Writer Report: Various Burners

Writer Report: Various Burners — Blue Ink Alchemy

So, the wait is over. I heard back from the fine folks at Angry Robot about my submission for their Open Door. The response is that Cities of Light just isn't ready for prime time yet. Upon reflection, I can see why. There's just something that's too standard about it. Even changing the names and natures of the races that emerge in the middle of the narrative, it still boils down to a hero's journey through a fantasy land with elves and dwarves in it. I still think the themes of xenophobia, propaganda, and the potential of the individual to overcome both can be explored quite well in this genre, but a shift in focus and setting may be required. I do have some ideas for a rewrite that could make it more interesting, less generic, and worth the time to read, but I don't want to keep circling back to the same idea all the time. So Cities of Light goes on the very back burner. The back back burner if you will. On the back burner ahead of it is Captain Pendragon and the Planet of Doom. I have most of my characters nailed down and the outline has taken shape. I plan on beginning to write this thing within a week, because I still think it's been a while since a new raygun gothic story and setting have come along to offset all the gritty realism that has seeped into sci-fi. Don't misunderstand, I love the aesthetic of Blade Runner and Firefly and the new Battlestar Galactica, but I love the look, feel, and energy of Flash Gordon and John Carter just as much. And I think it's entirely possible to tackle big ideas and themes while having whiz-bang zapping fun. With those back burners filled, you may be wondering, what's on the front burner? That would be Cold Iron. I've retained the services of a graphic designer for the cover, and feedback on the test read continues to be positive. In the meantime, I want to look into what Amazon, B&N, and other vendors do to their offerings in terms of DRM and other shenanigans. I don't want to saddle anybody interested in my work with stuff they don't want. As a consumer, my experience with Amazon has been overwhelmingly positive so far, but what I don't know could be bad for potential readers.

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Blue Ink Alchemy

When Storylines End

When Storylines End — Blue Ink Alchemy

Endings to stories are every bit as important as their beginnings. I've heard, on at least one occasion, someone tell me to write the ending of a story first. I rarely do that, but I can often picture the ending in my head, or at least the climax. It should be an emotionally satisfying experience, even if it isn't a happy one. The ending of The Dark Knight, for example, is far from happy - many important characters are dead, Batman's on the run from the law, and the Joker did, in fact, get away, or at least lived. But it's emotionally satisfying. Our hero did, in fact, triumph, even if it was a Pyrrhic victory, and will keep fighting the best way he knows how. Not happy, but one can set their teeth and nod in agreement with it. I bring this up because I recently went through two ending experiences in video games. I finished Silent Hill 2 for the first time, and I downloaded the Extended Edition DLC for Mass Effect 3. Both games have multiple endings, determined by player choice, and the experience of reaching those endings says a lot about storytelling in general, and its connection to gameplay in particular. For the record, I now understand why people love Silent Hill 2 so much. The game is steeped in a tense, foreboding atmosphere that draws you into its dark, bleak world and refuses to let go of you. The sound design is excellent and the visuals sufficiently creepifying, even if the capacities of the PlayStation 2 were somewhat limited. The HD Collection doesn't do a whole lot with the graphics, from what I understand, but the important thing is that James Sunderland is still wonderfully neurotic, incredibly determined, and deeply sympathetic, quickly becoming one of my favorite video game protagonists. I felt invested in seeing his journey through to the end. Silent Hill 2, like many games, has multiple endings, and the three available to the player at the conclusion of the first run all make sense, based on the choices the player makes. The game examines how you behave, how you treat the NPCs around you, and what you do with the things you find. It makes sense of the seemingly random things you may do as a player, and produces the ending you think you deserve. It's an impressive feat for a game from the previous generation, and a great example of an ending to a story being emotionally satisfying while not necessarily being happy. As for Mass Effect, well... I went off on a bit of a rant on the endings of the final game of the trilogy before. I won't go into detail as to how the new endings made me feel, emotionally, especially since Susan Arendt has already done just that. Swap a couple names in the very last sequence and you have my feelings on it. In light of Silent Hill 2, though, I can tell you why the "Extended" endings work where the originals don't. First of all, while some of the dialog still feels a bit stretched, better explanations of the Reapers, the Crucible, and our choices are given. None of it feels too stilted, and Shepard, bless his or her heart, often asks questions in the very same way we do. There's also the fact that we are given the option to straight-up refuse to be involved in the final decision. If you think the Starchild is a pile of bullshit, you can say so. Granted, it comes off a bit as Shepard being a petulant child, but that's totally not a reflection on the attitude of entitled gamers, right? On closer examination and with these better explanations, it becomes more clear to me that the endings of Mass Effect 3 are, in fact, the culmination of our choices rather than the death of them. It was difficult to realize this when the explanation was so truncated previously; now, as there is back-and-forth, there's more time to think, to reflect, and to choose. As the Starkid explained synthesis and the evolution of life, conveniently leaving out how magically rewriting DNA was supposed to work, it occurred to me that this was what Shepard had been striving for all along. In my play-through, time and again, Shepard chose the way of peace: sparing the Rachni queen, convincing Garrus not to shoot Sidonis, trying to warn the Batarians in Arrival, getting the Geth and Quarians to lay down arms... The final sequence is now a conversation, rather than a glorified menu of choices, in which Shepard reflects on all that's come before, and when the battered soldier starts to move, it's for good reason rather than just to end things. In addition to making the final choices feel like they matter, the Extended Edition also makes the endings more personal, more accessible. To quote Susan, "Saving the universe is great and all, but it's too huge a concept to really feel particularly connected to." My favorite moments in Mass Effect 3 were deeply personal ones, from the fates of Mordin and Thane to the back-and-forth between Shepard and Tali on Rannoch. Making the endings grand and sweeping but ambiguous and impersonal was a misstep, one which has now been corrected. From the look on Kaiden's face when Shepard tells him "I want to be sure someone survives this," to that last moment at the memorial wall, we feel more invested in what's happened. We see characters we've come to care about dealing with the monumental decision we've made. And, perhaps most importantly, we get the chance to say good-bye. A similar moment comes in Silent Hill 2, as we hear Mary read her letter to James. Be it uplifting or tragic, the end result is an understanding of the choices made and an opportunity to bid the characters farewell. As in Mass Effect, the conclusion should and does feel personal. I hesitate to use the word "logical" when we're talking about a psychological survival horror piece and a work of space opera that works on what boils down to magic, but the choices made and the endings that result from those choices do have make logical sense, and that goes a long way in giving them weight and making them complete. A writer should never underestimate an audience. Allowing an audience to speculate on the unknown and draw their own conclusions is all well and good. It's one thing to leave an ending open to interpretation; it's quite another to simply cut things short. We can imagine all sorts of endings and fill in blanks any way we like, and while there's great freedom in that, too many blanks can give the impression that the creators simply didn't care enough, or didn't know themselves. Seeing how the creators end things can be interpreted as spoon-feeding information to the audience, but it also allows for permutations we may not have anticipated. While you should never underestimate your audience, you should also never be afraid to definitively end your story where it should logically end. You don't necessarily have to tie up all your loose ends in neat little bows (I'm looking at you, Legend of Korra) and you don't have to chop up the ending into quick cuts to make a statement of some kind (*cough* 2001 *cough*). Let the characters make their choices. Let the audience understand those choices. Make that connection between the two, and the ending of your story will be far more satisfying. You may now deposit your hate mail telling me how horrible I am for daring to compare Mass Effect 3 to Silent Hill 2.

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Blue Ink Alchemy

Movie Review: Brave

Movie Review: Brave — Blue Ink Alchemy

To me, the team at Pixar is right next to the directors Peter Jackson and Christopher Nolan. They've never made a bad movie. Even their 'weakest' titles are good movies with great composition and interesting ideas on some level. For Pixar, I'd say their weakest title is probably Cars, keeping in mind I've never seen the sequel. Pixar is owned by Disney, and the guys have taken a stab at adding a new princess to Walt's long-lived pantheon of young ladies. The result is Brave, a story about the heiress of a Celtic kingdom. The kingdom is ruled by Fergus and Elinor, and their first-born is a girl named Merida. Ever since she was little, Merida has been raised with high expectations, especially from her mother. While she craves adventure and freedom, she has traditions and obligations to uphold. When she reaches the age at which she can be married, she is to be betrothed to one of the heirs of the three smaller fiefdoms that make up the bulk of her father's kingdom. Merida really isn't interested in boys, though, let alone getting married. She seeks a way to change her fate, but her search for the means to do so could spell doom for her family and the entire kingdom. Time and again, Pixar shows why they are the bar by which all other modern animated features are measured. Brave is yet another example - it's absolutely stunning. I understand dedicated teams were assigned to Merida's wayward crimson tresses and how her body should move in relation to them. This sort of attention to detail coupled with the breathtaking scenery and Celtic elements that ring with authenticity make the story come to life.
Best of luck, boys. You'll need it. As for Merida herself, I imagine Pixar is pretty pleased with how she turned out. She's a well-balanced character with complexity, plenty of charm, and a number of flaws to make her more human and interesting. She's capable, determined, funny, and mostly polite, but also somewhat uncouth, scornful of tradition, short-sighted, and a little insensitive and tactless at times. In the end, she's a great protagonist and a worthy role model in spite of her flaws. Her parents are not one-dimensional characters, either. In Disney movies with a princess as the main protagonist, fathers tend to be largely absent or at least somewhat tangential to the main story. Fergus, by contrast, takes an active hand in shaping and supporting Merida from the beginning, eager to share in his adventures and do what's right, even if he's a little clueless now and again. Elinor does get more screen time, as this story is about mother and daughter bonding, and while she's focused on Merida following in her footsteps, it's clear she's very proud of her daughter and wants what's best for her, though at the start she wants what she thinks is best for the girl rather than lending an ear to what Merida has to say.
They're actually both pretty good parents. Another thing that struck me about Brave is that there's no malevolent antagonist. The two opposing forces in the way of the protagonists, the witchy woodcarver and the demonic bear, are not so much villains as they are other characters with their own agendas, feelings, and quirks. I think it would be very difficult to dislike the witch, and when the truth about the bear that takes Fergus' leg early in the film is revealed, I for one was far more sympathetic towards it even as it was trying to get its claws on Merida. I was very glad to have characters with complexity on just about every level. I'd love to say Brave is a perfect production, but it does have some flaws and doesn't quite measure up to the very best Pixar has to offer, such as Wall-E and Up. However, most of the nitpicks I have are minor. Given that the story is set up and aimed as it is, it tends to be a little simplistic, even predictable at times. As much as our protagonists are challenged throughout, I never really felt like any of the danger had true weight to it. Sure, there were tense moments here and there, but the outcome felt fairly predictable. I'm not saying every story has to have deep complexity and unforeseen twists, though, and when it comes to this sort of straightforward storytelling, Brave is excellent. And while it may not be Pixar's very best, it's still head and shoulders above a lot of the other dross out there for young people, especially young women. Stuff I Liked: The various Celtic elements, from tossing cabers to mentions of haggis. Billy Connolly's voice never gets old and fits Fergus perfectly. The triplets are a hoot. And I could really appreciate giving the demonic bear a tragic backstory rather than letting it be a fundamental evil. Stuff I Didn't Like: A little more time on the second act of the movie could have helped. At the same time, it takes a little while for the main plot to actually begin, and as much fun as the various clans and their leaders are, less time setting them up would have meant more time for the central story and the ladies within it. Stuff I Loved: Merida. Merida's relationship with Elinor. Elinor & Fergus' relationship. Elinor's struggle to adapt to her circumstances. The witch's workshop. And there's a scene involving the men's kilts that had me laughing my ass off. Bottom Line: Brave is definitely worth your time to see, especially if you're the parent of young girls. Minor nitpicks aside, it's a very strong entry into Pixar's library, introduces a Disney princess cut from a very different cloth from Snow White or Cinderella, provides plenty of humor for all ages, and manages great characterization and relationship drama while remaining light in tone. The fact that it's gorgeous to look at is just icing on the cake.

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Blue Ink Alchemy

Movie Review: Brave

Movie Review: Brave — Blue Ink Alchemy

To me, the team at Pixar is right next to the directors Peter Jackson and Christopher Nolan. They've never made a bad movie. Even their 'weakest' titles are good movies with great composition and interesting ideas on some level. For Pixar, I'd say their weakest title is probably Cars, keeping in mind I've never seen the sequel. Pixar is owned by Disney, and the guys have taken a stab at adding a new princess to Walt's long-lived pantheon of young ladies. The result is Brave, a story about the heiress of a Celtic kingdom. The kingdom is ruled by Fergus and Elinor, and their first-born is a girl named Merida. Ever since she was little, Merida has been raised with high expectations, especially from her mother. While she craves adventure and freedom, she has traditions and obligations to uphold. When she reaches the age at which she can be married, she is to be betrothed to one of the heirs of the three smaller fiefdoms that make up the bulk of her father's kingdom. Merida really isn't interested in boys, though, let alone getting married. She seeks a way to change her fate, but her search for the means to do so could spell doom for her family and the entire kingdom. Time and again, Pixar shows why they are the bar by which all other modern animated features are measured. Brave is yet another example - it's absolutely stunning. I understand dedicated teams were assigned to Merida's wayward crimson tresses and how her body should move in relation to them. This sort of attention to detail coupled with the breathtaking scenery and Celtic elements that ring with authenticity make the story come to life.
Best of luck, boys. You'll need it. As for Merida herself, I imagine Pixar is pretty pleased with how she turned out. She's a well-balanced character with complexity, plenty of charm, and a number of flaws to make her more human and interesting. She's capable, determined, funny, and mostly polite, but also somewhat uncouth, scornful of tradition, short-sighted, and a little insensitive and tactless at times. In the end, she's a great protagonist and a worthy role model in spite of her flaws. Her parents are not one-dimensional characters, either. In Disney movies with a princess as the main protagonist, fathers tend to be largely absent or at least somewhat tangential to the main story. Fergus, by contrast, takes an active hand in shaping and supporting Merida from the beginning, eager to share in his adventures and do what's right even if he's a little clueless now and again. Elinor does get more screen time, as this story is about mother and daughter bonding, and while she's focused on Merida following in her footsteps, it's clear she's very proud of her daughter and wants what's best for her, though at the start she wants what she thinks is best for the girl rather than lending an ear to what Merida has to say.
They're actually both pretty good parents. Another thing that struck me about Brave is that there's no malevolent antagonist. The two opposing forces in the way of the protagonists, the witchy woodcarver and the demonic bear, are not so much villains as they are other characters with their own agendas, feelings, and quirks. I think it would be very difficult to dislike the witch, and when the truth about the bear that takes Fergus' leg early in the film is revealed, I for one was far more sympathetic towards it even as it was trying to get its claws on Merida. I was very glad to have characters with complexity on just about every level. I'd love to say Brave is a perfect production, but it does have some flaws and doesn't quite measure up to the very best Pixar has to offer, such as Wall-E and Up. However, most of the nitpicks I have are minor. Given that the story is set up and aimed as it is, it tends to be a little simplistic, even predictable at times. As much as our protagonists are challenged throughout, I never really felt like any of the danger had true weight to it. Sure, there were tense moments here and there, but the outcome felt fairly predictable. I'm not saying every story has to have deep complexity and unforeseen twists, though, and when it comes to this sort of straightforward storytelling, Brave is excellent. And while it may not be Pixar's very best, it's still head and shoulders above a lot of the other dross out there for young people, especially young women. Stuff I Liked: The various Celtic elements, from tossing cabers to mentions of haggis. Billy Connolly's voice never gets old and fits Fergus perfectly. The triplets are a hoot. And I could really appreciate giving the demonic bear a tragic backstory rather than letting it be a fundamental evil. Stuff I Didn't Like: A little more time on the second act of the movie could have helped. At the same time, it takes a little while for the main plot to actually begin, and as much fun as the various clans and their leaders are, less time setting them up would have meant more time for the central story and the ladies within it. Stuff I Loved: Merida. Merida's relationship with Elinor. Elinor & Fergus' relationship. Elinor's struggle to adapt to her circumstances. The witch's workshop. And there's a scene involving the men's kilts that had me laughing my ass off. Bottom Line: Brave is definitely worth your time to see, especially if you're the parent of young girls. Minor nitpicks aside, it's a very strong entry into Pixar's library, introduces a Disney princess cut from a very different cloth from Snow White or Cinderella, provides plenty of humor for all ages, and manages great characterization and relationship drama while remaining light in tone. The fact that it's gorgeous to look at is just icing on the cake.

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Blue Ink Alchemy

Wordbending: On Korra and the Avatar State

Wordbending: On Korra and the Avatar State — Blue Ink Alchemy

I think I can safely say I was not the only one who went into Avatar: The Legend of Korra with high expectations. Given the rather vehement reaction in the wake of the first season's conclusion, many people not only shared those expectations but felt the show failed to deliver. Let me be clear about something before I get into the nitty-gritty of this: I liked The Legend of Korra. The art direction is top-notch, the voice acting is great, the music is very well done, Republic City felt well-realized, pro-bending is a neat innovation - there's a lot to like, here. The first season was good. It isn't fantastic. It isn't Last Airbender, and I think that's why so many people are upset. I can see why. The biggest problem Legend of Korra has is in its writing. And the biggest problem the writing has is in its characters. Don't get me wrong: some characters are flat-out great, and others show great potential. But the show seems to have trouble bringing that out, because the plot keeps getting in the way of the characters' development. With only twelve episodes in a single season to tell a 'legendary' story, things are rushed or overlooked in favor of moving the plot forward. The problem with this is similar to driving a car with engine problems. You can get from point A to point B, sure, but if your transmission slips, your cylinders are misfiring, your spark plugs are dirty, and your oil filter's clogged, it's going to be a bumpy ride at best. The plot of Legend of Korra is fine, on a basic level. But without well-defined motivation and growth and arcs, the characters are just cogs in the plot's machine. They don't define the plot by their actions, their actions are defined by the plot. As much as I admire the attention to detail in the art design of the series, some equal amount of detail in the plot and characters would have gone a long way. For most of the season, Korra is blocked from both airbending and the spiritual side of being the Avatar, due to her stubborn, belligerent, hot-headed, and short-sighted nature. For the record, I'm perfectly okay with our girl being stubborn, belligerent, hot-headed, and short-sighted. I thought it was a great starting place for the new Avatar, a great contrast to the free-wheeling, happy-go-lucky, and friend to all living things Aang. Over the course of his story, Aang becomes more mature in his outlook on the world, more sensitive to the needs and desires of his friends, more in control of his emotions, and capable of facing conflict rather than avoiding it. Korra, on the other hand, remains stubborn, belligerent, hot-headed, and short-sighted. The biggest example of this would be in how these two come to understand and control the Avatar State. When his story begins, Aang has access to the Avatar State, essentially a divine form in which he has access to all the knowledge, experiences, and power of the previous Avatars, only when he's under extreme emotional duress. He must struggle to control himself in it, at first, and it takes a great deal of meditation and growth for him to master it before his final fight with Ozai. He learns a lot about himself in the process, and by extension, the audience learns more about him. Korra, on the other hand, is blocked from both airbending and the Avatar State because of her grounding in the physical world and her focus on the martial-arts aspect of bending. The events of the finale leave Korra without much of what has defined her entire life. It is at this moment that she experiences an epiphany. It was, in my opinion, how the season should have ended. The two or three minutes that follow were rushed, unnecessary, and far too pat. They undermined the truly powerful moments that came before. I mean, I was very moved by two events in the finale, but seeing what came after the second one completely defused any emotional charge I was feeling. I don't know why they felt this ending worked. I don't know why some events occurred that completely contradicted what we saw the immediately previous episode. I don't know why the Equalist movement was so demonized after establishing a very clear situation within Republic City that made the Equalist point of view make sense. It's things like this that keep Legend of Korra from being a fantastic show, instead of just a good one. And it is good. Don't take any of the above criticism to mean I don't like the show. I do, and part of the reason these things bother me is that they undercut the show's massive potential. I think that as long as the second season actually develops its characters, doesn't sweep the politically volatile environment under the rug, and keeps Korra from using the Avatar State to solve everybody's problems, it will more than make up for this season's problems. After all, both The Next Generation and Deep Space Nine had rocky starts, but grew into fantastic shows. Legend of Korra has that same potential. I just hope Bryan and Mike, the shows creators and head writers, don't blow it.

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Blue Ink Alchemy

Flash Fiction: Maze Of Uranus

Flash Fiction: Maze Of Uranus — Blue Ink Alchemy

Chuck had me pick out a random band name and roll with it.

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Devon usually liked to admire his Stratocaster. He'd hold it in his hands, watch the light play on the stainless steel frets, run his fingers along the rosewood neck, admire the deep black finish. Tonight he just stared at it. The opening band was wrapping up. He could hear the feedback from the amps and the shitty drum fills despite sitting in the green room. Time was running out. "Dude, we're on in, like, ten minutes. You okay?" He looked up at his drummer, Felix. They'd known each other since junior high, a couple of abnormal kids struggling to survive. Devon had sought Felix out after he'd found his guitar. "Yeah. I'm fine. Make sure the roadies don't mess up my pedals, okay? I just need a minute." Felix nodded, closing the door behind him. Devon was alone. He took a moment to close his eyes and breathe, reminding himself that the guitar was, in fact, real. "What troubles you?" He didn't open his eyes at first. He felt her presence behind him, and said nothing. It was the feeling of her hands on his shoulders that made him look. She watched him in the mirror. Her eyes were still the deepest, darkest blue he'd ever seen. "I couldn't play a single note at sound check until I thought of you." "You're a very sweet young man." Her hands moved down his arms. "I thought the music came from me, not from you." "It does." She helped him grip the fretboard of the guitar, his other hand guided to the cool sensation of the cream pickguard. "Not every mortal can make the journey from this world to the one in their mind on their own. Some, like you, just need the occasional guide." Devon shook his head. Her hands moved over him, caressing him, and it felt so good, so soothing and electrifying at the same time, as riffs and lyrics spun in his mind like the most lively and sensual of dancing girls. He swallowed, trying to find his voice. "Why did you choose me?" "So many songs are played and sung in this age, but few truly honor the source of all music, the cosmos, the firmament, the divine spark in all things..." She leaned down and sighed softly in his ear. "I chose you because you have passion. You have skill. And you've grown so handsome and strong as I knew you would." Devon was uncertain of that. Sure, Lasik surgery and a pretty sparse diet coupled with life on the road and playing gigs constantly gave him the Iggy Pop body he'd always wanted, but sometimes he still saw the nerdy trumpet-player staring back at him in the mirror. It was that kid who had prayed for someone, anyone, to listen to his pleas for freedom, for inspiration, for anything to get him out of his town and that life. "Felix got a call from his parents today." "That must still be hard for you." He didn't turn to look at her. He always feared when he did, she'd disappear. "I don't talk about it. It doesn't seem right to bring my best friend down when he's happy as he is when they call." "You're so good-natured, and yet such a beast on stage." "I play rock and roll, nothing more or less." "You shake the heavens when you do it." Her full lips smiled as they brushed his ear. "You prove yourself worthy with every strum of this guitar, every call of your voice, every pulse that races at the sight of you. Did I not promise you would be a star?" He closed his eyes and nodded. "I know you're not a liar. I just don't know what you want in return." "You sing of days long past, of my kin and their exploits, bringing them back into the imaginations of modern youth. Don't you think that's payment enough?" "Everything has a price. I feel like I'll always been indebted to you." "Would that be so bad?" Her voice sent shivers through his body, the way it always did. He licked his lips, finding them way too dry. "No, I... I just want to be sure the music's mine." Her fingers dug painfully into his shoulders. "It is ours, mortal, and you'd best not forget. Without me you'd still be living in that dead house with those dead parents who had no passion for your music, no desire to see you shine." "That's not true. My parents loved me." "Not the way I do." Her hand went down his chest towards the buckle of his belt, nails on skin. "Not the way that makes you come alive." Devon wanted to turn on her, to push her away, to tell her the price was too high and to take back the guitar she'd given him, the tour be damned. But just like that, her touch went from painful to soothing to something else entirely, and pleasure sang in his veins. His eyes closed as her lips touched his ear in a soft, inviting kiss. "Devon?" He looked up to see Felix opening the door, followed by Molly and Cherise. Molly, their bassist, grabbed her instrument and adjusted her short skirt. Cherise loosened her tie and put on the fingerless gloves she liked to wear while keyboarding for the band. Devon glanced at the mirror. She was, of course, nowhere to be found. Am I going crazy? He stood, guitar in hand. "Let's do it." The venue erupted in cheers when they took the stage. Devon stood up to the microphone, plugged in his Strat, and looked out at the crowd. He saw a tall, curvy woman with eyes dark as the cosmos watching him from the back. "Good evening, and welcome to the Maze of Uranus. Take it, Molly." Molly started up the bassline of "Calliope's Gate," and Devon saw the woman in the back smiling. Answers could come later. Now, it was time to rock.

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Blue Ink Alchemy

Writer Report: Metaphors for Progress

Writer Report: Metaphors for Progress — Blue Ink Alchemy

Feedback continues to filter in for Cold Iron. It seems to be pretty positive, and I think I'm mostly at the 'fussing' stage of editing. Instead of worrying about big chunks of narrative or major character turns, I'm ensuring that spacing, spelling, grammar, and other tiny things are all in order. The time is fast approaching when it will be ready for public consumption. To that end I've retained the services of a graphic designer. Now, I do have access to things like Photoshop. I can do some photo editing and image manipulation that produces passable to decent results. But there is no way I'm going to make my first true commercial fiction endeavor come off like amateur night. A professional photo shoot (which turned out extremely well, thanks to the talents of J.R. Blackwell) deserves professional design. I have a few tips on how to proceed after that process is complete, and I will admit to feeling a little nervous about the whole thing. In the meantime, three major characters have been interviewed, an outline has taken shape, and soon actual prose for some science-fiction pulp-inspired adventure is going to start hitting paper. I may also start putting together elements for a Cold Iron follow-up (depending on how the rest of the test read process goes) and of course I'm waiting to hear back from Angry Robot on Cities of Light, which may get another round of edits & test reads regardless of what is said. So there are a lot of irons in the fire, as they say. Some loose ends to tie up. A few fingers in several pies. I'm going to stop before I start mixing those metaphors.

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Blue Ink Alchemy

Words of the Dovahkiin, III: The Sons of Skyrim

Words of the Dovahkiin, III: The Sons of Skyrim — Blue Ink Alchemy

Disclaimer: I do not own anything related to The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim and apologize in advance for what may turn out to be only passable fan fiction as I write down stuff that goes through my head as I play this game. Also, the following does contain spoilers for the game. Fairly be ye warned. Previous Word

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21st First Seed, 202 4E She waited until we were outside Solitude's gates to speak her mind. "I think you're wasting your time." "How do you mean?" The wind was picking up, and I put on my helm before drawing up my hood. "You have the Scroll. You know what must be done. Why not hunt down Alduin and kill him, while you still have the element of surprise?" "I'm still not certain that I'm ready." She shook her head. "You are Dragonborn. You're one of the most powerful people I've ever met. I know you can do this." "But if I do it now, would it be for the right reasons?" "I'm not sure I follow." We hired horses from the Solitude stables, and we were on the road, riding side by side, when I picked the conversation back up. "I've been to Windhelm. I've seen how Ulfric Stormcloak treats those of other races, especially Dunmer." "I don't blame him for keeping an eye on the dark elves. I wouldn't want them running rampant in my streets, either. They can't be trusted." "Not all Dunmer are cutpurses and backstabbers, Aela. That's like saying all Khajiit are scoundrels and liars, or all Nords are illiterate barbarians." She looked like she wanted to elaborate on her opinion, but she regarded me carefully as I continued. "If Skyrim is to be free, it should be free for all who wish to live here. I'm not enamored of the Aldmeri Dominion, either, but I will not trade a puppet regime for a racist one." "There's an alternative, you know." Before she could go on, we encountered what I'm told is a place called Robber's Gorge. We were ambushed, and our horses killed from under us. The bandits, to their dismay, were no match for the pair of us. Unfortunately, we needed to proceed on foot from there. "Go on." "What?" Aela was inspecting her bow as we walked, making sure the string was still taut after so much use lately. "Tell me about this alternative." "You are Dragonborn. The blood of conquerors and kings flows in your veins. Why not unite Skyrim under your own banner?" I didn't look at her or respond, at first. That very thought had crossed my mind more than once. But when it did, the voice that carried it was only barely my own. It's woven into the chant that exists in the foundations of my soul, the one stirred by Alduin and awakened by that first kill outside Whiterun, when Mirmulnir fell and I breathed in his essence. The day was waning and I could make out the houses of Rorikstead in the distance. I looked at Aela and smiled a little. "Let me show you something." Nahagliiv's bones remain where we left them. Just outside of Rorikstead, where the dragon fell, Aela and I studied the sight. She'd been there when we'd slain him, but I hadn't spoken of it since. I walked up to the skeleton and ran my hand down a rib. "This was Nahagliiv. His name means 'Fury Burn Wither'. His is one of the voices that now prompts me to do the very thing you suggest. And if I were to listen, I don't think I'd be any better than our dead friend, here." Aela said nothing. I turned to face her. "I won't save this world simply to put it to the torch myself. The sons of Skyrim are owed more than a mere conqueror. I would be known throughout the land for who I strive to be, not merely what my blood demands. I hope you can understand that." She stepped to me and took my hands. "I do. But I still think that we should ensure there is a Skyrim whose sons can learn who you are, as I have, before something truly horrific happens." I looked over my shoulder. In the distance, I could barely make out the sky-stabbing height of the Throat of the World. The wound in time was there. My destiny was there. The Elder Scroll felt heavy in my pack. I turned back to my wife and nodded. "We deliver the horn to the Shrine of Talos, and ask for his favor. Then we ascend that mountain, and we put an end to Alduin's evil once and for all." Aela leaned up and kissed my cheek. "I'm by your side no matter what comes. Remember that."

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Blue Ink Alchemy

Words of the Dovahkiin, III: The Sons of Skyrim

Words of the Dovahkiin, III: The Sons of Skyrim — Blue Ink Alchemy

Disclaimer: I do not own anything related to The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim and apologize in advance for what may turn out to be only passable fan fiction as I write down stuff that goes through my head as I play this game. Also, the following does contain spoilers for the game. Fairly be ye warned. Previous Word

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21st First Seed, 202 4E She waited until we were outside Solitude's gates to speak her mind. "I think you're wasting your time." "How do you mean?" The wind was picking up, and I put on my helm before drawing up my hood. "You have the Scroll. You know what must be done. Why not hunt down Alduin and kill him, while you still have the element of surprise?" "I'm still not certain that I'm ready." She shook her head. "You are Dragonborn. You're one of the most powerful people I've ever met. I know you can do this." "But if I do it now, would it be for the right reasons?" "I'm not sure I follow." We hired horses from the Solitude stables, and we were on the road, riding side by side, when I picked the conversation back up. "I've been to Windhelm. I've seen how Ulfric Stormcloak treats those of other races, especially Dunmer." "I don't blame him for keeping an eye on the dark elves. I wouldn't want them running rampant in my streets, either. They can't be trusted." "Not all Dunmer are cutpurses and backstabbers, Aela. That's like saying all Khajiit are scoundrels and liars, or all Nords are illiterate barbarians." She looked like she wanted to elaborate on her opinion, but she regarded me carefully as I continued. "If Skyrim is to be free, it should be free for all who wish to live here. I'm not enamored of the Aldmeri Dominion, either, but I will not trade a puppet regime for a racist one." "There's an alternative, you know." Before she could go on, we encountered what I'm told is a place called Robber's Gorge. We were ambushed, and our horses killed from under us. The bandits, to their dismay, were no match for the pair of us. Unfortunately, we needed to proceed on foot from there. "Go on." "What?" Aela was inspecting her bow as we walked, making sure the string was still taut after so much use lately. "Tell me about this alternative." "You are Dragonborn. The blood of conquerors and kings flows in your veins. Why not unite Skyrim under your own banner?" I didn't look at her or respond, at first. That very thought had crossed my mind more than once. But when it did, the voice that carried it was only barely my own. It's woven into the chant that exists in the foundations of my soul, the one stirred by Alduin and awakened by that first kill outside Whiterun, when Mirmulnir fell and I breathed in his essence. The day was waning and I could make out the houses of Rorikstead in the distance. I looked at Aela and smiled a little. "Let me show you something." Nahagliiv's bones remain where we left them. Just outside of Rorikstead, where the dragon fell, Aela and I studied the sight. She'd been there when we'd slain him, but I hadn't spoken of it since. I walked up to the skeleton and ran my hand down a rib. "This was Nahagliiv. His name means 'Fury Burn Wither'. His is one of the voices that now prompts me to do the very thing you suggest." Aela said nothing. I turned to face her. "I won't save this world simply to put it to the torch myself. The sons of Skyrim are owed more than a mere conqueror. I would be known throughout the land for who I strive to be, not merely what my blood demands. I hope you can understand that." She stepped to me and took my hands. "I do. But I still think that we should ensure there is a Skyrim whose sons can learn who you are, as I have, before something truly horrific happens." I looked over my shoulder. In the distance, I could barely make out the sky-stabbing height of the Throat of the World. The wound in time was there. My destiny was there. The Elder Scroll felt heavy in my pack. I turned back to my wife and nodded. "We deliver the horn to the Shrine of Talos, and ask for his favor. Then we ascend that mountain, and we put an end to Alduin's evil once and for all." Aela leaned up and kissed my cheek. "I'm by your side no matter what comes. Remember that."

---

Blue Ink Alchemy

Games In Your Pocket

Games In Your Pocket — Blue Ink Alchemy

After a couple days of heavy stuff, I thought I'd lighten things up with a few mini-reviews of some of the best mobile games I've played lately. Here's my take on three games available on both iOS devices and Androids.

Ghost Trick

I know that there are a lot of Capcom games out there that may give the impression that they don't know how to tell stories. Ghost Trick: Phantom Detective is not one of them. Developed for the DS as well as smart phones and tablets, and under the direction of Shu Takumi of the Ace Attorney games, Ghost Trick introduces us to Sissel, a detective who finds himself the victim of a murder. Death is not the end, as Sissel and we discover, but before he can uncover the nature of his untimely demise, he witnesses another murder and finds he has the power to avert it. He teams up with the woman he rescues to get to the bottom of the situation, and maybe get his memories back as well. The dichotomy of the worlds of the living and the dead yields unique puzzle mechanics. In the living world, times moves at its normal pace, but Sissel can manipulate objects. In the ghost world, Sissel can move himself but not other things, while time stands still. You can also rewind time back to a checkpoint, or 4 minutes before the impending murder if you mess something up. This intuitive system combined with an interesting story, fluid animations, and quirky characters makes Ghost Trick a rather immersive experience for a mobile device, and while only the first episode is free, I highly recommend checking it out.

Assassin's Creed: Recollection

This game is, in a nutshell, a real-time Magic the Gathering game in the Assassin's Creed universe. I admit, I have not played a great deal of it. While I do like Magic, and dig the Assassin's Creed games, putting them together along with a constantly ticking clock and the unfortunate over-arching presence of a freemium model and U-Play feels like a hodgepodge meant to grab cash. It's not a bad game, despite its trappings. The territory is divided into three between you and your opponent, and you deploy allies and resources to defend and build up your side and increase your income. Every time day turns to night (a minute of in-game time), combat resolves, cash is collected, and new cards are drawn. I could see it working, but unlike the other games, I find myself disinclined to make the necessary investment to do well in it. Spending real-life money on digital cards has always felt off to me. It's why I don't play Magic Online. Yet I've spent real-life money on digital skins for champions in League of Legends. I never said my mind was always entirely logical.

Jetpack Joyride

This little number comes to us from Halfbrick, creators of the very simple and satisfying Fruit Ninja, and holds to those tenets. The premise is the simple part: Your name is Barry Steakfries, and you steal a jetpack. The game consists of alternating between running and jet-packing down a long hallway, gradually building up speed, avoiding obstacles, and grabbing power-ups. If you've ever played one of those Flash games on the Internet that has you fling something to achieve maximum distance or one of the many "cave flyer" games out there, you'll find Jetpack Joyride similar, but far easier to grasp and a great deal more satisfying. Featuring a rather tongue-in-cheek presentation, a kickass soundtrack, and a true free-to-play model that does not require you to spend a dime on it, Jetpack Joyride does everything a mobile game needs to do in order to be memorable, fun, and habit-forming. With shout-outs to Angry Birds and (if I'm not mistaken) VVVVVV, Halfbrick has stuffed the game with appeal, surprises, and a lightness of tone that makes it undeniable. I seriously love this game. You have no excuse not to download it.

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Blue Ink Alchemy

What We Leave Behind

What We Leave Behind — Blue Ink Alchemy

Nothing lasts forever. It's a narrative thread woven through many, many stories we tell. Ozymandias talks of great constructs of man all but obliterated by time. A lot of tales are set in times long after the collapse of expansive civilizations. We preserve what we can, but it is impossible to escape what comes for each and every one of us in time. Death has been personified in many ways. We want to put a face to the inevitability of our end. We struggle to comprehend the finality of it. That there is nothing more in this world for us. No matter what may come after, if there's more to existence than these mere dimensions we perceive or if there is nothing but silence and oblivion, our hands do no more work, our mouths never make audible sounds again, our eyes fail to see another wonder or another tragedy. And yet, our stories do not end when we do. Time will have her way with what we build and the lines we draw between one another. Our imaginations, however, are much more difficult to destroy. In those imaginations, we remember those who've left us behind, we tell their stories, we wonder and question and laugh and cry. And when we latch onto something, like the arguments made by the likes of Plato or Aristotle, the teachings of pilgrims from Nazareth or visionaries from Mecca, a tale about fairies or the faux history of the epic struggle of noble houses, the creator of the work lasts even longer in our imaginations. In rare cases, we're given more than just entertainment and escapism. We are given hope. I don't necessarily mean hope for an afterlife or immortality or anything like that. In a general sense, we find hope for a better tomorrow. We know the world will keep turning even if someone we admire or love dies. And if the sun does indeed rise on a new day, maybe we can find, in ourselves and in what we and our loved ones leave behind, whatever it takes to make this day better than the one before.

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Blue Ink Alchemy

What We Leave Behind

What We Leave Behind — Blue Ink Alchemy

Nothing lasts forever. It's a narrative thread woven through many, many stories we tell. Ozymandias talks of great constructs of man all but obliterated by time. A lot of tales are set in times long after the collapse of expansive civilizations. We preserve what we can, but it is impossible to escape what comes for each and every one of us in time. Death has been personified in many ways. We want to put a face to the inevitability of our end. We struggle to comprehend the finality of it. That there is nothing more in this world for us. No matter what may come after, if there's more to existence than these mere dimensions we perceive or if there is nothing but silence and oblivion, our hands do no more work, our mouths never make audible sounds again, our eyes fail to see another wonder or another tragedy. And yet, our stories do not end when we do. Time will have her way with what we build and the lines we draw between one another. Our imaginations, however, are much more difficult to destroy. In those imaginations, we remember those who've left us behind, we tell their stories, we wonder and question and laugh and cry. And when we latch onto something, like the arguments made by the likes of Plato or Aristotle, the teachings of pilgrims from Nazareth or visionaries from Mecca, a tale about fairies or the faux history of the epic struggle of noble houses, the creator of the work lasts even longer in our imaginations. In rare cases, we're given more than just entertainment and escapism. We are given hope. I don't necessarily mean hope for an afterlife or immortality or anything like that. In a general sense, we find hope for a better tomorrow. We know the world will keep turning even if someone we admire or love dies. And if the sun does indeed rise on a new day, maybe we can find in ourselves and in what we and our loved ones leave behind whatever it takes to make this day better than the one before.

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Blue Ink Alchemy

Flash Fiction: The Crooked Tree

Flash Fiction: The Crooked Tree — Blue Ink Alchemy

Crooked, courtesy curious_spider aka terribleminds The challenge this week is to write about the tree above.

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Ron's mother always told him to avoid fights, not get into them. His cousins, raised in a home closer to the city center, had shown him a couple ways to take care of himself, but his mother had broken that up quickly, yelled at Ron's uncle for "fostering violent tendencies," and threw out all of Ron's Bruce Lee movies. He'd still practiced, though, in secret, for days like this. Days when Missy and Sam got bullied. Missy was a cute girl in his classes, and her little brother Sam was a big kid who liked books. The tougher, cooler kids liked to pick on him, especially when they found out he didn't like girls. Ron knew his mother wouldn't have approved, but it had been going on for weeks. That afternoon, as Missy and Sam walked home, Ron had trailed the hecklers. When the time was right, and they passed the expansive and overgrown park, Ron ran up and kicked George Frederickson in the butt. The junior football star went stumbling forward and knocked Sam down, laying on top of him for a moment. "Ha! Looks like you're the gay one now!" The other boys from the football team were not amused. With a cry from George of "Get him!" they chased Ron into the woods. It had rained off and on over the previous few days, and the ground squished a bit under Ron's sneakers. He zigged and zagged before arriving at a small clearing. Ahead of him, a tree was bent towards the ground, branches kissing the earth. Ron approached it slowly, uncertain. It hadn't been struck by lightning, so why was it bending like that? He heard voices behind him, and dashed under the crook of the trunk. He hunched down in the ferns under it and waited. "What do you think you're doing here?" None of George's boys had been as close as that voice. He blinked, looking around. Everything seemed... greener, somehow. He inhaled and he wasn't just smelling wet ferns anymore. He could smell berries from a bush several feet away, a soft tang in the air that probably meant more rain was on the way, his own sweat, and... "Hey! Answer me!" Ron looked down to see a squirrel perched on his knee. At least, it looked like a squirrel. But most squirrels Ron had seen were small rodents. This one was the size of a housecat. "How are you talking?" Ron wasn't sure how else to respond. "Nevermind, nevermind that. You can't be here. It's dangerous. Too dangerous." "I don't understand. How did I get here? Where is 'here'?" The squirrel slapped himself in the face. Ron tried not to laugh. A big talking squirrel facepalming was the funniest thing he'd seen in a long time. "Stupid, stupid. Of course you don't know. Of course. Secrets behind the curtain, more than just an old man and wheels, secrets, secrets." The squirrel spun in a quick circle on Ron's knee. "Well, you had to do or be something special to arrive, so congratulations and welcome. Now farewell, goodbye, off you go, shoo shoo." "But I still don't know where I am!" "Good! Good! The less you know, the better off you'll be! Now shoo!" Ron crossed his arms, glaring at the squirrel. The oversized animal, blinking large eyes at him for a moment, scrambled off of his leg. For a moment, there was silence. Then, the squirrel burst out of the ferns, squealing at the top of its lungs, its tail bushed out and claws made for climbing trees aimed at Ron's face. Startled, Ron fell backwards, and was on the near side of the tree again. The colors seemed more washed out. He smelled less. And he heard the bullies coming for him. He got to his feet and into a fighting stance. When they came through the underbrush and saw him, George started laughing. "Look! He thinks he can take all three of us at once!" George approached, spreading his hands. "Tell you what, tough guy, I'll go easy on ya. Just one on one, you and me, okay?" Ron stared at George, but saw one of the other boys pulling out an empty bottle. He wasn't sure what that boy's name was, but if he was on the football team he probably had a decent throwing arm. Ron turned his attention to George and took a deep breath, closing his eyes. For a moment, it was like he could still see George, and every living thing in the forest, but as a silver silhouette. He gasped, his eyes flying open. Then, seeing that the boys were still advancing on him, he repeated the breathing and the closing of his eyes. The silver lights were still there, and George was close enough that he could make out distinct parts of him; his eyes, his hands, his heart. As he exhaled, Ron reached out with his right hand, which was glowing red in this odd pseudo-vision, and pointed at George's chest. The football captain gasped. Ron opened his eyes and saw George clutching his chest. Ron had seen someone act like this before, when his grandfather had a heart attack. Staggering, George fell, and the other boys ran off screaming. Ron approached to see George staring up at the trees, mouth and eyes wide, unmoving. Ron stepped back, a chill going through his body. He's dead. How is he dead? He can't be dead! I didn't kill him! He looked down at his hands. It wasn't me! He looked over his shoulder at the tree. Swallowing, he stepped back under the crook. The squirrel was glaring at him. "Go back! Go back!" "I can't." He swallowed. "I won't. Tell me what I am." The squirrel blinked, then sighed. "What you are, kid, is part of this world. The world your world forgot. Follow me. I'll show you." Ron, casting a nervous glance over his shoulder, followed the squirrel deep into the green.

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Blue Ink Alchemy

Writer Report: On Strong Women & Sharing Work

Writer Report: On Strong Women & Sharing Work — Blue Ink Alchemy

There's been a lot of talk back and forth about the trailer for the new Tomb Raider that came out of E3. Word has been that this new Lara Croft would be darker and grittier, just like everything else is in games and fiction in general these days. A beaten and desperate Lara has to fight, crawl, sneak, and struggle her way from setpiece to setpiece in the game, and through it all she gasps, grunts, screams, and cries. I, like Susan Arendt, admire Lara's tenacity. I like that there's a sense of realism to go along with all of the platforming and combat. What I don't like is that this and this alone is meant to make her a "stronger" character. Strong women are not devoid of emotions. I'm glad Square Enix gets that. But you're a fool if you think the only means demonstrate the emotions they have is through the mediums of torture, tragedy, or the power of a magical healing (or cackling evil) dick. You may think it's the height of drama to have a female character develop through a wince-inducing, heart-rending struggle to survive as she's faced with evil malefactors at every turn, but just a moment's examination should reveal how shallow this method is. If you want to make your story interesting, you do need to hurt your characters, but if all you do to your female characters is beat them down or sex them up, people are going to start asking questions. So ask the questions yourself, first. Bounce ideas off of another human being. If you don't have the good fortune to live with one who's interested in your work, use the Internet to meet some. Solicit opinions in a coffee shop. Go to a library and make the librarian cross by asking random people about the inner workings of your fictional clandestine organization. You need to share your work, and you need to get feedback, even if it's completely negative. How else are you to face the fact that your work is incomplete? No manuscript bursts forth from the head of its author fully-formed and ready to top sales charts. They need to develop. They need to grow. Rampant growth needs to be cut down, plot points need to be clarified, and darlings need to be dragged out behind the shed and shot. If you think you can do every single step of that process on your own, I think you may be part of the problem. As it was explained to me, no writer thinks they're a bad writer. Self-deprecating as I may be at times, there's a part of me that thinks what I have to offer the written word is worth someone else reading. In some ways, I may be right, but in others, I'm definitely wrong. And I won't know that for sure which is which until I let someone else have at my words. Let's circle back to Lara. As a character to drive a game about the exploration of ancient ruins, fighting off threats of both natural and man-made origins, and hunting down obscure and inexplicable artifacts of dubious power and desirability, we need to do more than just make her an Indiana Jones knock-off, as Uncharted already beat her to that. I'm not sure how much of her backstory is changing with this latest reboot, but Lara always struck me as a woman who did what she did out of a sense of adventure, shunning the life of upper-class aristocracy because it was too constraining. I'm left wondering who she left behind when she made this decision. Are any of her former friends still trendy and wealthy, now the subject of tabloid reporting? Does she ever see a familiar face on a magazine, happy at a wedding or with a child? How does that make her feel? If the same friend was seen after a nasty split with an abusive ex, what would her reaction be? Does she get lonely out in the wild? What lines does she draw between what she'll do and what she won't, and why? Any one of these questions, if answered differently from the previous games if at all, could make for an interesting story to be laid like a foundation under the structure of gameplay. All it would have taken was one person sharing the standing ideas with another, and that other person bringing up any of the above points. But no. Let's just break a few of her bones and threaten her with some unsolicited hard-ons. And this time, not just from her fans! I could be making a mountain out of a molehill, here, but to me, if all the game does to develop Lara's character is push her down multiple times just to watch her get back up, it will have failed miserably in making the character better. Brienne of Tarth is a formidable and towering slayer of men, but that isn't all she is. Zoe Washburne is not just first mate of the Serenity. Alex Roivas went through a great deal in Eternal Darkness and was only directly threatened occasionally. Miriam Black is more than the sum of her trash-talk, hustling, sex drive, and special powers. Ripley doesn't just slay angry penis-monsters from beyond the stars. All of them have histories. All of them have points of view. All of them have feelings beyond "Hey, ow, this hurts." Why should Lara Croft, or new characters written by me or another author, be any different?

---

Blue Ink Alchemy

Writer Report: On Strong Women & Sharing Work

Writer Report: On Strong Women & Sharing Work — Blue Ink Alchemy

There's been a lot of talk back and forth about the trailer for the new Tomb Raider that came out of E3. Word has been that this new Lara Croft would be darker and grittier, just like everything else is in games and fiction in general these days. A beaten and desperate Lara has to fight, crawl, sneak, and struggle her way from setpiece to setpiece in the game, and through it all she gasps, grunts, screams, and cries. I, like Susan Arendt, admire Lara's tenacity. I like that there's a sense of realism to go along with all of the platforming and combat. What I don't like is that this and this alone is meant to make her a "stronger" character. Strong women are not devoid of emotions. I'm glad Square Enix gets that. But you're a fool if you think the only means demonstrate the emotions they have is through the mediums of torture, tragedy, or the power of a magical healing (or cackling evil) dick. You may think it's the height of drama to have a female character develop through a wince-inducing, heart-rending struggle to survive as she's faced with evil malefactors at every turn, but just a moment's examination should reveal how shallow this method is. If you want to make your story interesting, you do need to hurt your characters, but if all you do to your female characters is beat them down or sex them up, people are going to start asking questions. So ask the questions yourself, first. Bounce ideas off of another human being. If you don't have the good fortune to live with one who's interested in your work, use the Internet to meet some. Solicit opinions in a coffee shop. Go to a library and make the librarian cross by asking random people about the inner workings of your fictional clandestine organization. You need to share your work, and you need to get feedback, even if it's completely negative. How else are you to face the fact that your work is incomplete? No manuscript bursts forth from the head of its author fully-formed and ready to top sales charts. They need to develop. They need to grow. Rampant growth needs to be cut down, plot points need to be clarified, and darlings need to be dragged out behind the shed and shot. If you think you can do every single step of that process on your own, I think you may be part of the problem. As it was explained to me, no writer thinks they're a bad writer. Self-deprecating as I may be at times, there's a part of me that thinks what I have to offer the written word is worth someone else reading. In some ways, I may be right, but in others, I'm definitely wrong. And I won't know that for sure which is which until I let someone else have at my words. Let's circle back to Lara. As a character to drive a game about the exploration of ancient ruins, fighting off threats of both natural and man-made origins, and hunting down obscure and inexplicable artifacts of dubious power and desirability, we need to do more than just make her an Indiana Jones knock-off, as Uncharted already beat her to that. I'm not sure how much of her backstory is changing with this latest reboot, but Lara always struck me as a woman who did what she did out of a sense of adventure, shunning the life of upper-class aristocracy because it was too constraining. I'm left wondering who she left behind when she made this decision. Are any of her former friends still trendy and wealthy, now the subject of tabloid reporting? Does she ever see a familiar face on a magazine, happy at a wedding or with a child? How does that make her feel? If the same friend was seen after a nasty split with an abusive ex, what would her reaction be? Does she get lonely out in the wild? What lines does she draw between what she'll do and what she won't, and why? Any one of these questions, if answered differently from the previous games if at all, could make for an interesting story to be laid like a foundation under the structure of gameplay. All it would have taken was one person sharing the standing ideas with another, and that other person bringing up any of the above points. But no. Let's just break a few of her bones and threaten her with some unsolicited hard-ons. And this time, not just from her fans! I could be making a mountain out of a molehill, here, but to me, if all the game does to develop Lara's character is push her down multiple times just to watch her get back up, it will have failed miserably in making the character better. Brienne of Tarth is a formidable and towering slayer of men, but that isn't all she is. Zoe Washburne is not just first mate of the Serenity. Alex Roivas went through a great deal in Eternal Darkness and was only directly threatened occasionally. Miriam Black is more than the sum of her trash-talk, hustling, sex drive, and special powers. Ripley doesn't just slay angry penis-monsters from beyond the stars. All of them have histories. All of them have points of view. All of them have feelings beyond "Hey, ow, this hurts." Why should Lara Croft, or new characters written by me or another author, be any different?

---

Blue Ink Alchemy

Book Review: Headhunters

Book Review: Headhunters — Blue Ink Alchemy

It's easy to assume that threats to national security and integrity only come from foreign shores. Dressing terrorists, the boogeymen of our time, in the clothes and skin color of minorities softens the reality. There will always be dissidents, malcontents, and flat-out crazy people within our own borders, working inside our own systems, either to dismantle something they see as wrong or just to get themselves ahead somehow. Fighting these threats can be a dirty, underhanded, downright soulless affair. But if the country's integrity is to remain intact along with its security, some men must make sure certain lines are never crossed. Simon Parks is one of those men, and he is our subject as the protagonist of Charlie Cole's Headhunters. Simon works for Blackthorn, a deep-cover internal anti-terrorist group working in the United States to combat domestic terrorism. While most of his duties are concerned with finding new talent for this work, his job keeps him at the office for very long hours, even days at a time, and his wife decides to leave him over it. In an attempt to get her back, Simon inadvertently causes a fatal car crash, leaving him a widower and his children without a mother. Heartbroken, he resigns from Blackthorn and tries to start life over in a new city, as a headhunter for a different firm. But his old boss isn't about to let a resource like Simon go without a fight, not while there's still work to do, and Simon's new boss is not all he seems, either. Intrigue comes at Simon from all sides, with what's left of his family caught in the crossfire. Novels like this work or fall apart based primarily on the construction of the protagonist. A driven, stoic, nearly super-human badass (or a team of them) can carry an empty summer action flick, but not so much a modern thriller. Thankfully, Cole gives Simon a great deal of humanity and humility. He questions his actions even as they're being undertaken, apologizes several times to friends when they become involved in his life and its trials, and continually reminds the reader that he's "just a guy." While it's a realistic reaction to the sort of shenanigans that occur to Simon, he doesn't have the difficulties Jack Ryan did in early Tom Clancy novels. He's perfectly competent as an unarmed combatant, marksman, and strategist, even as doubts gnaw away at him. It's pretty clear that this is a debut novel, with some of the plot developments easy to predict and some of Simon's abilities and resources seeming too good to be true. However, Cole has a background in the areas within which the story takes place, and while I'm certain artistic license has been taken throughout the novel, none of the flaws make the novel difficult to read or hard to believe. Simon has enough bravery to carry the action, enough humanity to invoke sympathy, and enough humility to avoid becoming insufferable. The story moves at a good pace, action scenes pop with a good dose of realism, there's plenty of twists in the tale, and Charlie even threw in a bit of romance, presented tastefully and at the right times to allow us breathers between the tension. Fans of tales such as 24 and The Bourne Identity will be right at home here. Charlie Cole is looking to be a decent successor to Clancy and Ludlum, and Headhunters is a fun and engrossing read. He has plenty of room to grow, which is actually exciting. As good as Headhunters is, his next yarn should be even better.

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Blue Ink Alchemy

Forever OP

Forever OP — Blue Ink Alchemy

Double Darius action! But which one is more OP? League of Legends has been called many things, from a DOTA knock-off to an ongoing Dunning-Kruger effect study. I know people who consistently call it a terrible game. It has its share of flaws, to be sure: the art direction of female champions can be quite dodgy at times, the model of its microtransactions and the seemingly arbitrary nature of sales and point gain rate can be called into question, and the community can be quite caustic and deriding, though not (thank the Maker) to the degree of X-Box Live. Yet. Over and above other objections are those regarding the characters players choose to represent them in the Fields of Justice. Every few weeks, sometimes more often, Riot Games introduces a new champion. More often than not, the newcomer's abilities and scaling power dwarfs that of other long-standing champions instead of rivaling it. While this is not always the case, it happens often enough that the new champions are labelled as overpowered, and Riot is forced to take time to re-examine them and perhaps adjust the balance of power in the next patch. Along with this comes a less obvious but more insidious problem. As competitive players lean towards certain champions for their team compositions, and new champions join the roster, some older champions, around since the inception of the game, fall by the wayside. Their abilities may get tuned down in power ("nerfed") but never readjusted to remain on par with others ("buffed"). Thus, they rarely see play, and some have even come to be regarded almost universally as bad champions that no sane champion would ever pick, unless they were trolling. The source of this apparent problem, according to some, is that League is growing vertically, not horizontally. Given that it's a young game, going through spurts like this is perfectly natural. If the trend continues, however, other games may learn from this failing before Riot does. As new champions with hitherto unknown abilities continue to join the roster while previous champs remain as they are, naturally the older ones will be outclassed. But did you notice how I used the word "apparent"? It's possible this "problem" isn't a problem at all. With a few exceptions, no champion can be slapped with the broad label of "bad". Every champion has something - a crowd control ability, a natural escape, a snowballing capacity for damage - they can offer a team. If the summoner who chooses that champion is competent with them, a relatively unknown or underused champion can suddenly be dominating the game. And even if domination doesn't happen, competent players can often work around or directly against the power of new champions. It's possible that the skill set of the "OP" newcomer gets entirely shut down when a much older champ ends up against them. It's just a matter of finding the 'bad' champ and dusting them off, so to speak. Theorycrafting remains a big part of strategy games in general and League in particular. Sites and communities are dedicated solely to examining the entire roster, providing guidance on how to build champions for certain situations or modes of play, and arguing about which champs are OP and which are terrible. As much as major tournament setups may try to convince you otherwise, not every team needs to have one golden composition to always win. Every player on the team has different taste, abilities, skills, and flaws, and they can and should choose their champions accordingly. The more a champ is in line with a particular player's style of competition, the more fun that player will have, regardless of the outcome of the game. There will be the occasional hard counter situation where a player's entirely locked down, but these incidents tend to be isolated. And the plethora of champion choice in League of Legends, for all of its inherent balance issues, means that no player is ever railroaded into a single choice of champion or even role. Nor should they be. This, then, is my advice, fellow summoners: do what you like, and if you're not having fun, chances are you're doing it wrong.

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Blue Ink Alchemy

Movie Review: Mission Impossible Ghost Protocol

Movie Review: Mission Impossible Ghost Protocol — Blue Ink Alchemy

I was introduced to Mission: Impossible at a young age. I found the TV series to be fascinating, in the way it used the same aesthetic and atmosphere of James Bond but felt far closer to home. It had cool gadgets, good chases, and decent characters. The movies have never quite measured up to the source material, and while I admire the audacity of the first film to wreck absolute havoc on the lives of the characters, they've felt a bit safe and generic since then. Ghost Protocol seemed to promise a return to former Mission: Impossible standards while looking fresh and crisp. Ethan Hunt is in a Russian prison, and two members of the Impossible Mission Force break him out. He's needed for a delicate operation in the very heart of the country's government. It turns out, however, that his team's been set up by a brilliant but insane physicist to take the fall for a bombing at the Kremlin. Faced with a ton of international fallout and the resurrected fear of war, the United States quickly shuts down the IMF, and the President initiates Ghost Protocol. Hunt and his team, along with a newcomer who claims to be a mere analyst, must track down the physicist and prevent the release of nuclear launch codes, lest the world become an atomic wasteland. So while it's not Russia being the bad guys, there's still a lot of this film that feels like Cold War stuff. In that way, it's similar to the Angelina Jolie vehicle Salt. Both are technically well-executed thrillers, but Mission Impossible goes for more of a straightforward, high action route rather than opting for grit or darkness. Besides, this is a plot we've all seen play out before, so the film has to do something new to keep our attention for its 133 minute run time.
Yeah, that's one way to keep our attention. What it opts to do, and what I like about it, is that its focus is more on the characters and how they deal with their circumstances, rather than the tech or the chases overwhelm us. I wouldn't say it's an entirely character-driven piece, as more often than not circumstances from the plot are what move us along. However, the moments we do get between the characters aren't badly written. Banter is believable and the characters tend to react to things in realistic ways. I also like the fact that while romance is hinted at in one instance, it's neither forced nor taken as a foregone conclusion. The filmmakers do a good job of making the team feel like people, rather than cyphers, even if Simon Pegg and Paula Patton get the short end of the stick in terms of character development. Unfortunately, our main foursome have to do a lot of the heavy lifting when it comes to getting us to care about the story. The antagonist is so generically Bond-villain bad it's difficult to key into the threat he represents outside of a general dislike of the prospect of nuclear war. As much as the plot is rooted in the current geo-political theater, the Cold War is over and the spectre of atomic annihilation is not the bogeyman it once was. There's also the fact that Michael Nyqvist is completely wasted in the role. He was very good in The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo (the original one) and while he does what he can with this mouth-foaming megalomaniacal drivel, it's just a bit hard to swallow, especially when his hitherto-unknown martial arts skills appear for the climax.
Beautiful people. There's also the fact that the plot relies almost entirely on coincidence and contrivance to stay in motion. While the tech never outshines the characters, its functionality, or more often lack thereof, is the cause of the characters needing to act rather than the characters being the vector for change themselves. It's a subtle difference, but it's there. The technology robs the characters of their agency and the story suffers for it. It's a shame, too, because here and there we see good character beats that would make a good movie in and of themselves, instead of just being the saving grace of a well-shot above-average espionage thriller. Stuff I Liked: The IMF team has good chemistry. Action is well-shot and does not rely on camera tricks to highten tension. It's nice to see locales that don't often get used for films like this, such as Dubai and India. Stuff I Didn't Like: I felt bad for Michael Nyqvist as he's given little to do other than be a dime-store Blofeld until the final scene where he suddenly becomes an excellent fighter. Technology failing once at an inopportune time is kind of funny, but it happens so often that it becomes almost predictable. Plot contrivance is the fuel that drives the film instead of character development. Stuff I Loved: The banter between Simon Pegg and Jeremy Renner. The prevalence of the Mission: Impossible theme in the score made me happy. The opening operation of sneaking into the Kremlin was very well done. Little moments like Renner's character hesitating to jump, Pegg's overall enthusiasm, and the old phone booth failing to self-destruct after giving Tom Cruise his mission. Bottom Line: Brad Bird's debut in live-action filmmaking is by no means bad. It's fun to watch and not without good moments, especially in the character department, but it's not terribly memorable. While it's much better than the previous two Mission: Impossible films, a little more time playing down the plot contrivances while increasing the moments of character construction would have made it even more compelling to watch. As it is, you could do worse for espionage action films to watch, but you could also do better.

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Blue Ink Alchemy

Flash Fiction: Aisle Nine

Flash Fiction: Aisle Nine — Blue Ink Alchemy

Courtesy Samm Bennet For this week's Terribleminds flash fiction, I thought I'd tease you all with a bit of Cold Iron prequel action.

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I know I shouldn't. Morgan frowned as she contemplated the bottle of pop in her hand. She had enough bad habits between the coffee, the take-out, and the relatively nocturnal sleeping schedule. On the other hand, a cool glass of Coke reminded her of summer days with her father. She wanted to hold on to pleasant memories like that while she could. It kept some of the darker things in the night at bay. Maybe a bottle of the Mexican stuff on my way out. She replaced the large bottle on the shelf and pushed her cart towards the pet section. While she tried to feed Nike decent and fresh food often, the cat was less picky about her litter. Morgan grabbed a container of what was on sale. She was wrestling it into the cart when she caught a particular movement out of the corner of her eye. It wasn't anything major. Just a guy walking down the dairy aisle towards the milk products, but his movements were a little too deliberate, a touch too fast. It set off alarms in Morgan's head. She pushed her cart to the end of the pet care aisle, turned, and moved towards the milk, where the man was speaking to a young woman. "I'm almost certain we've met," he was saying to her. "Oh, I don't think so. I'd probably remember." "Maybe I could refresh your memory?" It was on the corny side, but she seemed to be falling for it. Even as she approached, Morgan could feel a change in the air. It was something warmer and sharper than she should be feeling this close to so many cold products. She had to test her hunch. She gave her cart a hard shove and it banged into the man's backside, causing him to spin on her. "Oh, I'm sorry! It got away from me." For a moment, the man's eyes flashed red. Morgan didn't smile. She didn't want to give away the fact the man'd just been made. "That's all right. Happens all the time." He stepped away from them. "I was just inviting my friend to a party. Maybe you'd like to join us?" Morgan shook her head. "No, thank you. I really don't think I'd be into your scene." His eyes narrowed slightly. "And what scene would that be?" Morgan said nothing, simply holding his gaze. It was like staring down a panther, or a velociraptor. The woman backed away, grabbed her cart, and moved on. The man sighed a bit without looking. "Humans can be such fickle creatures. They tend to spook easily." "Yeah. Major bummer. Speaking as someone who's still human, as opposed to simply being a former one, I'd appreciate it if you moved along." "I don't know who you think you are..." "Morgan Everson, Special Homicide." She even showed him her badge. "Ah. That explains it. In that case, excuse me." He brushed past her as he walked towards the exit. Morgan took a deep breath, then fished out her phone and called her partner. Allan Bowman wasn't too far away, and while neither of them were technically on duty yet, Morgan considered it good policy to keep him informed of whenever she saw one of those things. "I guess he got bored of the stereotypical nightclubs," Allan said after Morgan described the perp. "Could be. I didn't think to ask. Anyway, I'll keep my eyes peeled for him." "Do you want me to swing by, boss? Just in case?" She thought about it for a moment. "You know what? Yeah. Just in case. You can even help haul my groceries into my place if you want." "Oh, no. I know how that works. First it's hauling groceries, next thing I know you're asking me if you're trying to seduce me." Morgan chuckled. "You know me better than that, Bowman. Just get down here." "Right, boss." She finished up her shopping, grabbing a wooden mixing spoon along with the rest of her items. She paid for everything and headed out towards her car. She got the first round of bags into her trunk before he attacked her. He grabbed her by the shoulders and yanked her away from the car. The bags that had been in her hand came open, spilling their contents on the pavement. She went for her sidearm but he was fast, incredibly fast, grabbing her wrist and pulling it out of her jacket in spite of her struggles. In the shadows of the early evening parking lot, she could clearly see the red in his eyes. "I think we'll be partying after all, Detective." "Shall we dance, then?" Her teeth were grinding together against the pain in her wrist. "I know a few steps." She brought her knees up and drove both of her heels into the attacker's groin. The sensation was sudden for him, and either on instinct or due to the actual pain, he released her and backed off. One of the bags she'd been holding had contained the spoon, which she grabbed as she scrambled to her feet. As he recovered, she broke it over her knee. For a moment, they stood staring at each other, crouched, tensed, each ready to strike the other. He moved first, hands extended, fangs bared. The inhuman hiss made Morgan's skin crawl, but she stood her ground. At the last possible second, she dipped under him, grabbing one of his arms in her free hand. He slammed into her car and, as he turned, she plunged the splintered end of the broken spoon into his chest with a sickening crunch. His eyes went wide in shock. He opened his mouth to speak, but all that came out was a gush of blood. His nostrils, ears and eyes soon bled as well, and he slumped to the pavement, unmoving. Morgan felt her legs go rubbery and she sat, facing him. When Allan arrived, she was still sitting there, drinking a bottle of Coke.

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Blue Ink Alchemy

Flash Fiction: Aisle Nine

Flash Fiction: Aisle Nine — Blue Ink Alchemy

Courtesy Samm Bennet For this week's Terribleminds flash fiction, I thought I'd tease you all with a bit of Cold Iron prequel action.

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I know I shouldn't. Morgan frowned as she contemplated the bottle of pop in her hand. She had enough bad habits between the coffee, the take-out, and the relatively nocturnal sleeping schedule. On the other hand, a cool glass of Coke reminded her of summer days with her father. She wanted to hold on to pleasant memories like that while she could. It kept some of the darker things in the night at bay. Maybe a bottle of the Mexican stuff on my way out. She replaced the large bottle on the shelf and pushed her cart towards the pet section. While she tried to feed Nike decent and fresh food often, the cat was less picky about her litter. Morgan grabbed a container of what was on sale. She was wrestling it into the cart when she caught a particular movement out of the corner of her eye. It wasn't anything major. Just a guy walking down the dairy aisle towards the milk products, but his movements were a little too deliberate, a touch too fast. It set off alarms in Morgan's head. She pushed her cart to the end of the pet care aisle, turned, and moved towards the milk, where the man was speaking to a young woman. "I'm almost certain we've met," he was saying to her. "Oh, I don't think so. I'd probably remember." "Maybe I could refresh your memory?" It was on the corny side, but she seemed to be falling for it. Even as she approached, Morgan could feel a change in the air. It was something warmer and sharper than she should be feeling this close to so many cold products. She had to test her hunch. She gave her cart a hard shove and it banged into the man's backside, causing him to spin on her. "Oh, I'm sorry! It got away from me." For a moment, the man's eyes flashed red. Morgan didn't smile. She didn't want to give away the fact the man'd just been made. "That's all right. Happens all the time." He stepped away from them. "I was just inviting my friend to a party. Maybe you'd like to join us?" Morgan shook her head. "No, thank you. I really don't think I'd be into your scene." His eyes narrowed slightly. "And what scene would that be?" Morgan said nothing, simply holding his gaze. It was like staring down a panther, or a velociraptor. The woman backed away, grabbed her cart, and moved on. The man sighed a bit without looking. "Humans can be such fickle creatures. They tend to spook easily." "Yeah. Major bummer. Speaking as someone who's still human, as opposed to simply being a former one, I'd appreciate it if you moved along." "I don't know who you think you are..." "Morgan Everson, Special Homicide." She even showed him her badge. "Ah. That explains it. In that case, excuse me." He brushed past her as he walked towards the exit. Morgan took a deep breath, then fished out her phone and called her partner. Allan Bowman wasn't too far away, and while neither of them were technically on duty yet, Morgan considered it good policy to keep him informed of whenever she saw one of those things. "I guess he got bored of the stereotypical nightclubs," Allan said after Morgan described the perp. "Could be. I didn't think to ask. Anyway, I'll keep my eyes peeled for him." "Do you want me to swing by, boss? Just in case?" She thought about it for a moment. "You know what? Yeah. Just in case. You can even help haul my groceries into my place if you want." "Oh, no. I know how that works. First it's hauling groceries, next thing I know you're asking me if you're trying to seduce me." Morgan chuckled. "You know me better than that, Bowman. Just get down here." "Right, boss." She finished up her shopping, grabbing a wooden mixing spoon along with the rest of her items. She paid for everything and headed out towards her car. She got the first round of bags into her trunk before he attacked her. He grabbed her by the shoulders and yanked her away from the car. The bags that had been in her hand came open, spilling their contents on the pavement. She went for her sidearm but he was fast, incredibly fast, grabbing her wrist and pulling it out of her jacket in spite of her struggles. In the shadows of the early evening parking lot, she could clearly see the red in his eyes. "I think we'll be partying after all, Detective." "Shall we dance, then?" Her teeth were grinding together against the pain in her wrist. "I know a few steps." She brought her knees up and drove both of her heels into the attacker's groin. The sensation was sudden for him, and either on instinct or due to the actual pain, he released her and backed off. One of the bags she'd been holding had contained the spoon, which she grabbed as she scrambled to her feet. As he recovered, she broke it over her knee. For a moment, they stood staring at each other, crouched, tensed, each ready to strike the other. He moved first, hands extended, fangs bared. The inhuman hiss made Morgan's skin crawl, but she stood her ground. At the last possible second, she dipped under him, grabbing one of his arms in her free hand. He slammed into her car and, as he turned, she plunged the splintered end of the broken spoon into his chest with a sickening crunch. His eyes went wide in shock. He opened his mouth to speak, but all that came out was a gush of blood. His nostrils, ears and eyes soon bled as well, and he slumped to the pavement, unmoving. Morgan felt her legs go rubbery and she sat, facing him. When Allan arrived, she was still sitting there, drinking a bottle of Coke.

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Blue Ink Alchemy