Saturday, September 22, 2012
Sunday, January 9, 2011
Etur Lanternbury, Fortress Shincrafts
The journal of a 71 year old nobody.
That's me. I was a hauler not long ago, no skills or riches to speak of. The mountain home was a glorious place, carved into the living cliffs of an island forgotten by the goblin hordes of the mainlands. It's a good place and a fine place for a dwarf to live, elves exist only in exquisite parody in our masterfully engraved walls. Jewels carved like breathing flame adorned the beds of the nobles.
I was no noble.
Craftdwarves wrought splendor from metal, wood and bone.
I was no craftdwarf.
I carried the jewels and the beds, but they were never to be mine. To pass the time I would read the walls, all of our history and lore was there. I yearned for the lost days when seven dwarfs set out to this island, an uncertain future in front of them. Those seven struck the earth and made this place. The making, I could not help but think, had to be more enjoyable than the 'comfort' their descendants enjoyed.
So when I saw the notice, when the call went out for seven dwarfs to found a new outpost at the summit of the island, at the very peak of The Spongy Rages, the island's volcanic father.
It seems our dwarfs had deforested our territory. With out the wood, we could work no more metal. The earth's fiery blood, along with the wood at its summit would serve the mountain home well.
My name was not the first on the list of volunteers, but it was close. I was given the choice of axe or pick to take with me, along with the supplies the mountain hoped would hold us until the first caravan arrived. I chose the axe.
It was made of wood.
Oh well. I was more than ready to STRIKE THE EARTH!
That's me. I was a hauler not long ago, no skills or riches to speak of. The mountain home was a glorious place, carved into the living cliffs of an island forgotten by the goblin hordes of the mainlands. It's a good place and a fine place for a dwarf to live, elves exist only in exquisite parody in our masterfully engraved walls. Jewels carved like breathing flame adorned the beds of the nobles.
I was no noble.
Craftdwarves wrought splendor from metal, wood and bone.
I was no craftdwarf.
I carried the jewels and the beds, but they were never to be mine. To pass the time I would read the walls, all of our history and lore was there. I yearned for the lost days when seven dwarfs set out to this island, an uncertain future in front of them. Those seven struck the earth and made this place. The making, I could not help but think, had to be more enjoyable than the 'comfort' their descendants enjoyed.
So when I saw the notice, when the call went out for seven dwarfs to found a new outpost at the summit of the island, at the very peak of The Spongy Rages, the island's volcanic father.
It seems our dwarfs had deforested our territory. With out the wood, we could work no more metal. The earth's fiery blood, along with the wood at its summit would serve the mountain home well.
My name was not the first on the list of volunteers, but it was close. I was given the choice of axe or pick to take with me, along with the supplies the mountain hoped would hold us until the first caravan arrived. I chose the axe.
It was made of wood.
Oh well. I was more than ready to STRIKE THE EARTH!
Friday, January 7, 2011
Anyone play Dwarf Fortress?
Loving this game. It's like Adom meets The Sims only with drunken dwarfs. It's insane, complex and considering there are no graphics, the goriest game around. One intriguing thing about it to me is that it's made to generate stories, dwarfs live love and die in ways that beg to be made narrative. So like many before me, I think I shall tell the tale of my fortress from the perspective of its belligerent inhabitants.
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
A Brief Teaser
I'm writing a book of my own actually. A trilogy, with a little luck. Here's some background before I post the first chapter.
The world is much like our own, liberally altered. The laws of reality change over vast spans of time as starts align into intricate geometric patterns. The current reality in the year 2000 is much like our science and technology. Theirs is more 'primitive' however.
Their technology focuses on steam power and clockwork. It is quite advanced, but digital technology is non-existent as is the combustion engine. There do exist enormous analog computers. These are slow, but potent enough as to be almost sentient.
Magic also exists. It is extremely hard to master and dangerous as all hell. It is also a very well kept secret.
The story follows Eliza Fyrwen. She is a young woman, 22. She is a witch attending Harvard 'After Dark,' which Harvard become on certain nights. She will soon graduate with honors in witchcraft, majoring in Golemetry. She works for a strange un-aging man in a building no one else can see. Her 'guardian' and partner is a ghost.
The starts are aligning, and something is awakening...
The world is much like our own, liberally altered. The laws of reality change over vast spans of time as starts align into intricate geometric patterns. The current reality in the year 2000 is much like our science and technology. Theirs is more 'primitive' however.
Their technology focuses on steam power and clockwork. It is quite advanced, but digital technology is non-existent as is the combustion engine. There do exist enormous analog computers. These are slow, but potent enough as to be almost sentient.
Magic also exists. It is extremely hard to master and dangerous as all hell. It is also a very well kept secret.
The story follows Eliza Fyrwen. She is a young woman, 22. She is a witch attending Harvard 'After Dark,' which Harvard become on certain nights. She will soon graduate with honors in witchcraft, majoring in Golemetry. She works for a strange un-aging man in a building no one else can see. Her 'guardian' and partner is a ghost.
The starts are aligning, and something is awakening...
Friday, July 10, 2009
Time travel, angst, and more.
Replay, by Ken Grimwood
By the time I was sixty pages into this book, the protaganist had died three time. I was hooked.
Jeff died of a heart-attack and woke in college 25 years earlier. He came to terms quickly, and gambled and invested his way to enourmous wealth.
He died again on the same day at the same time, although in this life he was perfectly healthy. He came back again, a few days after his first replay.
His second time around, he tried to achieve personal fulfillment. He was unable to win his wife over this time, and so settled for a society woman. He had a daughter, he'd never had children before.
When death-day came, he admitted himself to a hospital. He suffered a fatal, inexplicable heart attack anyway. He cam back, wounded to his soul that his daughter was simply erased.
I won't spoil anything else, as I recommend this read. The characters feel quite real. The author deals with them with a mix of compassion and cynisism that makes them all but breath.
By the time I was sixty pages into this book, the protaganist had died three time. I was hooked.
Jeff died of a heart-attack and woke in college 25 years earlier. He came to terms quickly, and gambled and invested his way to enourmous wealth.
He died again on the same day at the same time, although in this life he was perfectly healthy. He came back again, a few days after his first replay.
His second time around, he tried to achieve personal fulfillment. He was unable to win his wife over this time, and so settled for a society woman. He had a daughter, he'd never had children before.
When death-day came, he admitted himself to a hospital. He suffered a fatal, inexplicable heart attack anyway. He cam back, wounded to his soul that his daughter was simply erased.
I won't spoil anything else, as I recommend this read. The characters feel quite real. The author deals with them with a mix of compassion and cynisism that makes them all but breath.
Monday, July 6, 2009
The Last Watch by Sergei Lukyenko (spelling more or less optional)
A Russian author writes a four book series on super-natural hijinks in Moscow. It is, to my mind, an instant sucess.
The stories follow Anton. He is at first a low-ranking member of the super-natural poloce, on the side of Light.
All 'Others', as opposed to humans, fall into Light or Dark. The difference is deliberately ambiguous. Bad guys are honest, good guys tend to scheme.
The stories are mysteries, with genuine twists, some forseeable, most not.
I won't spoil this one, it is worth the read.
The stories follow Anton. He is at first a low-ranking member of the super-natural poloce, on the side of Light.
All 'Others', as opposed to humans, fall into Light or Dark. The difference is deliberately ambiguous. Bad guys are honest, good guys tend to scheme.
The stories are mysteries, with genuine twists, some forseeable, most not.
I won't spoil this one, it is worth the read.
Saturday, April 25, 2009
Werewolves With a Twist: Sharp Teeth
From the first sentence, Sharp Teeth by Toby Barlow strikes a chord. Written in poetic form, it is a novel of action and brutality. I must confess, I was thoroughly impressed.
The pacing is perfect, each sibilant and exhalation fits into place. I found myself reading passages aloud, just to hear them spoken, and to savor their flavor.
After two days, the book took over my dreams. The images were strong enough to seed my subconscious. Most interesting, these dreams came with their own soundtrack. I've never composed music in my sleep before, or since.
Cast:
Lark: Leader of the pack, he uses their abilities for shady, but legal money-making schemes. He is a tactician and philosopher. His charisma is genuinely portrayed, and one cannot help but identify with him even in his darker moments.
Unnamed woman: Alpha female of Lark's pack. Her character is deliberately generic, though this only makes her easier to sympathize with somehow. She was beaten by her ex, and gladly accepted Lark's offer of power.
Anthony: A dog catcher in L.A., love interest of the unnamed woman. He has a good heart, but is a bit anti-social.
Baron, Zack, Cutter, Blue: Some more of Lark's pack.
And many more.
Plot:
Lark forms a pack of modern-day werewolves. Unlike their ancestors, these men and women can shift at will into the shape of dogs. Large, strong, intelligent dogs. The unnamed woman is second in command, the tension she creates (she is off-limits) forges a bond between the pack and instills a sense of discipline.
The pack carries out various deals and contracts for large amounts of money. Only Lark understands the full scope of the operation. When the unnamed woman falls in love with a dog catcher things start to crumble. That, however, is only the beginning.
I recommend this book to anyone, except children and puritans.
The pacing is perfect, each sibilant and exhalation fits into place. I found myself reading passages aloud, just to hear them spoken, and to savor their flavor.
After two days, the book took over my dreams. The images were strong enough to seed my subconscious. Most interesting, these dreams came with their own soundtrack. I've never composed music in my sleep before, or since.
Cast:
Lark: Leader of the pack, he uses their abilities for shady, but legal money-making schemes. He is a tactician and philosopher. His charisma is genuinely portrayed, and one cannot help but identify with him even in his darker moments.
Unnamed woman: Alpha female of Lark's pack. Her character is deliberately generic, though this only makes her easier to sympathize with somehow. She was beaten by her ex, and gladly accepted Lark's offer of power.
Anthony: A dog catcher in L.A., love interest of the unnamed woman. He has a good heart, but is a bit anti-social.
Baron, Zack, Cutter, Blue: Some more of Lark's pack.
And many more.
Plot:
Lark forms a pack of modern-day werewolves. Unlike their ancestors, these men and women can shift at will into the shape of dogs. Large, strong, intelligent dogs. The unnamed woman is second in command, the tension she creates (she is off-limits) forges a bond between the pack and instills a sense of discipline.
The pack carries out various deals and contracts for large amounts of money. Only Lark understands the full scope of the operation. When the unnamed woman falls in love with a dog catcher things start to crumble. That, however, is only the beginning.
I recommend this book to anyone, except children and puritans.
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