Monday, April 30, 2012

Flash Fiction: Burning Uniform

Flash Fiction: Burning Uniform — Blue Ink Alchemy

Ruins in St Lo, France
This weeks challenge gave me the title.
The sounds of fighting were distant, now. The orders alternated between "tactical withdrawal" and "orderly retreat." He looked down at his leg again and shook his head. He felt fortunate nothing important had been hit by the bullet. Removing his bayonet from the fire, he took a deep breath, grabbed a nearby stick and sank his teeth into it, and dove in. The haze of pain obscured his vision and he had to rely on the sensations in his calf. Mercifully, the bullet was not deep. The proper angle forced the object out, and before he could think better of it, he heated the knife again and pressed it flat against his leg. The bayonet hadn't originally been his. He'd lost his rifle somewhere in the scramble after the building had been shelled. As the enemy poured through the streets, his thoughts had not been for tactics or vicious killings, but for the home he missed, the parents he feared disappointing, the wife he'd never see again. He thought of her now as the pervasive smells of blood and powdered rubble were joined by that of his seared wound. "You there!" He spat out the stick. Amazingly, his captain looked like he'd just stepped off a parade ground, minus a scratch or two. "On your feet, Obersturmführer! Why are you out of uniform?" "I was wounded." He pointed to the exposed leg flesh under the rolled-up cuff of his trousers. "I could not walk." "You must do more than walk now! We must fall back." "To what end?" He began rolling down the trouser leg. "Was?" "I said, to what end? Think about it, Hauptsturmführer Oberst. The eastern front is collapsing. The Allies are here in France. Our enemies are closing in and show no signs of slowing down." "I will not tolerate such an attitude! It is always darkest before the dawn, and the dawn shall come for our glorious Reich! Now, get back in uniform and start marching!" The lieutenant shrugged and looked at the barrel. His captain narrowed his eyes and peered into it. The dark eyes went wide and he stepped back in horror. "Adalbert... was ist das..." "You know, there were those amongst our SS superiors who said it was a mistake to allow a Pollack like me into your ranks. At the time, all I wanted was to prove them wrong. Now I see their assessment was correct." He drew his Luger. "Yes, I can speak six languages fluently. Yes, I have killed our enemies at range and up close. Yes, I have shaken the hand of the Führer." He thumbed the safety. "But there will always be the image of my wife being taken from our home burning in my mind. What cowards to come for her while I was at the front." Oberst finally saw what Adalbert was doing and went for his own weapon. The pistol went off, a whip-crack breaking the growing quiet of the ruined city. Blood blossomed across the shoulder and chest of the black uniform and Oberst looked down at the wound in shock. Adalbert aimed and fired again, destroying the German's knee. He collapsed, and Adalbert limped over to take the rifle from him. "Danke. I had lost mine." "You traitorous Schwanzlutscher! I will see you hanged for this!" "I never did understand this arrogance of yours. Any of yours. How can you consider yourselves so superior when you can't even look your victims in the eye, and must herd them like cattle into large rooms of death?" "You stupid Pollack. Do you have any idea how long it would take to kill every last Jew individually?" "It's not that hard, Oberst. Let me show you." He raised the Luger to Oberst's forehead and squeezed. At close range the bullet exploded out of the back of the German's head. The Hauptsturmführer fell backwards and twitched by the burning barrel. Adalbert sighed, holstering the pistol and looking down at the spatters of blood on his white undershirt. "Freeze!" He whipped his head towards the sound, arms going up. Three men in green fatigues approached with rifles aimed. Adalbert's mind raced. "Ne tirez pas, s'il vous plaît!" "Huh. Got us a Frenchie." "Nah, look at him, he's a little swarthy for that, ain't he?" "Can it, you two." The man in the middle lowered his rifle a bit. "You speak English?" "Yes." Adalbert kept his hands up. "And, to be honest, I am Polish." The middle American raised an eyebrow. "So's my mom. What're you doing this far back?" "I was..." Adalbert looked down at Oberst. "I was resisting." "I'd say you did a fine job of it!" One of the Americans gave Oberst a kick. "Knock it off, Hudson." The Polish-American slung his rifle. "That leg looks like it could use some attention." "Yes, it could. I can walk, though." "Good. Hudson, take the platoon forward, hook up with the 101st. Sullivan, you're with me. We're taking this man back to HQ." "Yes, sir!" Both enlisted men responded at once. Adalbert picked up Oberst's rifle and slipped his arm through the shoulder strap. "I'm Lieutenant McManus of the 82nd Airborne." The American extended a hand, which Adalbert shook. "Adalbert Kozlowski." "You in the service, Kozlowski?" He looked back at Oberst. "Yes. For my part I simply tried not to die, and to prove I was no coward." "Well, no offense, but you're probably in for a rough time. You'll need to be debriefed and you'll likely be considered a POW." "Trust me, Lieutenant, compared to this, time with your American debriefing will feel like a vacation." "Yeah, well, wait 'til you meet the feds." They started back towards the American position. Hudson lead the other men on. Next to Oberst's corpse, within the barrel, the fabric of the jacket, cap, shirt, tie, and boots became consumed. Old orders and photos crinkled and blackened. The armband burned. Soon, all that remained were charred pairs of silver lightning bolts.
Blue Ink Alchemy

Friday, April 27, 2012

Rewrite Report: What Was I Doing, Again?

Rewrite Report: What Was I Doing, Again? — Blue Ink Alchemy

Bard by BlueInkAlchemist, on Flickr
This has been one of those weeks that's kinda gone off the rails. I mean that strictly in terms of rewriting stuff. I've barely touched Cold Iron. I have, instead, blown the dust off of my freelance gaming writing hat. I'm working on two articles, one with a definite home and one I'll need to shop around. I need to remind myself that it's important for me to keep writing, even if I think what I write is never going to be read. There may be similar articles out there to the one's I'm working on during lunch breaks and in the other cracks in my daily schedule, but I do have a perspective that's unique from that of other people. I mean, everybody has a unique perspective, since we don't share a hive mind or anything, but my point is that I shouldn't be afraid to share what's on my mind because something similar may have come before. Hopefully I'll have more to 'report' on next week, after this busy weekend passes and I wrap up these articles.
Blue Ink Alchemy

Thursday, April 26, 2012

Hyped Up or Hyped Out?

Hyped Up or Hyped Out? — Blue Ink Alchemy

Fassbender in Prometheus
Another featurette from Ridley Scott's upcoming sci-fi thriller Prometheus is available for viewing. As excited as I am for the film, and in light of my peculiar adoration of Michael Fassbender, the temptation is to jump all over it and begin salivating. However, I think I've reached the saturation point of hype. If I watch more more promotional material, my enthusiasm may begin to diminish. I am, in a sense, hyped out. A friend of mine is in a similar situation with The Avengers. I offered to link him the latest clip of a conversation between Bruce Banner and Natasha Romanov, but he politely declined. There's simply so much hype out there that maintaining a heightened level of enthusiasm gets exhausting after a while. I'm sure the film will be fun, but it's entirely possible that there's too much hype getting built up around it. As positive as "the buzz" may be for these films, there's that little part of me that warns me about something being over-hyped. More than once, especially in films and video games, a hot new title has been hyped all over the place only to ultimately disappoint its would-be fans once released. Only the most ignorant and wide-eyed optimists can ignore such cautionary tales and believe that whatever it is that's being hyped will be 110% awesome. Then again, despite not watching further promotional material, these films are still being discussed. So perhaps the hype has done its job already? It's difficult to say. There may not, in fact, be such a thing as too much hype. I'm not certain. I'm not in marketing. I always feel a bit odd shilling things I do, but I guess I need to get over that if I intend on selling my writing.
Blue Ink Alchemy

Wednesday, April 25, 2012

Villains Are People Too

Villains Are People Too — Blue Ink Alchemy

Courtesy HBO
I hate Joffrey Baratheon with the passion of a thousand burning suns. Not Jack Gleeson, mind you. I think he's doing an excellent job with the material. From what I understand, he's a really nice guy. His character, however, really gets on my nerves. He has no regard for authority outside of his own, his bloodthirst verges on the disturbing, he's spoiled and rotten and just absolutely infuriating. He's a wonderful character, though. I say "wonderful" even as I want to slap the kid around because he does his job beautifully. Villainy such as his can be difficult to take seriously. Go too overboard with it and you risk coming across as cartoonish. Casting the bad guy in your story with the mold of Megatron or Skeletor is actually pretty easy. Have them hatch evil schemes, threaten their subordinates or family members with disintegration at the slightest provocation, so on and so forth. Making an audience care about them, at least to the degree they begin to become hated, is another task entirely. One of the things to keep in mind when creating and informing the actions of your villain is that, to them, they actions they take are either perfectly reasonable or, failing that, ultimately justified. The way a character was raised, their outlook on the world and their place in it, and the perceived inability of others around them to act are just a few of the components that make up the motivations of a villain, just as much as they inform the motivations of a hero. In fact, and you've probably heard this line before, most villains do not see themselves as villains. Since their actions are justified (in their minds at least) and reasonable (from a certain point of view), would they not be just as much as hero as another character in the same story? The difference between a sympathetic villain and one we can't wait to see stomped into paste is willful ignorance. Some characters never come face to face with their flaws and failings, and blithely go about their villainy with a smile. The villains that do acknowledge their shortcomings either become stronger threats or more inclined to see things from the heroes' point of view. They heed the advice of others, find ways to correct errant or outrageous behavior, and we as the audience appreciate this. Character growth is always good, after all, even if it means the roots of a villain's evil spread and become more secure. To do this, a villain must occasionally ignore a glaring error or cross certain boundaries established by society or common moral sense. Again, it can be tricky to do this without turning the villain into a parody of themselves. But when you pull it off, be ready for your villain to be hated. This is why I can appreciate Joffrey even as I want to strangle the brat. He's not just a cackling, sneering villain for the heroes to defeat. He's a person. He's a spoiled, sadistic, power-drunk, ignorant, selfish, short-sighted, fucked up person, but a person nonetheless.
Blue Ink Alchemy

Tuesday, April 24, 2012

Restoring Avacyn

Restoring Avacyn — Blue Ink Alchemy

Courtesy Wizards of the Coast
When it comes to Magic: the Gathering, my primary hangouts in terms of color are blue and white. Blue, because the mind is a powerful tool in general and usually pretty flexible in the game & its planes in particular; and white, because I'm one of those incurable optimists who believes light can triumph over darkness. One of my favorite creatures back when I first played the game in the early 90s was the Serra Angel, one of the first examples of the Vigilance mechanic back before it had that name and a flying creature outshone (at the time) only by the Shivan Dragon. The Innistrad block, for me, has been an interesting change of pace. I started out with a blue and red deck for Standard, but never quite found the right balance or tempo with it. For a while I kicked around an idea for a spirits deck, with my personal favorite planeswalker [mtg_card]Venser, the Sojourner[/mtg_card] at its heart, but most of the necessary rares elude me to this day. When Dark Ascension hit and I cracked open my box, the playset of [mtg_card]Markov Blademaster[/mtg_card] appealed to my inclination towards elegant yet vicious vampires, and before I knew it [mtg_card]Sorin, Lord of Innistrad[/mtg_card] and I were allies in battle. I continue to tweak that deck, and hopefully I can play it a bit before Friday's Avacyn Restored pre-release event. I sometimes forget just how powerful planeswalkers can be. The fact that Sorin created the archangel Avacyn is somewhat mind-boggling, and makes me intensely curious from a lore standpoint. How did he go about this process? Was she summoned from the aether, or was a worthy mortal imbued with divine power? Who is Avacyn, and who was she before? Does she know she serves a creature that drinks the blood of the living and has lived as a planeswalking vagabond for centuries? In addition to all of these questions, there was one other unrelated to lore that prodded my mind: How can I get this righteous minx into a deck? Avacyn Restored is all about humans fighting back against the forces of darkness. Dawn is breaking all over Innistrad, and as much as my vampires will be pleased that their investments are receiving more protection, it is clear that the common man (and some uncommon men and women as well) are taking back what they've lost since [mtg_card]Liliana of the Veil[/mtg_card] and the other malevolent forces of the plane began pushing their boundaries. New champions are emerging, the angels are returning, and the townsfolk are bolder than ever. Into all of this I intend to introduce [mtg_card]Elspeth Tirel[/mtg_card], Venser's erstwhile traveling companion and another planeswalker I really like. A warrior maiden of the highest order, she seems to draw inspiration from other ladies of war such as Eowyn of Lord of the Rings, Joan of Arc, and Brienne of Tarth. The deck I'm working on covers two of the three colors associated with her native plane shard of Bant, white and green. To be honest, green is probably the color I use the least, and facing it is always a challenge for me. A savvy green player can ramp up mana very quickly, making it difficult for players in other colors to keep up. This, combined with effects that dump commonplace humans onto the battlefield and emboldening or empowering them, should create the basis for a formidable army, one to which I will introduce one or more of the angels restored along with Avacyn, if not the Angel of Hope herself. Provided, of course, I actually see her when I start opening packs.
Blue Ink Alchemy

Restoring Avacyn

Restoring Avacyn — Blue Ink Alchemy

Courtesy Wizards of the Coast
When it comes to Magic: the Gathering, my primary hangouts in terms of color are blue and white. Blue, because the mind is a powerful tool in general and usually pretty flexible in the game & its planes in particular; and white, because I'm one of those incurable optimists who believes light can triumph over darkness. One of my favorite creatures back when I first played the game in the early 90s was the Serra Angel, one of the first examples of the Vigilance mechanic back before it had that name and a flying creature outshone (at the time) only by the Shivan Dragon. The Innistrad block, for me, has been an interesting change of pace. I started out with a blue and red deck for Standard, but never quite found the right balance or tempo with it. For a while I kicked around an idea for a spirits deck, with my personal favorite planeswalker [mtg_card]Venser, the Sojourner[/mtg_card] at its heart, but most of the necessary rares elude me to this day. When Dark Ascension hit and I cracked open my box, the playset of [mtg_card]Markov Blademaster[/mtg_card] appealed to my inclination towards elegant yet vicious vampires, and before I knew it [mtg_card]Sorin, Lord of Innistrad[/mtg_card] and I were allies in battle. I continue to tweak that deck, and hopefully I can play it a bit before Friday's Avacyn Restored pre-release event. I sometimes forget just how powerful planeswalkers can be. The fact that Sorin created the archangel Avacyn is somewhat mind-boggling, and makes me intensely curious from a lore standpoint. How did he go about this process? Was she summoned from the aether, or was a worthy mortal imbued with divine power? Who is Avacyn, and who was she before? Does she know she serves a creature that drinks the blood of the living and has lived as a planeswalking vagabond for centuries? In addition to all of these questions, there was one other unrelated to lore that prodded my mind: How can I get this righteous minx into a deck? Avacyn Restored is all about humans fighting back against the forces of darkness. Dawn is breaking all over Innistrad, and as much as my vampires will be pleased that their investments are receiving more protection, it is clear that the common man (and some uncommon men and women as well) are taking back what they've lost since [mtg_card]Liliana of the Veil[/mtg_card] and the other malevolent forces of the plane began pushing their boundaries. New champions are emerging, the angels are returning, and the townsfolk are bolder than ever. Into all of this I intend to introduce [mtg_card]Elspeth Tirel[/mtg_card], Venser's erstwhile traveling companion and another planeswalker I really like. A warrior maiden of the highest order, she seems to draw inspiration from other ladies of war such as Eowyn of Lord of the Rings, Joan of Arc, and Brienne of Tarth. The deck I'm working on covers two of the three colors associated with her native plane shard of Bant, white and green. To be honest, green is probably the color I use the least, and facing it is always a challenge for me. A savvy green player can ramp up mana very quickly, making it difficult for players in other colors to keep up. This, combined with effects that dump commonplace humans onto the battlefield and emboldening or empowering them, should create the basis for a formidable army, one to which I will introduce one or more of the angels restored along with Avacyn, if not the Angel of Hope herself. Provided, of course, I actually see her when I start opening packs.
Blue Ink Alchemy

Monday, April 23, 2012

Flash Fiction: At The Terminal

Flash Fiction: At The Terminal — Blue Ink Alchemy

Munich Airport
For the Terribleminds flash fiction challenge, A Traveling Tale.
"Do you know why I pulled you over, son?" Travis shook his head. "No, officer, I don't. I was on cruise control at four miles over the speed limit to keep up with traffic." "Your registration's past due. Sticker on your plate says so." Travis smacked his forehead. "Right. I was going to take care of it before I got the call." The officer nodded, told him to wait, and returned to his squad car. Travis kept glancing at the clock in his dashboard. Sandra's flight would be leaving in just over three hours, if Meg's information was right, and he still had two hours to drive. The policeman walked back. "I'm not going to cite you for the registration, as it was just last month, but I will give you a warning. Get it taken care of as soon as possible." "I will, officer, I promise." "Drive safely." Travis cranked the radio's volume once he was back on the road. He changed CDs twice before hitting the city limits. His stomach rolled with just as much anticipation and dread as hunger, and he'd polished off the granola bars in his glove box not long before he'd been pulled over. He glanced at the clock again and tried to remember the best way to the airport. Naturally, most of the main roads were congested to a degree. He avoided them for as long as he could, and when he did get onto the highway leading to the terminals he tried his best not to be a dick. However, with so many vehicles jockeying for position, he had to push his little car into whatever space he could find, even if it meant running afoul of someone. He was, after all, on a mission. Finally, he found the short-term parking lot. He paid his cash, found a spot, grabbed the box, and ran inside. A quick text to Meg asked about the flight, and she responded almost immediately. With a little direction, he figured out which way to go. He ran until he had to wait for security, and then ran again to find the right flight lounge. She was sitting at the end of a row of seats, reading something on a tablet. He caught his breath, fixed the collar of his shirt, and walked up to her. She looked up as he approached, and disbelief filled her eyes. The tablet was set aside without her looking at it. "Travis, what are you doing here?" "Sandra, don't worry. I know you're leaving. I just wanted to make sure you had this with you." He offered her the small box. She took it, and after giving him an incredulous look, she opened it. "Oh, my God. I thought I'd lost this!" He smiled as she lifted her grandmother's locket on its delicate golden chain out of the box. "I know. I found it when I was cleaning things out before my move." "You had to move?" "Yeah. One person couldn't afford the rent on that place. I got myself a loft near school." "Good, that's good." She put the locket back in the box. "How's school going, by the way?" "A little hellish, given that I'm also working full time, but you know how that is." "Yeah." Neither of them said anything for a moment. "Who will you be staying with in Paris?" "A friend. She's very excited to meet me. I hope I don't embarrass myself too much with bad French." "Your French has always been beautiful. Well, to me, at least. But my opinion's biased." "Just a bit." Silence again. People shuffled around them. "Travis. Why did you drive out here just to give me this?" He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "I wish... I want you to stay. I mean, I know it's stupid, we broke up and everything, you made it clear you didn't want to be an attorney's wife and..." She reached out, taking his hand in hers. "I'm sorry this has been hard on you. I really am. And I think it's really sweet that you did this. But I can't stay. Studying with some of the best modern artists in the world is an opportunity I can't pass up. I can't let anything hold me back, either." The sting of her words was as fresh as it had ever been, but when Meg had called him, he'd resolved to know for sure, once and for all. He swallowed and nodded. "Well, I hope the locket brings you good luck, then. Travel safely, okay? Maybe... maybe you could write me. When you want to." She smiled, a tentative expression of uncertainty. "Yeah. Maybe I will." They called for her flight and, with a wave, she left him standing in the lounge. He made his way back out, wandering a bit aimlessly, through a connecting concourse to an adjoining hotel. He walked into the bar and sat, ordering a martini. "Make that two." He turned to see Meg sitting next to him. She was no match for Sandra's elegance and poise, but she was quite attractive in her own right, removing her spectacles and giving Travis a bit of a smile. "I take it she still got on the flight?" "Yeah. She thanked me, though." "Damn straight she did. You've been a good friend to her both before and after you were dating." "Well, there was always the threat of you kicking my ass to keep me in line." She gave his arm a playful punch, then took hold of his shoulder. "Hey. You okay?" He nodded. "Yeah, I... It was hard, seeing her again." "I bet. Sucks neither of us will be there for her." "Yeah." She smiled a bit more. "But hey... we got each other, right?" He turned to her and found himself smiling, too. "Right." Their drinks arrived, and he touched his glass to hers. "To Sandra." Meg grinned. "And to her friends." They drank, and promptly ordered another round.
Blue Ink Alchemy

Friday, April 20, 2012

Rewrite Report: Submission Edition

Rewrite Report: Submission Edition — Blue Ink Alchemy

Bard by BlueInkAlchemist, on Flickr
The fantasy novel sits at roughly 100,100 words. As the time approached for Angry Robot to open its doors, I knew I had to make some decisions. The first one was to convince myself that this is not a young adult book. While two of the three main protagonists are in their late teens, a hundred thousand words is an intimidating number with which to start off a story. I also couldn't convince myself that kids in their teens could get behind a protagonist who has a tendency to think and talk his way out of situations instead of relying on physical or supernatural prowess. Maybe I've just been too burned out lately to find the right angle to exploit, but what it boils down to is that Asherian, while pro-active in his words and deeds, doesn't start out as the initiator of the story. Events happen to him and he reacts. It takes a few chapters for him to shake off the complacency he's been taught. Once the scales fall from his eyes, so to speak, he begins taking more initiative. But I think a young adult protagonist takes the reigns almost immediately, at least when written well. Case in point would be Katniss volunteering in The Hunger Games. In any event, I went over the first five chapters again to make sure the flow and setup are as good as I can make them, put together the two-page synopsis, and sent the whole shebang to Angry Robot. I also renamed it Cities of Light. Fingers and toes crossed. While waiting for that to at least return with something resembling feedback, my attentions turn back to Cold Iron. This is a rewrite that still requires a bit of spit and polish, as timing of events within the story and some character beats have changed. It was hard for me to decide a decent scene between the lady detective and the murderer, set in the interrogation room, had to be cut. But I simply could not work the timeline properly to make it work without padding the story, and more importantly, making sure to empower said lady detective was far more important. Cold Iron is, to me, the lean and energetic kitten to Cities' cozy but somewhat massive tomcat. It's a novella and I want to keep it short. The cover is coming together extremely well, and once that is in place and I finish this particular rewrite, I'll be sending some review copies of the draft to folks I know with platforms to shout from. I may propose said review drafts in the same manner as a pitch - brief synopsis, what makes this story worth the time to read, etc. Anthologies may happen. Timeless Tales for the old myths made new thing, maybe a flash fiction collection. Not certain of that yet. I also am brewing an idea I'm pretty excited about. I think there's an itch out there not getting the particular scratch it needs. But that'll come later. Gotta finish what I've started already first.
Blue Ink Alchemy

Thursday, April 19, 2012

Back to the Funny Pages

Back to the Funny Pages — Blue Ink Alchemy

Courtesy Red 5 Comics
As much as possible, I support my local comics & gaming store. The perfect combination, as far as I'm concerned, is a little shop in Doylestown called Cyborg One. Now, it's not necessarily as local to me as, say, Comics & More in the King of Prussia mall, or the Alternate Universes gaming store in Blue Bell, but Cyborg has a neat and diverse selection, runs great events, and is staffed by very cool people. When I go there for Magic-playing, be it some casual Commander or full-on FNM, I sometimes come home with a graphic novel or two.

The Sandman

Reading one of the seminal works of vagabond genius Neil Gaiman has been a long time in coming. He's never been afraid to mess with our perceptions of beings and concepts far bigger than the individual (American Gods, Good Omens, etc) and The Sandman, written for DC Comics in the 80s, matches his always proficient and often amusing or touching words with fascinating and often reality-warping art. The stories center around Dream of the Endless, also called Morpheus among other names, who rules the realm all mortals visit when they sleep. Each graphic novel is a self-contained story arc, but as they progress we are introduced to more denizens of Dream's kingdom as well as his fellow Endless - his dolorous elder brother Destiny, the capricious Desire and its negative twin Despair, Delirium, and his elder sister, Death. He also is seen dealing with the mortals who give life to his realm, and other creatures that dwell in otherworldly spaces, from fallen angels to old gods. I don't want to give anything away, as Gaiman is perhaps at his best when you don't know what to expect, but suffice it to say his stories will charm you, disturb you, delight you, and move you. Each of the graphic novels in The Sandman series are well worth your money.

Transmetropolitan

In the future, man will transcend his human form to become a new form of life. Well, at least some will. Others will be happy to make it to work without getting shot by a horrible bio-toxin bullet or pop down to the corner food stand for a bucket of baby seal eyes. It's life in The City, a seething metropolis of festering urban decay, wealth disparity, political corruption, and religious proliferation. And gazing upon the City with an acerbic, unblinking, profane, and poignant eye is outlaw journalist Spider Jerusalem. At least, he was, until he ran off to live up a goddamn mountain. He's summoned back to complete a book deal he'd tried to forget about, and in the process gets wrapped up in the upcoming presidential election. Transmetropolitan opens with Spider getting called back to the City he hates, which is also the only place he can actually write. A big reason for this particular series being successful is Spider himself, who is basically Hunter S. Thompson in the not-too-distant future and carrying a truckload of guns instead of drugs. While set in the future, more often than not Spider's invective is not only focused on the people around him, but the people around us, and often including us. Rants on police brutality, religion, mass media, and others bleed from the pages and call us to the mat to look at our hypocrisy and ignorance head-on. And we also get stoned AIs, bowel disruptors, smoking cats, and perhaps the coolest pair of shades you'll ever see. It's weird, hilarious, disturbing, and wonderful reading.

Atomic Robo

In 1928, Nikola Tesla created the world's first automatic intelligence, placing it within a humanoid robotic body. Highly resilient to damage of all kinds, this artificial person was raised just as much on pulp stories as he was on science, and proceeded to become an invaluable asset to investigations into the realms of weird phenomena and super-science. He's smart and tough, compassionate and funny, a stand-up guy who can face down genius dinosaurs and brain-in-a-jar automatons without blinking his glowing eyes. He is Atomic Robo. To paraphrase Wizard Magazine, Atomic Robo is what you'd get if you were put equal parts Indiana Jones, Iron Man, and Rocketeer into a machine driven by Tesla coils and possibly a forsaken child. The writing by Brian Clevinger of 8-bit Theatre fame is snappy and on-point, succinct and punchy without skimping on details or characterization. Most of the art is by Scott Wegener and jumps right off the page. It's a delightfully pulpy take on action and super-science, with decent characterization and legitimate laughs. That's what I've been reading. As to what I've been writing... tune in tomorrow.
Blue Ink Alchemy

Back to the Funny Pages

Back to the Funny Pages — Blue Ink Alchemy

Courtesy Red 5 Comics
As much as possible, I support my local comics & gaming store. The perfect combination, as far as I'm concerned, is a little shop in Doylestown called Cyborg One. Now, it's not necessarily as local to me as, say, Comics & More in the King of Prussia mall, or the Alternate Universes gaming store in Blue Bell, but Cyborg has a neat and diverse selection, runs great events, and is staffed by very cool people. When I go there for Magic-playing, be it some casual Commander or full-on FNM, I sometimes come home with a graphic novel or two.

The Sandman

Reading one of the seminal works of vagabond genius Neil Gaiman has been a long time in coming. He's never been afraid to mess with our perceptions of beings and concepts far bigger than the individual (American Gods, Good Omens, etc) and The Sandman, written for DC Comics in the 80s, matches his always proficient and often amusing or touching words with fascinating and often reality-warping art. The stories center around Dream of the Endless, also called Morpheus among other names, who rules the realm all mortals visit when they sleep. Each graphic novel is a self-contained story arc, but as they progress we are introduced to more denizens of Dream's kingdom as well as his fellow Endless - his dolorous elder brother Destiny, the capricious Desire and its negative twin Despair, Delirium, and his elder sister, Death. He also is seen dealing with the mortals who give life to his realm, and other creatures that dwell in otherworldly spaces, from fallen angels to old gods. I don't want to give anything away, as Gaiman is perhaps at his best when you don't know what to expect, but suffice it to say his stories will charm you, disturb you, delight you, and move you. Each of the graphic novels in The Sandman series are well worth your money.

Transmetropolitan

In the future, man will transcend his human form to become a new form of life. Well, at least some will. Others will be happy to make it to work without getting shot by a horrible bio-toxin bullet or pop down to the corner food stand for a bucket of baby seal eyes. It's life in The City, a seething metropolis of festering urban decay, wealth disparity, political corruption, and religious proliferation. And gazing upon the City with an acerbic, unblinking, profane, and poignant eye is outlaw journalist Spider Jerusalem. At least, he was, until he ran off to live up a goddamn mountain. He's summoned back to complete a book deal he'd tried to forget about, and in the process gets wrapped up in the upcoming presidential election. Transmetropolitan opens with Spider getting called back to the City he hates, which is also the only place he can actually write. A big reason for this particular series being successful is Spider himself, who is basically Hunter S. Thompson in the not-too-distant future and carrying a truckload of guns instead of drugs. While set in the future, more often than not Spider's invective is not only focused on the people around him, but the people around us, and often including us. Rants on police brutality, religion, mass media, and others bleed from the pages and call us to the mat to look at our hypocrisy and ignorance head-on. And we also get stoned AIs, bowel disruptors, smoking cats, and perhaps the coolest pair of shades you'll ever see. It's weird, hilarious, disturbing, and wonderful reading.

Atomic Robo

In 1928, Nikola Tesla created the world's first automatic intelligence, placing it within a humanoid robotic body. Highly resilient to damage of all kinds, this artificial person was raised just as much on pulp stories as he was on science, and proceeded to become an invaluable asset to investigations into the realms of weird phenomena and super-science. He's smart and tough, compassionate and funny, a stand-up guy who can face down genius dinosaurs and brain-in-a-jar automatons without blinking his glowing eyes. He is Atomic Robo. To paraphrase Wizard Magazine, Atomic Robo is what you'd get if you were put equal parts Indiana Jones, Iron Man, and Rocketeer into a machine driven by Tesla coils and possibly a forsaken child. The writing by Brian Clevinger of 8-bit Theatre fame is snappy and on-point, succinct and punchy without skimping on details or characterization. Most of the art is by Scott Wegener and jumps right off the page. It's a delightfully pulpy take on action and super-science, with decent characterization and legitimate laughs. That's what I've been reading. As to what I've been writing... tune in tomorrow.
Blue Ink Alchemy

Wednesday, April 18, 2012

Writers Should Read

Writers Should Read — Blue Ink Alchemy

The Thinker
Three years ago when I started this thing I posted about breaking writer's block through reading. It's been said by people cooler than myself that buying into writer's block is a mug's game, so I won't totally re-create that previous post. I will, however, re-post some of the advice from back then, because it's still true. Why read? First of all, if you read what you're interested in, especially if it's in the area where you want to write, you're likely to find inspiration.  For my part, I started writing because the stories I felt needed to be told weren't being written, or perhaps I could write them better.  Reading new works coming out today make sure that the readers are still interested in my stories. There's also the fact that by reading new stories, you get a sense for the competition.  If you check the bestseller lists, or follow the hype, and read some of what most people are reading in your genre, you'll see why the stories are selling in the millions. Tips for reading
  • Don't read at your computer or writing desk.  Find a well-lit, comfortable place and put a book or magazine (or even a comic book!) in your hands.  Besides relaxing your eyes a bit, the tactile sensations will take you out of your frustration. Any change of pace is good in situations like this.
  • Take your time.  Don't skim, if you can help it, and pay attention to little details and conversations within the dialogue.
  • Jot down notes.  Have a pen and paper handy and write down ideas that come to you as you read.  Even if they turn out to be ideas you don't use, it'll engage the creative centers of your mind.
  • Relax!  If you can't enjoy reading, how can you enjoy writing?

Blue Ink Alchemy

Tuesday, April 17, 2012

Game Review: Tribes: Ascend

Game Review: Tribes: Ascend — Blue Ink Alchemy

You may recall that precisely 104 days ago, I talked a bit about a first-person shooter called Section 8: Prejudice. While I still stand by what I said in that first impressions piece, especially when it comes to those who say the genre is 'stagnating' due to FPS games, I must also say I've stopped playing the game. Part of this is due to the growing realization that, as much as the loadouts lend themselves to customization coupled with the tantalizing promise of unlockable weapons, the visual style of the player avatars leaves one with the impression that every player is basically a Spartan from Halo in all but name and ability to jetpack around the map. There's also the fact that in just about every way, the free-to-play title Tribes: Ascend leaves it completely in the dust.
Courtesy Hi-Rez Studios
Soldier on Katabatic
As a newcomer to the Tribes franchise I cannot speak to the backstory or experience of previous games. The lore and fluff of the universe is intimidatingly huge, and I will relate what I've managed to glean so far. In the semi-distant future a variety of human colonies have seceded from the human Empire and formed what are called Tribes in the void beyond Imperial borders, also called 'Wildspace' or 'the Wilderzone'. There was, from what I understand, a truce between two of the largest tribes: Blood Eagle, descendants of Imperial Knights sent to beat the tribes into line with the Legate; and Diamond Sword, warrior-philosophers who petitioned the Emperor to enter the Wilderzone in order to defend the Empire from some unknown future threat. Something happened to that truce; I'm unclear as to what it was, being nothing more than a soldier, but now the Eagles are called 'butchers' by the Diamond Sword, while they are in turn called 'betrayers' or 'sandrakers', a derogatory reference by Blood Eagle to the Diamond Sword practice of maintaining Zen gardens. The most important things about Tribes: Ascend are its speed and its weapons. Like Section 8, everybody has a jetpack. However, there also is a universal piece of equipment, strapped to the back of your shins, that basically cancels your friction on a surface and allows you to 'ski' across terrain, maintaining whatever momentum you've built up. This means that games of Tribes: Ascend often happen on the move and at a much faster pace than your traditional FPS. It's one thing to sprint a bit across part of a relatively small map. It's quite another to zip along at 130 kilometers per hour (on average) across maps with genuine terrain and frankly astounding skyboxes.
Courtesy Hi-Rez Studios
Pathfinder on Raindance
The other thing about Tribes: Ascend worth noting is that with three exceptions, none of the weapons are 'hitscan'. In normal shooting games, your bullet goes right where your reticule is aiming instantly. "Point-and-click" you might say. Tribes weapons are projectile-based, and those projectiles obey the sames laws of physics you do. They inherit your speed, drop-off, arc when fired in the air, and so on. This leads to players needing to be a bit more skilled to pull off proper kills in some of the trickier classes, and makes getting awards like "Blue Plate Special," given to those who blast an opponent out of the air with a spinfusor, extremely satisfying. Ah, yes, the spinfusor. It wouldn't be a Tribes game without one. The spinfusor is a weapon that fires a magnetically-accelerated disc at extremely high speed, which explodes on impact. They come in a variety of shapes and sizes, but when you start up the game for the first time, you may notice most of the variations on the crafty death-dealing device are locked. You are also, at first, somewhat limited in your choices for perks and other goodies, and you start with only three classes. This is the unfortunate drawback to Tribes: Ascend being free to play. You must unlock the other classes and weapons with either XP (earned by playing the game) or Tribes gold (for which you pay cash money).
Courtesy Hi-Rez Studios
Brute on Katabatic
Let me do a quick run-down of the classes themselves before I rake up any more muck. There are three light classes, most of whom look like they've strapped their jetpack and anti-grav boots on over your basic military fatigues. I really like this; not only does it make them visually distinct, it speaks to practicality in design. Anyway, you start with the Pathfinder, a speedy class best suited for grabbing flags, chasing down other light classes, or doing general harassment. You can unlock the Sentinel, a defensive sniping class, and Infiltrator, a sneaky S.O.B. with equipment to disrupt enemy defenses, destroy base assets like generators and turrets, and assassinate defenders. For the medium types you begin with the Soldier, a jack-of-all-trades that curiously starts with the lackluster assault rifle unlocked instead of the fun and more effective spinfusor. Anyway, the other two mediums are the Technician, which deploys turrets and makes repairs extremely quickly, and the Raider, a grenade-tossing offensive class dedicated to enemy base harassment and destruction. Last but not least, there are three heavy types, starting with the Juggernaut, which bombards the enemy with mortars and missile launchers. The Doombringer, a chain-gun toting defensive class, and the Brute, a hard-hitting indoors engine of destruction, can be unlocked. The classes offer a great deal of variety even within their weight classes, mean that there's something for everyone, provided you stick with the basics long enough to unlock what you might like the most. There are some reservations I have towards Tribes both as a current player and as someone singing its praises. I am looking forward to private servers quite a bit, as public servers can be hit-and-miss in terms of the quality and attitude of players. For the most part, it's certainly more welcoming and less caustic an experience to play Tribes than anything on X-Box Live, but there's still the occasional jerk or that string of games with a team that just can't get its act together. The system for unlocks and the rate of XP feels relatively balanced, but as new weapons and skins are added, I can see this becoming a victim of Team Fortress 2 syndrome. I hope Hi-Rez Studios does not augment one class at a time. The first update, Cloak and Dagger, only updated the Infiltrator, and guess what was played almost exclusively for the next couple weeks. Finally, the learning curve for the skiing and projectiles can be a little steep for new players. It doesn't handle quite the same as any other FPS and that can lead to a lot of initial deaths, even accidental ones when you misjudge where you're putting a spinfusor disc or a grenade.
Courtesy Hi-Rez Studios
Juggernaut on Sunstar
All that said, however, once you get the hang of the momentum of the game, it's an absolute blast to play. There are Arena, Team Deathmatch, Capture the Flag, and Capture and Hold modes. Again, you're bound to find something to suit your playstyle and your needs. I've definitely found it worth my time and more than fun enough to justify picking up some Tribes gold, which also incidentally gives you an XP boost and VIP status. If you're interested in playing, click here, and I'll see you in the Wilderzone.
Blue Ink Alchemy

Game Review: Tribes: Ascend

Game Review: Tribes: Ascend — Blue Ink Alchemy

You may recall that precisely 104 days ago, I talked a bit about a first-person shooter called Section 8: Prejudice. While I still stand by what I said in that first impressions piece, especially when it comes to those who say the genre is 'stagnating' due to FPS games, I must also say I've stopped playing the game. Part of this is due to the growing realization that, as much as the loadouts lend themselves to customization coupled with the tantalizing promise of unlockable weapons, the visual style of the player avatars leaves one with the impression that every player is basically a Spartan from Halo in all but name and ability to jetpack around the map. There's also the fact that in just about every way, the free-to-play title Tribes: Ascend leaves it completely in the dust.
Courtesy Hi-Rez Studios
Soldier on Katabatic
As a newcomer to the Tribes franchise I cannot speak to the backstory or experience of previous games. The lore and fluff of the universe is intimidatingly huge, and I will relate what I've managed to glean so far. In the semi-distant future a variety of human colonies have seceded from the human Empire and formed what are called Tribes in the void beyond Imperial borders, also called 'Wildspace' or 'the Wilderzone'. There was, from what I understand, a truce between two of the largest tribes: Blood Eagle, descendants of Imperial Knights sent to beat the tribes into line with the Legate; and Diamond Sword, warrior-philosophers who petitioned the Emperor to enter the Wilderzone in order to defend the Empire from some unknown future threat. Something happened to that truce; I'm unclear as to what it was, being nothing more than a soldier, but now the Eagles are called 'butchers' by the Diamond Sword, while they are in turn called 'betrayers' or 'sandrakers', a derogatory reference by Blood Eagle to the Diamond Sword practice of maintaining Zen gardens. The most important things about Tribes: Ascend are its speed and its weapons. Like Section 8, everybody has a jetpack. However, there also is a universal piece of equipment, strapped to the back of your shins, that basically cancels your friction on a surface and allows you to 'ski' across terrain, maintaining whatever momentum you've built up. This means that games of Tribes: Ascend often happen on the move and at a much faster pace than your traditional FPS. It's one thing to sprint a bit across part of a relatively small map. It's quite another to zip along at 130 kilometers per hour (on average) across maps with genuine terrain and frankly astounding skyboxes.
Courtesy Hi-Rez Studios
Pathfinder on Raindance
The other thing about Tribes: Ascend worth noting is that with three exceptions, none of the weapons are 'hitscan'. In normal shooting games, your bullet goes right where your reticule is aiming instantly. "Point-and-click" you might say. Tribes weapons are projectile-based, and those projectiles obey the sames laws of physics you do. They inherit your speed, drop-off, arc when fired in the air, and so on. This leads to players needing to be a bit more skilled to pull off proper kills in some of the trickier classes, and makes getting awards like "Blue Plate Special," given to those who blast an opponent out of the air with a spinfusor, extremely satisfying. Ah, yes, the spinfusor. It wouldn't be a Tribes game without one. The spinfusor is a weapon that fires a magnetically-accelerated disc at extremely high speed, which explodes on impact. They come in a variety of shapes and sizes, but when you start up the game for the first time, you may notice most of the variations on the crafty death-dealing device are locked. You are also, at first, somewhat limited in your choices for perks and other goodies, and you start with only three classes. This is the unfortunate drawback to Tribes: Ascend being free to play. You must unlock the other classes and weapons with either XP (earned by playing the game) or Tribes gold (for which you pay cash money).
Courtesy Hi-Rez Studios
Brute on Katabatic
Let me do a quick run-down of the classes themselves before I rake up any more muck. There are three light classes, most of whom look like they've strapped their jetpack and anti-grav boots on over your basic military fatigues. I really like this; not only does it make them visually distinct, it speaks to practicality in design. Anyway, you start with the Pathfinder, a speedy class best suited for grabbing flags, chasing down other light classes, or doing general harassment. You can unlock the Sentinel, a defensive sniping class, and Infiltrator, a sneaky S.O.B. with equipment to disrupt enemy defenses, destroy base assets like generators and turrets, and assassinate defenders. For the medium types you begin with the Soldier, a jack-of-all-trades that curiously starts with the lackluster assault rifle unlocked instead of the fun and more effective spinfusor. Anyway, the other two mediums are the Technician, which deploys turrets and makes repairs extremely quickly, and the Raider, a grenade-tossing offensive class dedicated to enemy base harassment and destruction. Last but not least, there are three heavy types, starting with the Juggernaut, which bombards the enemy with mortars and missile launchers. The Doombringer, a chain-gun toting defensive class, and the Brute, a hard-hitting indoors engine of destruction, can be unlocked. The classes offer a great deal of variety even within their weight classes, mean that there's something for everyone, provided you stick with the basics long enough to unlock what you might like the most. There are some reservations I have towards Tribes both as a current player and as someone singing its praises. I am looking forward to private servers quite a bit, as public servers can be hit-and-miss in terms of the quality and attitude of players. For the most part, it's certainly more welcoming and less caustic an experience to play Tribes than anything on X-Box Live, but there's still the occasional jerk or that string of games with a team that just can't get its act together. The system for unlocks and the rate of XP feels relatively balanced, but as new weapons and skins are added, I can see this becoming a victim of Team Fortress 2 syndrome. I hope Hi-Rez Studios does not augment one class at a time. The first update, Cloak and Dagger, only updated the Infiltrator, and guess what was played almost exclusively for the next couple weeks. Finally, the learning curve for the skiing and projectiles can be a little steep for new players. It doesn't handle quite the same as any other FPS and that can lead to a lot of initial deaths, even accidental ones when you misjudge where you're putting a spinfusor disc or a grenade.
Courtesy Hi-Rez Studios
Juggernaut on Sunstar
All that said, however, once you get the hang of the momentum of the game, it's an absolute blast to play. There are Arena, Team Deathmatch, Capture the Flag, and Capture and Hold modes. Again, you're bound to find something to suit your playstyle and your needs. I've definitely found it worth my time and more than fun enough to justify picking up some Tribes gold, which also incidentally gives you an XP boost and VIP status. If you're interested in playing, click here, and I'll see you in the Wilderzone.
Blue Ink Alchemy

Monday, April 16, 2012

Flash Fiction: Politeness and Respect

Flash Fiction: Politeness and Respect — Blue Ink Alchemy

Grace Church, Newark
For the latest Terribleminds challenge, "Death Is On The Table".
If it weren't a funeral, it'd probably be the social event of the season. Everybody was there. Little Tommy Scattergun, Nicky the Nose, Harry 'Houdini' Lockland, pretty much every cousin or uncle or niece the old Godfather had kept close... ...and the woman in the back, half-hidden under her black wide-brimmed hat. The priest was launching into perhaps the most interminable portion of the funeral. Long stretches of Latin punctuated by people standing, sitting, saying 'Amen', possibly signing up for a time-share. The woman didn't vocalize, merely standing and sitting when required. She could feel the mournful atmosphere but her emotions didn't contribute to it. Mostly, she just felt numb. As it went on she questioned the sanity of even being here. It came to a head when the Godfather's wife, made up and dressed to look like a dolorous Thanksgiving Day parade float, got up behind the pulpit to blurt out memories of her beloved husband between wet, snotty sobs. The woman in the back picked up her purse, kept her head down a bit to avoid eye contact, and slipped out of her pew to step outside. She was aware of him as she passed through the main doors. He leaned against the stonework, contemplating the lit end of his cigarette. He couldn't have been older than sixteen, and despite the tailored cut of his tuxedo, it still looked rumpled on him. A pair of white gloves was tucked into his belt. "Stuffy as hell in there, huh ma'am?" "Yes." She adjusted her hat slightly, studying the traffic. "Especially with so many people inside." "No kidding. I think the old man would've liked it. He was big on good relations with just about everybody, which is surprising given his profession." "You don't think good relations are important?" "I do, but as he got older he went on more and more about a return to 'the good old days' and whatnot. He let nostalgia blind him to how people might take advantage of his better nature. I respect him, don't get me wrong, but Dad's time had come and gone long before the cancer got the best of him." She nodded. "Well, I'm sorry for your loss." He flicked ash from the end of his smoke as he looked at her. "Didn't you work for him?" "Once or twice." She paused. "I should really be going." "Will you be coming by the house later, pay your respects to my big brother?" "I don't think so. I'm mostly freelance." He narrowed green eyes through the smoke caught in the sunlight. "We may be seeing more of you, then. Frankie's probably going to try and make a name for himself or something once our old man's in the ground. He's got even less regard for Dad's sort of politeness and respect. He's all about the action." "I did get that impression." A little voice in her head was telling her to back away from the boy, to make some form of escape. His hand slipped into his jacket, and she nearly grabbed the small semi-automatic in her purse. "Why would a freelancer show up for my father's funeral? You couldn't have known him that well. And as much as I appreciate the respect, lots of other guns for hire respect him but I haven't seen them at so much as a picnic, let alone something like this." She bit her lip, fingers lingering over the handbag. "I'm sorry, Mike. The money was too good. It's been hard for me lately. I'll spare you the details, but suffice it to say I'd gone without a job from your father for almost two years and I was nearly broke." "Who was it?" "Giordano." He scowled. "I know it. Little Tommy Scattergun. Son of a bitch." They stood there, staring at each other, for a long moment in the sunlight on the steps of the church. Michael eased down first. "I don't make it a policy to blame a gun for what its shooter does. And you were just a gun in his sweaty little hands." She closed her handbag. "I don't necessarily follow, Michael. Frank would have shot me by now." "I'm not Frank. He's a little trigger-happy. He wouldn't consider all the angles." "Like...?" "For one, since nobody else knows you're here let alone what you've done, you're good at what you do. For another, you did a job for Tommy, which means you can get close to him. And finally, if you don't mind me saying, you've got killer stems." "Well... thank you, Mike." "Don't thank me yet. I'm about to be a pretty wealthy guy, and I could use your services." "For Tommy?" "Certainly, but I'm worried about Frank, too. He's going to piss off a lot of people. At least, I think he will." He dropped his cigarette and crushed it with his shoe. "If we can't get him to think before he starts pulling triggers, it's going to get messy. And another thing my brother and I differ on is how we clean up messes. I'm always picking up after him." She nodded. Her hand slipped into her handbag. Slowly, lacquered nails emerged with a business card, which she gave to him. "Here's my business number. We can work out a deal if you're really interested." He took the card, turned it over, felt the texture of the paper and font. "Okay. I want to give him a chance. But if he fucks up the way he's done his whole life, well..." "You'll bury him, too?" He shrugged. "We're talking about my brother, here. It'd be the least I could do." She smiled slightly and touched her hat respectfully. Then, as much as her instincts were screaming at her to do otherwise, she turned her back on him and walked away, stiletto heels clicking on stonework. The bullet she was expecting between her shoulders never came. Politeness and respect aren't just good manners. They're good for business, too.
Blue Ink Alchemy

Friday, April 13, 2012

And We're Back!

And We're Back! — Blue Ink Alchemy

Blood Eagle has the flag! On Instagram
So there was a bit of a billing hiccup with my web host in the middle of PAX East. Inconvenient, to be sure, but I don't think anything of value was lost. My host, Wizzerdwerks, are relatively cool people and haven't really given me any problems. And now that the money side is sorted, everything's exactly where I left it. Big things are coming this week. I'll be back to my usual Flash Fiction schedule; as long as Chuck is tossing out challenges, I'll be accepting 'em. Provided they don't involve licking paint off of an old swingset or something like that. I'm wrapping up the Citizen rewrite, gearing up for a final push of edits and prep work for Cold Iron, I have a few articles to draft and at least a couple reviews to prepare. Will IT CAME FROM NETFLIX! return? I'm not sure. Maybe once I finally get myself a good microphone. Which will happen after we move. Oh, yeah. Did I mention the house we rent space in got sold out from under us? Since we're month to month we can't do much about that. So we're scouting new apartments with more space and amenities, with a move-by date of June 1. Fun stuff! Good to be back, Internets. Stay tuned, etc.
Blue Ink Alchemy

Thursday, April 5, 2012

Doing Bad Things at FNM

Doing Bad Things at FNM — Blue Ink Alchemy

Courtesy Wizards of the Coast
Haters, etc.
I haven't been playing a great deal of Magic lately, due to various reasons, but I recently returned to Friday Night Magic armed with a new deck. As much as my previous FNM decks seemed interesting to me, neither of them had a great deal of oomph. It was difficult for them to be consistent. And then, at the Dark Ascension release, I acquired a playset of not only the [mtg_card]Stromkirk Captain[/mtg_card], but also the lovely [mtg_card]Markov Blademaster[/mtg_card]. Not only is it decent art and a double-striking, self-pumping vampire for 3 mana, there is a way to get her on the field on turn 1. I'm not usually one for odd or janky combos, but I had to try this one out. And it worked, some of the time. You see, I felt the biggest problem with Memento Mori was a lack of consistency. It also was limited in terms of how it could deal with certain threats. And my vampires faced the same problem. Individual threats I could deal with using [mtg_card]Tragic Slip[/mtg_card] or [mtg_card]Go For The Throat[/mtg_card], but quickly-appearing groups of tokens proved problematic. I knew I needed more consistent performance rather than flashy shenanigans, which meant turn 1 actions other than waiting for something to Slip or wondering where my combo was. I also needed more reliable vampires. I needed [mtg_card]Stromkirk Nobles[/mtg_card]. Fortunately I made out well at the last FNM. Not in terms of playing, my nascent vampire deck went 1 and 3 in the brackets. I did, however, swing a pretty good trade. I parted with my pair of [mtg_card]Snapcaster Mage[/mtg_card]s for an entire playset of the swaggering nobles, a foil [mtg_card]Bloodlord of Vaasgoth[/mtg_card], the [mtg_card]Falkenrath Aristocrat[/mtg_card] that partially inspired this flash fiction piece... ...and my very first [mtg_card]Sorin, Lord of Innistrad[/mtg_card]. I know three colors is very difficult to curve properly, and I may be setting myself up for failure. But the notion of adding white to the red/black vampire deck means I can include something else I need: an answer to token swarms in the form of [mtg_card]Day of Judgment[/mtg_card]. I need two or so, another Sorin and some of the lands required to pull this all off. Once I get them, the deck should look something like this: [mtg_deck title="House of Markov"] Creatures 4 Markov Blademaster 4 Stromkirk Captain 4 Stromkirk Noble 1 Bloodlord of Vaasgoth 1 Olivia Voldaren Spells 4 Faithless Looting 4 Tragic Slip 3 Go for the Throat 1 Curse of Stalked Prey 2 Day of Judgment 1 Fireball 1 Diabolic Tutor 2 Trepanation Blade 2 Sorin, Lord of Innistrad Land 4 Dragonskull Summit 4 Clifftop Retreat 10 Mountain 6 Swamp 2 Isolated Chapel Sideboard 3 Doom Blade 3 Bump in the Night 2 Fires of Undeath 3 Ancient Grudge 1 Grafdigger's Cage 1 Curse of Misfortunes 1 Curse of Bloodletting 1 Falkenrath Aristocrat [/mtg_deck] We'll see how it does, if I can acquire the necessary cards, at my next FNM.
Blue Ink Alchemy

Doing Bad Things at FNM

Doing Bad Things at FNM — Blue Ink Alchemy

Courtesy Wizards of the Coast
Haters, etc.
I haven't been playing a great deal of Magic lately, due to various reasons, but I recently returned to Friday Night Magic armed with a new deck. As much as my previous FNM decks seemed interesting to me, neither of them had a great deal of oomph. It was difficult for them to be consistent. And then, at the Dark Ascension release, I acquired a playset of not only the [mtg_card]Stromkirk Captain[/mtg_card], but also the lovely [mtg_card]Markov Blademaster[/mtg_card]. Not only is it decent art and a double-striking, self-pumping vampire for 3 mana, there is a way to get her on the field on turn 1. I'm not usually one for odd or janky combos, but I had to try this one out. And it worked, some of the time. You see, I felt the biggest problem with Memento Mori was a lack of consistency. It also was limited in terms of how it could deal with certain threats. And my vampires faced the same problem. Individual threats I could deal with using [mtg_card]Tragic Slip[/mtg_card] or [mtg_card]Go For The Throat[/mtg_card], but quickly-appearing groups of tokens proved problematic. I knew I needed more consistent performance rather than flashy shenanigans, which meant turn 1 actions other than waiting for something to Slip or wondering where my combo was. I also needed more reliable vampires. I needed [mtg_card]Stromkirk Nobles[/mtg_card]. Fortunately I made out well at the last FNM. Not in terms of playing, my nascent vampire deck went 1 and 3 in the brackets. I did, however, swing a pretty good trade. I parted with my pair of [mtg_card]Snapcaster Mage[/mtg_card]s for an entire playset of the swaggering nobles, a foil [mtg_card]Bloodlord of Vaasgoth[/mtg_card], the [mtg_card]Falkenrath Aristocrat[/mtg_card] that partially inspired this flash fiction piece... ...and my very first [mtg_card]Sorin, Lord of Innistrad[/mtg_card]. I know three colors is very difficult to curve properly, and I may be setting myself up for failure. But the notion of adding white to the red/black vampire deck means I can include something else I need: an answer to token swarms in the form of [mtg_card]Day of Judgment[/mtg_card]. I need two or so, another Sorin and some of the lands required to pull this all off. Once I get them, the deck should look something like this: [mtg_deck title="House of Markov"] Creatures 4 Markov Blademaster 4 Stromkirk Captain 4 Stromkirk Noble 1 Bloodlord of Vaasgoth 1 Olivia Voldaren Spells 4 Faithless Looting 4 Tragic Slip 3 Go for the Throat 1 Curse of the Stalked Prey 2 Day of Judgment 1 Fireball 1 Diabolic Tutor 2 Trepanation Blade 2 Sorin, Lord of Innistrad Land 4 Dragonskull Summit 4 Clifftop Retreat 10 Mountain 6 Swamp 2 Isolated Chapel Sideboard 3 Doom Blade 3 Bump in the Night 2 Fires of Undeath 3 Ancient Grudge 1 Grafdigger's Cage 1 Curse of Misfortunes 1 Curse of Bloodletting 1 Falkenrath Aristocrat [/mtg_deck] We'll see how it does, if I can acquire the necessary cards, at my next FNM.
Blue Ink Alchemy

Wednesday, April 4, 2012

Savor the Flavor of Rejection

Savor the Flavor of Rejection — Blue Ink Alchemy

Courtesy United Artists
It's been years since I've seen Rocky. I know, as someone who even tangentially identifies as a Philadelphian, I should watch it more often. But I remember Mickey. I remember him training Rocky, talking him up, telling him things about eating lightning and crapping thunder. In pretty much any story involving a fighter, the pep talks are meant to bolster the fighter's confidence, before they step into the ring to take a few more punches to the face. I've never, personally, been punched in the face. Not physically. Metaphorically, though, I've had my share of right hooks to the jaw. And to be honest, I'm a better person for it. I don't mean that in the sense that I'm better than any of the people around me or any of you fine, wonderful strangers who've happened upon this blog. I mean that in the sense that I'm better than I used to be. By no stretch am I a perfect person. Hell, there are days when I struggle to just be good, or at least good enough. Good enough to hold down a dayjob, good enough to not suck at writing or gaming, good enough for a wife or my family or my cats to stick around. This appreciation has come from rejection, and if I continue on this honest streak, I wouldn't be where I am without it. I've been told my work wasn't good enough, that it didn't live up to its promises, that I failed in this aspect or that way. And I've improved because of it. It's tempting at times to let such things overwhelm one's psyche, to let the negativity wash away potential energy as sure as a skier slamming into a tree or an offensive jab leading to your jaw getting rocked by a counter-cross. I'm not up on boxing lingo, so if I'm wrong please don't hit me not in the face. Anyway. Writers. You're going to get rejected. It's the way things go. Even if you go down the e-publishing route, you should pass your work in front of other eyes - test readers, editors, etc. Strangers, if at all possible. And more than likely they'll call you out on something they don't like. Don't shy away from this. Don't avoid it. Do not, under any circumstances, tell these fine people that "it's MY work" and "you just don't get it." You will not advance as an artist if you clutch your work to your chest, run to your cave, and proclaim that it belongs to you and nobody else has any say on the matter. You do that and my knuckles are going to itch to say hello to your chin. What, do you think art is immutable? Do you operate under the notion that once a word is set down, it can never be changed? Is a painter or film director some sort of demigod whose works cannot be approached by mere mortals? Are games quantum-locked in the state in which we find them on the shelf or our hard drives, only changing behind the curtain of a developer's studios when we aren't watching them? Don't be an idiot. I challenge any film critic to tell me that any cut Ridley Scott made of one of his films is worse than the studio's theatrical release. The Anniversary Edition of Halo is not only a lot easier on the eyes but also helps expand some of the less solid story points of the universe, and in fact does its job so well I have had to re-examine my feelings on that franchise in general. It is a better product than the original, and only because they changed stuff in it. Minor stuff, to be sure, but stuff was changed nonetheless. Change is good. To reject change is to reject the notion that art is alive, or important, or even necessary. Let me be clear on something before I wrap this up. I don't think my opinion's the only one that matters. This is not the word of Caesar being dispensed from on high onto the unwashed masses. This is one opinion from one ultra-geek who happens to have a semi-established corner of the forum to shout from while he's pelted with things. But the fact remains. Rejection happens, and as much as it hurts, it's good for you. So suck up the punches there, Rocky. Take a few shots to the face. Bleed a bit. It's going to happen, so you might as well get used to it. That's not the important part. The important part is you punch back. You don't mind the pain. And you get back up. If you can keep doing that, no matter how many times it happens, no matter how long it takes, no matter how much it hurts or how broken and lost and lonely you feel, you'll make it. As Chuck Wendig says, writing (or game development, or art, or anything that involves breaking free of cubicles and TPS reports and HR looking over your shoulder and long-ass meetings) is putting a bucket over your head and smashing it into a brick wall over and over and over again. It's you or the wall.
Blue Ink Alchemy

Tuesday, April 3, 2012

Trendy Hate

Trendy Hate — Blue Ink Alchemy

Bandwagon
It's always interesting to get different perspectives on things. I follow quite a few people on Twitter, and some of them have viewpoints on entertainment or politics that diverge from mine to various degrees. But even when I disagree with them, I don't unfollow them. My personal feelings towards their opinion does not invalidate it; they are perfectly allowed to have it. That said, I'm having trouble understanding when or how it became so "cool" to hate things. I'm not talking about despicable things like race hatred or slut shaming, here. I'm more referring to the sort of talk you'd hear out of people that goes something like "Well, I used to like X, but then they did Y, and now I hate them and everything they've ever done" or "I don't like X about this particular game/movie/tv show/book so the rest of it sucks." The wording may change from conversation to conversation, but the sentiment is always the same: I am correct, this is irredeemably horrible, end of discussion. Most people are intelligent and courteous enough that you can engage them in conversation over these things, but more often than not, such discussions still end with, "Yeah, well, I still hate it." And that's fine. I'm not putting this up in an attempt to invalidate anybody's opinion. The great thing about individuality is having your own opinion of things, and it's even better when freedom of speech allows you to give that opinion a voice. It's when you start shouting to make your voice the most influential one in the room that things can get a little dicey. Now, there are times when it may be necessary to shout and even be caustic when something is truly objective, such as "No, going outside is not better than staying inside when a zombie apocalypse is happening". But since we are, for the most part, discussing art in this particular post, I think it's safe to say that most of the opinions to be bandied about are subjective. The real problem with such trendy hate is that it fosters a bandwagon mentality. It encourages or sometimes even pushes people into conforming to a particular point of view. When someone tells you how much they hate something, with a voice full of bitterness and narrowed eyes that brook no dissension, it's hard not to feel like some form of persecution is taking place. You don't want to end up on the receiving end of it, so you go along with it. And if said opinion is being put out there by someone with social standing, even if little to know specific bitterness is being conveyed, people will hop on board without prompting in an attempt to either be part of that person's circle or prove themselves to be more clever and refined by crapping all over what that person says. Again, not to invalidate anybody's opinion, but take a moment to think for yourselves, folks. Case in point? (Yes, here we go again) Bioware. I stand by my opinion that the ending of Mass Effect 3, as it stands at the time of this writing, is terribly executed and undercuts the entire trilogy of games. I also think Dragon Age 2 was one of the most lackluster RPGs I've ever played. But do I think they've never gotten it right? Is BioWare incapable of telling a good story? I think the answer to both questions is "no". As trendy as it may be for me to say "BioWare's never 'stuck the landing' on a game" or "BioWare is ruining the game artform if they cave to fan demands", I have no evidence to substantiate either claim. I do, however, have evidence from their previous games that good threads of storytelling exist. The characters in all three Mass Effect games, the overall experience of Dragon Age: Origins, and the nature of the reveal in Star Wars: Knights of the Old Republic spring instantly to mind. Sometimes the combat in their games has hit a logjam or particular story points have seemed missing or never clicked for audiences. This doesn't mean BioWare hasn't told a good story, or that they're incapable of doing it. Just like getting off the Halo hatred bandwagon, I never hopped onto the one hating on BioWare. I may be in a minority and I might not have the opinion that prevails, but I maintain that BioWare has the potential for better storytelling than we've seen recently. I also maintain that this downward trend in their games does not mean everything they've ever done is suddenly shit. I'm allowed to think this way and I'm going to choose to continue doing so, no matter how trendy it is to hate.
Blue Ink Alchemy

The Video Game Singularity

The Video Game Singularity — Blue Ink Alchemy

X-Box Kitten
I feel we are rapidly approaching what I've chosen to dub "the Video Game Singularity". It's the point at which the lines between developers and players of video games blurs to the degree that the storytelling experience these games convey is one truly shared between both camps. We're on our way with RPGs with user mod tools like Skyrim, massively multiplayer experiences and yes, Choose-Your-Own-Adventure tales like the Mass Effect trilogy. Now, things like marketing departments, stratospheric fanatical expectations, and the limitations of current technology will hinder this advent, but it's sooner than we think. The Internet's instant communication and dissemination of information is accelerating the process as we, as gamers, find and refine our voices. While we'll never be able to excise every single idiot or douchebag from the community, we can minimize their impact while maximizing what matters: our investment in our entertainment. We are patrons, and video games are the art for which we pay. Games are unquestionably art. Moreover, they a new form of art all their own, with their own traditions, their own classical periods, their own auteurs, their own mavericks. So I pose the question: why do we judge them as works of art extant in other forms when they clearly do not belong there? Think about it. A movie critic, with little to no exposure to gaming in general, has no basis by which to judge the merits and flaws of BioShock or Killer7 in comparison to Kane and Lynch. By comparison, many gamers who only see a handful of movies may not recognize the reasons why film aficionados praise Citizen Kane or 2001: A Space Odyssey. The two mediums are completely different, and the biggest difference is in the controller held by the player. From the moment we put our fingers on buttons, sticks, or mice at the start of a game, we have a measure of control over our experience. A well-designed game lets the player feel like they are truly a part of the world they're being shown, that their choices will help shape the events to come. In a movie or a book, there's no interaction between the observer and the observed. We experience the narrative the authors want us to experience regardless of whatever decisions we might have made differently. Video games, on the other hand, invite us to make our choices and experience the consequences for better or for worse. Since players are a part of the building process for the narrative, it could be argued that they have just as much ownership of the story as the developers do. That isn't to say they should get a cut of the game's profits, as not everyone can render the iron sights of a gun or the glowing eyes of a dimensional horror-beast as well as a professional, who has to pay for things like training and food. A game done right, however, makes the player feel like a part of its world, and with that comes a certain feeling of entitlement. That word's been bandied about quite a bit lately, and to be honest I don't think gamer entitlement is entirely a bad thing. The problem arises when gamers act like theirs is the only opinion that matters. Gaming is, at its best, a collaborative storytelling experience. Bad games shoulder players out of their narratives with non-interactive cutscenes or features that ruin immersion. Bad gamers scream their heads off whenever things don't go exactly the way they expect in a given story. "This sucks and so do you" is not as helpful as "I think this sucks and here's why." Not to belabor the point, but you can tell an author or director how much a book or movie sucks in your opinion, and the most you might get is a "I'm sorry you feel that way." Game developers, however, know their medium is mutable. It can be changed. And if mistakes are made in the process of creating a game that slipped by them or weren't obvious, they can go back and fix them. Now, the ending of a narrative is not the same as a major clipping issue, games crashing entirely, or an encounter being unreasonably difficult, and not every complaint from the player base is legitimate. And in some cases, the costs in time and money required to make changes to adjust a story even slightly can be entirely too prohibitive. But when there's truth found in the midst of an outcry, some merit to be discerned from a cavalcade of bitching and moaning, game developers have power other creators of narrative simply don't have. The question is: should they exercise it? Let me put it another way: Should finished games be considered immutable things like films or novels, set in stone by their creators? Does listening to players and altering the experience after much debate ruin the artistic merit of a given game? I think the answer to both questions is "no." Changing the ending of a novel or film because fans didn't like it is one thing. Most directors and authors would cite artistic integrity in keeping their tales as they are. There are those who feel game developers should maintain the same standards. That doesn't seem right to me, though. For one thing, a writer may change an ending if a test reader can cite issues with it, and a director can re-cut their film if focus groups find it difficult to watch without any benefit. Moreover, gaming is so different from every other art form, so involving of the end user of the content, that sooner or later a different set of standards should be observed. As we approach the Video Game Singularity, it becomes more and more apparent that the old ways of judging those who create the stories we enjoy no longer apply. We are just as responsible for the stories being told through games as the developers are, and while games empower and encourage us to make decisions to alter the outcome, we must realize that our power in that regard is shared with the developers, and is not exclusively our own. By the same token, the onus of integrity does not solely fall on the developers. We, as participants in the story, must also hold ourselves to a standard, in providing constructive criticism, frank examination, and willingness to adapt or compromise when it comes to the narratives we come to love. Only by doing this can we blur that line between gamers and developers. Only by showing this desire to address these stories as living things in which we have a say and for the benefit of which we will work with their original creators will gamers stop coming across as spoiled brats and start to be considered a vital part of the game creation process. We can stop being seen as mere end-user consumers, and start participating actively in the perpetuation of this art form. To me, that's exciting and powerful. I mean, we still have people using racist and homophobic language in the community, but hey, baby steps.
Blue Ink Alchemy

The End of Shepard

The End of Shepard — Blue Ink Alchemy

Courtesy BioWare
Using this picture again, because Garrus calms me down.
So now is when we discuss the ending to Mass Effect 3. I know it's been discussed and being discussed all over the Internet as I type this. One of the best articles on the subject is over at GameFront and the Escapist podcast gives a good slice of opinions on the subject from people not frothing at the mouth in entitled rage. Let me tackle that issue first to ensure I push spoiler material past most summary snippets. I'm as flabbergasted by the endings to Mass Effect 3 as anyone. Moreover, I feel that at least a couple of the problems I have with them could be solved with some quick edits that leave the overall 'message' (if there is one) intact. But as much as I would like to see what I consider to be improvements applied to this conclusion to satisfy me personally, I know full well it may never happen. Just like we'll never get a truly & universally satisfying end to the Star Wars prequels, or that "other" Indiana Jones movie, or Battlestar Galactica, or LOST, or the Transformers live-action films, we may never get one for Mass Effect. Now, I'm not saying gamers shouldn't try. I'm not saying we can't be upset. The problem I have is in the way gamers are approaching it. Raising money for charity to make BioWare aware of this wide-spread disappointment is one thing, but to claim we want to "retake" it is preposterous. Mass Effect and its universe was never really ours, not entirely. It is a product of BioWare's creative minds and programming chops, and to a lesser extent, it also belongs to EA's marketing department just as much as Madden does. Yes, we add to the experience of the game by playing it, by making decisions, and by growing attached to its rich cast of deep characters. And as participants in the story, we can and should have something to say about how it ends. But we never owned it, outside of purchasing a copy of the game disc or downloading it onto our PC. There's nothing to "retake". Now. Let's talk about the actual endings. This is bound to get a bit long, so grab a drink. You may need a few, actually.

The Death Knell of Choice

Once Shepard talks The Illusive Man (hereafter referred to as TIM) into blowing his brains out in a nice if somewhat inexplicable call back to the first game, he's conveyed via magic elevator into the Crucible. There the Starchild or whatever it actually is tells Shepard (and, by extension, us), that the Reapers do not in fact slaughter organic life as part of their reproductive cycle or just because they're evil eldritch sci-fi horror-terrors. It is part of a "natural" cycle created to ultimately preserve organic life. The Reapers destroy sufficiently advanced civilizations so that they will not destroy themselves and all other life when they inevitably create synthetic life.
Courtesy BioWare
"It has been my plan all along to destroy organic life in the galaxy down to the last squirrel. Except for Jeff.
"... That is a joke."
First of all, Shepard should be able to point outside the window at EDI. She's spent the entire game exploring the aspects of organic living she doesn't understand in an entirely peaceful way. And if you, like me, managed to broker peace between the Quarians and the Geth, then you have another huge example as to why the reasons for this cycle are monumentally flawed. While both races have work ahead of them to repair rifts left by racial hatred and near-genocide on both sides, the evidence exists that the peace will last, and synthetic and organic can work side by side without any sort of artificial reset button of face-melty death. Just as perplexing is the notion that this sort of wholesale slaughter is necessary to preserve lesser species. It's a given fact that organic life in general can get pretty wild. It does tend towards patterns of chaos rather than the rigid order of manufactured forms. However, imposing order on that chaos does not mean destroying it. When I want to prune a bonsai tree, I do it with tiny shears and patience, not a blowtorch. The Starchild is basically imposing SOPA on the universe with organic life taking the place of the Internet. But Shepard, beaten and half-dead, just kind of rolls with it. The Starchild presents three options: Destroy the Reapers (and, he says, all other synthetic life in the galaxy), control them (because that was such a hot idea when TIM was ranting about it all Huskified just minutes before), or synthesize synthetic life with organic life. Let's leave aside the two obvious ones and look at that last one. Instead of doing what we've been doing all game long, brokering peace and helping people overcome differences to work together towards a common goal, we are essentially forcing every individual being in the galaxy to forgo all differences to become a single, homogenized race. They are given no say in this. It all comes down to what Shepard wants. I mean, all three endings have this problem and the word choice of the kid in the stinger calling him "the Shepard" seems to indicate this messianic overtone carried over into whatever life survives this idiotic illusion of choice. I say "illusion" of choice because they are all essentially the same. All three endings end the same way. The Reapers are dealt with, the mass relays are destroyed, and the Normandy struggles to outrun an explosion. I'll deal with those last two later. Stepping back and looking at the endings from a broader perspective, we see that the only true difference is a swap of colors and a few different graphical assets. The original Mass Effect only swapped dialog lines, it's true, but those lines and choices actually had an impact on the games the followed. The finality of these endings, however, precludes any sort of feeling that we made that big a difference. We see nothing of what our teammates after those last moments on Earth. There's no way to know how the galaxy reacted to its fate. There's no closure. It's an ending instead of a conclusion, an abrupt and forced truncation of the story of Shepard that leaves the player empty and unsatisfied.

The Indoctrination Theory

If you take a closer look at this, carefully prying up the cow patties BioWare seems to have left all over their trilogy, evidence exists of something deeper going on. Several sources on the Internet have pieced together moments and snippets of lore throughout all three games to put together the following theory. To me, it's a bit of a stretch, but not much. Since the very first Mass Effect, we've known that one of the most insidious weapons in the arsenal of the Reapers is the process known as "indoctrination". An individual of sufficient power or influenced exposed to the Reapers begins to come around to a way of thinking not necessarily their own. Their reasoning seems sound and logical to them, but to the outside observer it's clearly flawed, even dangerous. This influence is pervasive, creeping into the thoughts and dreams of the target often without their knowledge. This is called indoctrination. It happened to Saren. It happened to TIM. And some say it happens to Shepard.
Courtesy BioWare
After all, Harbinger's thing has always been to assume direct control...
The VI taking the form of a little boy Shepard failed to save in the prologue doesn't make much sense even in the rather dumb "a form you can understand" explanation given in things like Contact. At least Q from Star Trek: The Next Generation used human perceptions of him to make various points or play some pranks. The Starchild, though, isn't just present at the end. Shepard sees the sprog in nightmares throughout the game. And the nightmares, while carrying the voices of lost comrades and the cries of the dying, also are possessed of an inky blackness that pervades them, just as inky black tendrils try to creep into Shepard's perceptions during his showdown with TIM. The evidence doesn't stop there, according to this theory. Consider the "choices" offered. Two of the three of them end with Shepard dead and the Reapers alive. In synthesis they exist in a new form but they continue to exist. And in the control option, even if Shepard believes himself to be strong-willed enough to call them off, they still live. Only the destruction option matches up with Shepard's goals, but two things happen that not only are meant to dissuade players from choosing them but give subtle hints that there's more going on. First, the Starchild plays down the option, saying that destroying the Reapers is not enough, and the explosion will kill all synthetic life. For a weapon painstakingly designed to only kill Reapers, this seems incongruous. Second, the option and its explosion are colored red, the color of Renegades. It's directly opposite the control option, colored Paragon blue, despite it being in line with TIM's wishes, to which Paragons are staunchly opposed. The cherry on this theory is that with enough readiness and war assets, when the destruction option is chosen and the result plays out, a hint is slipped into the end that Shepard survives the ordeal. This is probably the 'best' ending possible, very hard to attain, and yet it comes bundled with free genocide for the Geth? There's something wrong, here. Either it's yet another facet of the ending I simply cannot grok as a writer, or the Reapers are lying to you.

The Real Problems

Even if this theory proves true, or BioWare reveals some other greater agenda to explain away the aforementioned malarkey, the real problems of the endings still exist. We're not just watching Shepard make some sort of sacrifice to deal with the Reapers once and for all. We're watching the end of galactic civilization as we know it, and we're watching perhaps the cruelest betrayal in all three games combined. The mass relays are destroyed. And the Normandy abandons you. Let's tackle the bigger one first. The DLC Arrival had you destroying the Alpha relay, an act that wrecked the system so thoroughly that hundreds of thousands of innocent beings died. This was why Shepard was on Earth in the first place, facing down trial for that act. And then, at the end of Mass Effect 3, we apparently destroy every single relay in the galaxy. That's going to be a LOT of dead people. Let's assume that this isn't the case, and some sort of space magic preserves trillions of lives from the big booms. Civilization's still pretty fucked up. While it's an established fact that FTL drives do exist on all civilized spacecraft in the galaxy, they are a great deal slower than using the mass relays. Journeys that take hours or days would take years without them. So those aliens who lept to your aid at Earth now have to limp their way home. If you managed to assemble the largest force possible, this means the quarians who finally retook their home planet may never see it again. It means the krogan possibly freed from the genophage will never actually sire children on Tuchanka. I think you get the idea. I'm not entirely sure if galaxy-wide communications relied on the mass relays or not, but if they did, Shepard saved the galaxy only to plunge it into a dark age. Fierce fighting over fiefdoms and religious zealotry ahoy!
Courtesy Relic Entertainment
Pictured: James Vega twenty years after the 'liberation' of Earth.
But even beyond this issue there's one even more personal. The Normandy has been our home for three games, moreso in the last two. The final game even makes an effort to put a more lived-in feel into the ship, with crew members wandering around and conversing freely with one another without our prompting. This ship and her crew have been there for Shepard through thick and thin. They flew through the Omega-4 relay in Mass Effect 2 knowing it was a suicide mission. In fact, at the start of Mass Effect 3, the ship was grounded. To get to Shepard as quickly as they did, the Normandy had to have already been airborne when the Reapers hit. They knew what was coming and they knew their commander needed them. And yet at the very end, when Earth is on the cusp of rescue and their leader making a dire and perhaps final choice, what do they do? Apparently, according to BioWare, they tuck tail and run as fast as they can. It's possible they didn't know about the space magic that would keep the mass relay explosion from killing them all, and were trying to escape before what happened to Bahak happened to Sol. I still don't get that, though. They're not just abandoning Shepard but the entire planet they just helped liberate. And how would they know it was coming? Their motivations for running are unexplained and nebulous. You do see some of them living after the whole outrunning-the-explosion bit if you had enough war assets, but again, logic comes and bites whatever happiness you can get from this stupidity right in the ass. If Garrus or Tali survived, what happens when the humans run out of dextro-friendly food? If Liara survived, how do you think she's going to like living out her long life on this planet while every other person she survived with dies around her? They're stranded, and with the mass relays destroyed and given the distance Joker probably jumped, chances of rescue are slim to none. To me it would make more sense if the Normandy was caught in the blast from the relay and Joker has to struggle to keep her aloft long enough to land safely on Earth. And when they do land, depending on the war assets, either they're all killed, they survived but the battle wiped everybody else out, or they survived and are hailed as heroes... with the notable and palpable absence of Shepard. But hey, what do I know, I don't write for BioWare.

The Biggest Tragedy Of All

The worst part of the endings has nothing to do with the decisions themselves or the gaping holes in the plot through which one could fly the Normandy. The worst part is how the ending of Mass Effect 3 renders every decision you've made over the 150+ hours spent across the trilogy completely inconsequential. It doesn't matter if you cured the genophage, brokered the peace that ends a centuries-long race war or even how many lives you save or change just by being Shepard. In the end it all comes down to different colored explosions that basically give you the same results. Stories have done the "what you choose doesn't matter" ending before, and it's been effective. Brazil and 12 Monkeys spring to mind. But those were films. These are video games. Moreover, the Mass Effect series are video games that emphasize player choice, tolerance, examinations of individuality and life itself. We are told, and invited to exemplify through gameplay, that the choices we make matter, that the direction lives take are important, and that tolerance and peace are not only possible, they are preferable to the alternatives even in our current, modern day lives. A world where different species can form friendships and even romances without any serious social implications and a man can talk about his husband in a very real and moving way is one that is definitely worth dying for. But Shepard's death, just like our choices, really has no meaning. I mentioned before that there's no sense of closure. There's also no sense of gravity to our decisions. We have no idea if the alliances we've forged, the peace we've brokered, will last beyond the multi-colored explosions we create. And in the end, we're given to understand that it really doesn't matter. To make everything in all three games come down to a single choice could work, if the aftermath of that choice also reflects choices we've made since the beginning. As it stands, those decisions carry no weight. Even in the case of the 'best' ending, there's no sense that what we did was ultimately worthwhile. The whole trilogy, from who to rescue on Virmire to the events on Thessia, feels like a waste of time, because no matter what we do, the completely interchangeable endings are waiting for us. It's one thing to botch the ending of a video game. It's another to ruin its replay value as a result, and another still to also destroy the replay value of the games that came before it. As a writer and a gamer, I simply cannot grok this decision. I'm fine with Shepard dying. Just as I was with Spock dying in Wrath of Khan. It's all a question of the how and why behind that death. If BioWare do indeed heed the criticism of their fans, there's no reason to simply push them into a "happy" ending. But the ending should mean something. It should have an effect on us other than anger. We should feel our time was well-spent, and worth spending again. Even if the end is bittersweet or downright tragic, if it's satisfying enough it will be worthwhile, perhaps even to the point of repetition. People watch The Lord of the Rings trilogy and all of those Star Wars films multiple times, even if the ending isn't entirely happy, because the world is still rich and full of life and meaning after the end. As it stands now, the Mass Effect universe is left empty. Shepard's death is essentially meaningless. Shakespeare put it best: "It is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing." This post may be similar, in the end. I have no idea if BioWare is actually listening. But even if they aren't, if you've gotten this far and are still reading, I thank you for your time. I welcome other thoughts on this matter. And I pray that I never, ever botch the ending of anything I write this badly.
Blue Ink Alchemy