Tales of Tadeusz

2005-12-28T11:19:00.000-06:00

Why the MSM Keeps Playing Poker With the Cowboy Even Though They Already are Taking off their Shirt

I remember a scene in a Tom Clancy novel where the stock trader hero reveals the bad guy's plan which involves losing lots of money on Wall Street, and he wonders to Jack Ryan and his best bud why anyone would do that, after all, making money was the biggest game in town. But Jack and bud realize there is another bigger game...political power, international power.
I knew in the Clinton Admin that the MSM was madly protecting Clinton, and that they were spending decades of credibility to do it. And the likelihood of them winning anything back was poor. But they judged that allowing the R's to take down Clinton would be more damaging to their cause, perhaps that it would break the enchantment of invulnerability and inevitability. Or perhaps that it would break the ties of mad/insane loyalty that hangs the Modern Dem Party together.
But imagine you're a MSM hyuk-muk-muk, you've already laid your house mortage of credibility on the poker table, and you're still losing, why not push the car and the boat out there as well? Maybe, just maybe, you can turn it around with a couple big wins, and win it all back, and more.
Of course, thats a sucker play, but then its easier to do that than to get up from the table, and go out and try to do your job, your duty, your honor, and earn back what you have lost.

2005-12-28T11:15:00.000-06:00

Poetry to Pologize for Postponing the Sending of a Christmas Card by Moi

Merrie Christmas said Santa,
I got your card,
An aquarium full of a Manta
And a junk-filled yard

Got in the way of the sleigh
With the card for you
Getting out the garage before next May
Tis very sad, tis true

But then it will be in time
For a Christmas in July
How wondrous, how sublime
To have a card with a daiquiri and lime!

By Eric R. Ashley

2005-12-23T15:59:00.000-06:00

Writing Chapter Two

Chapter Two of Worldwalker is being seriously rewritten. I was not that happy with it. It did the job, but in a kind of lame, aimless way with the heroine acting pretty pathetic, and taking a real long time to do so.

I'm learning how to be more descriptive, but not all wallowing in description, and emotions is fruitful. So, a serious rewrite, and hopefully a chop of a couple thousand words with stronger, brighter descriptions, and more action. More change. More scenes.

Still need to work on scene creation. And scene transition for that chapter. I think that might be part of why it was so flaccid. It was trying to be one whole scene for the whole six thousand words.

Another side bene from this is that it shortens the novel a bit, leaving more space for some other good stuff I had planned for the fight with the plesiosaur.

2005-12-23T15:54:00.000-06:00

Science Experiments

I'm here to tell you that Magnetronix are wonderful for the kids, Mr. C makes letters of them, and they stick to the fridge to be stored, but the kid just wants to experiment...in a way her mother would not have.

Stuck it right to the monitor screen. Left a purple and blue hue on the screen corner.

We did not know what to do for a while as it seemed permanent since it reoccurred in multiple windows. Happily a click off, click on of the monitor resolved resolution in our favor.

But next time he does that, I told him, they go in the trash.

2005-12-06T10:46:00.000-06:00

Storyblogging Carnival is UP!

The link ishttp://talesbysheya.blogspot.com/2005/12/presenting-storyblogging-carnival.html and Sheya has done it again.

Thanks.

And she wonders after reading my piece how she would react if a copy of her showed up on the doorstep. Perhaps better than my characters did...

Hopefully, I'll have more of the story next Storyblog. I'm trying to edit Worldwalker at the same time, but I need more than one outlet.

2005-12-03T21:57:00.000-06:00

Storyblogging Carnival

I, Doppleganger

By Eric R. Ashley

Prologue
My wife and toddling children wander about yardsale-ing in the early summer morning when the Appalachian heat and mugginess were still held down by the cool of the passing night, while I typed a list of planned renovations for my ninety-year-old house on the just purchased computer in our living room. Antique floors of tongue and groove oak creakily held up the latest piece of plastica electronica on top of a pressed-board desk. The computer sneers at its surroundings, but shuts up after I point out…
“Look so good when you are ninety, you will not.”
Of course, it came with the dominant word processing program, Wyrd which is my regular platform for rants on my blog, games, short stories, and novels. The list kept growing longer as I thought because the “manor” needed much more help. The house is set far back in a hollow in the Southern Appalachian mountains, and when we bought it, unsafe to walk through. Now you do not have to worry about falling through the floor. So the renovations were coming along, but much more remained to be done.
I sat knocking my teeth repeatedly with a pencil as an aid to thought until the doorbell rang startling me. Most of our neighbors do not know we are back here, hidden in the woods, let alone anyone else. My eyebrows rose, and I tried to think of who it could be, as I reluctantly got up from my planning.
A tall man could be seen in vague outline beyond the lace curtains of the antique nine-paned door, but I opened the door without worry. We lived in a safe county, and besides at two-twenty and over six foot, I’m no midget myself. I figured the man was probably a politician seeking my vote for city council or something.
“Hi.” I said and stopped in shock, my thoughts going right and left and then back again without gaining any traction. My self, my very own image, stared back from me, and leaned against the door frame of my house with a weary right arm. Six foot two-ish, blue chambray shirt, a huge duffle bag, black jeans, hiking boots, and pure blonde hair, sun-bleached with dead level eyes looking into mine scattered my wits into a hundred pieces.
“Hi, yourself.” He said in a deep voice without moving. I stared again, and then did the sane thing. Slamming the door shut, and grabbing an aluminum bat stationed behind the door for emergencies, I breathed out a quick prayer for help. Then with a quiver in my left arm, and the bat held high ready for belting in my right, I jerked the door open. Still he had not moved from his erect posture.
The other me looked into my eyes with calm patience.
“I believe hospitality to the saints is recommended.” He said with an exaggerated slowness.
“Even the devil can quote Scripture to his own ends.” I replied wondering if I was facing some sort of spirit on this Wednesday summer morning. It seemed an odd time to have such a visitation, but any time would seem an odd time I guess since I’ve never had one, at least nothing so visible.
“Yeah, but would the devil be so willing to admit he made mistakes? I’ve made plenty.” He shrugged, winced, and I noted that his muscles seemed considerably more developed than mine. Also his face looked more hard-angles, and the large nose had obviously been broken several times. We shared the massive jaw that made us square-jawed, and frightful if we yawned for then a great, gaping chasm opened up.
“Any that you’re bringing with you?” I looked out onto the porch beyond him, as if some stalker with a rifle might be coming up soon.
He grinned with a crookedness.
“No, don’t think so. I left them a long way back.” He paused. “In another universe.”
I nodded, and put down my baseball bat. I did not think he was a doppleganger cursed to kill his original, or a clone, and the only other explanation I could come up with involved multiple timelines and alternate realities.
I backed up to let him enter, and he grinned at my caution. No invitation would be extended to a potential vampire. Not that I believed in vampires or doppelgangers mind you, but five minutes ago, I did not believe in an alternate divergent of myself from some other reality. This was not the time to take wide sweeping actions based on theory which had just proven itself fundamentally flawed.
He stepped in, walking with a oiled grace that reminded me of a ballerina, and not at all like my own lumbering and thudding style of perambulation. Eyes swept over the whole living room, catching details with a swiftness and sureness, and at the same time I saw my place from a different view. It was rough, but comfortable, a working man’s home with signs of love and play tucked with a companionable neatness into the abundant bookshelves.
“Your wife is out, isn’t she?” He asked turning to me with a fixity of attention and focus that caught my attention. It was like looking into my own soul, but more compassionate, and dreadful eyes than mine stared back.
“And the tykes, as well.”
“Tykes.” He said, and there was a vibrant sadness in his voice. Obviously somewhere he had taken speech classes in abundance to have such a trained voice, but what interested me was the visceral pain washing across his face. A keen look he canted my way as I stood by the fireplace.
“Aye, I have a tyke. A fine little girl, and a wife I‘d happily end my days with. But they are very far away, and I don’t know how to get back to them.” Rubbing his face to cover the tears in his eyes that all of my blood are prone to, he raised his face again, and spoke with chill savagery.
“But I will find a way back to them. If I have to beat down the walls of the universe with my fists.”
And there for a second, I was honestly terrified of him. There is a bloody-minded ruthlessness in my soul, but untried and untested. In him, I saw it purified and exalted by pain and blood. If he set his mind to something, it would happen, or his fingers would be sheared off in the effort of holding the grindstone. Not saying anything, to allow him time to recover, and me time to swallow the lump of fear in my throat, I ushered us with a waving hand from the dim living room into the brightly lit dining room, and across it to the kitchenette.
We sat down at the sunny pinewood table bar, and like me, he drank a lot of Coke ®, and filled a chair to its limits. Two big glasses we drained in silence looking at each other in the kitchenette across the kitchen bar, and then we both went for refills.
“I’m not a time traveller. Not some future you.” He spoke at last as I refilled his glass cup, and then mine. Sitting down I nodded quietly.
“I figured. You look just slightly different. Face is altered.”
“Yeah, well some of that’s cybernetics. Changes the shape of the head a bit, and so on.”
“Cybernetics?” I gasped and choked on my Coke ®. “It’s not before breakfast.”
“You can’t believe six impossible things now.” He finished for me. Looking at me, he nodded to himself.
“Why don’t I tell you a story? You can record it if you like. I think it will help you get your mind around who and what I am.”
I nodded knowing that I needed some time to think. A story would help clear the mind.
“It starts about ten universes ago. Not the start of my story, but it’s a good place to begin. You are familiar, of course, with late twentieth century life. That’s where I started. The American Century, growing up half-expecting to see the Sovs take over America, and then watching them fold their cards with hardly a peep is my history and yours as well, I would wager from the newspaper I read over breakfast.”
I nodded in agreement as he slipped off the duffle bag. The floor creaked under its weight.
“I’ll just cover the last ten worlds because I haven’t yet written it up for my diary. So I can engage in some avian monolithic, whatever that joke was, kill two birds with one stone. You know what I mean.” He finished a bit grouchily.
Indeed I did know what he meant. This stranger in my house, already I had a rapport with him that shocked me with its rapidity and depth, but at the same time it made perfect sense, if his story was true. After all he was me. Then he took out the guns out of his duffle bag, and started to professionally clean them, and I wondered about my previous judgment. I like guns on a philosophic level, but personally, I’m a bit scared of them.
He took a sip, and began to tell me what he chose to share of his story.

2005-12-03T10:50:00.000-06:00

Tabletop vs. Computer Gaming

Perhaps Neverwinter Nights is about as good as many D&D games because many of them were pretty bad. But a good tabletop game engrosses you on a level that the computer cannot even begin to match, and it allows far more options.
I still remember playing "Nine Princes of Amber" a text game, and trying nine ways from Sunday to keep hold of an iron bar which I thought would make a useful weapon. Its gotten a lot better its true, but still the fundamental problem remains.
Speed of action, socializing, immersion, and options, a good tabletop gamemaster outshines a computer game like having your own personal French Chef outshines the best mall food.
However, I will admit, some people have a problem with visualization. For them, a computer game heavy on graphics might be better.
Now I'm a game designer part-time, so I'm an enthusiast, and a game master, but still...
Iron Dragon on the crayon-using board is just cooler than the computer. Or Risk likewise. Or Chess. So too I expect Heroscape with its heavy pieces and beautiful board on the table is going to be better than the game on the computer.
What computer games offer is convenience, and a certain minimum reliably met. In other words, they are the McDonald's of the game world. But for the true connoisseur...tabletop.
/He said with his nose tilted in the air.

2005-11-23T22:51:00.000-06:00

Nice Pic and Two Rich Data Mines

Here's a nice looking picture of a sword and a scabbard. http://www.christianfletcher.com/html/home.html

Here is a substantial list of castle-related definitions.
http://www.castlewales.com/casterms.html

Here is a set of 57 medieval clothing pictures (individual downloads).
http://romancereaderatheart.com/medieval/timeline/

2005-11-14T09:38:00.000-06:00

Kitchen as Work

A close and dear friend of mine referred to the others who worked with her as French Cooks, while she is a recipe cook. That is, they each are filled with the certainty of their knowing the right thing to do--which might work if there was just one of these--unfortunately imagine a kitchen full of fulminating French Chefs and arguing with each other, and assuming the others are going to do it their way, that is the right way.

My C&D Friend on the other hand says she just wants clear instructions that everyone follows, and she would be glad to follow them herself as she is not the type to proclaim her certainty (which is one thing I like about her). And this is what she means by being a recipe cook.

Me, I pointed out that my style in the kitchen was akin to a mad scientists doing one-off experiments, and that I would bring much of the same style to her detail-oriented workplace, and thus I was not suited for her kitch...I mean workplace.

2005-11-05T10:57:00.000-06:00

Storyblogging Entry: Sleeping Dragon

Sleeping Dragon
By Eric R. Ashley

Lee Huang cooled his feet in the Suez Canal. Since he was the highest ranking Red Army officer in the area, and possessed two decorations for bravery, he was not worried that his unmilitary actions while on duty would get him in trouble. Or at least so he told himself, until he heard a yell from behind him.
“Huang!” Rapidly he turned, grabbed his rifle, and jumped to his feet. There stood his younger cousin, U Fung. Startlement, and then sheer pleasure broke over the war hero’s face under the hot Egyptian sun. And he swung the rifle up on his shoulder, and motioned for his childhood playmate to come closer for a hug.
The visitor did so, but stiffly. Lt. First Huang asked him what was the matter.
“You, you are so unmilitary! It is a disgrace…”
Huang held up a hand to stop the new recruit.
“I am the lieutenant, war hero, governor for this pathetic city, am I not? You Fung are just a new recruit turned eighteen.”
The younger cousin nodded as his usually idolized older cousin booted himself.
“It is not like you expect, this war and occupation, cousin Fung. In truth, it is not like I expected either. I will show you. Then you will see.”
A skeptical look faded into a general back-slapping, and the two young men wandered chatting enthusiastically about family matters over to a jeep where a sleeping Egyptian driver got kicked into wakefulness by Lee Huang. He came awake with a curse, and Fung made to hit him, but then stopped. Huang nodded approval, and Fung smashed the man in the mouth. The driver began to volubly apologize while the two Chinese Army officers laughed to each other behind impassive masks perfected while gambling. Then Huang backfisted the man in the mouth again.
“You talk too much.” He barked, winking at his cousin.
After they got in, and the jeep got started back to town, to Sesra, Huang explained his action to his cousin’s questioning look.
“One must be unpredictable. They try to use their unpredictability and insanity against us. So we have to be more so.” He said this in Han which the locals did not know; indeed knowledge of Han merited the noose.
Huang started yelling at the driver as they got back into the edge of town. He wanted the jeep slowed. A man alongside the road carrying a load of what might be bags of grain in the white, wilting sun had drawn his eye. The Chinese Army officer drew his pistol, and shot the man in the chest twice. Then laughing, he smacked the driver on the head with the pistol to make him go faster.
“Calculated insanity?” Fung asked, and Huang nodded.
“Plus, they are useless. They can’t fight according to order, can’t drink because of their religion, can’t build anything without messing it up, and are generally illiterate, plus they are barbarians. They are like Subodai’s hordes without the intelligence or horsemanship or military skill.”
A look of dawning glory shone on Fung’s face.
“So we can kill anyone we want?”
“Yes, but I advise you to leave certain ones alone.”
“But, why?” Fung protested, his whole face and posture sullen. A glorious treat had just been taken away from him after being dangled in front of his nose.
Huang slapped him on the shoulder, and winked.
“You’ll see, cousin. Say, how is your effort at romancing Leikou going?”
With much agitation, Fung explained that his gifts, poetry, and even a humiliating attempt at singing a love song had failed to do more than make the lovely Leikou giggle while she went out with officers with higher ranks than his lowly Second Lieutenantmanship. It made one wonder if the Chinese government should have allowed all those baby girls to be aborted. Huang commiserated, but absently which Fung eventually noted with some bitterness. Still, Huang kept directing the driver to zip about town, until the first lieutenant spotted a clot of people in the street.
It was a group of men surrounding a smaller group of females on their way somewhere incomprehensible, and thus stupid. Huang had the driver barrel into the clot, scattering it everywhere. Then he bounced out of the jeep, dragging Fung with him.
Several of the women had the burqa on which was a new development after the Red Army had invaded, and Huang snarled something in Arabic. The women so veiled pulled back their hoods, and Fung gasped. Each was a beauty. The group of men around them rumbled, and suddenly Fung felt a sense of fear.
This would not do. He had not been in on the March across the Sands from China’s borders all the way to Libya’s outer borders like his older cousin. It was a chance to prove himself to the older veteran. So he pulled out his pistol, aimed it at the first man nearest him, looked at Huang who waved him onward, and shot the Arabic threatener full in the chest. Then he turned his gun to the next man who dove for the ground into a full face kissing the ground mode. Turning about, he saw that all the other men had done the same.
Huang nodded to him with a smile.
“Choose which girl you want.”
“But what of what they? Err, will they not knife me while I sleep?” Fung began to ask concerned for the rights of the women, but then he realized such was not the proper concern of a conqueror. So he chose a pragmatic objection. His cousin answered in kind.
“They beat their women to death if they show an ankle. Send their little girls back into the fire for not wearing a hat. Cousin, you could be the vilest jerk, and still they would think you were treating them as a princess compared to the way their own family treats them.”
Fung nodded accepting the rationale.
“Besides, it is well known that Chinese men are more, ah, vigorous. More skilled in the arts of love than any other race of men in the whole world.”
U Fung walked about among the women. None smiled at him, but he fancied he saw one with hope in her eye. He chose that one that reminded him most of Leikou, and after prompting with his pistol along her cheekbone, she kissed him in the street while the men gasped in anger. U Fung could feel her trembling, and see her conflicted face. Part of her wanted what he offered, and another part felt guilt. Guilt was a reactionary bourgeoisie notion since God or Allah or the Celestial Bureaucracy was non-existent, by order of the State. He licked his lips; she had tasted nice.
“Now that she has assured that she will be stoned to death, or knifed if she leaves you since she did not do the ‘honorable‘ thing, and get herself killed as a martyr, you need to protect her. Say these words…” Here Fung listened in dismay to a string of Arabic which he was supposed to memorize. It meant something about how he would protect his woman, and if any harm should come to her, he would burn the village down where it happened, and destroy the whole family and clan of the relatives of the killers. But Fung was bad at foreign languages, and he did not want to seem weak to the men kissing the dust in front of him.
“I say that!” Fung shouted, and shot a man near to him in the head.
Huang looked startled, and then laughed.
“I think they got the message. Now, lets drink.”
They went down to the local mosque turned bar, and ordered some Russian vodka. With his new mistress ensconced on his lap, Fung asked his very wise and wonderful cousin Huang a question.
“What shall we drink too?”
“Let us drink to Osama Bin Laden!” Huang yelled back to Fung’s horror, and then more softly he explained. “For without him launching that airplane to crash into the Peaceful Flowers Skyscraper in Beijing six months ago in September, you and I might still be in Beijing chasing unavailable girls, and toting paper for our masters. Here we are like gods.”
“It almost makes you believe in a god. Life is good!” Fung replied with a silly grin crossing his face. “To Osama Bin Laden then!”

THE END.

2005-10-30T20:56:00.000-06:00

Gaming News: My Hallowcon

I've returned from my stint as a guest and gamemaster at Chattanooga's Hallowcon. The hotel was nice, although rambling, as its a huge hotel. They sold out the convention block, and were willing to get me their one cancelled room for just one night for $83 bucks--so we went next door to Ramada Ltd. which was far more reasonable, even if they only had a continental b'fast (which did not mean doughnuts and orange juice, but was respectable, if limited--which fits the name of the hotel we stayed at.)

The first night I got there we played Savage Worlds rpg, set in the Fallout video game universe. And I got to play a religious visionary who believed the Vault Dweller was the Chosen One, which was fun, even though I was a fairly poor shot. And the dog was the best dice roller of the game. This system uses "exploding sixes", and the player kept getting them, one after the other.

This heightens my thought that SW is a quick, light system designed for universal as long as universal means "Pulp".

Helping out, the GM was dressed up as the Vault Dweller.

After that, still visiting with JS, we joined in a just starting game of Betrayal at the House on the Hill, which despite the confusing name (I'm still not sure thats the right name) was very good. The other players also helped to make it fun. The basic idea is a tile discovery game set in a haunted house, where one of the players eventually turns evil. It has a very nice set-up, and I loved the character tiles with the side counters with sliding scales for Sanity, Knowledge, Speed, and Might.

I've seen a lot of recent Southern Plantation horror, which includes one of my soon to be published settings...Plantations Present, Past, and Perilous. MJ Young, one of the Multiverser game designers, has also started using a Haunted House in his demoing.

The ending was a bit lame, and anticlimatic with the House game tho'. JS turned evil, and lost all his cool items, with that ending (others are more dangerous), and we stopped the evil even before it got in one attack.

I got home to my hotel at one, and found the Mr. C still awake watching cartoons while the others were asleep. This was a vacation for all of us of course, so that was fine. Not at all the usual practise, but once in a while it doesn't hurt a little guy to stay up late. The others got to go to the Aquarium, and watch SF and cartoons and hang out with each other while I gamed and gabbed. All of us enjoyed it, even though the some sort of sickness seemed to work through the boys from youngest to oldest with me getting a fever on Saturday night as I tried to sleep.

The next day, I got up terribly early, wandered over, wandered back. Ate some sausages btw at the con. And another BTW, the food was very good. Except for one visit to Blimpie's with JS, I ate hamburgers provided by the con. Its not your usual consuite, which isn't bad in itself, but more an actual line up and get a meal on a plate thing, which was nice indeed.

There was a scheduling mixup with my first Multiverser game skedded during my speech on Quick World Creation. Since the gaming space was so limited (although they said the gaming was four-fold larger than last year) they could not reschedule.

But JS was able to playtest more of his upcoming to be published version of Countercoup d20, the Epic Version, by High Forest Games which was enjoyed by the players, I thought. Something to be said for healing 150 hp each to the players for the cleric character, in one round...

But it was rough, the barbarian, despite his 700 plus!!!!! hp was killed. Naturally the situation was fixed since the high priestess of the land was one of the pc's...

I'm glad it was rough because thats my preference for D20. Tough but fair. No instant death traps, but no waltzing through the scenario either.

I went about this time and talked with Lawrence Barker and his cover artist Katherine, of uncertan by me last name (sorry), for an hour. He's written Renfield, about Dracula's henchman, and Victorian madhouses, and a "Southern Reconstructionist" era fantasy...He thinks the only one of its kind, rather like I think Death of a Blogger is the world's first blogger thriller. Both looked interesting, and I wish I could have spared the cash.

We discussed ideas for horror stories, and at one point, he wanted my permission to use an idea created by moi and his cover artist to use for a story. I, of course, gave it, not being a believer in the ownership of ideas. Text is a different thing. I hope he comes out with something for it.

Then it was my turn to speak. I gave my talk to an interested group at the bar after someone suggested moving over there. For this inspired suggestion--thank you. I think, judging by the enthused faces, and comments at the end, that they all enjoyed Quick World Creation. I tried to keep in informative, fast-moving, and humorous.

I'll be adding the speech to the second edition of Placeholder Worlds.

We ended up using the advice to create three separate, and interesting worlds at the end. One a Victorina post-apoc world where nuclear weapons end the Civil War, and poison the land, drawing out mutations, and the weakened state allows the forces of Europe and Asia to stick their fingers in. Another was a possibly feudalistic society where an Ice Age forces vampires to protect their herds of people, and it could actually be a symbiosis as Lawrence Barker pointed out... and then what happens when an extradimensional visitor comes who sees vamps as all evil, all the time? And then I added a comment about we could also have Polar Bear Ghouls. And there was a third world, but it slips me by this time.

One guy apologized afterwards for interrupting too much, but he hadn't, and besides, that shows the host that you're paying attention...its called audience participation. So that was good by me. Perhaps I don't mind because I'm the type of person to do just that.

Then I went off to join JS's game which I've already detailed.

Further on, I demo'd for the first time the introductory world from Placeholders, and for the Multiverser system, Green Glass Monument. Its a world where the problem of nuclear terrorist was resolved in a very few minutes as most of the Middle East was plastered. This was part of one of my concepts of Grim Futures, as well.

We played another game of House, which ended by mutual consent since the Beastmaster bad guy (the game has variable endings) was almost certain to win, if we wanted to waste enough time. That was Franklin Cain, I believe, who won that time.

Later, I played in Axis and Allies, and the Axis triumphed rather strongly. But it was a good game, even for me being on the losing side.

A game of Time's Up, an interesting variant on Charades, and while JS stayed up for Are You a Werewolf, I staggered back to my ladywife and kids, and into a fevered sleep.

The next morning did not see much gaming although I did have my RR game ready if needed.

We talked to a couple friends, and some new acquaintances, shopped in the dealer's room (and I got Serenity the RPG as a birthday present---woo hooo!), Mr. C got given a pirate pistol by an older girl and had a great time playing with some other kids, and the beautiful ladyfaire drove us home.

Now, that was my Hallowcon. They had some other speakers I would have enjoyed listening too, and they had a lot of party events along with a bar for drinking, but thats not my thing so I'm glad a party and media con was able to do a good job providing gaming, food, and an opportunity for me to play the part of guest.

It was a lot of fun, and I will seriously consider going again next year.

2005-10-24T10:32:00.000-05:00

Gaming News: Jihadi

In the Heroscape miniature figurine game, you can have warriors from all possible times.

I'd like to suggest one warrior group that I'm quite sure Milton Bradley is never going to come out with.

Jihadi.

Thats right, the bearded bigots in caves.

We need movement, life, defense dice, attack dice, special abilities, and cost for each class of these nuts.

Movement: Compared to Roman soldiers, slow...but they do have modern transport...hmm...3 spaces.
Life: They are punks...I'd give them less than one, but you can't....1
Defense dice: Here the punks aspect gets put in...0. That's right, no defense dice. If you hit them with an attack, they die.
Attack dice: Still punks...1
Special Ability: This requires changing some of the tile rules. Any tile that is a Defense tile, if a Jihadi stands on it, registers as an "innocent civilian hostage". If the attacker has at least three successes, the jihadi is killed. However, if the attacker has two successes, then the jihadi is slain, but his pschyo brother joins in at the furthest edge of the board. If the jihadi is attacked with one success, then he is fine.

Also, Jihadi lose one on a mass heal, and gain one on a mass curse.

Cost for a unit of four Jihadi: 30

Other more expensive types in this group: Suicide Bombers; Mini-truck with Machine-gun; Omars; Recruiters (even more punk than Jihadi, but able to turn any Jihadi in sight into SB's); Ayatollahs of Terror--able to issue fatwas which may freeze opponents.

2005-10-24T10:26:00.000-05:00

Gaming News: Heroscape

I played Heroscape by Milton Bradley last weekend. I'm an eccletic gamer...I love tabletop roleplaying games most, but I love board, and war, and crayon rail, and some computer games, and online text rpg-ing, and all that. Cards are fun too.

But Heroscape was a blast. Just great fun. Put aside your story worries, and your moral concerns, and kill, kill, kill...

The board is easily used, sturdy, and beautiful...and customizable. The set owner had created a very nice and well balanced terrain for us to play with.

I had the Romans, and the lady across from me had a Valkryrie, a T-rex (who fed hearty on Roman legionairres until I got the beast! Yay!), and some Agents. It was a bloody war with cheerfully unflinching grins.

And I, the player who had never played before, and the guy who had been knocked out, but revived by a clever trick in the rules design, ended up tying. So it made for a very seesaw game.

Very nice.

2005-10-24T10:18:00.000-05:00

Political Analysis: Support Science?

I like fiscal conservatism. Its a good idea. Its not my top priority however...avoiding Nashville becoming the center of a million degree fireball ranks higher on my list of things to do.

But I'm glad to see fiscal conservatives come out with this Porkbusters idea. Bravo. Well done. It only took them a couple of years of whining to finally demonstrate some positive leadership...the Dems have had far more time, and they're doing worse than whining, and demonstrating zero leadership.

However, this Instapundit led crusade hits a sour note in its trumpet charge when Insty comes out with all sorts of "lets use government to boost science!" Um, no. No way.

Government tends to corrupt what is is associated with. This is why we mostly separate church and state. Lets have a similiar level of separation.

Otherwise, I'm going to be justified in my suspicion that the Libertarian Party is not a principle founded group, but a pressure society for the interests of white, male geeks. Of which I am one, but still, I believe in something nobler than "Lets get mine!"

2005-10-14T08:35:00.000-05:00

More Spam Please! I Need Material to Post on my Blog

I just got this email, marked in the letter CONFIDENTIAL. Oh well. I'm sure Mike Charles won't be shot, but I wouldn't object much if the spam-mailer got shot, in the leg, or better yet his single typing finger...

Attn, Greeting,I solicit your confidence in this transaction that I propose to you. This is by virtue of its nature as being utterly CONFIDENTIAL. Though I know that a transaction of this magnitude will make any one apprehensive and worried but I am assuring you that all will be well at the end of the day. I have decided to contact you due to the urgency of this transaction.Your discreteness and ability to handle a transaction of this nature is of the uttermost importance. Let me start by introducing myself properly to you.My name is Mr Mike Charles Kobi, I'm the Son of late COL. JOHNSON KOBI (The assistant chief of general staff of sierra Leone’s revolutionary united front R.U.F) and at the crown Prince of kuloma village in the south – west district of sierra Leone; who died on the 29th of august 2000 with some of his colleagues during the war in my Country. I came to know of you in my “private” search on the Internet for a reliable and reputable person to handle this confidential transaction which involves the transfer of a huge sum of money to a foreign account. In brief, I have the sum of Nine million, two hundred thousands US dollars (9,200,000:00 U.S. dollars). This money was deposited by my late father in a high secured security company here in Dakar - Senegal, of which I was made the sole beneficiary along side with my aged mother.Because of the present situation in my country sierra Leone, I decided to leave the country immediately because of some security reasons and also to look for a trust worthy and reliable person(s) who can assist us to transfer this money out of Dakar Senegal based on the agreement that was signed by my late father and the security company before his death.As a Young Man, I pray that you being a kind hearted person(s)
--Nope, I'm an evil, cold-hearted conservative, or so the mass media keeps telling me, and they would never lie, right?
will surely help me to transfer this money to your country and also to assist in investing it in a profitable business which will yield more money. I feel that I can confide in you , hoping that you will not betray me.
--too late, you've been betrayed.
I have proposed twenty per cent (30%) of this money to you, so as for you to give all necessary assistance and protections we need in your country, 60% for us and 10% for the expenses which both will incurred as a result of this transaction. Please treat as highly confidential because our future depends on this money being the only thing that we have after running away from our country. All the vital documents covering this deposit in the security company are with me here in Dakar Senegal and will be faxed to you on demand after I certify that you are worthy to do business with. The reason I searched for you importantly is because, based on the agreement made by my late father and the security company that simply stipulates that in case of his death, his money should be transferred out of Africa. I would like to secure my money in your care as I have decided to order a command to the security company to transfer the money to you depending on your urgent reply to my request and my assessment of your person. Note that this transaction demands the highest trust and confidence between the two of us. Moreover, it is risk free in the sense that I have taken proper care of all formalities regarding this transaction.If this proposal is acceptable by you,

--Its not, why don't you just send me a check with a bunch of zeros on it, and I promise to give you your cut afterwards. After all, we're both trustworthy gentlemen aren't we?

please do not hesitate to contact me Mike Charles Kobi by writing to the above mail address.You can reach me with my aternative mail at(macdani500@hotmail.com) You will have to send your most confidential Telephone/Fax numbers so that I can relay confidential information - as they will come in directly to you.Thanking you in advance for your anticipated cooperation.
Expecting a reply.
--And this is my reply, m'kay?

Thank you. (I TOOK OUT HIS REFERENCE TO GOD SINCE THAT SEEMS INAPPROPRIATE FOR A SCAMMER TO INVOKE THE BLESSING OF THE ALMIGHTY)
.Yours Faithfully,
Mike Charles Kobi.

--Well now I have a name for a villain in a story, I suppose...

2005-10-12T12:58:00.000-05:00

Tennessee Writer: Storyblogging Carnival

The next Storyblogging Carnival is now up at Tales by Sheya at the following link. Some interesting stories there for the discerning reader. Go and enjoy.

Its been a while since I posted, so much so that I dropped from Adorable Rodent to my current rank, a total of two ranks. Oh well, I've been busy. More on that later.

Got to write a speech today (in part--its nearly fourty minutes long I kinda hope), and clean the house.

2005-09-28T07:38:00.000-05:00

My OKCupid Politics Result

You are a
Social Moderate
(43% permissive)

and an...
Economic Conservative
(78% permissive)

You are best described as a:

Capitalist

Link: The Politics Test on OkCupid Free Online Dating
Also: The OkCupid Dating Persona Test

2005-09-26T14:00:00.000-05:00

Tennessee Writer: Storyblog Updates

I've had to change a detail or two for the storyblog, ironing out the last bugs (and once all the bugs are ironed out, we'll pave the roads with flat bugs!!! Bwahahhahaha..choke, gasp...)

One recurring flaw is that I have a long stretch of empty space under my initial (or latest) date and comment lines. I use IE. I've been told in Firefox that this lands amidst the post, near the beginning of it.

Well hopefully this current post will move that empty space up with it, rather than cluttering the carnival with my trash. Not much of a solution, but oh well. I've thought about making a new blog, and this is one more straw in the balance.

2005-09-25T20:27:00.000-05:00

Starting the Second Year of Storyblogging!

This is considerably cool, IMHO. Storyblogging is simple. One story, one blog post, and then everyone emails these posts to whoever is the current host (that would be me, this bi-week), and he reads your work, puts up a kindly comment, and posts a bunch of links.

Nothing easier. And its a great way to get some quick exposure for your work.

So lets get started.

We'll go in top of my email to the bottom format. Perhaps next time I'll sort them. But this is my first time hosting any Carnival, let alone the storied storyblog carnival.

title: Scale 7 Artifact, part 12
url: http://docrampage.blogspot.com/2005_09_18_docrampage_archive.html#112759972416606467
author: Dave Gudeman
blog: Doc Rampage
blog url: http://docrampage.blogspot.com/
rating: G
word count: 1,412 of 19,937

blurb:
Oh no! Is the story devolving into blechy relational issues? Yes, but only long enough to bring up the chick rating, and then it's back to hardware and alien-blasting.

If only I had read this before I went to college, I might not have had to learn the hard way how to relate to females. But rejection builds character, right? An interesting example of how to handle digression in the story.
====================================================================

Post Title: Great Dismal, Part XI
Post URL: http://www.quibbles-n-bits.com/archives/week_2005_09_18.html#002859
Trackback: http://www.garageofxanadu.com/mt/mt-tb.cgi/2599
Blog Name: Quibbles-n-Bits
Submitter: J Fielek
Comments: The final installment of the long running story.
3500 words, and we're done!
R Rated
Category: (Other)
I wish I was good enough to explain how this story is good. Nice word choice with not outre' words, but not the most expected words either which gives it strength. Very good control of the flow of the story.
===================================================================
* Name of your blog Harkonnendog
* URL of your blog
http://harkonnendog.blogspot.com/

* Title of the story
*CLOWN Excerpt, Chapter 2. Work.
* URL for the blog entry where the story is posted
http://harkonnendog.blogspot.com/2005/09/clown-chapter-2-work.html
*Author's name :Theron Marshman
*R
* A word count 1866
* A short blurb describing the story

Chapter 2, in which CLOWN describes his job, and envies stupid men.

Interesting and informative descriptions of the internal life of a law office, a clueless but decent file clerk, along with his speculations as to why pretty women date jerks. If I was still single, this would sting. As it is, it will stay in my memory for some time.
I believe it was Stephen King who said that people liked to read about work, although he did not know why. IMHO, people like informative novels about professions.
===================================================================
Sheya Joie of 'Tales by Sheya' ( http://talesbysheya.blogspot.com/ ) has added
chapters 94 ( http://talesbysheya.blogspot.com/2005/09/child-ninety-four.html ),

95 ( http://talesbysheya.blogspot.com/2005/09/child-ninety-five.html ),

96 ( http://talesbysheya.blogspot.com/2005/09/child-ninety-six.html ),

97 ( http://talesbysheya.blogspot.com/2005/09/child-ninety-seven.html ),

98 ( http://talesbysheya.blogspot.com/2005/09/child-ninety-eight.html ),

99 ( http://talesbysheya.blogspot.com/2005/09/child-ninety-nine.html ),

and 100 ( http://talesbysheya.blogspot.com/2005/09/child-one-hundred.html ) to 'the child.' These chapters total 4243 words, bringing her online novel-in-progress to 78,227 words.

Rating is G.

Author's blurb: Their lives have just been changed drastically, as some of the group become captives and the rest set out to free them. But will blood be spilled in the rescue?

I've bought fantasy novels in the bookstore that were not as good as this. A fast story with intriguing questions and hidden powers and strongly sketched characters. Also, she has a nice sentence structure ability.
===================================================================
Blog Name: Back of the Envelope
Blog URL: http://www.donaldscrankshaw.com/
Post Title: Contact, Chapter 7 of Fire
Post URL: http://www.donaldscrankshaw.com/posts/1127486745.shtml (Full story: http://www.donaldscrankshaw.com/posts/chain_1103045361.shtml)
Author: Donald S. Crankshaw
Word Count: 5,654 words
Rating: PG-13
Blurb: For the first time in over the century, Human and Orcish forces meet. The results are bloody.
The honorable story blogfather posts a big battle scene. The description of the battle is well done, and the use of tactical decision-making in magic-assisted war is especially good. And with a wholly different (and entertaining) style from Sheya, Donald proves there are multiple right ways to write fantasy. He struggled to find the right way to describe a battle. He found one.
===================================================================
Post Title: Return To Caddy Road
Post URL: http://jimsuldog.blogspot.com/2005/08/return-to-caddy-road.html
Blog Name: Suldog-O-Rama
Submitter: Suldog
Comments: The story of my trip to the neighborhood I grew up in. G or PG, about 1800 words.
Category: Human Interest

Suldog delivers a solemn meditation on the house he grew up in, and the passage of time. Moving and profound, without being banal or lacking in perception, and it hews strongly to the central writer's tenet---clarity.
===================================================================
* Name of your blog: Dodgeblogium
>>> * URL of your blog: www.andrewiandodge.com
>>> * Title of the story: Britannia Revives continues
>>> * URL for the blog entry where the story is posted:
>>> http://andrewiandodge.com/index.php/archives/2005/09/20/3506/
>>> Author's name: Andrew Ian Dodge
>>> * A word count: 4756
>>> * A short blurb describing the story: See above
Its the European Union of the near future, and the cyborg wife/bodyguard is having a serious problem. This is a world that Andrew is introducing you to, a place lived in by normal people who occasionally stick Welsh language chips in the backs of their heads, but surreptitiously because the future EU is not your friend.
===================================================================
Blog: Fringe
* URL : http://www.fringeblog.com/
* Title : Walk On Water
* URL for the blog entry : http://www.fringeblog.com/archives/2005/09/19/walk_on_water
* Author's name : Jeremiah Lewis
* PG-13, language, violence
* A word count: 8,211
* A short blurb: Two friends take a fishing trip that ends in tragedy.
Vivid word choices, excellent descriptive phrases, and some very good characterization, plus well-written internal struggles for the viewpoint character.
==================================================================
Post Title: Story of La Donna
Post URL: http://mensa-barbie.blogspot.com/2005/09/story-of-la-donna.html
Blog Name: Mensa Barbie Welcomes You
Submitter: mensa barbie
Comments: As I painted an image would emerge on each of the 12 canvases...
Category: (Other)
An ultra flash piece about a female figure that mysteriously appears in different paintings by the same artist. Mensa Barbie wins my vote for kewl name, but unfortunately there seems to be some sort of link decay, and I is an artiste, and not much of a computer wizard. I hope to have this fixed later. Its fixed, I've heard.
=====================================================================
Post Title: A Story's Story
Post URL: http://artificialmonkeys.blogspot.com/2005/09/story-of-story-by-sofa.html
Blog Name: this page for sublet
Submitter: Goemagog
Comments: pg, 763 words
Category: (none)
A slyly humorous piece anthromorphosizing objects such as the query letters, and story manuscripts in a writer's life. All writers should take a look, just to crack a smile.
====================================================================
* Electricity: A Novel in Increments
* URL of your blog: http://strangematter.blogspot.com/
* Title of the story: Electricity
* First Chapter: http://strangematter.blogspot.com/2004/11/1-sometime-in-august.html
*Second Chapter: http://strangematter.blogspot.com/
* Or go to: Dishwasher, Chapter 2 of Electricity ( Beginning)
*Author's name: Myke Bartlett
*Definitely somewhere between a PG-13 and an R...
*A word count: At last count I think it was about 60,000?
* A short blurb describing the story:

Aston Somerfield – 23, casual smoker and part-time alcoholic – has come to London to find himself. He knows who he's looking for, he's seen him on the cover of the NME. Drawn across oceans by fame and fate, Aston is keeping his diary empty to make sure he's available. Won't commit to anything until it's everything. But London has other plans. When a virtual stranger calls Aston a few hours before his death, fate is derailed. Amid a hundred boozy evenings and romantic deadends, a mystery unfurls. Equally assisted and hindered by tremulous accountant Tom Hensley and dedicated loafer Steven Black, Aston uncovers a different London – one of murder, ghosts, dangerous emails and the second big bang. As chaotic and random as the city it inhabits, Electricity slowly evolves into a mystery bigger than the universe itself.
Myke does a nice job in his first chapter of establishing his lead character as being a well-meaning fellow living a life of quiet desperation with enough knowledge to pity himself, but not enough to fix himself. I have a feeling from the blurb that life is not going to let this slacker keep his non-committal ways.
===================================================================
*Working Title: Spy Novel
*Post URL:(http://www.colossusblog.com/mt/archives/cat_the_spy_novel.html) Link seems to be broken, but the other Archive link works fine.
*Archive here:http://www.colossusblog.com/mt/archives/images/spynovel.htm
Cold, controlled, paranoiad, and searching speculation based on tiny clues, this story sucks you in, and grabs you. Who are your friends? Is the hero that, or simply a protagonist of questionable virtue, although undoubted skill? When will the betrayal come, and who will do it? Crisp writing style, and more questions than one can shoot with a full clip of ammo.
===================================================================
* Title of the story- Kiss Me, Kiss Me, Kiss Me
*Post URL: http://asmallvictory.net/kissme.html
*Author's name: Michele Catalano
*PG
* A word count: 463
* A short blurb describing the story: A man at a bazaar's kissing booth gets more than he paid for.
Michelle means to disturb you, and she manages to do so on several levels. Combining grotesquerie with moral weakness or is it compassion or both, we then finish it off with a dose of look over your shoulder fear. And as her reward for being first, she gets to go last, which makes sense in her story universe.

Thank you everyone for sending in your stories, and adventuring out into the Etheric Sea in search of gleaming treasure. I have been surprised and pleased, and made worried by the qualities of writing of my "competition".

If you want to read my stuff, there's a button on this page to it. I'd planned to post something, but this was more work than I expected, and morning is warning of its arrival in increasingly forlorn tones.

If you need anything fixed, or have a comment, please jump in. The water is not at like the pond in Mr Lewis' story.

2005-09-22T12:26:00.000-05:00

Hohenwald News: The Rapture of the Geeks

That is...THE SINGULARITY (spoken in a loud, booming voice coming from a cloud near you.).

Now, I've written on this topic. One of my novel ideas, Strategic Withdrawal, has a Singularity in it. And I've designed Starsong Systems for the 4th Book of Worlds, which has superhuman intelligences in it.

And I'm working on Tech Surge: Apocalypse or Ascension which is about a Singularity occurring.

Let me add, I loved reading Vinge.

But there is a distinct element of religiosity in supposedly skeptical materialists in this stuff. Ken McCleod is supposed to have come up with the term The Rapture of the Geeks. A lot of its supporters are older middle aged, white, male, technogeeks who really don't want to end the fun by dying, and finding out for sure if there skepticism about God was well grounded.

Understandable, really. I'd be happy to live to be two or three hundred years old in good health. There is a lot of neat things I'd like to do. You could study dozens of topics, meet people (including my own great-great grand kids), and so on. Life is fun.

Because God made it that way.

Now I'm not so sure I'd like to be a superhuman intelligence a trillion times smarter than I am. I'm real sure, I don't want to be reporting to one, except for God.

But eventually, even a superhuman brain will die. Even if it requires a supernova.

Eventually. So maybe spend some of that time you speculate with for getting ready for that Last Door, hmmh?

2005-09-22T12:22:00.000-05:00

Hohenwald News: New Study Proves Earth is a Cube

Well, no, not actually. Instead it proves that lesbian parents are better for a boy than having a father. Go here for the rebuttal. This rebuttal is better than I could do with this kind of "my eyes are bleeding" insanity.

Someone get my 10cc's of Clue, stat!

2005-09-20T10:43:00.000-05:00

Tennessee Writer: Upcoming Storyblog Carnival

Tales of Tadeusz is hosting next week's Storyblog Carnival. If you can write up a story (short story, flash fiction, or an excerpt from a larger work like a novel or a long short story), and send me the following at ericrashley AT yahoo DOT com:

* Name of your blog
* URL of your blog
* Title of the story
* URL for the blog entry where the story is posted
* (OPTIONAL) Author's name
* (OPTIONAL) A suggested rating for adult content (G, PG, PG-13, R)
* A word count
* A short blurb describing the storyEntries are due Saturday, September 24th, by 11:59 pm EDT. Further information can be found at http://www.donaldscrankshaw.com/posts/1125942198.shtml.

Then I would be happy to include you in the first storyblogging carnival of its second year. And I'd like to say a special thanks to Donald (whom you can reach at the above link) who runs this madhouse.

So what are you waiting for?

2005-09-20T10:40:00.000-05:00

Hohenwald News: Bad Government Linked to Poverty

The advanced nations have spent half a trillion dollars trying to lift African nations from poverty with no appreciable effect other than to fund dictator's Swiss bank retirement accounts.

Its time and past time to try some other measures. Lets impose a little morality. Time to try democracy and economic freedom.

Link.

2005-09-19T22:50:00.000-05:00

Tennessee Writer

Got up to page 75 on my edit of Worldwalker. While that still means a hundred more pages to go, and some more spots behind me needing a bit, I hope this is it. And that I can get this published this year.

2005-09-19T22:46:00.000-05:00

Hohenwald News: War Games Near NK

Both the US and SK together; and Russia and China together are hosting war games near North Korea. However, according to Varifrank, the Chicom/Rooskie war games are downright odd. They don't look like general practise plus bluff, but more like actual practise for really doing it.

It being the amphibious invasion of North Korea.

Well, I hope it works, because Kim is a scary man. He's got nukes, and he's nuts.