DC Universe Online

So here’s my dirty little secret: I’m a video game junkie.  I didn’t intend to be.  I didn’t plan it.  It just sort of…happened.

First you play a little Pacman, then a little Street Fighter 2, and before you know it you’re up all night playing Diablo II’s Secret Cow level on Nightmare level, cackling like a fiend at a rare rune drop.  It’s a very slippery slope, my friends.  My latest near-relapse was caused by the free-to-play MMO DC Universe Online.

Since I lost 30 hours of writing time to DC Universe Online last week, I thought the least I could do is get a blog post out of it.  A couple of basics and then on to my thoughts. First off, it’s PC and PS3 only.  PC requirements are fairly low, both computers in our house ran the game with no glitches or graphics issues and they’re both several years old. If you’re a fan of MMO’s or the DC Universe, this game is worth downloading and checking out.

I’m more of a Marvel guy myself, but I can appreciate that both franchises have their appeal, and fans of DC will have a great time making characters and tooling around Gotham, Metropolis, the Watch Tower, and the Hall of Doom.
 
THE GOOD:

Extremely fun character creator.  We had fun making all kinds of crazy characters and I had particular fun bringing to life characters from my writing, including zombies, demons, sheriffs, wizards, and tomahawk-wielding teenagers.

Initial game-play is easy, intuitive, and fun.  Leveling, powers, equipment, movement, are all standard MMO/FPS-based and if my 6yo can run around Gotham throwing batarangs, then so can you.  Higher level instances, shifting powers, weapon combos, and on-duty possibilities are not as easy as they should be, but they aren’t rocket science either.

Gotham and Metropolis are well designed, expansive, and interesting.  Gotham is dark and rainy with lots of elevated train tracks and dark alleys, while Metropolis is bright, sunny, and all gleaming metal and chrome.  They feel like the characters that give them life in the comics; Batman and Superman.

Leagues/teams/duos make for fun times.  I had a blast playing with my sons as a super team.  Getting together and staying together is made really easy through the interface.  It’s also really easy to join up with random folks if you wish to complete missions, but playing with friends and shouting as someone does something cool is the real fun in this game.

Super Power: Distraction!

Character creation is limited.  I know, I know.  I just told you it was fun and you could make all sorts of crazy super heroes.  What I didn’t tell you is that they all fit into a few archetypes during actual game-play.  You choose a side (good/evil), you choose a mentor (Batman/Superman/Wonderwoman) and then you choose a power and a weapon.  It’s the second two things that leave me rather cold.  Every character must have some sort of power, even if it’s gadgets, and a weapon combo, even if it’s as simple as brawling.  Ironically, what this eliminates is the way to make iconic characters like Superman, who either has no powers but near-invincibility or all the powers depending on which comic nerd you ask.  The expansion packs add in a few powers, like the light powers of the lanterns, but overall the only difference in game-play between ice and fire power are the on-screen sprites, and that’s just disappointing.  I’m convinced it was the only way to have balanced game-play across thousands of possible choices, but after playing 7 characters for 30 hours…it feels lame.

The missions are boring.  I’m sure others have complained, but if I have to break out of Brainiac’s ship one more time I’m going to fucking break something.  Once or twice is fine, but let players bypass this 20 minute grind once they know the basics and get on with it.  Beyond that, the missions are all extremely predictable smash and fetch roundups.  The only thing that changes from mission to mission is the particular sprite you’ll be beating the shit out of while you smash and fetch.  There are no real puzzles or mysteries, and nothing that even takes particularly good teamwork.  You are cast in a strictly backup role to the main heroes who you see every once in a while as you fuck shit up that they apparently don’t have the time for.

Equipment is the real equalizer.  I know this is pretty standard for MMOs these days, but I can’t stand the idea that a rare armor drop is the difference between life and death for your heroic Green Lightning Bug-man.  Once you get into the mid-levels (10-20) the only thing you’re really after is new gear to boost stats.  In a world filled with Booster Gold clones, that might be fine, but all you have to do is look at the iconic heroes to know where the game went wrong.  Does Superman or Wonder Woman run around with a red exobyte-socketed chest plates and synthium boots of courage (or whatever). No.

Can't I just order all this gear online?

I’m relieved to be able to put this one aside after playing through most of the missions and instances and getting some cool “oh hell yeah” moments out of the game.  My kids will probably play another 100 hours, but they don’t have the aversion to level-grinding that I earned from long hours of addiction.

See you in Gotham, DC fans!

Anna Meade (@ruanna3) and co-host Susi Holliday (@sjiholliday) over at YearningForWonderland.blogspot.com are running a flash fiction contest honoring the storyteller’s traditional “Once Upon a Time” theme.  The OUAT writing contest is simple: 350 words of an unexpected or fractured fairy tale. Complete rules are here.  Follow entries on twitter with hashtag #OUATWRITING.

Prizes include a whole BUNCH of nifty stuff, including t-shirts, edits, books, and best of all your entry immortalized for National Flash Fiction day!

My humble entry:

DEEP IN THE HEART

“Tell me a ghost story, Uncle George.” Patty yawned, her eyes mesmerized by the glowing embers of the campfire.
“Ghost story?” Uncle George kicked his boots out beside the fire. “Don’t know if’n it’s a ghost story, but damned if it ain’t a scary story…”
“I reckon it was a long while back,” George said,
“Like the 70’s?” Patty giggled.
George ignored her sassin’, “My cousin—Buford—was a poor ranchhand down New Braunsfel’s way, and his wife runned oft with the rodeo, leaving him and his two kids all alone.  Now, I don’t remember their God-given names—but everybody called them Bubba and Sissy.  Their daddy took to Honky-Tonking after they momma runned out, and he fell in with this beautiful filly, name of Tiffani.  Buford was in love, because Tiffani had these big ol’….eyes.”
“Big eyes?”
“Never-you-mind,” George stammered. “Pretty soon, Buford and Tiffani went to the Justice and them kids had a new step-mom.”
“Oooh, was she mean? Did she starve them?” Patty asked, her eyes aglow.
“Damn near,” George hissed. “She was a VEGAN! Wouldn’t let no one have no chicken-fried steak, no brisket, not even…one…drop…of gravy.”
Patty gasped, hugging her pillow.
“Pretty soon, Tiffani had her fill of them step-kids and sent ‘em off to summer camp, deep in the woods of East Texas.”
Patty shivered.
“Anyway, Bubby and Sissy skeedaddled from camp to find their way back home.  They was plumb lost, and ended up following their noses to an old smoke shack filled with delicious sausages, turkey, and ribs. Well, they got to eating all of it.  Turns out it was owned by an old Messican woman with glaucoma, who caught them kids red-handed.  She gave them all kinds of Hell, until they tricked ol’ Abuelita into the smoker and called the Texas Rangers,” George chuckled.  “When the cops took them home, ol’ Tiffani was gone.”
“She died?”
“Worse,” George moaned. “She left out to liberal-arts college to study Genders….in CALIFORNIA!”
Patty’s terrified scream filled the night sky.

—

Enjoy and good luck to all the other writers!

The Siren's Call, April, 2012

Go check out this month’s issue of “The Sirens Call” and you’ll see a flash fiction piece by little ol’ me!

This issue is all about fiction from the point of view of The Observer.  It’s not as easy as you think to write fiction in which the protagonist is watching and can do nothing about what is taking place (or has taken place in my case).  Everyone wants their fiction to be active, active, ACTIVE!  But there is something to be said for setting a mood of tension, suspense, and horror from the point of view of the observer.  It’s like watching yourself watch a horror movie.  In some cases, it can be more entertaining that the movie itself.  If you’ve ever watched videos of people’s reaction to a certain disgusting internet sensation, then you’ll know I speak the truth.

My piece: MERLIN, is a descent into madness as our observer, who is able to see across all of time and space, finds himself unable to stop watching his own life’s greatest regret.

A huge thank you to Nina (@Sotet_Angyal), Kalla (@KallaMonahan), and Kate for accepting my little tale and putting together a kickass publication.  There is a ton of great fiction in this issue and $6 gets you a year’s worth HERE.

Follow them on Twitter at @Sirens_Call

#MotivationMonday Winner

Here’s my winning entry in Wakefield Mahon’s (@WakefieldMahon) #MotivationMonday for April 16th, 2012 .  Rules are simple, and anyone can participate:  100 – 500 words using a prompt provided by Wakefield.  The piece MUST start with the prompt, which is different than other challenges, but cool because you get to see how many different directions writers will go from a single sentence.  This piece is part of my world building exercise for PROJECT: TOMAHAWK, and you’ll definitely be seeing more along these lines.  PROMPT: He loved to play the game.

 WINNER TAKE ALL

He loved to play to the game.  To Jeremy, it was the only thing left worth living for.
“Jeremy, I don’t want you going to the Exchange today,” his mom said.
Jeremy scooped the tiny scraps of oats from his bowl and looked balefully at his mother, “I’ve got batteries to trade.  How am I supposed to get food if I don’t go?”
“I know what happens on Fridays, and I won’t have you part of it.  You can go tomorrow.”
His mom knew about the game—most everyone did—but she only knew half the story.  She thought he bet on the games, like all the other teenagers.  Wagering bits of reclaimed treasure, food, or booze is the only sport left to their world.
Jeremy was going to play again, whether she liked it or not. He’d had enough scrapping about.
“Mom…I know to stay away from those guys,” Jeremy lied.  She frowned but couldn’t spend anymore time today sheltering her only surviving son.  Jeremy bolted out the fire escape the minute she left for work.
He navigated the fire escapes and roof-top ladders across the ruined cityscape until he reached the Exchange.  He didn’t bother looking at the vegetables, meats, or clothes the vendors hawked for barter.  He went straight to the stairwell and down two flights to the open floor, where the game waited.
The crowd stood around the spray-painted circle of red on the floor, all talking animatedly about today’s pot.  Inside the red circle were three freshly-skinned cat carcasses—fresh meat; nearly a week’s worth between his mother and him.
“I want in!” Jeremy wasted no time.  The Gamekeeper looked pleased.
“Back for more?  You’re a cocky one.  What’s your ante?” the Gamekeeper asked.
Jeremy threw six packs of batteries from his backpack into the ring. “Unopened double-A’s.”
“I’ll take that.” A skinny Asian teen with a slick faux-hawk dropped a small box into the ring.  “100 rounds; 9mm.”
Jeremy didn’t give a shit; he just wanted to play.
“2 minutes,” Faux-hawk said.
“5 minutes.” Jeremy could see his opponent sweating.  Bidders weren’t supposed to up-the-ante so fast, but Jeremy wasn’t going to let this chance get away.
“6 minutes.”
“10 minutes.”
Faux-hawk backed away from the circle with his hands up in surrender, “You’re crazy, punk, and I’m going to enjoy watching you die.”
“Set 10 minutes on the clock!” The Gamekeeper smiled wickedly, “you’re it, kid.”
Jeremy walked down five flights of stairs with the crowd at his back chanting and cheering.  They reached the balcony on the second floor and the crowd pushed their way around the windows as the ladder lowered to the street.
Jeremy pulled the stained, lead pipe from his pack and climbed down to the street.
“BEGIN!” The Gamekeeper shouted.
Jeremy took a deep breath as he spotted the first zombie coming to investigate the shouting.
“Game on, motherfucker,” Jeremy whispered.

—

Judge J. P. Sloan (@J_P_Sloan) took mercy on my entry and wrote this:

J. Whitworth Hazzard:
Lately I’ve been musing how intrigue and dramatic irony tend to propel
the pacing of a story. We have this in spades from Hazzard’s entry.
The characters have a world of knowledge, and the reader is trying to
catch up. Hazzard gives us only a couple inches of coattail to ride
upon, and it’s enough to pull us forward. As we find our bearings in
the dystopian landscape and deal with the ominous gravity that playing
the “game” infers, we want to know more. And as we finally hit the
ring, Hazzard pulls the Zed-word twist on us, and we have our footing
in time for the action to begin.

—

Thanks to J.P. Sloan and Wakefield, and huge congratulations to Honorable Mentions: Cara Michaels (@CaraMichaels), Margaret Telsch-Williams (@mtelschwilliams), and Nance P. (@modernbard1024).

I went to the library looking for “Lucifer’s Hammer”–it was out–after writing a flash fiction piece about a meteor strike and wound up picking this off the shelf for a quick read instead.

Written in 1993, this one of Clarke’s last works and it clocks in at a relatively short 212 pages. It was actually a perfect length for the amount of story Clarke has to tell, which wasn’t much.

Getting the basics out of the way, Clarke is a legendary writer, but his skills were more suited to the Golden Age of Sci-Fi than what I would expect from 90′s or modern Sci-Fi. I grew up reading him and Heinlein (among others) so I still enjoy the slower pace and philosophical filler.

It’s clear that at age 76 Clarke was more suited as a futurist than writer of gripping tales. The plot is simple, the characters are stock, and there’s nothing innovative or original about how the story unfolds. At times, it feels like he’s ripping off his own legacy in trying to get ONE MORE book on the shelves.

Basic premise: an asteroid is headed for Earth and will wipe out most of the population if it is allowed to hit unimpeded. Captain Robert Singh is in charge of the mission to push the asteroid off-course with his ship Goliath and ATLAS–a giant mass driver built in Deimos orbit.

I was really hoping for a futurist’s take on apocalyptic scenarios with asteroids, but this part is very thin. If anything the book is PRE-apocalypic fiction. It never rises to the level of mass extinction, so most if not all of the emotional punch of the book evaporates at the end. This is compounded by the fact that Clarke’s world has long-standing permanent settlements on the Moon and Mars, which means even if the Earth was obliterated by the asteroid–mankind is not in jeopardy of extinction.

The plot point I thought made this incredibly mediocre was that the Goliath’s mission was singular and sabotaged. You have a space-faring civilization capable of great things, and a year of advance notice, and they send…ONE 30 year old ship to avert disaster for billions of people. If I know engineers–and I do–they don’t allow single points of failure and razor-thin tolerances for missions this important. It’s not like they don’t have other ships;they do. They even have a TWIN of Goliath on the opposite LaGrange point and the ability to rapidly build ships at will. Yes, they were sabotaged by a silly group of religious fanatics, but it’s a thin Deus Ex Machina to build SOME sort of tension at the end of the book.

Don’t get me wrong, I did enjoy the book. If it had been any longer I would have felt cheated, and to be honest (SPOILER ALERT) I would have respected Clarke more if the Goliath had been destroyed instead of being saved at the last second by a technical glitch. There’s some nobility in sacrificing your life for Earth’s masses–even when they voted to nuke you. By page 200, I ceased to care about Robert Singh’s future and I would have preferred he died a hero’s death.

I’d recommend this book only to people interested in Arthur Clarke’s work, or fiction about asteroids/meteors. He does a nice job of collecting research for apocalyptic fiction fans on this particular disaster from space, but there’s no pay off for “end of the world” readers.

If you’re not into Arthur C. Clarke and the Big 3 of Sci-Fi, give this one a pass.



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It’s a theme, it’s a meme, it’s a tag, it’s a gag!

My lucky number is 13

Kickass young writer McKenzie Barham has tagged me in the Lucky Sevens blog contest/game. I feel honored that she would remember me after having crushed so many of my entries in flash fiction contests this year.  Alas, I can’t win them all–I’ve run out of bribe money. Check out her blog, stop in and say hi. Have no doubt, if she decides on a career in novel writing, you’ll be hearing her name in the future.

Here’s how it works:

My entry to Madison Woods’ 100 word #FridayFictioneers contest. Follow her on twitter at @madison_woods.

Picture Cue:

Sunrise at War Eagle Creek

EVERY MINUTE

Tears of relief streamed down Jason’s cheeks.  Dawn’s light and a deep-water creek were gifts from God.  He had never felt so grateful for his life as right now.  Tomorrow: meaningless.  Now: precious.
He collapsed on the bank to catch his breath. In ten minutes, they would be testing his breaking point again. Somewhere, miles and hours ago, his brother Steven had passed his own breaking point and fallen.
Cross the creek and head upstream. A strong current would wash them miles downstream.  He’d have time to rest and grieve for Steven’s passing into the realm of the undead.

100 words

@zombiemechanics

The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn by Mark Twain

My rating: 4 of 5 stars

I’m a huge Mark Twain fan, so this book never had a chance of getting less than four stars from me.

I loved Huckleberry Finn for a number of reasons, not all of them literary. Huck Finn was always one of those books that you pretended to read in high-school but never REALLY read it. I have fond memories of getting A’s on quizzes from reading the awful Cliff’s notes in College. Huck Finn is one of those books whose language and format make it highly resistant to scanning–you can try but you end up getting snippets of six different dialects with the n* word thrown in and end up wondering who the hell the Duke is. I love that people can read it and not understand what the hell the book is about.

First, a word on the n* word and my thoughts on why people object to this book on principle. Let me say without equivocation, that I understand the objection. The use of the word is crude. However, the book is about a boy who is crude, who lives in a crude time, surrounded by crude people. I honestly don’t know how you’d write a book that was authentic to the time period and location without using the n* word. It would ring hollow. I believe without that word, it would read like an Arthurian tale where the knights call each other “dude.”

From a writer’s perspective, I appreciate the simplicity and genuineness of the tale. Huck doesn’t have any laser cannons, spy cars, super powers, or magic wands. He gets into and out of trouble with luck, lies, and ingenuity. I really love the reminder in Huck Finn to writers that pre-information age eras are filled with hucksters, liars, and frauds. Not that they aren’t still around today in the sci-fi scenarios…but when you roll into a village where people have little or no education and little and very slow contact with the outside world, you can claim almost anything and get away with it. For a little while, anyway. This makes for a world of possibilities in setting up conflict for characters.

The ending to the book is a huge payoff in my book. When Tom Sawyer shows up, I know we’re in for a hell of a ride. Twain delivers that promise to his readers with heart, humor, and grand adventure.

I’d highly recommend this book to anyone that is a fan of Mark Twain, civil-war era period pieces, or people who enjoy “road-trip” fiction.

I wouldn’t recommend this book if you have a problem getting past the obvious and pervasive racism, or if you hate trying to interpret dialects. There are significant sections of this book that have to be internally translated from hillbilly to modern English to make sense. Luckily, I’m from the south so this wasn’t a hardship for me.

4 stars.



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Zombie Armor: A Guide

The clever and creative folks over at Zurvived.it have put together another interesting podcast here that talks about armor for the upcoming zombie apocalypse.  Specifically, Storm Trooper armor.

UD Storm Trooper Motorcycle Armor

How badass would it be to ride your Ducati down the post-apocalyptic streets dressed in black Storm Trooper armor?  Kurt Russell as Snake Pliskin badass.  And that’s no joke.

Or if you’re more of a Bruce Wayne kind-of-guy, UD Replicas also makes this:

UD Dark Knight Motorcycle Armor

I like the high neck protection on this suit.  Once you have a helmet, there’s not a square inch of exposed skin for a zombie to get their diseased teeth sunk into.

Which brings us back to the topic of zombie armor, what’s my opinion?

General rule-of-thumb, in my opinion, is if you’re not wearing armor, you shouldn’t go hand-to-hand with zombies unless there is nowhere to run.  All it takes is one mistake, one unlucky swing, and you’re bit. I’d like to think I’d maintain a 10-ft rule when guns come into play.  If they’re under 10-ft away, switch to hand weapons if you’re wearing protection…or run.  Running is always a good strategy.

So now, what’s necessary?  What’s overkill? What’s over-exposed?

Let’s cover overkill first, because–let’s face it–people love to go overboard.  Here’s a good example of overkill when dressing for the apocalypse:

Full plate armor aka human sardine

I’m not saying that you couldn’t get your hands on a set of full plate mail, but if the zombies rise, you have to remember that they’re going to come for you armed with teeth–not swords, maces, and war hammers.  You have to have a good range of both motion and sight, and you need something you can wear around without getting fatigued after ten minutes.

On the flip side, t-shirt and cargo shorts are not acceptable for zombie combat.  Looking stylish can get you bitten.  In this battle, underkill is not cool:

Underkill with an underwire

So bikini chainmail is out (how sad!) and full plate is out, but there are other options for full coverage similar to the motorcycle leathers shown above.  One is tactical riot gear, which you can purchase, oddly enough, right off Amazon.com.

Zombie Tactical Armor

If you’re just as concerned with the other assholes running around after doomsday hits, then you can slap on a bulletproof vest over any of these and feel a little bit safer.  Against strictly the undead, another, more expensive and heavier option with proven effectiveness would be a shark suit.  Neptunic makes several types of full and partial armor in steel and titanium, as well as custom-to-order suits.  I’d feel pretty safe (not to mention super sexy) walking around in this:

Try to bite through this, I dare you!

For those of us on a budget, and who don’t have full-blown zombie paranoid fantasies (yet), there are some simple cost-effective options.  Go with hand and arm protection, something to cover your neck, leather boots, and thick protective pants–preferably all leather and/or kevlar.  If you watch the Walking Dead, you’ll see half the time the zombies go right for the neck, which is a critical soft spot, be sure to protect it!

Here’s a few of the things on my Zombie Apocalyse wish list for personal defense:

Kevlar gloves - POW!

kevlar balaclava

Stylish and bite-proof

Does kevlar chafe?

And no matter what happens, just remember that no amount of armor can help you if you get dog-piled by a horde of zombies.  Make sure you’re mobile enough to outrun the masses and always–ALWAYS–carry a weapon!

Just for fun you could also use this helpful suggestion from the folks over at Mythbusters, who proved 100% that spray-on truck bed liner is bite-proof.  Who knew?!

Good hunting Zombie Killers!

My entry to Madison Woods’ 100 word #FridayFictioneers contest. Follow her on twitter at @madison_woods.

Picture Cue:

Cellar Wall

CHILDREN’S GAMES

Meg put her finger up to her lips, “Sshhh.”
Tommy covered his mouth, trying to be silent, but it was hard when you were only six.  He loved the hiding game.  Meg was so good at it, and he felt so big now that she finally showed him her best hiding spot under the barn.  Tommy wondered if Meg would still play with him when she turned ten next week.
Tommy peeked through the gap in the rocks and saw his father’s tattered overalls.  Daddy moaned and shuffled past slowly, while Meg held her breath.  Hiding wasn’t so fun anymore.

100 words

@zombiemechanics

AUTHOR’S NOTE:  It’s clear from the comments that I was a little too obscure in this piece.  I won’t correct it since the piece needs to stand on it’s own merits, but look up at first word in the title of this blog and it will become clear.