do everything around here.
My plan paid off handsomely. Unfortunately I'd bet against myself and lost big. Having followed my follower in reverse to his destination, which understandably had been his point of origin before he'd started walking forwards, I found myself in the office of the notoriously displeased mob boss Mr. Happy.
Like a tailored tuxedo, the name Mr. Happy was probably better suited for a man, but I wasn't about to question her choices to her face. Mr. Happy leaned over her desk, with the tip of her cigar grazing the end of my nose; and were it not for the 'No Smoking' city ordinance that thing might have actually been lit.
"Detective Guffey," she huffed.
"Present and accounted for!" I said in rapt attention.
"You're accounted for when I say you're accounted for!" Mr. Happy bellowed with a breath that smelled like Colgate. One of her henchmen, who I hadn't been aware was already in the chair in which I'd sat down, asked her if he should be taking minutes. Mr. Happy nodded. And she turned her attention back to me. "Now you're accounted for," she snapped, apparently feeling the groove.
"Mr. Happy," I said, "why have you taken an interest in my activities?"
She got right in my face. "I'll ask the questions!"
"And suppose I don't know the answers..."
"Then I'll answer them as well!" She snarled. "Why have I taken an interest in your activities? Because-" she pointed accusingly at me, "You look like you're thinking about snooping around. And I have a real problem with people who look that way."
"You ever try getting to know one?"
"Yes!" Mr. Happy growled. "And nothing bad happened. But I'm still entitled to my opinions. And I think it's about time you and I had a little chat."
"How little?" I asked needlessly adverbedly.
"So little that it's already over, Detective!"
Mr. Happy threw her hands in the air, waved them around like she didn't care (which admittedly hurt my feelings) and pulled The Manual of Violent Threats out of her desk. She found the information she was looking for, and I knew I was in trouble, because she muttered something about me being in trouble.
But before she could make two copies of the page for her henchmen I heard a familiar car horn, familiar because it sounded like a car horn and I've heard those before. I poked my head out into the hall to tell it to shut up when it occurred to me that I never ate my oatmeal that morning. That, and there was only one person I knew who could drive a car into a hallway without making a sound.
I resigned myself to the reality that my breakfast was likely cold by now and tapped on the driver's side glass. "Hey. You in there?"
Miss Nomer rolled down her window. "Get in!"
"In the car?"
"No! In line for the community theater production of Chicago!"
In the event that she wasn't being sarcastic it was to my advantage to dive in the passenger side. Mr. Happy's henchmen appeared in the doorway, pointing at us and hopping up and down.
"Pull carefully out into traffic and floor it!" I advised, placing my hands on the dashboard to brace for an inevitable impact. After what seemed like a few ambiguously measured moments I realized the vehicle wasn't moving. Miss Nomer glared at me.
"Please?" I added, and we were off.
There's actually a Chapter Three, and I can prove it.
My plan paid off handsomely. Unfortunately I'd bet against myself and lost big. Having followed my follower in reverse to his destination, which understandably had been his point of origin before he'd started walking forwards, I found myself in the office of the notoriously displeased mob boss Mr. Happy.
Like a tailored tuxedo, the name Mr. Happy was probably better suited for a man, but I wasn't about to question her choices to her face. Mr. Happy leaned over her desk, with the tip of her cigar grazing the end of my nose; and were it not for the 'No Smoking' city ordinance that thing might have actually been lit.
"Detective Guffey," she huffed.
"Present and accounted for!" I said in rapt attention.
"You're accounted for when I say you're accounted for!" Mr. Happy bellowed with a breath that smelled like Colgate. One of her henchmen, who I hadn't been aware was already in the chair in which I'd sat down, asked her if he should be taking minutes. Mr. Happy nodded. And she turned her attention back to me. "Now you're accounted for," she snapped, apparently feeling the groove.
"Mr. Happy," I said, "why have you taken an interest in my activities?"
She got right in my face. "I'll ask the questions!"
"And suppose I don't know the answers..."
"Then I'll answer them as well!" She snarled. "Why have I taken an interest in your activities? Because-" she pointed accusingly at me, "You look like you're thinking about snooping around. And I have a real problem with people who look that way."
"You ever try getting to know one?"
"Yes!" Mr. Happy growled. "And nothing bad happened. But I'm still entitled to my opinions. And I think it's about time you and I had a little chat."
"How little?" I asked needlessly adverbedly.
"So little that it's already over, Detective!"
Mr. Happy threw her hands in the air, waved them around like she didn't care (which admittedly hurt my feelings) and pulled The Manual of Violent Threats out of her desk. She found the information she was looking for, and I knew I was in trouble, because she muttered something about me being in trouble.
But before she could make two copies of the page for her henchmen I heard a familiar car horn, familiar because it sounded like a car horn and I've heard those before. I poked my head out into the hall to tell it to shut up when it occurred to me that I never ate my oatmeal that morning. That, and there was only one person I knew who could drive a car into a hallway without making a sound.
I resigned myself to the reality that my breakfast was likely cold by now and tapped on the driver's side glass. "Hey. You in there?"
Miss Nomer rolled down her window. "Get in!"
"In the car?"
"No! In line for the community theater production of Chicago!"
In the event that she wasn't being sarcastic it was to my advantage to dive in the passenger side. Mr. Happy's henchmen appeared in the doorway, pointing at us and hopping up and down.
"Pull carefully out into traffic and floor it!" I advised, placing my hands on the dashboard to brace for an inevitable impact. After what seemed like a few ambiguously measured moments I realized the vehicle wasn't moving. Miss Nomer glared at me.
"Please?" I added, and we were off.
There's actually a Chapter Three, and I can prove it.
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