Thursday, May 31, 2007



A comic of space warfare and exploration. Created in a 3D-modeling program of some sort; "Lightwave", maybe? Nearly never updates. Seriously, this is one of the first webcomics I ran into, four years ago, and it was up to page 25 of chapter 1. Now? Page 50. Created by Arioch, who takes his time. It starts here.

The comic itself is fairly interesting. Arioch definitely did a lot of work brainstorming and planning Outsider; I read the forums, four years ago, and he went to a lot of trouble to avoid the obvious cliches and create a plausible future, filled with relativistic warfare and realistic societies. So that's pretty neat. But... well. He's up to page 50 of chapter 1. The last time he posted a new page was nearly a year ago. If you want to read a comic that will likely finish, or even ever update again? This isn't it.

But what there is possesses good quality, plus it's a little nostalgic for me. So hey, there you go.

(A lot of big pretty comics recently. Shall the next be simpler? Perhaps!)

Wednesday, May 30, 2007

Of Love and Other Things

It was love at first sight. When our eyes met, we knew - well, I knew - that we were destined for one another. She was beautiful - her eyes sparkled with a thousand dots of light. Her voice was as a chorus of angels; her wit was greater even than my own. (And in that day, my wit was nothing to be mocked.) I knew she must be mine.

Our courtship was long and difficult. When I first made approaches to her, she declined them, to my crushing disappointment. As I continued the chase, hoping to woo her more subtly, the third Gulf War was interrupted by the Pacific Conflict. Both of us were drafted; I was sent to Okinawa, while she went to Kurdistan. We could communicate only rarely, and that with military-issue webcams. But we were both young, still only 25, and the tensions and fear of combat deepened our relationship. When we returned home at last, two years later, we began dating regularly.

She was a clever woman, pretty, attractive - and she knew it. I knew she liked me - but she made it clear that I would have to earn her heart. I was not her only suitor. I knew I had not been her first love, and - if I did not act well and swiftly - I would not be her last. Just before the first nanotech boom, I took a gamble - investing heavily in a little company called nGenius. When the boom came, I won billions - and her hand in marriage. (Not that she needed the money - heck, she had more than I did!)

We've lived many years happily together - only two divorces so far, far below the average. We've created a legacy that I think anyone could be proud of - especially after the Decline. I die satisfied in myself - and in my love.

DISCLAIMER: David, the first person here does not refer to my own actions! Dang it. This is a work of fiction; all resemblance to real persons is accidental.

Sleeping, Part I

How long has it been?

Since that fiend Nikolas last had the gall to set foot in my land?

Now he lies, in the caverns, awaiting his fate, his destiny. He should never have come back, to once again fool with the natural order. Such things should not be tampered with, but that Nikolas, that firebrand, he stole away with that womon. Eight years ago that was. Now he returns to flaunt it in my face? Is it not enought that he claimed his ill-gotten gains? He galavants and glides around the hills, frolicking in the woods, not giving mind to any worldy concerns.

But now, now, he makes his home in the underground, a place where no light dares come. He is sleeping, a death-slumber, enjoy it while it lasts, for it will soon all end.

And now I lie in wait.

Tuesday, May 29, 2007

Awakening, Part II

(Continued from here.)

A plan. I'll see if I can find anything in the room that I missed the first time around; it's dark in here.

Walking around, feeling. The door's still locked shut. There's a space heater in a corner; I'd missed it before. It's off, thankfully. There's something behind it; a roll of duct tape! I take it.

I can't get through the door with this; the thing felt like solid metal. Have I missed anything? I have my clothes, that robe, the duct tape, the space heater (if I can loosen it somehow)... ah!

I check the room once more. The floor is cold and hard; it seems to be concrete. In the ceiling, though, there's an air vent; I can feel the draft as I approach it. It feels like it's blocked by... chicken wire? It's pretty low, less than a foot above my head, but the wire is in there too tightly; I can't get rid of it.

The space heater is pretty loose. I unscrew it by hand, in the dark, and try to lift it. It's pretty heavy; I'll need some leverage to smash the wire. I find the robe, which I'd dropped on the ground, and tie it around one bar of the heater. I swing it a bit, and then smash it against the wire. On the third try, I feel something give; feeling around, I pull the bent and battered chicken wire out of position.

Now what? The shaft goes up too high for me to be able to reach the top of it with my hands. I try standing on the space heater; still not enough. Perhaps if I try to use it as a grappling hook? I swing it about again, throw it up into the shaft. On the first try it nearly falls on me; the second time, however, it wedges itself in. Trying to pull myself up, though, the robe rips. I pull it back down (nearly crushing my foot), duct tape the mess together, and throw it back up. This time, it holds as I crawl into the air shaft.

What is this, a movie?

No. The shaft collapses under me; clearly, whoever designed it didn't plan to support a human crawling within it. I fall in a shower of crumbling drywall; I'm lucky to escape anything worse than bruising. I'm outside my cell, but now I'm in some sort of dimly-lit corridor; still unfamiliar, with no sign of where I am or who brought me here.

What now?

Monday, May 28, 2007


nikolas rode a
spaceship that buzzed and hummed and zoomedquickthroughthestars
nikolas had no shame on this
of a machinethatwouldsometimesgooffandkillawholesityofpeopleandnotfeelonejotguiltyaboutit
and nikolas was a spaceman who
EXPLORED the HEAVENS and one day
his gas tank explodes
and onetwothree seconds later he was dead
and we will always rememberforget deeds of a spaceman
for he gave us HOPE

the PAST

a GREAT and TERRIBLE wave crash'd upon the land
upon the OCEAN
in its hand
the remains of an age, mighty and iron-strong, tempered, fierce
Great things it carried
OH! but they were not in their time, no!
No, they were but SCRAPS, a memento, a trinket, WORTHLESS
but now, NOW, and ERA dawn'd, and yes, it carries,
OH it CARRIES with it

Written by that other guy (Sir Johnnn), posted by me.

Saturday, May 26, 2007

The Chronicles of Desmond, Chapter 66: The Studying of the History

Yea, indeede, that in theire youthe, the Desmond and the Nikoulasse didde indeede studie for a great deale undere the instruction of the greate Hystorie teachere, yea, it wausse goode. And, one fyne daye, there wausse indeede a greate assignmente, yea, it wausse involvynge manie researches and the construcktion of a greate assourtmente of artifackts, yea, and the instrucktionalle posteres, and they didde prepayre a greate and lenghtie speeche, yea, and it wausse aboute the Hystorie, and it wausse goode. And yea, the goode people in the amphitheatre didde assemble into groupes, and yea, Desmond and Nikoulasse didde fourme a groupe, yea, there werre three people who werre unknowne to theme, and yea, it wausse mysteriouse, and vexing, and strange, and yea, they didde worke together on the projecte for manie monthes, and in the ende, they construckted a greate and bizarre showe, and it didde entaileth a greate assourtmente of wonderfulle thinges, and it wausse goode. And yea, latere that daye, they didde presente the showe to the classe, and it wausse goode.

Thursday, May 24, 2007



A comic of magic in a mundane world. Created with watercolours (?) on Illustrator board. Updates every week or two, irregularly, starting on the ninth of February 2006. Created by Ryan Armand.

minus is quite unusual. Each comic tells a short story about minus (the protagonist, a young boy with magical powers), sometimes in continuity and sometimes not. It teeters on the edge of wish-fufilment, with minus revenging himself on bullies and traveling to far-away lands, but just enough humility and 'realism' is added for it to work. As such, it's quite interesting to see just what Mssr. Armand will think of for each comic; the youth of the protagonist by no mean diminishes the depth of the content.

If my enthusiasm lacks something, despite my best efforts to the contrary, seek out the Qesley (in the comments), that he might make up any shortfall twofold.

Awakening, Part I

Who am I?

Where am I?

Calm down. First things first.

I don't know who I am. I don't know where I am. I can't seem to see anything, I can't hear anything, I don't remember anything... calm down. Calm down!

All right. The last thing I remember was... my house. Yes. I was in my house... writing... something. Then it all went white.

I can't see or hear anything. Can I feel something? Yes. I can feel my clothes. I'm wearing... a shirt, underwear, socks... no shoes... something else? Yes. Something's covering me... my arms feel (I can move my arms?) a robe. I push it off.

All right. I'm starting to feel better. I stand up. It's dark in here, wherever I am. The air is cold. There's nearly no light. I can't tell where the light's coming from. I pace the walls: twenty feet to a side. There's a door, but it's locked. No handle.

I'm locked in a dark room, in unfamiliar clothes, with no memory of what's happened to me and no way to know how long it's been since my family or my friends or - or my girlfriend have seen me.

I need a plan.

Author's Note: To the impatient: Patience.

Tuesday, May 22, 2007

Fall of the Iron Citadel

The Iron Citadel was a place of terror. Men there had forgotten the meaning of humanity. They sacrificed theirs, if they ever bore such, to greater deities: Knowledge. Pride. Power. And in so doing, they made themselves enemy to every other person in our country.

They swept down upon us like a terrible tide, wreaking mayhem and catastrophe. Our warriors were slain, or made captive. Our citadels were ruined; our people taken to their lair, for 'experiments' and other atrocities best left untold. All hope seemed lost.

Then the hero of legend appeared. Few knew of him at first. But as time passed, the legend spread: the only man who could resist the Iron Guard. The emerald warrior of the sacred blade. He who knew not defeat, even when pitted against the greatest of the enemy's legions.

Many joined him, in his quest; most providing supplies and equipment, some few accompanying him. I was one of the first of the latter. When he slew the Giant of Three Names, I was the one who handed him the fateful arrow; when he defeated the men responsible for the Sack of Rivercross, I was at his side, shielding him from the foes who sought to surround him. Even in the terrible flood that nearly swept away all of our hopes, I was at his side, swimming as hard as I ever have to keep up and reach the great chain before the Iron Guard severed it. I saw his efforts defeat those who terrorised our land; I saw him, with the effort of his own hands, restore hope to our land.

Some fools among us now, in the days after the great victory at Snowpoint, would question his achievement. They would not dare question his bravery; no, not even they would go so far. But the legend spread - spreads even now - that the gods themselves gave him the strength and power that he possessed. Bah! Fools. It was his hand alone that struck down the dark lord of the Iron Citadel; no god strengthened his arm. I, who was with him from the beginning, never saw a god at his side.

You called me here today that I might provide my view on the proposed re-opening of the Citadel. The argument goes, I understand, that the same gods who aided the Hero of Legend will protect us from the corruption of the Iron Citadel. This is folly, and nothing but. To venture into that cursed place once more would put at risk everything that the Hero - that all of us - worked so hard to achieve. The Iron Guard could rise again! No gods will shield us from such a tragedy. We must not go there again.

I rest my case, your honors.

Monday, May 21, 2007

The Chronicles of Desmond, Chapter 125: Niolkas

Niolkoas lived in the slummes of ratte-towne, yea, he was a firebrande, and a brigande, and yea, it wausse goode. Yea, in his briganding dayes, hee didde encountere manie a strange persones, and it wausse goode.


Sunday, May 20, 2007

The Chronicles of Desmond, Chapter 55: Nikolasum in absentia

Yea, behold, there wausse indeede a greate Calamitie in the Realmes of the Isse-Landick Skoules, yea, on the goode Daye the the Nikoulasse didde desideth to become myssinge fromme the Classes. And he didde proclaimeth that the wausse off to the "Parke", yea, that wausse indeed hisse Excuse to go and performeth manie evlie Actes upon the Citizenrie and their Livestocke, and it wausse goode. And it came to pass that in the Classe of the Holie Mathematicks, yea, in the Roome, Nikolasse wausse indeed abscente, and there wausse a greate Teste, and a Worksheete of the most complickated Mathemathiticks, yea, it didde beckometh challenging, and diffickulte, and it didde taketh manie Scores of Men great Effourt and Houres to complete it, and it wausse goode. Then it came to pass that in the Greate Classe of the Sciences, yea, in the good Roome, there indeede wausse a greate Fylme, and it didde entaileth greate detayles of the Animales, ande there werre a greate numbere of Salamanderes, and it wausse goode. And then, in the great Halle, of the Meetinge Place, there wausse indeed a greate Congreagation, and of the Isse-Landick Counciles, and yea, they didde counte Nikolase as abscente, and yea, they didde disckusse manie thinges, and they didde play magickal games, and it wausse goode. And then it came to pass that in the centre of the greate Halle, there werre a large manner of the Womens, and they werre indeede sytting on the ground, where they didde contacketh the Earthe, and the Good mannere of Plantes, and yea, it wausse greately vexing for the Isse-Landick counsille, and yea, and it wausse debated for manie houres, and it wausse goode.

Saturday, May 19, 2007

Politically Biased Portrayals of the Ratte-Kinge

It is often speculated that political cartoons originated in Isse-Lande, as a response to ever-dramatic politics and policies during the days of King Kessler's and the Ratte-Kinge's monarchies. Caricatures were naturally used both by those with more wit than quill stability and more quill stability than wit. Here are some cropped portrayals of Nikoulasse, all parodies his stock image.

(Before the advent of photography, one portrait was reproduced and distributed when necessary. Nikoulasse's portrayed him positively as he concentrated on his work; his somewhat foreign portrait artist was told that he was focused on bettering the towne of Isse-Lande.)

At the Parke

And yea, it wasse true that in his youth, the Nikolaus did for many months study under the manne named Goesse; and it wasse true that this Goesse did have many students, and many tattoos. And yea, he didde allow them all to go to the Parkke for a day of Jollity and Frivolousness; and yea, there were many others there, to study of the rolling cars and the trajectories and the arcadii.

And lo, Nikolauss was a diligent little fellow, and yea, he didde arrive atte the time he didde think correct, but only to be an hour too early. And yea, when the time didde come, he didde seek out his teacher (who wasse cleverly disguised), and he didde enter the park, and he didde circle the park, and count many things. Yea, he did count four stands of the dots of dipping, and four stands of the fake tattoos, and two arcades, and many other things, for yea, he was a clever little fellow. Nikolauss didde find the Roland, who didde wield the blade Durendal before Desmond, and he didde find the Je'foe, and it wasse good. And they didde enter the Houses of the Deadde, and they did survive the Time Crisis, and yea, they did also survive the great Lines of the Corn Dogs, for which it took them more than a half-hour to surpass. And yea, they were surrounded by the rolling coasters, but they did but indulge in the bumping cars. And there were many collisions.

Thus didde the Nikolaus live under the rule of the Goateed Goesse.

Friday, May 18, 2007

Dresden Codak

Dresden Codak.

Very large comic, frequently filled with the sciences and maths and fantasy. Created in the pretties! It might be originally analog? But it certainly got Photoshopped at some point. IT'S AWESOME. Seriously! Um... it updates irregularly, starting on the Eighth of June, 2005, and is created by some Aaron Diaz guy.

Dude it is so rad! There is the thing with the art (which is totally insanely awesome), the size of the comics (rather astoundingly large), the topics (very cool and unorthodox), and the humor (rather surprising!)... it is all QUITE GOOD. Try it! There is not that much so it will not take you long. Currently the dude is running a series (as of the time of this post), but there is plenty of stuff unrelated to it! It is cool.


Thursday, May 17, 2007

The Chronicles of Desmond, Chapter 53, The Most Excellent Examination of the Royal Academy

Yea, it wausse indeede a greate daye in the mouste noubel countrie of Isse-Lande when, in the summertyme, and when the byrds didde chyrpe, and the treese didde swaye in the breeze, and the pondes did beckome eutrophick, and oligotrophick, and yea, there wausse a greate bloumming of the floueres, then it came to pass that the tyme hadde come for the Moste Excellente Examinatiounse for the Royale Ackadamie of Isse-Lande, and it wausse goode. And indeede, the greate Desmond, and the mouste Nouble Mssr. Kessler werre verily in the mouste wounderfulle brayne of the Biologickal Syences, yea, they werre the goode menne. Thus, it didde come to pass that, yea, they didde gou into the Greate Testyng Halle, and they were seatede, and yea, much pleasurable disckourse didde come to pass between them, in the mannere of proper Southern Gentlemen, and it wausse goode. And yea, the questiouns werre diffickulte, and grande, and contryved, and yea, it wausse goode.

Wednesday, May 16, 2007

My Very Professional Review of the Nike 4062 (404)

[So I totally need to post something interesting on the blag at some point, but I don't really have anything interesting to write about. So here's something I wrote when I first got my glasses; if project365 is to be trusted, this was originally written on January 11, 2007. I was such a n00b back then! Good times.]

I recently had a chance to review Nike's 4062 model of eyeglasses. My left eye is perfectly fine for everyday life, but my right eye has always been subpar. With the age of driving lessons (not the act yet, mind you) upon me, it was time to gain full peripheral vision. Keep reading for my thoughts.


The Nike 4062 consists, as with most pairs of glasses, of two lenses surrounded by a frame connected to what I affectionately and ignorantly refer to as "ear-sticks" and "nose-blobs". This particular model has plastic lenses and metal frames of some sort. It's definitely a bizarre experience to have two plastic slabs in front of my eyes. With some other, non-eyeglass plastic slab, I might be prone to say, "Say, I can't see! I should probably move myself or this plastic slab in such a manner that would result in its not being directly in front of my face. That way, I will be both more psychologically stable and physically capable, both at a level I am used to." However, these plastic slabs augment my vision. They render the old, non-slabbed world obsolete. I am tempted to hold on to these as long as I live. It is not unlike acquiring a new superpower.


One would expect eyeglasses to be a minor, or even a major, inconvenience, for more reasons that one. However, I have only experienced one of these, and I am actually enjoying it. The issue is that of peripheral vision--my slabs are relatively rectangular, and as such, things above and below it are more blurry. Not unusably blurry--I have gone for the first sixteen or so years of my life with these eyes--but unaesthetically pleasing relative to the more detailed things they have since become. As such, if I am lying on my bed with my MacBook resting on my legs, I need to lower my glasses to the tip of my nose in order to have a clear(er) view. Thankfully, I am enjoying this interaction, at least for the first day. It probably ties back to a feeling of power. My regular vision is blurry and boring, but this new vision is a superpower I can wield at will. Once I begin to depend on it, I suspect that regular, unslabbed vision will become something I will grow to curse. That's when I'll get an astronaut-esque head bubble.

A second inconvenience I always thought four-eyed folk had to put up with was that of glasses slipping down the nose. I've always had this trouble with sunglasses. However, I quickly learned that this is not the case--everyday glasses are fitted to be largely unnoticeable by the wearer. I can look down and shake my head as if to say, "No, fish, you may not squirt water on me. I understand that this is a defense mechanism you have been entrusted with, but I am no predator; I am merely here to hypothetically demonstrate shaking my head whilst looking downward." Indeed, I can shake my head much more vigorously than I do on a regular basis, to no ill effect.


It's a proven fact that glasses can make anyone look smarter, and the Nike 4062 is no exception; I have been the subject of several observations of this nature. All of these observations come within my family, however, and it remains to be seen how friends and acquaintances react. I have no way to tell if I look more attractive, so field testing will need to be done to reach conclusions in that regard. I picked a blue colour, officially dubbed "denim" (no. 404), which is slightly amusing because I don't own a single pair of jeans. I therefore have some potential to do a pun along the lines of "404: Pants of similar colour not found."


Finally, the Nike 4062 would not be eyeglasses if it did not make me see better, and see better it makes me do. I can see everything I could before, and no new information is being conveyed, but everything is clearer and cleaner, or dirtier in some cases, as I can see detail everywhere. It is now more difficult to locate objects of note, as there is more visual clutter, but I expect this effect to subside with time. Everything is more defined, but there is now more to define. The city looks pretty, and the wilderness will most likely share this characteristic, so I could find myself enjoying camping more. Overall, everything looks better and new, but I don't know how long this novelty will last. I suspect this is a feeling similar to that of getting an HDTV.


As with any good thing, there are bad things to ensure a balance in the Universe. The first bad thing is that of paranoia. If I scratch one of the lenses, I'll have to put up with it for up to two years. However, I'm sure things will turn out okay. The second is that of small rooms. I have to look straight at the toilet and the sink when doing things in the restroom. I'm sure I'll get used to that, though.

The Bottom Line

The Nike 4062 is a very well-put together product, and I plan on using it for a while. The good outweighs the bad, and the novelties will not disapear, but remain as conveniences. Overall, I would give it a

Very Nifty out of AweXome

You can post your questions and comments using the form below.

The Woodland Creature

O, Bidoof!

Dost thou frolick, in the hills and the woodlands?

Dost thou possess, as thine most sterling asset, a name of purest levity; failing any possession of stamina, strength, speed, or any other trait of mind and body that might render thee at all useful?

Dost thou evolve - yea - evolve into a creature that is just as useless as thee art?

Truly, Bidoof, thou art the champion of all humanity.

When the children go out to play, do they bring with them a stalwart Bidoof, at which they may point and laugh.

When the adults go to work, do they bring with them their own Bidoof, so as to show, despite any lacking in skill or dedication they may own, their evident superiority to some thing on this earth.

When the old ones go to their eternal rest, do they bring with them a dozen - nay - a hundred Bidoof, their numbers being sufficient and value so little that such is considered a merely adequate token of affection for the departed.

O, Bidoof! What a wonderful, terrible name thou hast! How utterly useless thou are.

It is the Gastrodon which shall reign for all time as king among beasts.

Tuesday, May 15, 2007

The Order of the Bidoof

Every year, we present the Order of the Bidoof to those authors of exemplary blag posties. Each award is a special event and is accompanied by great accomplishment and glory.

Of Ghat Nem

I walked into Ghat Nem proud and whole. I walked out of it broken.

There were a hundred of us, when we first entered the city. It was a beautiful place, in its own strange way: a city of contrasts, ancient temples and forested hillsides beside paved streets and apartment buildings. We were there as military 'advisors', to help counsel the locals against their evil enemies. Of course, it was clear soon enough that we weren't just training their soldiers; we were shooting their enemies. But it would be considered ever so rude to say so outright; so we were few in number, alone in a sea of foreigners. Of course, so was the enemy, then.

The higher-ups decided that we needed more men, after all. The enemy was proving trickier to root out than they expected, safe in comfy offices back home. So suddenly our numbers doubled; tripled, quadrupled. The locals, who'd been accepting of us before, froze up when they saw the numbers that were coming in; we weren't help, we were an invading force. More and more of them joined the enemy as, more and more, we were the ones doing the fighting.

I saw my best friends die, as the fighting turned against us at last, and the withdrawal began. Two died to enemy fire; another, to a booby trap concealed underneath thick brush. Once, someone shot the helicopter I rode in down flaming. Somehow, I survived, and they took me prisoner; it was five months before a raid by our guys freed me. The city itself showed marks of the fighting. Entire city blocks lay in ruins, from improvised bombs or our own campaigns against suspected foes. Nikolas losserse. Once-bustling city streets were now virtually deserted, save when our own helicopters whirred overhead or our APCs and tanks rumbled through.

We pulled out, eventually; I was one of the last ones out. When I went into the city, I was proud of our country, and of myself. Now... I don't know what I am. They say we didn't lose. I'm not so certain of that.

Ghat Nem! That hard-paved, blood-covered city! When will I ever be free of her horrifying grip?

Monday, May 14, 2007

Mormonic Tranquility Garden


Crimson Dark

Crimson Dark.

A long-form science fiction webcomic. Entirely created in 3D-modeling software and Photoshop. Updates somewhat irregularly, but generally two-three times a week. Started 22/5/06. (So not so long, really.) Creator: David C. Simon.

Crimson Dark is sci-fi about a war. In space! There are people, and ships, and pretty explosions. Also technology! It is pretty neat. There aren't really any aliens, but the people are more than strange enough to compensate for it.

Read it! It is pretty, and it has not run for long enough to have gigantic archives. There will be no pain.

Full Chronicles of Desmond movie - OFFICIAL EDITION

The full script follows. After repeated editing, this is now OFFICIAL hooray!

1a. Setting: a darkened room. Characters: Person in bed (covered up, seen briefly), standing man.

MAN: [taking bundle from person in bed] I will name him: Desmond!
NARRATOR: And he wasse deade.
(Credits, if absolutely necessary, go here.)

b. Animated sequence. Slides: A drawing of child Desmond (~6), looking youthful, in Isselunde. A drawing of child Desmond (~12), brandishing a stick, in Isselunde; child Matthew (~13) can be seen in the background, holding "elf dung".
NARRATOR: Desmond grew swiftly, full of strength and vitality from a young age.
NARRATOR: He dreamed of martial pursuits, slaying imaginary dragons and occasionally riding the "Magic Dragon King" with his childhood friend, Matthias. Desmond longed for adventure...

c. Setting: A church. (?) Characters; Desmond, Matthias.
DESMOND: (mumbling something prayer-related, kneeling before an altar)
MATTHIAS: (approaching DESMOND, whispering) Desmond! Friend! I have a secret to share!
DESMOND: (lifting his head) Yes...
MATTHIAS: (whispering, excited) Have you heard of the sword Durendal?
DESMOND: The blade wielded by Charlemagne's knights?
MATTHIAS: Yea, I didde hear that the Archbishop Turpin, who did grant it to Charlemagne's knights, is here in Isselunde; with Durendal!
DESMOND: Come, friend, let's seek it! I am a noble enough lad, yes?
MATTHIAS: (looks doubtingly)
DESMOND: Come now! Yea, at the least we shall have seen the legend, and at best: glory!
DESMOND and MATTHIAS leave together.

d. Setting: A sunlit glade. (Wilson Park?) Characters: Desmond (holding large stick), Matthias (holding something holy), the Archbishop Turpin. Extras: Vile Pink Ooze (two people under a large pink blanket)
DESMOND: [Walking into glade] Yea, O noble archbishop Turpin, holder of the sacred blade Durendal, will you grant it unto me, that I may act as a hero ought?
TURPIN: Of course, my child.
OOZE: [eats Turpin]
DESMOND: [picking a stick from the ground] Monstrosity! You will pay for this atrocity!
MATTHIAS: [in background] God is with you in this!
OOZE: [Oozes towards Desmond]
DESMOND: [Dances around ooze, fake-whacking it with stick] Fall, beast! Die! Die! Die! I will be your end! Aah! Die!
OOZE: [Collapses]
DESMOND: [Draws DURENDAL from under ooze, holding it up in the air (as Link)] Victory!
[Optional sound effect here]

e. Setting: Outside of house. (Mine?) Characters: King Kessler (deposed), Desmond (with Durendal).
DESMOND: [Walking up] Who are you, fine and noble-looking sir, and what do you here, before my own father's house?
KESSLER: I have heard of your noble deeds - [looking at Durendal] even now, that sword at your hip gives testimony to your bravery. I have come to deliver you a quest.
DESMOND: A quest?
KESSLER: Yes. You must defeat... the RATTE-KINGE GALGAMOTH!

2a. Setting: A darkened room. Characters: The Ratte-Kinge (a doll/infant)

NARRATOR: The Ratte-Kinge GALGAMOTH was borne, and he didde eat his own dung.

b. Animated sequence. Slides: A child Ratte-Kinge (~6), studying at a desk in a classroom; mollusks may be seen in the background. A child ratte-kinge (~12), kneeling before the Timmaraque-Angel; mathematical equations hover about his head in a halo. The Ratte-Kinge as a merchant (~20?), standing in brightly-coloured garb.
NARRATOR: Galgamoth was ever interested in learning, despite the poverty into which he was born.
NARRATOR: For his dedication to learning and the Church, an Angel of the Timmaraque appeared to Galgamoth, blessing him with knowledge of the vectors.
Thus, Galgamoth renamed himself Nikolauss.
NARRATOR: Despite the complexity of the mathematics, Nikolaus applied himself and became a successful merchant; gaining wealth... power... and the lust for more.

d. Setting: A throne room. Characters: King Kessler, the Ratte-Kinge (as merchant?). Extras: Two Ratte-Soldiers.
RATTE-KINGE: [striding in, with ratte-soldiers at his side] My mercenary army, which I hired with my money, has conquered peaceful ISSELUNDE. Kneel to me, "King" Kessler!
KING KESSLER: [beaten, weary, standing up (from throne)] You may have won the battle... but I will never kneel to you. I am the rightful king. I will regain my throne!
RATTE-KINGE: [triumphant] Hah! You are pitiful. My power and money will give me control over ISSELUNDE for all of time. I declare you exiled; nevermore shall you set foot in your beloved REYKJAKVIK. And [sitting in throne] I declare myself king!
KING KESSLER: [being dragged away by guards] I will return and overthrow you, you Timmaraque-damned Rat-King!

e. Setting: The throne room, later. Characters: the Ratte-Kinge. Extras: A ratte-soldier, two common citizens.
CITIZEN 1: [pleading before throne] Please! I swear I meant no harm to the royal chariot!
RATTE-KINGE: [imperious] Take him away! [in stage whisper] Ruling ISSELUNDE seemed sweet before, but now... I worry that the least of things now weary and anger me. [shouting] Next!
CITIZEN 2: I bring you a gift, your majesty, from the people of REYKJAKVIK.
RATTE-KINGE: [taking gift] What's this? Grass jelly?
CITIZEN 2: The finest food in all of REYKJAKVIK.
RATTE-KINGE: [incredulous] Grass jelly? [beat] Bah! [tossing grass jelly to the floor] What is Isselunde? A miserable little pile of grass jelly!
CITIZEN 2: ...your majesty?
RATTE-KINGE: ISSELUNDE is no proper land for a king! Rat-King KESSLER named me, and so shall I be. Let the tyranny begin! [gesturing to guard] Take him away!
3a. As 1d.
DESMOND: [cont. from act 1] I am to slay the RATTE-KINGE GALGAMOTH?
KING KESSLER: Yea. It was he who stole the throne of Isselund, to which I rightfully ascended. He oppresses the peaceful people of Isselunde. He must be overthrown!
DESMOND: I will do it! But where am I to find this Ratte-Kinge?
KING KESSLER: In his tyranny, he journeys all across Isselunde. They say that he can be found now in the nearby town of Twinleaf.
DESMOND: [bowing, leaving] I will slay the Rat-King, in Timmeraque's name!

b. Setting: The Twinleaf Ford (the bridge at Creekside). Characters: Desmond (with DURENDAL), the Ratte-Kinge. Extras: A ratte-soldier.
DESMOND: [striding onto the bridge] Yea, the people are crying out for salvation, RATTE-KINGE! DURENDAL shall be your end!
RATTE-KINGE: [whirling about] What? Who are you? Yea, let my guard slay thee!
RATTE-SOLDIER: [charging] Yah!
DESMOND: [drawing DURENDAL and 'skewering' the soldier] Yea, the blade of Charlemagne disdains such foes. Have at thee!
RATTE-KINGE, DESMOND: [together, charging] For Timmaraque!
The two exchange blows in a heated melee.
DESMOND seems to gain the upper hand.
Suddenly, there is the sound of hoofbeats.
DESMOND: What? The ratte-cavalry! [stepping back, looking past the camera] There are dozens of them!
RATTE-KINGE: [laughing maniacally as DESMOND flees] ISSELUNDE shall be mine... forever!

c. as 1d.
DESMOND: [somewhat disheveled] Yea, though DURENDAL isse a strong blade, it may not prevail against the might of the RATTE-KINGE's army. How then may I slay this GALGAMOTH?
KESSLER: Though I didde not wishe it, the time has come. Yea, so that the RATTE-KINGE's army may be defeated, I muste wage revolution, relying on the people of ISSELUNDE.
DESMOND: And what am I to do, as you plot insurrection?
KESSLER: Let you find us aid for our cause. It is said that in a church to the east, there is a man who may command the king of dragons. Let you enlist him unto our cause.
DESMOND: [bowing, leaving] Yea, it shall be done!
KESSLER: [as DESMOND leaves, to himself] Now, find me the men BRADSUSHI, FISCHERDUDE, ROLANDUS...

d. Setting: A church. [The mormon church?] Characters: Desmond (with Durendal), Matthias.
DESMOND: [entering] A-hoy-hoy! Matthias! It is you? I never thought to see you here!
MATTHIAS: A-hoy-hoy! Yea, it has been many a day since I last saw you!
DESMOND: Do you know of a man who may command the dragon-king? Yea, it is said that he does reside here, and he is sorely needed for the liberation of ISSELUNDE.
MATTHIAS: Why... I am he! I command the MAGIC DRAGON KING. But I fear he is of little use in times of war.
DESMOND: Alas! Then my mission here is in vain. [turning to the door] I must depart!
MATTHIAS: Wait! Yea, though you may not command the King of Dragons in battle, I yet have the skill of 'powering up' weapons and armour, granted by faith the Saint Timmeraque.
DESMOND: Yea, shall the RATTE-KINGE tremble!

e. as 1d, plus Matthias.
KESSLER: You return! Yea, the troops are mustered, and the revolution is ready. The RATTE-KINGE, having sniffed out my plans, now cowers in REYKJAVIK. You must hunt him down and destroy him!
MATTHIAS: DURENDAL is now empowered; yea, I now goe to assist the brave rebels.
DESMOND: [bowing and leaving, with Matthias] In Timmaraque's name, the tyrant shall fall at last!

f. Setting: The Throne Room. Characters: The Ratte-Kinge, Desmond (with Durendal). Extras: A Ratte-Soldier, a Rebel Soldier (one of those named in 3c?).
DESMOND: [entering, with rebel] Come out and fight me, cowardly Ratte-Kinge!
RATTE-SOLDIER: [lunges; exchanges two blows with rebel, and then slays him] Yah!
DESMOND: [slaying Ratte-Soldier with ease] Fight me! REYJAVIK is liberated! You are alone!
RATTE-KINGE: [disheveled, emerging from behind throne] What... what do you wish of me?
DESMOND: Yea, you have many names: RATTE-KINGE, GALGAMOTH, NIKOLAUS. More numerous are your tyrannies, perpetrated on innocent ISSELUNDE. You have robbed KING KESSLER of his rightful throne. Now, in the name of Saint Timmaraque, who you have betrayed with your villany, I shall slay thee!
RATTE-KINGE: [drawing himself up] Yea, I shall not die thus easily!
They duel cautiously, circling the throne. Each insults the other.
DESMOND's insults: dung-eater, coward, throne-thief, helle-ponde-spawn.
RATTE-KINGE's insults: regicide, desmosome, silly little man.
RATTE-KINGE: [falling to his knees, DURENDAL at his throat] I am not defeated. Yea, the angel TIMMARAQUE has promised it. I shall rule ISSELUNDE so long as I live-
The RATTE-KINGE crumples to the ground, the crown falling from his head.
DESMOND: [wiping Durendal clean and sheathing it] The angel TIMMARAQUE preserves those of virtue. This RATTE-KINGE was no smarter than a mollusk.

g. Setting: The throne room, later. Characters: Desmond (with Durendal), King Kessler (restored), Matthias. Extras: A Royal Guard.
King Kessler enters, followed by the guard. DESMOND and MATTHIAS bow.
DESMOND: Your majesty. The RATTE-KINGE is dead, and yea, there was much rejoicing.
KING KESSLER: Yea, I shall then resume my rightful throne.
MATTHIAS: [after KESSLER sits, lowering the crown onto KESSLER's head] By the grace of Saint Timmaraque and all of his mollusks, yea, I do proclaim ye once more the rightful king of all ISSELUNDE.
NARRATOR: Yea, and there much rejoicing, and all present did smoke of the elf-dung and fly on the magic dragon king.
NARRATOR: And it was goode.

[credits roll]

Sunday, May 13, 2007

A Clever Riddle I Thought Up

Your first clue is this: link

Your second clue is that the answer starts with the letter Z.

The first person to answer gets an Internet high-five! It's not that hard if you're good at thinking in puns.

EDIT: David got it right! The rest of you still have to figure it out.

Saturday, May 12, 2007

A Wiki for the Movie

So yeah, the movie has a wiki now. Collaboration is typically simple in such a location. All of it will be incrementally added to a Jer's Novel Writer file, for ease of access while at school, margin notes, and simple sharing between Macs. If anyone knows of a similar cross-platform app, that'd be cool.

In the wiki, consistent formatting is a must, so that needs to be figured out for the acts and scenes. A cool format is already there for persons, places and things.

The RSS feed for changes is here.

Friday, May 11, 2007

Script Outline

Here's my thought vis. the League movie.

1) The Rise of the Hero Desmond
a) Desmond was Born, and he was Dead.
b) The Youth of Desmond [v. brief] and the Quest for Durendal.
c) The Acquisition of Durendal. [Archbishop Turpin is involved]
d) King Kessler's First Request.
e) The Slaying of the Bear-Weasel. [this is an edit]
f) King Kessler's Second Request.

2) The Rise of the Ratte-Kinge Galgamoth
a) The Ratte-Kinge was born, and he did eat his own dunge.
b) The Youth of the Ratte-Kinge
c) The Subjugation of Isselunde, and the Founding of the Ratte-Kingedom.
d) The Tyranny of the Ratte-Kinge.

3) The Fall of the Ratte Kinge and the Restoration of the Rightful Monarch of All the Realms of Isselunde by the Truest of Heroes Desmond who didde wield the Holy Blade Durendal.
a) The Finding of the Ratte Kinge.
b) The First Battle between Villain and Hero.
c) The Finding of the Ratte Kinge.
d) An Unfortunate Mistake.
e) The Finding of the Ratte Kinge.
f) The Final Battle between Villain and Hero.
g) The Acclaim of the People.
h) The Restoration of King Kessler.


What do you think?

EDIT (2): Two scenes removed: 2c, the Timmaraque Angel, and 3c, the Acclaim of the People.

The Trials of AP

(AP should here be pronounced 'ap', rhyming with 'nap'.)

It is said of him that in his youth, Nikolaus was visited in a dream. Three sages approached him, naming themselves the White, the Pink and the Saint, and told him - each speaking in turn - that to find true success and glory, he must pass the trials of AP.

When he awoke, Nikolaus set out to fufill the sages' demands. On the first day, he journeyed to an frost-filled valley, full of mist and shadows, far from the lands he called home. After vanquishing a series of hideous beasts, he entered an icicle-covered cave deep in the valley. There, he found a score of other such journeyers; each here, they informed him, to pass the trial. Some of their faces were familiar; others were strange. Then Nikolaus was banished to a shadowy realm - where he could see the others, but knew that to speak with them would be instant failure. He laboured there for hours, struggling with his knowledge of the runes of the Ja'va people to fufill the trial's arbitrary and difficult demands. He stumbled out of the cave sweaty and exhausted.

On the second day, he traveled to a place not far from his hometown, and was startled when, following the Saint's instructions, he found a great underground amphitheater, filled with scores upon scores of others - all there for the Trial of AP. He saw many that he knew, and indeed found a position near an good comrade, who had been so crazed by the ordeal as to bite and headbutt Nikolaus upon seeing him. Soon, though, Nikolaus was once more cast into the shadow realm, where he struggled to inflate hot air balloons, find areas inside regions, and rotate smooth curves around lines. He and his friend emerged from the trial together, both dazed by the difficulty.

On the third day, Nikolaus returned to the amphitheater, finding again a similar group of people, though there were many faces different. This time, though, he was seated between his friend from the last occasion and the to-be-hero Desmond, a man now his friend, though later to be his most bitter enemy. All of them, Nikolaus discovered, were guided by the words of the Pink, who made an appearance in the flesh, urging those in the amphitheater to greater vigor. They talked even as the mists of the Shadow Realm descended, daring horrific punishment for their camaraderie. This time, Nikolaus laboured over knowledge locked in musty tomes, harvesting his knowledge of the past for the slightest fragments relevant to the demands of the Trial of AP. After the mists rose, Nikolaus and his friends left together, chatting merrily - a far cry from their later relationship.

A month after the last trial, Nikolaus again dreamt of the three sages. Each congratulated him, in turn, on his accomplishment, and then the Pink presented him with his reward: the Ratte-Blade, Galgamoth, which's name Nikolaus would later take for his own. Thus did the Trials of AP lead Nikolaus to his fate.

Thursday, May 10, 2007

King Kessler's Tips for a Good Life, Applied

So I chatted with Theophilus again, and he had what he considered to be excellent news! He would have posted it himself, but you know. He's a pigment of my imagination and all that.

Theophilus (22:08:11): Mission Accomplished!
Theophilus (22:08:21): i did thing with 8========D
Theophilus (22:08:27): with hot womens and the sister
Theophilus (22:08:29): it was goo
Theophilus (22:08:50): because i went over there and was liek "y you are cool thing you want thing 8=====D
Theophilus (22:09:01): with your sister and I and ouya"
Theophilus (22:09:02): heoh
Theophilus (22:09:03): heoeh
Theophilus (22:09:10): ye and then it wasw goat
Theophilus (22:09:20): becasue we al in the bckroom and it was fuin
Theophilus (22:09:26): and it was invigoarating
Theophilus (22:09:27): and fiun
Theophilus (22:09:43): and then afterwards it was all like that was co cool let do again
Theophilus (22:09:46): someother dat
Theophilus (22:09:49): go
Theophilus (22:09:51): T?HE END


Yea, Nikolas in the tesstingge halle, yea, he in the pappier, tasting, growling, the wailord, it rumbling it head but bit but bit. The Nikolas in the house in the paster in the hut! One, two, again the crash, the grugurgurgrugru, the wailord! From the sea from the moon from the Earth from the sky the Nikolas in the snail the carp the reed the chirp-chirp lashing ink like the tides whipping cold the foam the Nikolas in the heavens in the lit in the wailord.

The Wailing Lord

His cries sound, deep beneath the surface. He is behemoth; leviathan, perhaps more accurately. To the untutored observer, he seems a planet entire; his flukes the size of continents; his pulse beating like thunder, thump, thump, thump. He is vast, unstoppable. And he sorrows.

Oh, how he sorrows.

Once, there were more of his kind. Never many - not that, no - but enough. They soared, far beneath the waves, in packs, communicating in strange and eerie ways, a sight of unforgettable beauty and terror. Their young leapt above the waves, far more plentiful, good luck to any who caught sight of them while voyaging. They were a people, though alien to us, and the scholars - those who knew of them - acknowledged them as a great wonder of the world.

But time passed, and things changed, as they always do. The world darkened; the young ceased to leap above the waves. Even the titans beneath the surface, impervious to any attack, grew old at last and drifted endlessly, no longer possessed of that magnificent life they so closely held. And in the end, only one of their kind was left; crying out endlessly, fruitlessly, far beneath the surface. And for his magnificence, and his terrible, tragic nature, they named him Wailord: the Wailing Lord. And thus did the end of days fall, with only that creature to trumpet its coming, wailing without end. They say, those who dare venture so deep, that he wails still.

Hitherby Dragons

"When Ellen was a young girl scissors attacked the Earth. There were billions of them and they came from space. They were unreasonable in their aggression and humanity had to defend itself, leaving in the end an exhausted, stunned, and uncertain world littered in the mangled corpses of snippy blades." (The Dynamite Trilogy: Navvy Jim)

Hitherby Dragons.

I'm going to break with my standard format here (haven't noticed one? Compare any few of the posts, I stick to it fairly closely) to discuss Hitherby Dragons, because it's something quite different from any other webcomic - well, "webcomic" - that I've encountered. Some basic facts first: Hitherby Dragon's been running since September 2003, it's written by Rebecca Borgstrom
(she has her own Wikipedia entry!), and it's a 'text webcomic.' I'm pretty sure that's her own description of it - it's not something I'd call it otherwise, but it sort of fits, and that's why this is a 'webcomics' post... anyway.

Hitherby Dragons is pretty complex - awesome, but complex. A good summary can be found here: but if you don't want to bother clicking, then basically it's a bunch of really neat and creative short fiction (frequently using elements of popular culture in an unexpected fashion) with a running backstory. The first post is here; the plot 'begins' here, but it has no particular attachment to chronological order. Plus the first few have some interesting things going with metaphor and figurative language...

Seriously, though, you should probably click that link.

It used to update daily, but it went on hiatus for a month and a half recently, and for the last few months before that updated only thrice-daily. Still, update frequency isn't that big a deal, especially with four years of archives to read, and the quality far overweighs the quality. Read it! If I advocated any of the webcomics that I've posted here (and I certainly have), then I recommend this one easily twice as much*.

*Note: If you cannot read but can only look at pretty picture, you may ignore this recommendation. Otherwise, it stands.

Wednesday, May 09, 2007

King Kessler's Tips for a Great Life

You may be familiar with my imaginary friend Theophilus. Actually, you haven't been until now, because I only named him recently. However, I was chatting with him recently, and he maintained that some of the advice I'd given him could actually be quite useful to people living outside the small scope of my brain. As such, the transcript's relevant bits follow.

Theophilus (16:30:49): matthew had idea
Theophilus (16:30:53): do you think it god
King Kessler (16:30:58): :O
Theophilus (16:30:59): that I 8===========D
Theophilus (16:31:05): with that woman
King Kessler (16:31:22): Which one?
King Kessler (16:31:38): The one one or her sister?
Theophilus (16:31:43): both?
Theophilus (16:31:49): at the same time
King Kessler (16:32:34): Probably, but I kinda doubt that they'd be willing to participate.
Theophilus (16:32:43): why
King Kessler (16:35:11): There's a variety of possible reasons, but I'm not sure which of them would apply.
Theophilus (16:35:30): please list several
King Kessler (16:38:01): For one thing, it's traditional to be wary of having sex with one's sibling, among certain cultures.
King Kessler (16:39:30): For some of these same cultures and others, it's traditional to wait until marriage to have sex (with the person to whom one is married).
King Kessler (16:43:22): For more people, it's traditional to abstain from having sex with more than one person at a time, both in the sense of simultaneousness and that of having multiple partners who may or may not be aware of the other.
Theophilus (16:43:48): im still not convinced
King Kessler (16:44:43): I'm saying that any of these may or may not apply to the people into whom you want to 8=======D.
King Kessler (16:45:00): You should ask them to be sure.
Theophilus (16:45:05): ok how should i ask
King Kessler (16:46:27): /me is pondering.
King Kessler (16:47:07): "Hey, would it be cool if I had simultaneous intercourse with you and your sister?"
Theophilus (16:47:23): :OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
King Kessler (16:47:36): And then she'll totally think you're cool because you used a big word like "intercourse".
Theophilus (16:48:08): :O:O:O:O:O:O
Theophilus (16:48:14): is that all?
Theophilus (16:48:24): or is there more from that brain of yours of infinite wisodm
King Kessler (16:48:51): You could preface or postface it with more big words, for good measure.
King Kessler (16:49:59):
King Kessler (16:50:22): Select "Obscure" for Complexity.
King Kessler (16:50:32): You can't go wrong with that.
Theophilus (16:50:36): ok
Theophilus (16:50:45): is there anything else i should know?
King Kessler (16:51:18): /me ponders.
King Kessler (16:51:40): Name Finder, from the same site:
King Kessler (16:51:41):
King Kessler (16:52:12): You could get yourself Christened as Earnest, but I'm not sure how timeless that is.
King Kessler (16:53:08): I'm not sure whether or not it depends on the current century.
King Kessler (16:53:23): So browse some names on there, just to be safe.
King Kessler (16:53:48): I think that's all I got for your current goal.
Theophilus (16:53:51): o ok
Theophilus (16:54:07): if i actually did this would you accept respionsibility of
Theophilus (16:54:13): the consequences
King Kessler (17:00:36): These are just recommendations.
King Kessler (17:01:16): They may or may not be the views of ourselves or our sponsors, affiliates or parent organizations.
Theophilus (17:01:33): so
Theophilus (17:01:41): do you think i should actually do it
King Kessler (17:02:24): We do not guarantee or even expect that these recommendations will enable you to 8====D.
King Kessler (17:02:45): If you like.
Theophilus (17:02:46): k

Tuesday, May 08, 2007

Blago thing

There is a cool new feature on the thing blag.
It lets you put video links from youtube on the sidebar.
I want to use it to showcase the coolest korean rap song of the day.
It would be cool.
Let's have a vote.


Nikolaçi Ireftéa:

Kausetoriam olemciskôc lerouteio aretebaresyo sainkasel. Heargainagüy aroummaero sinakalaeu, Nar oreteamáa, Pempaaleryar eerkouelmine neasmtinenatús inoat simpepu. Kopranyep emantieni leveaerod sentaêa erevingan yanngasaed. Hertousøl amsertrita simgelawem, Fervetare ingparél vertaino einoalel.

Can you figure out the secret of Nikolaçi Ireftéa?
Hint: This passage was contrived from head to tail.

Tar Ghet

Thus they saluted me, in older days. I was the champion of every man: women fell over themselves to have me. I commanded an army of ten-thousand men, all of them brave and true in the service of the Horde!

But now no one will have me. I am grown old; my muscles, with which I climbed to my lofty pinnacle of power, weakened and grew useless for age and disuse. And my people - who should shelter me, who should aid me after I spent my youth in their service - my people have abandoned me! They say that I am an emblem of the corrupt past. They say that I am everything that they most regret of the last two generations. What right have they to say that? WHAT RIGHT? I won the battle of Hellscream Pass for them; I held the walls of Dejagore against the Howler and all his legions! Were it not for me, my people would have long since fallen to our endless ranks of foes. How dare they - how dare they - think that I made the wrong decisions?

These days, if I walk in the streets of Dejagore, children spit on me; youths and grown men alike deride me; women throw rotten vegetables and slops onto me. They who would never have been born without my actions deride me! Who are they to think that I should not have interned the Nar; that I should have quarantined the carriers of the Grey Plague, or held my men back in the Slaughter of Baldur's Gate? They were not there! The leaders of my country - my country - say now that I was a brutal dictator; that I slaughtered hundreds of thousands of innocents; that my overthrow was right and justified.

They may say that all they wish. But I know that I am still Tar Ghet.

The Sky

I soared and swooped, delighting in the newfound freedom of my iron wings. It was exhilarating; invigorating. Children pointed and laughed in glee as I shot past overhead. Dying men saw me shoot by, and went to their end with a smile on their faces. I was - I am - a balm to the suffering, sunlight for the shadowed, a new hope for all!

Before they began the surgery, the doctors warned me of the dangers of the procedure. They said that there might be some temporary side-effects - euphoria, overconfidence, megalomania. Hah! I circle upwards around an office building, shocking office workers out of their dull complacency. Hah again! If only they could see me now! This is the future. Not just for me, but for everyone. And they carped of side effects and untested treatments!


Monday, May 07, 2007

An Experiment

So I tried a whole new style with the Chronicles. (Inspired somewhat by the writings of Nikolas) Tell me your thoughts.

Chronicles (Maybe?) Chapter 50

The King of the Rats was not typically susceptible to conventional subversion, the ordinary assassination plots, the contrived attempts at the usurpation of his position, games of the mind that would ordinarily foil even the iron-willed and iron-minded of rulers. No, Nikoulasse was an unusually clever and quick-to-his-wits type of fellow who always remained one step ahead of all his foes, calculating and manipulative as they come. His incredible intelligence was not masked by any type of feigned modesty or apprehension, rather, he delighted in making many a mockery of whoever dared to stimulate his voracious mental appetite. In the realms of history, he was unparalleled in knowledge, an expert in fields as far-reaching as the colonisation of Isselande to the Matthiac Accords of 1012. Yet there was one fatal weakness in his personality: a great and insatiable weakness for all types of Magical Games--the type which draws one in and clutches one's mind with its alluring colours and sounds. One in particular, a "beast-taming" game, which delighted Nikoulasse like no other, appeared in the form of a suspicious-looking parcel from "A Friend". Paying no heed to its glaringly bad packaging and shady senders, he tore into it with the passion that only a madman can attain. Once the first ethereal plume of brilliant, magical lights and colours burst forth into the air, vanishing as quick as it came, Nikoulasse could not resist. It consumed his hours and days. Nikoulasse was driven to the brink of madness, tottering dangerously to the pit of eternal despair. His appearance betrayed him, as his once youthful and energetic face sagged, grew grey and tired, and his beard, left unattended and unchecked in its growth, now entangled and ensnared his chin like terrible vines. It was only with the help of his Rat-Advisors, armed with copious amounts of cold water and whiskey and "elf dung", was Nikoulasse able to realise his senses and assume his throne once again. Now recovered from his "period of self-discovery" as the papers put it, he was able to devote considerable efforts to the pursuit of the fiend who had sent the diabolical parcel. Never was he able to track down the man, though he had an immense suspicion that his "friend" was no other than an agent of King Kessler's own spy corps, determined to undermine the Rat-King from within.

Sunday, May 06, 2007

An Announcement and Short Story

Due to the looming terror of AP WEEK and also AN IN-CLASS ESSAY IN ENGLISH and maybe SOME OTHER STUFF, blag posts over this coming week will be abnormally short - from me, at least. You may consider them similar to some form of poetry, should it suit you.

(Did you know that there are over 500 episodes of the Pokemon anime - and that 1% of them are banned in the US?)

Men cannot fight gods; or, at least, this is how the people justified their defeat, when the Champion arose. He was weak, at first; able to defeat only the most pathetic of foes. But he learned, and he grew, and somehow those who sought to oppose him found themselves forever just a little behind him. He never lost. They sent thugs after him; then grunts, then officers, then small armies, growing increasingly desperate. And he always won; any enemy strong enough to defeat him never reached him, and all the rest became simple grist for the mill of his self-improvement. He was unstoppable.

Or that is how they justified it, when he slew their King and sat the Iron Throne, dispensing dictates from above. He must be a god; for else, he should surely have lost. He never did; and somehow, no one really questioned why.

Pride and Prejudice in Engrish

According to Google Translate (Chinese):
Original Version for reference:

This is a truth universally acknowledged that a person in possession of wealth, must be a wife.

However little known the feelings or views, Such a man may be the first time he has entered a neighborhood, the truth is so hyperactive mind around the family, He is considered to be a legitimate part of the property, or their other daughter.

"Dear Mr. Bennett said : "his wife of one day, he" heard you netherfield Park, he was last year?"

Mr. Bennett replied that he did not.

"But this is," she came back; "Wu has just here. She told me everything. "

Mr. Bennett replied in the negative.

"You do not want to know who it?" cried an emergency wife Tolerance. "you to tell me, and I do not disagree, but the hearings would" This invitation is not enough.

"So, my dear, you must know, Tan said it netherfield is a wealth of young men from the north of England; mondayinachaise down on him and four to see the place, and so glad, He agreed that Morris immediately; He is to take over before the diplomatic corps, and some of his civil servants to be in the home end of next week. "

" What is the name? "


"He is married or unmarried?"

"Oh single, dear, it is true! Single men of wealth; 2004 or 5000. What is a good thing, for our girl! "" how do? how is it affecting them? "

" Dear Mr. Bennett answered : "His wife," you how so boring! You have to know that my thoughts, he married one of them. "

"This is the design, to settle here?"

"Design! Nonsense, how do you say! However, He is likely to may love with a person, so you have to visit him, Once he comes. "

" I see no chance. you and the girls may go, or you can give them this might be better, because you are handsome anyone, Zhang bingley you might like the best party. "

"Dear, You look at me. I certainly share the beauty have friends but I do not see any anomalies. When a woman has five grown up into the daughter, she should have the mentality to the past, her moving. "

" Under these circumstances, women are often very beautiful, To "

" But, my dear, You really must go and see Mr. bingley when he entered this neighborhood "and" it than I do, I assure you! "

"But considering your daughter. Just think what it will be the establishment of one of them. William and his wife were determined to go to the Lucas , the only accounts for the general, you know they visit no newcomers. In fact, you have to go, It is impossible us to visit him, if you do not. "

" You are too cautious, sure. I dare say Mr. bingley be very happy to see you; I will send you a few words to him that I wholeheartedly agree with him later he chose to marry the girls; Although I must put in a good word I seldom lizzy. "

Saturday, May 05, 2007


It occured to me that I should realy start practising my Japanese writings, so here, I endeavoured to translate the Chronicles, with, shall we say, poor results. I got halfway through the second sentence before I finally gave up. It seems that I may have unintentionally written the Chronicles to be as least conducive to translation as possible.

「ザー クロニコルス オフ デズモンド」


暴虐 ぼうぎゃく cruel
不適 ふてき  intrepid, fearless
英名 えいめい intelligent
義務 ぎむ duty
素敵 すてき superb, wonderful


I was on an expedition into the wilds of Maine when I saw them. I'm a backwoodsman, by trade: rejecting the comforts and corruption of civilization for the purity of the wilds. Some people would consider me strange - with my two shotguns, strange-smelling bait pouches, and full camo gear - but they're just the sort of people I moved to the woods of Maine to get away from.

The men were strange, looking completely different from anyone I'd ever seen. They were wearing camo, too - and were heavily armed, to boot. But there was a subtle difference about them - something about their eyes, their skin color (so dark - yet not black!), their builds. And what's more, I could hear them talking as they stood in the brush, casually batting away flies. And they weren't speaking English.

Now, I'm an individualist - always have been, I suppose. It's not in me to go screamin' to Uncle Sam every time some little problem pops up. If it were, I wouldn't have lasted two days in the woods of Maine. So I thought to myself, I'll just head on up to the beach - maybe twenty minutes walk from where I was crouched - I'll just head on up to that beach, and maybe see what's there to see. It was easy to get past the guards, sentries I guess - they didn't know anything about Maine. But what surprised me was that, when I got to the beach, there was a whole bunch more of those men - they'd set up a camp, with tents and all, and boats were going in and out landing more. This wasn't some sort of fancy co-man-do expedition. This was a full out invasion.

Already, I figured I could see maybe over a thousand men down there - more than I'd ever seen in my life, except on the TV. All of them were rushing about, setting up tents and saluting (saluting!) and shouting at each other in their weird gobblygook. (All si, sir and levar esso and por favor... have you ever heard of such a thing?) I knew I had to do something... sure, I wasn't too fond of the government, but this didn't have a thing to do with that: these guys were attacking America. I knew they'd spot me if I just walked in there - every one of them looked just like those sentries, all with the yellowy skin and the funny talking. So I took some bait, some of my strongest smelling stuff, and threw it straight into their camp. The raccoons and deer and bears that came charging into their camp not five minutes afterwards gave those guys quite a shock, let me tell you.

While everyone was all confused and shooting at bears and shooting at each other, I ran into the camp, quick as I could. Only one guy even noticed me, in the confusion, and it was easy as anything to shoot him straight in the chest. Gave me a good feeling, when he went down. I wasn't quite certain what I was looking for - just opening tent flaps mostly, only cots in most of them - but when I looked in a really big tent, I knew I'd hit the jackpot. Inside were these great piles of food, rations and milk and stuff - and if I've learned one thing living in the woods, its that no one can survive in there very long unless they're very good at hunting - or brought food with them. (I'm generally in the latter category, though I'm getting better.)

I knew what I had to do. I did as much damage to their stuff as I could, ripping open rations and spilling milk everywhere - shot the pile a couple times to loosen things up. I could hear the chaos outside the tent, but I knew that it would only be so long until they got all the animals scared away and came looking for the guy who started the mess. I finished up - got most of their food destroyed, no time to finish the job - and ran for it, hoping like heck that no one would think to shoot me in the back. Only stopped when I was a half-mile away.

I guess I succeeded - you haven't heard of an army of guys like that charging through Maine, have you? Now, I did a little looking when I got back to town - asked a librarian, smart people like that - and I think those weird guys were from Mexico, or someplace around there. Now, I think that what they were doing was sneak attacking the old USA - they were angry at how we were treating their immigrants or something, so they snuck up all around the coast past Flor-e-da and so on and attacked the last place someone'd expect them. Sneaky little guys - not an honorable thing to do. Guess I can chalk up their defeat to good-old American know-how.

(Author's Note: I had to restrain my vocabulary for this one. If the narration sounds especially strained, that's why.

Plus, I don't really know how to write a story in first person.)

Thursday, May 03, 2007

Semaphore Battle

David has proposed that I print out semaphore charts and have at him, sending one another semaphore messages to the death. However, there is no reason that this should be confined to the two of us! You, too, can join in. Print out a semaphore chart of your own, and join the battle! Compete for glorious prizes. Win the acclaim of a nation*! Attract beautiful women***! There's no time to waste!

That was all.

**Not Iceland. The fictional country.
***'beautiful women', in the context of this post, means 'Sami.'

Results not guaranteed.

Wednesday, May 02, 2007

The Chronicles of Desmond, Chapter 48: The Bold and Daring Exploits of the Rat-King

And yea, though Nikoulasse, the Ratte-Kinge wausse indeed beckomme corrupte, and cruele, and eville in hisse latter dayes, though in hisse youthe, he wausse indeede verie intrepidde, and adventerousse, and intellygente, and it wausse goode. And nowe, it shalle beckome my sackred duties to wryte of thisse glorious era, yea, to evere depickte with great detayle, the tymes and mooudes of the epoche, and the playce, and the goode-jobbes.

In the beginninge, younge Nikoulasse, beynge bourne in the slummes and gardenes of the Ratte-Ghettous, and in the impoveryshedde, and destytute quarterres, yea, as I have said, he wausse verie drawne to the studies and the pursutes of knowledges, and the intelecktualle stymulatyon, and the smarte-gooudes. And it came to pass that Nikoulasse, wanting to live a lyfe of goudde, and of the most excellent and holie preceptes of the Churche of the Timmerack, and in pursute of the moste holie mathematicks, and the good-lightes of suche and suche, yea, hee didde become a memberre of the clergie, as I have disckusses in the previous Chapteres.

So it came to pass that Nikoulasse, as a younge prieste of the holie Mathematick, and in the reasearche, and of the greate Crosse-producktes, yea, consultying manie tomes of sackred knowledgee, and praying to the Timmeracke for guidanse, and hee didde come, one daye, while hee wausse in the gardene, enjoyinge hisse tea and biscuites, whyle alle the tyme performyng the mathematick in hisse heade, didde recieve a vysion, from the Timmerack, in a voyce that wausse grande and clarione, and magnifycent, and wonderfulle, didde calle upin himme to gou and enterre the caverns of Truthe and Goodlinesse, and insyde to disckover himmesalfe on a sackred journey to fynd the seckrette of the holie Mathematick.

Tuesday, May 01, 2007



A long-form webcomic about college life and stranger things. Updates every Thursday, or so. Full colour! Very classy. Started September 2003, by Shaenon Garrity, who you may remember as the author of this excellent webcomic.

Smithson started out seemingly focused on normal college life, but swiftly grew to include 1) a campus superhero, 2) a mysterous floating advisor, and 3) a coven of malevolent songstresses. It moves slowly, but it is written by Shaenon Garrity (who is totally awesome) and has been illustrated by no less than three separate artists, which lends an interesting feel. Have a look! The story starts here.

The Lost Histories

They were monsters, each of them; from the most distorted and twisted shapes to theose most superficially human. Some scuttled through the tall grass; others soared above it on great, beating wings or strode through it with powerful steps. And for all their superficial diversity and terrifying aspects, they were all pawns, tools in the hands of human masters.

In pre-industrial times, they had roamed freely, in grasslands and deserts and oceans. Their numbers seemed as limitless as the stars. Men and women hunted them, capturing them with net and lasso, and training them to serve human wishes. A man with a single one of these monstrosities under his control was a chief; one with a half-dozen was a King. Human society grew to center around them as ever-better methods of their domination and control were devised; the brightest minds of every generations laboured on new ways to hunt them, train them, heal them and fight them.

Industry exploded onto the land, powered by monstrous strength. Every man kept a stable of monsters in his house for use as servants or pets; strange new types were bred for use in factories and farms and war. Scientists devised ever-more ingenuous devices for the control and use of monstrosities. Great sweeping machines rolled across grassland and reaped monsters by the thousands. Boats trawled nets off every coast. Sportsmen detonated bombs that brought down clouds of flying beasts so numerous as to blot out the sun. It was a time of astounding achievements and grotesque excess.

An event no-one could have predicted put an end to the age. A solar flare of unusual strength collapsed worldwide communications, fried unshielded computers, and - most importantly - destroyed the devices used to contain the monstrosities. Technology, ever focused on the creatures that defined civilization, had long obsoleted cages and nets for the capture of monsters: great or small, all were held in capsules the size of a man's hand, a scientific accomplishment far beyond any our own society may boast. Now this blessing turned bane, as every capsule containing a monster was irradiated and rendered useless. The factories went silent as governments dissolved into anarchy.

When the chaos ended, much had changed. Civilization now clustered near the few remaining grasslands (in formerly remote regions), depending on now-scarce monsters to survive. Relics of the glorious past remained - capsules unused at the time of the disaster were usable and stockpiled in great quantities, and much of the wondrous medical equipment of the pre-disaster society remained potent. But no more could be manufactured. In an effort to prevent a repeat of the folly that led up to the great disaster, dictators took tight hold of each region. Naming themselves the Elite, they had complete control over each distant and autonomous area, delegating subordinates to rule over each city. Rulership was determined strictly by strength; any man that defeated the Elite was made one of them. Strict rules were emplaced, regulating every aspect of the monsters that were life and death alike. Scientists in particular were hard-hit; blamed for the disaster, any scientist that attempted to conduct true research was exiled to the wild-lands, with only priest-like "scientists" left to conduct "research".

And the monsters remain: proud and tall, short and fearful, the lifeblood of humanity.