Yo I Be Where I Be At

Yes, I'm a neglectful bloggist, I know, but I'm good at what I do, and I'm rather charming, which means I can get away with whatever I want.

Lemme lay it out for ya like this:

- I take classes, and I'm one of those students who works incredibly hard at determining what I can do to get away with having to do the same amount of work as the generic, average students, but get at least a B. This takes a lot of dedication and devotion to fucking around. I take my slacker-ness seriously.

- I work, and I rather enjoy what I do. Working in IT on a college campus seems like a tough, bitchy job if you haven't actually had a tough, bitchy job. I have had some fairly bad jobs (ripping the guts out of chickens), and I've had some very, very hard jobs (being a restaurant GM), so going to work in an IT department on a college campus is something that I actually enjoy, and in order to keep enjoying it, I actually, ya know, work. And read sports news on the internet.

- Uncharted fucking 2: Among Thieves. Thank the Maker, this is the best game I've played in a long, long time. I know that Cody's mental vagina has developed a severe allergy to cut-scenes, but this game epitomizes my belief that, in certain games, the cut scenes provide a wonderful breather, and act as a 'take a sip of your beer, grab a smoke, and relax for a minute' kinda moment. Cody, my dearest friend and fellow bloggist, I urge you to inject your brain with some Vagisil, and happily slurp down a PS3, loaded with wonderful cutscenes. Anyway, this game is the best of the adventure/platforming genre, and has a beautiful blend of puzzles, storytelling, rich characters, platforming, combat, gorgeous art, and my wife was even wanting to give kudos to whoever 'dresses the sets,' so to speak, because the environments are so detailed (and I don't mean polygons and textures, though those look nice, too.)

- I also journeyed out to Kingston, IL and Chicago over the weekend for a wedding and to visit the in-laws, so there.

- I spent quite a bit of time fighting with Windows 7, since I got my retail keys for several copies a couple weeks ago, through work/school. I've been trying to upgrade my gaming Deathbook from Vista Home Premium x64 to Windows 7 Pro x64, and it is not, officially, possible. I don't accept that, and I'm halfway through the process now. Of course, if I have to do a full reinstall, so be it, but I have that machine, and each game install, super-customized, and don't even get me started about my fucking iTunes library. If I have to reinstall, I'm looking at a month or two of tweaking to get everything back to where I want it. No thanks.

- Lastly, I've been working on getting more gaming going w/ Linux. One of the things I'd really like to do in life is bring a greater gaming presence to Linux. It would make gaming platforms FREE, which is a huge win, but would also open game development up to a greater number of people. Gaming + open source could be a great thing. I've now got Guild Wars & the Neverwinter Nights (plus all the expansions) running on my Ubuntu netbook, and they both run PERFECTLY. NWN actually runs without any emulation. It is actually running ON Linux, which is awesome. Now, if we can just get Steam to act as a means to run anything and everything on Linux...

Oh, and I guess I need to publish that third chapter of my book on here, as I had promised. I'll get it up here tomorrow.

What have you been up to?

-Blaine

The Endless Wars: The Descent (section 2)

Sorry about the late post. Been up to my eyeballs in Java code.

As I promised, I've been posting the first three sections of my book. Here's the second part, preceded by Laurance's sexy art.



Read section I here.

***begin section II***

II: The Knight and the Thug

Listening to his friend and roommate Milk Bone’s
pointless and sometimes idiotic babbling usually
cheered Taran up. This is why the two of them ended up
at a bar a couple of hours after Rosaline made her
exit. They looked very odd sitting together. Taran,
in all his plainness, with his short spiked hair, plain
white t-shirt and blue jeans, stood out in contrast to
Milk Bone, a short, wiry white guy wearing a backwards
blue road Cardinals hat, white wife-beater shirt,
sagging blue track pants, with broken teeth. He was
convinced he was a “gangsta,” as he put it.

They were sitting at one of the sidewalk tables
outside of their favorite bar, M.P. O’Reilly’s. It was
busy that night, and the two men were surrounded by
couples, either with their own table, or with other
couples. Taran tried his best not to notice this.

For November, it was pretty nice that night. A
little chilly, but tolerable. Taran was fine in his
Shell coat (from working there a few years prior,) and
Milk Bone slid on a Cardinals jersey, in addition to
all the fake jewelry in which he covered himself.

And, sure enough, Milk Bone was on a roll
tonight.

“So, I was like, ‘ight, bitch, you wanna do it
like that, that’s coo. I mean, shit, man, I ain’t
gonna have no bitch talk to me like that. Know what
I’m sayin’?”

As amusing as Milk Bone, or just “Bone”
sometimes, could be, when Taran was in as foul a mood
as he was now, he dreaded actual conversation.

“Sure, Bone, so what’d you do?”

“I was like, ‘Bitch! I am Milk Bone T! Ain’t no
woman gonna play Milk Bone! Fuck na!’ So, I grabbed
her by her nappy ass hair, flipped her around, started
fuckin’ the hell outta her, and she’s all like,” Bone
switched to his girly voice here, “‘Oh, Milk Bone!
Milk Bone! Fuck me, you big horny nigga!’ The bitch
was lovin’ it! But, that ain’t the fucked up part! Ya
ready for this shit?”

“Oh yeah, Bone. Hit me.” Taran snorted.

“So, I’m fuckin’ the hell outta her, right. And,
she starts panting like a dog. I’m like, ‘ight, that’s
kinda whacked out, but people do weird shit when
they’re fuckin’ sometimes, so I was like ‘okay.’ Then,
get this! The bitch starts fuckin’ barkin’, dude! The
bitch started fuckin’ barkin’!”

“No pun intended, right? ‘Bitch barking.’ Get
it?” Taran said, cracking a tiny smile, then realizing
that Milk Bone’s comprehension of this was nil.

Bone stared blankly before resuming his
narrative.

“I was like, ‘HELL NA!’ I saw that Snoop video
where he turns into a fuckin’ dog and shit! So, I’m
like ‘what if this bitch fuckin’ turns into a…bitch?!’
Fuck na, man! Fuck na! So, I fuckin’ kick her skank
ass outta my bed and I’m like ‘Bitch! Go back to your
damn dog house. See ya!’ Damn, nigga...”

“Ah, the epic tales of Milk Bone T. Did you ever
see her again?” Taran asked.

“No, man, but I did find some dog shit on the
front porch the next week, so-”

Taran held up a hand.

“I get it, I get it. Real quick, was wondering
if Rosaline had called the house phone recently? I
heard it ring a few times…just thought…” Taran trailed
off.

“Huh?”

“You heard me.”

Milk Bone sat there, hesitating.

“Nah.” he nearly whispered.

Taran couldn’t decide if he was surprised.

“What?” he asked anyway.

“Um, no.” Bone answered again, just as hoarsely

“Okay.” Taran didn’t know what else to say. He
didn’t even know why he bothered caring.
Milk Bone’s eyes suddenly widened as he leaned
forward and attempted to shift the conversation.

“Why? You still want her? Look, man, come with
me to Cherokee Street and we’ll get you a nice cheap
ho. I know this one chick that me and my brother used
to get. Her name was ‘Queeffie Lou’ or some shit, and
anyway, she fuck pretty good. She’s real cheap, man.
I remember this one time-”

“That’s alright, Bone. Don’t worry about it. I
just wanted to know if Rosaline had called.”

“Okay.” Bone stopped and thought. “So…what the
fuck is you gonna do about her?”

Now, it was Taran’s turn to stop and think.

“I don’t know, man. I do know I don’t wanna be
with her. I just want to hurt her. And hurt her. And
hurt her. Etcetera and so on.”

Milk Bone stared at the base of his beer glass
and admired the way the wrought-iron table as he tried
to be invisible and just let Taran do his thing.

Taran continued, “I know you don’t understand.

That’s fine. I don’t care. Revenge. That’s all it’s
about. As soon as I’m done, I can move on.”

“So, when do you think you’ll be done?” Bone
asked.

Taran paused and thought again. “I don’t know.
Whenever I’m fuckin’ done, man.”

“I’m just sayin’, dude. Don’t pass up a fine
little honey just ‘cause you’re trying to fuck up your
ex.”

“We’ll see, man.” Taran said.

“So, what have you done so far?”

“What do you mean?”

“You want revenge on the bitch, right? So what
have you done to get revenge so far?” Bone asked.

“I don’t know, man. Nothing yet.”

“Why?” Bone asked.

“I just haven’t had any good opportunities yet.
As soon as I do, though…”

“Taran, all you gotta do is get a ride out to
West County and-“

“Drop it, man. It’s my problem. Don’t worry
about it.”

“Whatever you say, dawg.” Milk Bone said, leaning
back and grabbing his Old English 800.

Taran sighed, grabbed his pack of American
Spirits, pulled one out, lit it, and looked around.

Almost as soon as he turned his head, he locked eyes
with a young woman in a black cloak. She smiled at
him. He just stared back at her.

She had small, delicate features, and was almost
painfully petite. Little locks of short brown hair
spilled out from under her hood.

“Ya know her, dawg?” Milk Bone asked, leaning
over and looking at her.

“No. I don’t know. She looks very familiar,
but…I don’t think so.”

She looked away. Taran and Milk Bone followed
her gaze. A man, close to Taran’s age, sat down with
her, but he was dressed in a rather outdated fashion.
He wore a white, loose fitting blouse that was covered
with a leather vest. His hair was pulled back into a
ponytail and a thick, light brown beard covered his
face. It was as if he had just walked off a Gettysburg
reenactment.

“That blanket she’s wearing is kinda hot. It’s
all like ‘Dark Crystal’ and shit,” Milk Bone chuckled.

“It’s called a ‘cloak.’”

“Whatever. It’d look better balled up on my
floor while I fucked her.”

Taran shook his head. He looked back at the
woman. She was engaged in conversation with the oldfashioned
man next to her.

“I wonder who that guy is and why he’s dressed
like that. Must be an actor.” Taran pondered, turning
to Milk Bone.

“What guy?” Bone asked, looking around the young
woman.

“The guy sittin’ next to her, man.” Taran said,
surprised, and subtly pointed with his thumb.

Bone continued to stare at the girl, then shook
his head.

Taran rolled his eyes and drank his Bud Light.
Milk Bone shrugged.

“He is sitting right fucking next to her.” Taran
pointed.

Milk Bone looked at Taran, then cracked a
confused smile.

“Are you, like, messin’ with me, dude? Do you
really seriously see some dude over there, ‘cause
there’s nobody with her. That little girl is a-lone,
dawg.” Milk Bone said, looking directly at Taran.

Taran looked at the old-fashioned man. Something
was definitely odd about him. Not just his style of
dress, but something else. His skin was too white, but
there was more.

The man looked up at Taran and nodded, halfway
smiling.

“Hey, Bone, let’s go over and introduce
ourselves.” Taran suggested, standing up.
Bone grabbed his beer, tucked a cigarette behind
his ear, and jumped up.

The two men approached the young woman’s table.

She and her male companion looked up.

“Good evening,” she said to Taran, smiling at
him, “I’m Sasha.” she offered her hand at this, which
Taran graciously took.

“I’m Taran Walker. This is Milk Bone.” Taran
turned to the old-fashioned man, “What’s your name?”

The man smiled, leaned forward, and spoke.

“Can your friend see me?”

Taran looked at Milk Bone.

“Can you see this guy?” he asked, pointing at the
man.

Milk Bone shook his head, stared at the ground,
and mumbled to Taran.

“You’s gonna freak her out, dude. Don’t fuck up
my game, dawg. Knock off this invisible friend shit.”

Taran turned back to the man and shook his head.
The man began to speak again.

“I didn’t think so. He doesn’t strike me as one
of…the type, though it is hard to tell. I’m just
relieved that you’ve returned.”

Taran screwed his face up and looked at Sasha,
then back at the man.

“’Returned?’” he asked.

“Yes. Look, this is going to take some time to
explain. You’ve been drinking, and I’d rather wait
until you were sober. Can you meet Sasha and myself at
Coffee Cartel tomorrow at around six?” the man asked.

“Hang on. What’s your name and why can’t Milk
Bone see you?” Taran demanded.

“I think the more pressing question is-“
Sasha cut him off.

“Ghost, enough with this stoic crap. His name is
Richard Barrywood and your friend can’t see him because
he’s a ghost. The reason that you and I can is…well…
we’re different from Milk Bone. Look, Ghost here will
explain everything tomorrow.”

Milk Bone sat there, staring at the empty chair,
his eyes wide.

Taran turned to Ghost, annoyed.
“Guess what? I’m having sort of a bad day. I
had a bad breakup earlier, and have ZERO fucking
patience for more lies. And YOU,” Taran pointed at
Milk Bone, “I should kick the shit out of you for
agreeing with these people to play some kind of stupid
joke on me. I’m going home, and the next person who
tries to fuck with my head better be ready to defend
themselves. I’m out.”

Milk Bone stammered.

“Dude, I…I…I dunno shit about no ghosts, dude.
I’m goin’ witchoo.”

Sasha stood up.

“Taran, she wasn’t lying to you earlier. She
really loves you. She wasn’t sure of it, but now that
she’s lost you, she knows. She-“

“Sasha, stop it.” Ghost cut in.

Taran exploded at her, pointing a finger at her
as if it was a dagger.

“Don’t talk to me about Rosaline like you know
her! I swear to God, I don’t hit women, but I will
knock your fucking head off if you don’t-“

Milk Bone grabbed Taran and started dragging him
away. Taran struggled, trying to wrench himself free.
People at other tables watched the scene, whispering
between themselves.

Suddenly, Sasha stood up and interlocked her
fingers, then flicked each one, one by one, from thumb
to pinky on each hand. She turned them palm up, her
fingers still locked together, then muttered, “Peace,”
and raised her hands up to her mouth. A little ball of
light formed. She pressed her lips together and blew.
The ball leaped out of her hands and slipped into
Taran’s chest.

Bodies flew away from the scene as people
confusedly began to panic. A roar began to pass
through the bar.

A feeling of severe intoxication hit him. Not
quite intoxication, he decided, but rather, peaceful
exhaustion.

“What…the…ugh…” Taran mumbled. Milk Bone looked
confusedly at Sasha, who was preparing a discreet exit
with Ghost, then hoisted Taran up by his arm, walking
him home.

***end section II***

There ya go. Again, check out the book here, and please please please help me buy my own ISBN. If you're not looking to drop $15.42 on a book, you can always snag the ebook for $1.25. I make the same amount on each version, so it really doesn't matter to me which one you buy.

I'd write more, but I got class all day today, and next to no time.

Either way, thanks for reading, and I'll have the third section up by Friday!

GO CARDS!

Thanks!

-Blaine

This is Monday

First, we're deviating a bit from my appointed scheme to do something a little different this week. I'm slowly ramping up the pace at which I'm working on the second novel in the Endless Wars series, as I'm starting to really get a better feel for how rough and raw this book is going to be, and I'm getting a creative boner for it. Like massively. Hawt,

Anyway, I'm actually going to post the first three major sections of the original on here this week, so that you all can be bribed with a free taste into buying a book. I tried to write the story I'd always wanted to read, and I'd like to share it with as many people as possible, and try to see if I can do this for a living some day.


Untitled Podcast
Before we get to that, though, there is the matter of the podcast. Tony and I sat down together and yammered incessantly about games we don't own for nearly three hours. And some people like that. Fascinating.

We do appreciate that, so here is the podcast page. Please enjoy, and we'll be returning to the mics in a little less than three months.


Regular Programming
I'll be getting back to the regular posts in a week or two. I'm going to focus on Endless Wars for a week or two, not only to try and properly convey what it is to those who haven't grabbed it already, but to get myself in the right mindset while I work on the next book in the series.

Also, for anyone who's read it, lemme know if ya have any questions about it. I'd love to talk with existing readers and see what they thought, as well as answer any questions they might have.


Big Thanks
Just wanted to give a public 'thanks' to both Laurance and Cody, who are both great artists, allies, and friends. Cody did a lot of the art for the Untitled Podcast in the past. He also writes rather well about games, and has one of the last good gaming blogs out there.

Laurance, and his company, Physical City, did a gorgeous fucking banner for my book, and all the free prostitutes in the world wouldn't be a big enough 'thank you' to him. Whether it's a banner, a graphic for a page, a book cover, a billboard, a buttocks tattoo, a comic book, whatever, make goddam sure you chat w/ the dudes over at Physical City for any and all art needs. No shit. Do it. Now.


The Endless Wars: The Descent (section 1)
Here we go, and please note the nice-ass banner made up by the above-mentioned Physical City.



begin section one of the Endless Wars: the Descent

I: Curtain
November, 2001

Dark, ominous clouds. Lightning. A flood of
rain pouring down. Decaying, long dead buildings.
Streets that look like they haven’t been repaved since
the rule of Louis XVI. A cop substation in the
distance. More rain.

That was the landscape that was sucked into
Taran’s eyes. His view shifted around, as if he was
desperately trying to find something not dying, not
gray, at which to stare. He could feel the
lifelessness infecting him.

Taran Walker was twenty three years young, and
possessed the body of a man. His height and build were
just about average (roughly 5’8, with a fair amount of
muscle.) His dark brown hair and brown eyes added to
his almost average appearance. His face was adorned
with a beard that circled his mouth, and his eyes
contained a coldness that looked very heavy.

His room was covered in dirty laundry, various
magazines and books, boxes of CDs and other belongings,
empty beer bottles and cigarette packs everywhere. A
bare mattress was in the corner, with an ashtray and a
digital alarm clock next to it. The walls had probably
once been white, but those days were long since gone.

Of course he loved her. Of course he did. Not
“in love,” mind you. But he did love her. How could
he not? An inch shorter than him, red hair, green
eyes, tiny waist, perfect curvy body, and that weird
Jedi Mind control over guys. She was one of those
girls that was great at convincing you that you needed
her above all else, and by the time you realized that
you didn’t, you had already wrecked your life so badly
that your best strategy was to cower in her shadow
until you thought of some really clever escape plan.

Rosaline was really something.

But, Taran had learned. About four months prior,
she had cheated on him and dumped him for a military
school cadet three years his junior. After four years
of something that almost reminded him of perfection.

So, there she stood. Fighting and pleading to be
taken back.

“I’m done with you.” Taran said, surprisingly
calmly, though he let out several ragged breaths after-
wards

“I can’t fucking believe you. It’s really
interesting, really, really interesting, Taran, how
this ‘honor’ that you always talk about comes and goes
whenever it’s convenient for you! Isn’t ‘forgiveness’
included in your little ‘code of conduct?’” she paused,
inhaled a sniffle, “Taran, listen to me. Please. I’m
standing here telling you that I love you.”

Taran’s mind raced, trying to decipher her tactic.
He had known her for a long time, and knew
that every single word that left her beautiful, pale
lips was part of a larger strategy. She never did or
said anything unless she was going to gain something
from it. He had been brilliantly manipulated by her
over the last year, and was done with it. Just done
with it.

First, it had been the gaps in her schedule.

Hours of time that were missing in her life that she
would claim had been used for napping, which she never
did, or extra homework, which was also unusual. She
always plowed through her homework in a very short
time, a testament to her intelligence. Sometimes, she
would even manufacture reasons to explode at him, so as
to avoid him for the hours it took to be with her
lover.

Then, Taran had caught them.

Rosaline arched her back and touched her breasts
in a way she NEVER did with Taran...she bounced up and
down on him [GRINGO] in a way she never had with
Taran...her gasps and [FAKED] orgasms sounded much more
violent, more felt, more appreciated than they ever had
with Taran...Taran moved away from the doorway...wished
he had been noticed by them...

She had claimed that not only was Taran losing
“it,” but so was their relationship. She had said that
things hadn’t been the same since...

She saw Taran lying bloody on his couch, shards
of glass embedded in his face...white powder caked
under his nose...she knew he was supposed to be dead...

He figured that she, being only 19, had gotten
bored and curious. He had been warned that she had
been too young when they started dating, and here he
stood, the biggest goddam fool in the world.

He continued to stare out the window and absorb
the rather depressing landscape. He took another drag
off his cigarette, exhaled, and turned to face her. He
hated this moment. The moment after you’ve been facing
away from a lover or an ex you’ve been fighting with
and then, suddenly you turn, look at them, and remember
why you were facing away. They’re the most beautiful
individual in the world.

He very calmly approached her. He caressed her
cheek with his hand and smiled at her.

“I will always love you, I’m sure. I just don’t
ever want to see you again,” he whispered, his smile
trembling, “and please, just let me go. Please. I
can’t-“

“Taran, I left you for Johnny Gringo. Another
guy. You are not the first person this has happened
to. You’re acting like this is some horrible new
problem in the world. It happens all the fucking
time.”

He pulled away from her, his unstable smile
dissolving into a sigh. His eyes rolled as he threw
his hands up in the air.

“Ya know, Roz, there was a time when I thought
you might actually be capable of feeling guilty for
something, or actually really, truly loving someone. I
suspected you were incapable of having a shred of
humanity a year ago, and now, I’m sure of it.”

Rosaline looked away from him, her green eyes
flicking all over the place. She bit her lip and
nodded her head.

“Taran,” she began, her voice quieter and
sweeter, “Can we just...start over, or something.
Please? I-“

“NO! NO! NO! NO! NO!” Taran exploded,
slapping a beer bottle off of his window sill and into
a wall. Rosaline jumped away from the glass shards
that sprayed out.

“Calm down!” she yelled, pointing a long,
perfectly sculpted finger at him. The red nail shined
from the light of the street lamp outside.

“Then stop! It’s like you can’t decide if you
want me back so that you can torture me some more or
because you actually do love me. Just leave! Go!”

“Taran, stop it. Look, let’s calm down and just
talk, okay? No more yelling, okay? Let’s just relax
and talk this out.” Rosaline offered, almost speaking
in a whisper.

“No.” Taran grunted through gritted teeth. He
turned and stared at the dying night through his window
again.

Rosaline’s voice cracked as she spoke.

“Don’t you understand? I made a mistake. If I
wounded you, I-“

Taran whirled to face her, smashing his cigarette
into the ashtray as he turned.

“Some wounds heal and some wounds scar. Do you
know what it means to be wounded? Do you know what
it’s like when that wound comes from someone you love?
When that wound is accidentally inflicted, that is
easily forgivable. When that wound is intentional, it
is not. When it is intentional and repeatedly fucking
inflicted, it goes into a realm beyond hatred and
sadness. I believe the term ‘inhuman’ was fashioned
for just this kind of act. You have never loved me and
are incapable of doing so. Leave now.”

He turned back to the window. Tears dripped off
of his rough cheeks and into the ashtray, extinguishing
the burning remains of the cigarette.
Rosaline stared at him for a few moments, then
finally spoke in a choked voice.

“What happened to you? You used to be...”
Still staring out the window, never turning to
look at her, Taran responded.

“Never mind what I used to be. It’s no concern
of yours any longer. You will never have to worry
about it again. I’ve relieved you of that. Good bye.”

All Rosaline could do was stare. Or, at least
attempt to. The tears were flowing so heavily she had
to repeatedly blink. He was gone for good this time.
Forever. And, yet, there he was. Standing maybe a
foot away. He was right in front of her! She could
reach out to touch him. One last time. Her last
memory of him could be the feeling of their skin
touching.

However, she was convinced this would not be
their last shared memory.

She bent down, picked up her purse, walked out of
the room, and began to head down the stairs.

For whatever reason, he didn’t feel that great
sense of victory he had expected.

Taran stared out of his window, his hands clasped
behind his back, and watched her exit the building and
run to her car. Rosaline was gone.

The dying city lay before him, waiting.

end of the first section of the Endless Wars: the Descent

So, that's the first part of the book. I'll post more of it tomorrow, and the following day, and then we'll see what we do with the rest of the week. I'll also answer some of last week's 'Writing Wednesday' questions.

Now, when it comes to buying the actual book, there are two options:

Buy a real book for $15.42!

Buy an ebook for $1.25!

The choice is yours, and I make the same $1 off of it either way, so please just buy the version that makes it easier for you to read it!

The long-term goal is make enough to buy my own ISBN, so any help you can contribute is very, very appreciated.

See ya tomorrow.

-Blaine