A distinction

Between Science Fiction and Fantasy:


This past semester I took a class in Speculative Fiction, and for a significant portion of several classes, we debated the line between Sci-Fi and Fantasy.

Therefore, I have several sets of definitions for each.Sci-Fi: Takes place on Earth, past, future, or modified present. It does not have to technically be on Earth, but there has to be a connection to Earth. Examples: Star Trek, Dresden Files, Harry Potter, The Moon is a Harsh Mistress.Fantasy: Takes place on another world. No connection to our Earth is allowed. So- if it is on Mars, it is not legitimate. Examples: Lord of the Rings, Star Wars, Codex Alera.

I don't really like those definitions, they don't seem to get to the essence of the experience of the genres.
Sci-Fi: A world that we might live in. Examples: Star Trek, 1984, The Moon is a Harsh Mistress.Fantasy:A world that we would want to live in that is not wholly ours. Examples: Star Trek, The Giver, Star Wars.

I don't like these definitions either. It is not a good classifier as Star Trek fits into both categories and stories that are generally not considered either, are classified as one or the other.
Sci-Fi: A world where the unusual elements are explained by science. Examples: Star Trek, Star Wars, The Moon is a Harsh Mistress.Fantasy: A world where unusual elements are explained by magic. Examples: Dresden Files, Harry Potter, Codex Alera, Lord of the Rings, Star Wars.

There is some contention on parts of these last definitions. For example Star Wars is classified in both categories again. The Force is explained away as magic, whereas everything else is explained with technology. Some people in my class argued that Star Wars was not Sci-Fi because the technology is not explained. However, the elements that are beyond the current standards of earth are explained by the existance of advanced technology, not some magical hocus-pocus.

Now to the question at hand. I would argue that although the above definitions say otherwise, Star Wars is distinctly Sci-Fi. The fact that it is not of Earth is not a strong enough barrier to not call it Sci-Fi. If we want to get technical (and I do) it is based in a Galaxy, although far away from our own, it is still in our universe. Then, although, technically incorrect, I would say that we could live in a world similar to Star Wars. With a large enough Human Empire, that world could come to pass. The only part that would be missing from it is the Force. Of course, it is vital to note that the number of Force sensitives is very low. At the beginning of the Clone Wars, there were only a few thousand Jedi in the entire galaxy. So it is possible that there have not been enough human births to statistically create a Force sensitive (this is me trying to keep my dream of becoming a Sith Lord alive).

Finally, although the Jedi do have a staggeringly huge impact in the Star Wars galaxy, the vast majority of the population are not affected by them, whereas many, many more are affected by the technology of the time, indicating that from the final definition we can grant more to the vote that says it is Sci-Fi.

So- just my two cents.

Another Note From the Management.

News flash: I sometimes don't post the day it is due.

I used to be able to open the 'new post' tab before midnight, fill it out after my raid and be happy deceiving you all.

However, they changed it. So you get to see the real time of post, unless I want to go back and forge the time-stamp for my late posts.

If these needed to be in on a precise time-table, well, I'd manage that.

So, as of this message (and a couple weeks back) you won't be getting two posts every day. You'll be getting two between every instance of 'sleeping for the night'. So it will be the same number, but I'm not going to be restricted by times anymore.

I am a free player.

Looking for Ideas

Hey guys, I know you're out there. I know that there aren't too many of you who read this regularly, but if you do- I'm running low on ideas. Send me some. Otherwise, I'm going to actually have to think.

And thinking is bad.

Did you know that 100% of humans that think die with 150 years of their first thought, most a lot sooner, generally within fifty or sixty years?

Yeah. Thinking is bad.

So email ideas to eldritchreign(at)gmail(dot)com

Oddities in Space

This piece was originally titled that, and it made sense then, but now it is a very different piece and nowhere near as odd. I wrote this for my Speculative Fiction class.

Murtle was wearing his dress uniform, a crisp blue suit with white piping along the seams. He had a battle-ax slung across his back and a pistol by his side. He heard the airlock connect with the other vessel and a recorded message announced that it was equalizing interior pressure with exterior atmosphere. He sighed and waited a few minutes while the machine ran its tests. When the door finally creaked open he stepped forward and stood at attention. His display was greeted by a robot.

The Advent of Alien Contact

This is a fairly long piece so I'm trying a new trick using jumps. I'm not sure how well it will work. I wrote this for my Aliens: Close Encounters of the Multidisciplinary Kind class this past semester.

Every year there are hundreds of sightings of Aliens or UFOs in America alone. Many people also claim to have been abducted by these extraterrestrials. Many scientists and researchers have looked into the reports, primarily to determine how accurate and likely they were. However, some researchers looked for an explanation as to why people would create these unlikely scenarios. Such research will be examined as well as several more speculative elements. Science fiction authors have been creating fictional first contact scenarios for several decades. Researchers at SETI and other institutions have considered the real variables and have come across some information that is not often used in first contact scenarios. Following the examination of the fictional first contact stories, various more realistic first contact scenarios will be explored, using information from SETI. Finally, the visual portrayal of alien life forms will be extracted from movies, television and video games, and analyzed. Using the common perceptions, knowledge of evolution and speculation from SETI a description of various extraterrestrial races will be extracted.

The Engineering Spec

Engineering is a really cool profession. I know this because they can makes stuff that can be used not just worn.

However, I feel that engineering does not go far enough. In Cataclysm (or more realistically the following expansion) I want there to be an engineering class.

It would use either energy or focus, probably focus, and the three trees would be Gnomish, Goblin and Crystal.

You would be able to upgrade every single piece of armor you got. Your head could have your MC addon or a laser beam. Shoulders would have automatic rocket-launchers. You could install a flame thrower and flechette launcher into your bracers. Add hydraulics to your gloves so it fires faster. Grenades on your chest and belt. Jet pack on the legs, supplemented by either another jetpack on the back or a parachute.

Boots could have rockets but they would also be able to launch shuriken.

There would be the ability to transform into your flying mount, Mech style.

Engineers should be a class! Sign the petition!

I had a plan... again...

So I knew exactly what I was going to write tonight- but then I decided that it would be better to wait until I knew exactly what I was talking about to talk about it.

I think talking about epic swords is a good idea. And no- that is not what I mean.

One of the first epic swords was Excalibur. A wonderful weapon made for killing knights.

Then we have the Vorpal Blade- a slayer of monsters. It slew the Jabberwocky.

Finally, in this very short post, there is Frostmourne. It drains your soul and turns you into a zombie (our other potential topic of conversation today). Thats badass. Plus it has a serrated edge. How many longswords can claim that?

A fun game!

Rather than give you a REAL post, I've decided to cheat a little.

Ain't that a purty pony? Yeah- so I got the lag problem. But here, when you be lagging- try playing this!

Life Forms of 61 Vir D

61 Vir D is a real planet. This piece was a class assignment. We were to select an extra-solar planet, and then, using the minimal data we had, invent the life forms that live on that planet.

TL;DWR*? Aliens. In space. Fictional tho.

The planet known as 61 Vir D is the third planet in the of the system classified as 61 Virginis. There are two other planets in the system, 61 Vir B and 61 Vir C. 61 Vir B has a mass of five times that of the planet Sol D (colloquially: Earth) and is located at a distance of approximately .05 AU away from the sun. 61 Vir C is slightly more than three times the mass of 61 Vir B coming in at a mass of eighteen times that of Earth. It is four times the distance away from the sun as 61 Vir B, and is at a distance of .21 AU. The third planet, 61 Vir D has been classified as a Super-Earth. 61 Vir D has a mass of nearly twenty-three times that of Earth and it is located just outside the Habitable Zone. The sun of the zone is slightly smaller than Sol (the Earth sun) and therefore the planet is within a modified habitable zone line.

Planet 61 Vir D, to be known colloquially as Vurd, has collected several moons, ranging in size. As of the current research, no signs of life have been found on any of the moons, identified as 61 Vir D I, II, III and IV. The planet itself has a one-hundred twenty-three (Earth)day long orbital period and a rotational period of thirty-nine hours, leaving the planet with just seventy-five local days in a local year. Because of the nearness of the sun and the amount of time spent sun-ward each day, the planet has a constant rain cycle. There are few major oceans, but the smaller lakes can be extremely affected by fourteen hours in direct sunlight. Often, the lakes and ponds will shrink noticeably over the course of the day, only to be replenished by the nearly nightly rainfall. A portion of the problem comes from the somewhat thick atmosphere of the planet. Because of its immense size and mass, Vurd holds a thick atmosphere close to the surface. This leads to what has been called 'The Runaway Greenhouse Effect.' It when the heat of the sun begins to evaporate the lakes, it thickens the atmosphere, causing more evaporation and a thicker atmosphere. At the height of the days heat, midday, it is almost certainly fatal to go out into the open. However, when night comes around, the dark side of the planet has time to cool off and with the occurrence of precipitation, the atmosphere is thinner, ready to begin another day of evaporation and precipitation.

Vurd has both terrestrial and aquatic species. They have many fish-like animals in the oceans, but they are considerably larger than Earth fish. Because of the greater mass of Vurd, there is a significantly increased gravity, causing there to be more of a counter to it than on Earth. Therefore, aquatic creatures have massive swim bladders. The most fish like have the bladders inside them and appear to be merely larger versions of Earth fish. However, a strange species known as the Nulur have their sacks open directly into the ocean. They have a long, needle-shaped body with two large sacs to either side of their rear fin. The design of the bladders is very advantageous when try to escape a predator. There are no vital organs or major blood-paths in them so they act as a sort of cushion to any external blows, be they crushing or shredding. If they are punctured or if the Nulur notices it's predator, deflating them narrows the profile of the fish allowing to escape. It can now more easily propel itself forward and, without the swim bladders to lift it up, it begins to glide downwards. In addition to the Nulur there are many fish that use the naturally occurring drag caused by the water to keep themselves at their desired level. They have massively wide bodies, sometimes as large as twenty or thirty meters across, but no more than a few centimeters thick. The relatively low density compared to the surface area keeps them at one level for the majority of their lives. Smaller fish and some plants often find homes on their bodies as this means that they too will stay at one level and do not have to worry about getting to close to the surface and the dangers of the sun, nor too deep and closer to the larger aquatic beings. There are very few amphibians on Vurd because they would have to go across the surface on a regular basis and the heat of day could quickly dehydrate and kill them.

Despite the sun, there are still many terrestrial species that live on the land. The planet is formed of various tectonic plates so mountains and ridges have been formed. In some cases, rifts and canyons have been created, some only meters deep, others measuring kilometers. There are open plains, some with lakes and other bodies of water, but there are very few plants in these exposed areas, and those that are there are low and widespread so as to be able to soak as much water out of the dry ground as they can during the day. Some small animals, similar to Earth's lizards and moles burrow in the ground near the lakes. During the day, they stay within their shaded holes and at night they emerge to eat from the the plants and drink from the replenished waters. Over time, the construction of the burrows has become more advanced. Due to the large amounts of rain, the burrowing animals sometimes create two pairs of tunnels. One leads horizontally out, to there sleeping locations. The others are directed downward to create wells that can potentially last through the day.

In the mountains and on the ridges, there are more plants. Depending on geography, some of these plants grow to be much larger. Because they are in the shadow of the mountain or the ridge for a significant portion of the day, less water is evaporated so more water can be consumed. The animal life in these sections grow to be no larger than the largest Earth dogs. Because of the extra relief the shade of the mountain gives, they spend more of their time hunting and eating than the plains animals so they can afford to grow larger. When the sun does reach over the peak of the mountain, the vast majority retreat to caves. Smaller animals can hide within trees or in burrows. These animals, as well as the animals in the rifts and canyons would seem very odd to a visitor from Earth. They are proportionately wider and shorter than would be expected and many have exoskeletons. Their body proportions are strange because of the much greater gravity on Vurd than of Earth. Their proportions allow them to be many times more stable as does the exoskeleton. An additional benefit of the exoskeleton is that it can absorb and reflect some of the sunlight, allowing these animals more leeway in their hunting hours. The smaller animals are much more akin to standard expectations because of their lifestyle. Living near their food and water supply means that they do not often have to move, so they do not have to deal with the constant strain against gravity. Also, when they are being chased by larger animals, they have superior mobility and have a greater sprinting capability. However, they do not have the physical structure to be able to flee for a long period of time so they must find their destination.

Within the rifts and canyons, some of the most exciting life forms make their homes. These life forms are considerably more intelligent than the majority of the other species on Vurd. They would be akin to Earth's apes. In appearance they are generally short- a tall one being over a meter in height. They have powerful exoskeletons as well as endoskeletons. The exoskeleton is there for protection as well as for the improved support that it supplies its internal skeleton. An apt comparison would be a turtle, standing on its hind legs. However, these Jikta's have three pairs of legs, so that when they stand, their rear four are on the ground. In addition, instead of the flat foot that turtles have, its forward two pairs of appendages can either curl into fists with external armor for walking on, or extend into hands with four claws, one of them being an opposable thumb. The Jikta have begun to develop crude tools to aid in their lives. For the most part their tools are simply sharpened rocks for breaking the exoskeletons of other animals. The planet known as Vurd, or 61 Vir D has a wide variety of both aquatic and terrestrial animals and plants. Life on the planet manages to cling on despite the often lethal daylight hours and the constant cycle of evaporation and precipitation. Finally analysis is to consider 61 Vir D for continued study, but not as a potential colonization location.

*TL;DWR=Too Long; Don't Wanna Read?

Off Topic

So this post will be a little off topic, but I think it is an important one to all of us.

This is rather unrelated to anything, but the Oscars brought it to my attention.

This past year has seen several wonderful films for people like me.

1. Star Trek
2. Inglourious Basterds
3. Sherlock Holmes
4. Avatar
5. District 9
6. The Hurt Locker

Four of those six films were nominated for best picture. This is an amazing crop of action films. Now, many people have strong feelings about Star Trek and Avatar- either you love em or you hate them, but in any case they're both wonderful movies.

I know that when I went to a screening of Star Trek, there were about 40-50 geeks in the room and we all cheered when there was no sound in space. Although you may not like what it did with the timeline, or what it did with the characters, independent of that, it was really good.

Avatar, while the story and acting may have been slightly subpar the visuals and action sequences were some of the best in ever.

Anyways, just wanted to throw out a cheer for the awesomeness of action films, and I can't wait for the WoW movie- be it bad, terrible or awful.

A bedtime story! (part IV of probably IV)

I really had no idea what I was going to do with this. I decided to steal an idea from my deathfest character and have a sentient bunsen burner who fails the SATs, but decided to go with something else, still following the spontaneous sentience idea.

Richie Hirundo Rustica was an average unladen European swallow, flying over the country side at his average airspeed velocity of approximately twenty-four miles per hour. Now, it is important to note that Richie, was in fact not in Europe, but rather on vacation in northern New York state. Strangely enough, when he was turning towards the city to catch a boat back, he was hit by a coconut on the head. The collision of the coconut and Richie's cranium was enough to bring him to the realm considered by humans as 'unconsciousness'. As an average swallow, Richie had yet to achieve an awareness of awareness, also known as consciousness.

During his brief stint of unconsciousness, two things happened. The first was that he stopped flapping his wings and consequently plummeted. The second was that he had achieved true sentience as well as all the knowledge of an thirty-three year old white American male of a upper-middle class background and a job as a technical service provider. Steven Baker, a man matching that description was in a car accident a few hundred feet below where Richie was flying and appeared to lose his memory as well as his mind. What really happened was that he had gained the knowledge of Richie Hirundo Rustica and could only speak Aeran, language of the skies. However, the effects of this coconut crash on Steven Baker were of no consequence to Richie who, by this point, had realized that the ground wanted to be his friend.

While no physicist, Steven had known a lot about gravity and kinetic impacts. Richie, therefore, also knew about this. Richie did some quick math in his now extremely overworked swallow mind and determined that he had a few seconds to live unless he somehow grew larger wings.

He concentrated on extending what little wingspan he had a praying to whatever gods Steven had known about.

“Oh my dear God, Jesus my savior I need wings. Wings like a falcon or an eagle. Thor and Zeus! You guys might be able to help me- wings! Oh, what was the name of the Greek god Odysseus pissed off... I know this... Aeolus, God of the Wind grant me flight!”

Abruptly Richie's decent stopped. However, he had not impacted the ground. That was still below him, he craned his short neck and looked to either side and saw that his wings had grown to a six foot wingspan.

After a few beats of his mighty wings he grew tired. The small frame of the average European swallow was not designed with an eagle's wings in mind and the musculature was not able to support them. Rather than wishing that his wings returned to their normal, standard size, he prayed to Aeolus that his frame grow in proportion to his wings. His prayer was almost immediately answered by the sound of popping joints.

Pushing the air below him out of the way he shot up into the sky.

“Hell yeah, Mr. Barneby's cat won't bother me anymore,” he thought, “Perhaps I should get a job. But I would need arms- and I should look more intimidating. No one will hire a swallow. But maybe if I was covered in scales and spikes people would listen to me.”

Nearly a mile below, Darren Sternburry, an amateur Ornithologist had been tracking the patterns of a barn swallow crossing his neighbor's farm. It had just been hit on the head with what looked like a coconut and then plummeted to the ground. He felt sorry for the poor thing- coconuts were usually polite enough to wait until there was nothing in the area to appear. This one had been rather vicious in its teleporting. Rather unexpectedly, a bird soon rose from behind the trees where the swallow had fallen. It had the swallows body and head, but its wing span had grown from under a foot to several feet. Darren turned on the digital video camera and tracked the flight of this strange creature.

Just after cresting the tree line, it's body had shifted and grown to scale. Over the next two or three minutes the brown and white feathers were replaced with dark red scales and spines running down its back. The tail feathers extended and became a wiry spiked tail. The head flattened and narrowed, looking more like a bird of prey, and then very similar to a crocodile's head. As Darren watched- what had been a swallow practice a few swoops, dives and rolls. Suddenly, the creature doubled in size, then tripled. More spikes and a pair of vestigial arms grew. If Darren had ever played Dungeons and Dragons he would have classified it immediately as a Juvenile Red Dragon (based on size and apparent flight speed- not age).

High in the clouds Richie felt better about his life. He may have just eaten a whole flock of distant relatives, but they weren't close and they were relatives. Besides that, he was a a dragon, he had to eat a lot to remain in the air. Richie, remembering why he had changed glided down towards the ground in search of a phone. He landed not to far from the Sternburry farm and casually sauntered over. In the backyard he met Darren and stuck out one of his hands.

“Hello, I'm Richie Hirundo Rustica. I've got the mind of Steven Baker, the skills of a professional technical service provider and the power of the god Aeolus. I need to borrow your phone. I'm looking for a job,” he said with what he thought was a charming smile.

Darren looked didn't hear what had been said. This, he was sure, was a bad thing. Darren turned around and raced inside.

Richie shrugged, extended an arm a ripped out the back wall of the house. Still not used to his bulk, he destroyed most of the building, including the phone and its connections. Darren, meanwhile had grabbed his car and drove off as quickly as his grandfather's used pick-up could go.

Sighing in despair, Richie threw himself off the ground and into the air. Richie, however, forgot about the local Air Force base. He felt a sharp buzzing in his head, as though someone was trying to communicate with him. A few minutes later he looked behind him and saw a pair of fighters. Recognizing them, he dove instantly, but the missiles that were launched tracked him as he fell. He resorted to prayer again, but Aeolus gave him nothing. Seconds later he felt a sharp pain in his stomach and then he was enveloped in an expanding ball of gas and fire.

My excuse- in detail.

So yesterday I didn't get a post in as mentioned. So I must describe why I missed that post and you can judge whether or not it was worth it.

So I got up just before 1 and almost instantly went to Mythos.

Mythos is a pseudo-larp/boff. When the weather is good we hit each other with foam swords and on occasion cast spells at each other. I myself got into a couple shadow-boxing duels and rolled in the mud. After Mythos (which ends at 3) I took a shower, because, well I had been rolling in mud for two hours.

Following that I immediately started to watch the most recent Caprica episode.

Right at the end of that my friend called and said that he had arrived from a neighboring college. I couldn't exactly write then because he is not a WoW player, and it would have been quite rude.

We talked programming for a bit and then watched an episode of White Collar. This ended minutes before six when we went to Deathfest. That ended at 3. At that point I decided to sleep. Because it was three. In the morning. So I slept.

This counts as yesterday's post, because I am a cheater.

I'm calling a reprieve.

So I drastically missed yesterday's posts. I mean, I'm over three hours late. But I can excuse that because I have not had a free moment all day (100% true). Anyways, I'll do a double post, double image tomorrow. I'm sorry to all my fans out there who read this religiously and then never comment. This is for you guys.

A bedtime story! (Anotherother piece) (from yesterday- cuz this is yesterday)

I mean, I managed to open the tabs while it was still yesterday, which henceforth in this piece shall be referred to as 'today'.

So earlier today, TOC managed to down Ony, and carried on to roflstomp some ICC trash. This got me my 251 tanking ring, bringing me WAY over defcap.

Douglas Bower huddled in the corner of Donovan's Pub nursing his ale. Douglas, or Doug as his friends called him, was not the sort of man to be hiding in the darkest corner of a pub. He was a loud, cheerful man who everyone agreed had a great sense of humor. It was quite against his nature to be furtive in any way, yet he kept sipping at his drink and looking around the room suspiciously. Eventually, Dave Chorley, a good friend of his entered and came over to his booth. Taking sip he took one last glance at the other patrons and turned to face his friend.

“Evening Dave.”

“Evening. How's it going for you?”

“Well, the moons full and the skies are clear. A beautiful evening to stay out, I think.”

“Sorry I'm late, thanks for grabbing me an ale.”

“Dave, I've introduced you to Mr. Dupree right? He has a farm a little bit down the way from my place.”

“Robert, right? Yeah, I know the man. Have you got me out here to complain about him again?”

“Not exactly. Yesterday he came to me and told me that he had seen a flying saucer. He was concerned that it would steal his cows.”

“Right, his precious cows.”

“And then there was this article in the paper a while back a while back that got me thinking.” He dug out a scrap of paper from his pocket, unfolded it and read carefully, “'After seeing the Flying Saucer disappear I proceeded around the road to where it had come from. Upon rounding the corner, there was a perfect circle in the crops, just the size of the alien vessel that I saw.' That was Mr. Pedley of Australia talking about a sighting of his back in nineteen sixty-six.”

“What has this got to do with Mr. Dupree?”

“I think it would be a good laugh to go ahead and make one of these crop circles in his wheat field, really get him jumping at the shadows. Tonight is a great night for it. The moon is out, there aren't any clouds and Liz doesn't expect me home until late.”

“There isn't any way I can talk you out this is there? Doug, you're fifty-two and I'm almost forty-nine. We can't go out like we used to.”
“Sorry mate, you know that we're going to be doing this. I've got the stuff we need in the car.”


A half-hour later the two men were at the edges of Mr. Dupree's fields. Doug was carrying two thick, heavy metal bars and a couple pieces of rope. He waved Dave over to him and headed into the chest high rows of grain. After walking for a few minutes, Doug set down the two pieces of metal and began tying the rope onto the end of one of them.

“Dave, would you kindly see if you could ram that rod into the ground?” he asked, “Thanks mate. This is about where Robert said he saw it. He said it was about eight meters in diameter and this rod is only a meter- we'll have to do some work.”

With one rod in the ground he tied the loose end of the rope around it so that the two rods were nearly touching, the second one lying on the ground. He waved Dave over and the two of them pushed the bar around the central point. Most of the the grain popped back up so they went back around it several more times until all of the stalks were flat. Doug loosened the rope and retied it so that the horizontal bar was a meter. Again the two men dragged it around, enlarging the circle. In just under an hour they had extended the rope two more times, making a perfect circle, eight meters in diameter.

“There, that should give Robert fits in the morning,” he said, looking over to where Mr. Dupree's house loomed in the distance, “He'll probably come over first thing in the morning to rant at me. Come over earlier than usual for our golfing and see what he has to say.”


The next morning Doug took his time getting up and cleaning himself so that he was only just sitting down to breakfast when the someone knocked at the door.

“Liz, would you mind getting the door? It should be Dave, even if he is a bit early. Invite him in, I'll prepare a batch of eggs for him.”

“Would you listen to yourself. You act as though Mary doesn't ever feed him.”

“It is polite to offer food to one's guest if you yourself are eating.”

Liz had already left the dining room and gone to the door. “Hello Dave,” she called, “You're early and Doug had a late start this morning. He said he'd get you a plate of his eggs and I'll get you some tea if you'd like.”

“I'd love that. You do make quite excellent tea.”

Liz ushered Dave into the dining room just as Doug was coming back with a plate of scrambled eggs.

“Did you tell Liz?” asked Dave, “No, she'd think it was a folly, going out in the middle of the night. You tell Molly?”

“Of course not. She'd think the same thing and say a lot worse.”

The two men were in the kitchen cleaning their plates when another visitor knocked at the door.

“Doug, did you invite someone else for golf?”

“No. It is probably Robert, you know him.”

Doug quickly swiped a towel over his plate, put it down and headed to the door.

“Was wondering who it would be. Come on in Robert. Me and Dave were about to head out.”

“Oh, sorry Douglas,” said a deep, gravely voice, “Its just that I've got proof!”

“Proof? For what Robert? What are you talking about?”

“Remember that flying saucer I told you about? Well, they landed in my barely last night. There is an impression in my fields where their flying saucer was.” Robert said the last few words with almost religious respect.

Doug struggled to keep from laughing, “That sounds very interesting, but Dave and I need to leave now or we'll miss our slot on the course. I'd like to come over later to look at it.”

“Do! Do! I plan on having a inspector out to confirm my beliefs. Well, off I go.” With that, Robert turned and left a Dave and Doug to finish cleaning and leave to their golf game.

“That went well, don't you think?” asked Doug.

“It was pretty good. He's quite taken by it all. But I have some things I'd like to try sometime.”

“Next week then? After pub night?”

“Sounds excellent.”



For the next two years, nearly every Friday night the two men went out to the Dupree farm to create the crop circles. The single ship became an entire fleet, and their ability to make the crop circles leaped ahead. By the end of the two years they were able to create a twelve meter circle in under fifteen minutes and on occasion made larger ones. Using a looped wire dangled from a cap they could focus more easily and create straight lines to create more complex formations. Each time Robert showed up the next morning to talk about the Aliens and how sure he was that they were planning an invasion. Every week they met in Donovan's Pub to plot their next landing before going out into the fields.

“Doug,” began Dave, “I think we could get our circles some real media attention if we put them somewhere where lots of drivers would see them.”

Doug grinned, “I remember you trying to dissuade me when I first suggested this venture. But I like this idea- where do you think we could put them?”

“There's a good field about a half-hour on the other side Winchester. There's a low, gentle hill that faces the bypass there. It would be rather easy to see it from the road, but no one takes it during the night.”

“It'll keep us out later than usual, Liz and Molly might get upset.”

“They won't notice. They didn't notice that we've been an hour or two later than usual these past two years. Another hour shouldn't make too much of a difference.”


The next day, on the evening news there was a special on the 'Aliens of Winchester'. A series of circles had appeared in the crops grown in on a hill along the bypass. Several experts declared that it was impossible that they were man-made. Over the course of the rest of the week, the crop circles became very popular with many people driving by just to see them. With all the focus on those hills, Doug and Dave chose some other visible locations and created crop circles for those fields as well. Eventually scientists announced that they were clearly not man-made but that they were also not created by aliens, as some experts had been claiming. Small whirlwinds were the cause of such developments. Pockets of turbulence would create miniature tornadoes that would create a circle and then vanish into the changing air currents.


No matter how much evidence scientists brought in to support their theories, the extremists who claimed that it was extraterrestrial life were more exuberant and consequently more popular. After another decade of making the crop circles, Doug and Dave had spent an impressive amount of time hoaxing all of England. Even the government was interested in the crop circles and where they came from.


On another Saturday morning, Liz and Doug were eating breakfast, when Liz interrupted Doug's reading of the newspaper, “You didn't go out last night did you?”

“No, I was feeling rather under the weather and Dave is sick as well. We decided it would be best to not go out drinking.”

“Oh, and did you not miss her?”

“Sorry, who are you talking about?”

“What, you didn't think I would notice? You're gone for a few hours more than you used to and you never say anything about your trips to the Pub. Besides, you've gathered a few thousand extra miles over the past few years.”

“Sorry, are you saying that I was cheating on you? Liz, I would never do that. It is just a misunderstanding.”

“A misunderstanding?” shrieked Liz, “explain everything to me. Now.”

Doug, faced with the wrath of his wife gave in and explained that for the past fifteen years he and Dave had been going out to make crop circles. It had at first started as a joke of Robert, but after a few years it evolved into something more. After seeing his the tools of the trade that he kept in his car, and seeing him make a quick crop circle in their backyard, Liz began to doubt him less. The next week she went with the two of them to help. Now that Liz and, by extension, Molly knew about their exploits the two men started going out on other nights, to make the events seem more random. After a couple months of working together, Liz and Molly convinced their husbands to let the press know. Doug and Dave gave an exclusive interview and showed the media how easy it was to actually create a crop circle.


The official government interest in the crop circles disappeared after the two men declared that they had been the cause of the hundreds of circles over the years, but the public masses remained interested. Some continued to believe that they were caused by natural wind patterns, some believed that they were caused by aliens and some went out to make their own crop circles.


Two weeks later, on a Friday night, Doug was in his backyard reading an article on the creation of crop circles., when a slight whirring sound distracted him. He put down the paper and looked up to see a silver disc slowly approaching his lawn. It matched Robert's description of the alien craft he had seen fifteen years ago exactly. Settling into the ground, a ramp protruded and a door slid open. Three short grey aliens, thin and gangly with bulbous heads exited. All of them looked very excited, as though they were about to talk to a celebrity, or the Queen.

“Douglas Bower?” the first one asked.

“Yeah, that would be me,” he replied, cowed by their presence, “what do you want?”

“We just wanted to know, we're very confused, but- what do these 'crop circles' mean?”

Apologies for the weird background. Go copy-pasting....
As an additional note, I can never remember how I posted it last time.

A bedtime story! (Another piece!)

This is another piece written in the same world as A bedtime story! So- read on. “Quetzan, Tlocal, you have been assigned to tutor war-priestess Mikaela. You know her reputation. I feel that you two can handle the responsibility of training her. Just so you know, our superiors are content with her knowing how to hold the weapons and with you knowing something about the gods- which you already do,” the officer grabbed a sheaf of vellum and held it out. Quetzan threw a quick glance at his comrade at his side, saluted, and accepted the proffered packet of commands. Religious training was a as standard a part of a warriors training as drills, combat practice, and tactical lectures. The soldiers traded lessons with the war-priestesses, with two soldiers for each priestess. Quetzan and Tlocal, as battalion sergeants, practiced in dealing with new recruits, were paired together and assigned Mikaela, on of the more powerful war-priestesses. Mikaela was unique amongst the war-priestess in that she also followed the third generation gods, not just the first two. She put in as much time and respect to the first two generations and the rest of the war-priestesses, but she also spent large amounts of time studying the gods of Power, Love, Knowledge and Wisdom. Her studies made her magics more powerful, effective and focused. A charm or hex cast by Mikaela would not wear off until she wished it to. Stepping out of the squat command bunker Quetzan shoved the papers into his sack, adjusted his sword and dropped to his hands and knees. Tlocal followed suit and both shifted into dark, sleek jaguars. Bounding across the facility, the two warriors vied for lead, shoving the other out of the way, creating a massive dust-cloud in their wake. As they charged up to their barracks entrance, they found their passage blocked by a woman dressed in the traditional heavy robes of a priestess, but instead of the blue, green, white or yellow of the elementalists, her robes were dark red with silver embroidery, indicating that while she had amassed significant power and was capable in all four of the elements, she had yet to master the combat itself. The two great cats skidded to halt and out of the cloud of rising dirt, the two men reappeared, heads bowed. “Our apologies, war-priestess,” began Quetzan, “We are usually encourage to test the limits of our comrades whenever possible, so as to encourage them to improve.” “No matter,” she replied, “Now, I'm assuming you know who I am. And I know your names, but not which face each of them belongs to. So, if you would be so kind?” “I am Fourth Battalion Sergeant Quetzan Ner'hokla. And my fellow officer, Fourth Battalion Sergeant Tlocal Mont'eheur'kla.” “Thank you, Quetzan,” she bowed to him, and the to Tlocal, “I know that our respective training does not begin until tomorrow, but I wish to start becoming aware of what will be expected of me as soon as possible.” “Mikaela, the war-priestesses don't really expect you to learn much of anything here. They will be happy if you know how to hold a sword, spear or atlatl. They will be happy if you tell them that you taught us, even if we learned nothing,” Tlocal held up a hand to keep Mikaela from interrupting, “This is not only accepted by the priestesses, but by our officers as well. We have been told as much by them. However, Quetzan and myself, we are very proud of the training we have received, and our rank in the military. We will make sure that you know how to defend yourself. We will make sure that you can run twenty miles with a full pack in under three hours. We will make you a warrior, and in return you will teach us the ways of the gods. There are very few priests, and no war-priests, but you will teach us all you know. Do you agree to this contract?” Mikaela smiled pleasantly and nodded, “I would not be able to bear doing otherwise. However, with all religious matters the priestesses write out a full contract with the god or gods they are dealing with, sign it, and then, if the omens are auspicious the contract has been accepted and the mark of the god or gods is imprinted upon the contract. The first thing any priestess learns is how to treat with the gods. For you, at this moment, nothing so grand- you merely need to treat with me.” She turned around and entered the barracks, the two soldiers following. The next morning, before the sun had risen, Quetzan and Tlocal rolled out of their hammocks and moved over to wear Mikaela was sleeping. Quetzan stood next to the hammock and nodded to Tlocal who stood at her feet. Tlocal removed the pin holding the end up and Mikaela fell to the ground. “Good morning Mikaela!” shouted Quetzan, “Today, according to the contract you had us write up yesterday, is the first day of training, and we are following our normal routines for training a new solider, again accordingly. This is the last day you get to sleep in so late. Tlocal got you a uniform and some standard gear. You had better beat us to the mess hall, armed and armored. See you at breakfast.” Tlocal dropped a wicker chest on Mikaela, turned and followed Quetzan to the other side of the barracks. They quickly and efficiently donned their armor, threw their personal swords onto their belts and began to walk to the mess. When they got there, they took their time in getting to the front of the line, not using their rank to get ahead and walked over to their table. As they were sitting down, a breathless Mikaela burst into the room, and after a lengthy glance found them already seated. “You did decently. Some soldiers can't figure out how it all works until we've finished eating,” said Quetzan, “But- now is your time to shine. Enlighten us.” “You are both Servants of the Gods, correct?” she asked. “We were,” corrected Tlocal, “Now we are training to be Warriors of the Gods.” “Of course, I apologize. I was born a free citizen of Terakla, and so I know very little of the real experience of the your early lives. Many compare Servants of the Gods to slaves. You have no choice, you are told what to do, and once you have children, you are sacrificed to the gods. Some people ask if that is wrong.” “It is not wrong, for it is in the service to the gods,” replied Quetzan, “Besides, if you do not believe in the gods, you are sent to the priestesses. Most come back as true believers, the others come back pardoned from their fate.” “I have led the discontent into the temples Quetzan. They see the gods themselves. The gods visit our world and say that they wish that that particular person will serve them in their realm. To do so, we must spill their life according to the contract, and free their spirit. But many people call it murder.” “It is not murder. The Servants of the Gods choose their fate. If they do not wish to serve the gods in their realms, they are spared,” argued Tlocal. “But what about those who are not born as Servants?” said Mikaela, “They, and their descendants, will never be asked to die for the gods.” “It is possible for the freed to join the ranks of the Servants and the Servants to join the ranks of the free. No families fate is set in stone,” countered Tlocal. “The free only join the Warriors of God. They are not sacrificed in cold blood. They die in the heat of battle, or survive and return to their families. The other case you mention does not happen. It has not been recorded- ever. No Servant of God has performed so well as to cause the gods to ask that the Servant remain to serve them in this realm. They have always asked that they be sent to theirs.” “You may be right Mikaela. It may be wrong,” said Quetzan, “But I do not consider it wrong. I am willing to serve the gods in their realm. However, what is more important is that we have finished our meal and so we must now begin to teach you.”

A bedtime story!

For those of you who are generally confused about what I write, well, today is your semi-lucky day! Rather than post my 'Grand Goblin Gold Getting Guide' I'm going to throw up a story of mine that I wrote for a class. So without further ado, text:

“Drop into formation and prepare seventh drill. Mixed weapons, jaguars first rank, eagles second, vipers take third. MOVE!”  

The soldiers quickly arranged themselves as commanded- two groups arrayed against eachother. There were fifteen rankers in each row, with a sergeant on each flank for the first two and the lieutenant of the group behind the atlatls in the third rank. Quickly, the men in the first rows dropped to their hands and, in seconds, there were fifteen inky jaguars in their place. The warriors behind them, covered with eagle feathers and wearing a runed talisman around their necks readied spears over the backs of their four-legged comrades. In the final rank, the each soldier grabbed a blunted two meter arrow, and, with practiced ease loaded them into their atlatls. The arrows fit snugly into notches at the end of weapons, with a quick flick of their wrists they launched the arrows farther than a bow could shoot them. 

 When the shafts struck their foes, the soldiers mimed death and fell to the ground shrieking in mock agony. Following the initial volley the forward ranks advanced to the middle of the field and each jaguar spearman pair began an intricate dance with the opposing teams. With the melee embroiled with combat, the vipers launcher their remaining spears at targets of opportunity. When their ammunition was exhausted, they too changed forms into their spirit animals and joined the fray, spitting acid and the brawlers. As jaguars began to fall in fake death, their companion spearmen dropped their weapons and, upon touching the runes on their necklaces became eagles who took to the sky and swooped down into the fray landing blows wherever they could. Conversely, if a jaguar lost his teammate, he would launch himself into the enemy ranks, causing as much havoc as possible. Both sides were equally matched and when drill seven finished, only one viper warrior remained standing, but still acting wounded.   

“Endex! Endex!” shouted their commander, calling for an end to the exercise, “You've got ten to clean yourselves up. Debriefing in second barracks.” Finished with his commands, the officer walked quickly away, going around other practice fields where battalions were still embroiled in combat. The warrior he left behind began to peel themselves from the ground, and hoist up their friends. Once everyone had gotten up and had been checked for serious wounds, the soldiers searched for their weapons, cleaned them and placed them in their proper positions on the racks at the side of the field. Even the jaguar warriors checked their obsidian blades for damaged, even though drill seven did not call for their use. Basic maintenance completed for their weapons, they checked their talismans for any possible damage, these were what gave them the powers of the spirit animals and if they were damaged, physically or magically, they would have to requisition new ones from the temple priestesses- a process that could take months. If they did notice small faults however, they could get them repaired by the battalions war-priestesses fairly quickly.  

The war-priestesses had a unique relationship with the soldiers. The temple priestesses, and occasional priest, avoided the military like rain avoids a desert. The war-priestesses had been brought up with the same training and the same beliefs, but for a different purpose and so dedicated themselves to different subjects. Rather than taking on the task of a complete understanding of all of the gods' wills, the war-priestesses focused on Marzuka, Terronk, Beligiza and Vitronkal, the gods of death, creation, war and life- the first two generations of the gods. They mastered the art of contracts with the gods and could wreak havoc among common foot soldiers with their powerful magics. Because of their study of creation and life, they could adapt themselves to become battlefield healers, and bring the fatally wounded back from the realm of Marzuka. Because of the lack of attention they gave to the younger, third generation gods, the temple priestesses considered them heretical and consequently avoided their allies in the military. 

 Once the checks had turned up nothing significant, the warriors only had a few minutes remaining to clean themselves of the sweat and stains of battle. They raced each-other to the canal bordering one side of the practice field. Diving in they quickly washed dirt and blood away and let their muscles relax in the cool river water. Re-donning their pelts, feather capes, and snake hides the soldiers jogged over to the sturdy barracks. They naturally fell into standard marching formation and they reached their destination, a low, long adobe and limestone building. Inside, the cots were folded up and stacked against a wall. The captain of the battalion was already there, seated on the floor with water pouches, corn bread and roasted meat scattered around in a circle. The soldiers dropped into place, and grabbed their fair shares of the food.  As 

they began to eat, their commander began to speak, “You all know this is the last day of training. Tomorrow you will be tested by the veterans. You will suffer, you may very well die. But I like you enough that I do not want you to die yet. When the time comes for you to be sacrificed to gods, you will go, and I will honor you, but for now, I would like it very much if you stayed alive long enough to stick the Melacan baby-eaters with your spears.” he grinned a looked around at them before continuing, “You performed drill seven well. Not as well as the masters, but good enough, for you to pass an observational exam. What you need are nerves of obsidian. Cold, sharp, unbreakable. You have faced each other, knowing that at the end of the day, you will be able to sit down and talk to your friends. Even in the most trying of your tests so far, the priestesses could bring you back if you fell. Tomorrow, or in the future fighting the Melacan, if you die, you die a true death, and you will not be able to return to our company. You have yet to face an entire army of screaming lowland barbarians, numbering in the tens of thousands. More spears than we have soldiers. When they send the dark shadow over us, respond with your superior training, your superior discipline and your superior skill. Nor have I faced the hordes. I have no more experience than you do. When we face the Melacan, we will face our fears together. Now, because this is our last day, I offer you a choice. If you so desire, I can call off training. The rest of the day will be yours. You can relax, gamble, pray, visit your families. Or you can choose to continue our endless drills and improve your thrusts and parries.”  

Never before given a choice in this matter, the soldiers all responded in general agreement with one another, “More training, we wish to make the gods proud, and to make our sacrifices worthy.” Not one dissenting voice was raised among the century, not one wanted a break from the relentless training that had consumed their lives for the last two months. They finished their food and drink, stood and headed back out into the noonday sun to train, and to become true Warriors of the Gods.

Oho! Mashed Potatoes

I remember having a plan for today.

I don't remember what the plan was.

I don't think anyone really cares what the plan was.

I think I should write something at least moderately interesting.

I think I'll try for that.

I think I'll write about browser games.

Flash games and their ilk.

Star Pirates: A fun, easy game that- for maximum growth- does not need to be checked more than once every twenty minutes. It is a real time game in which you create a pirate vessel and perform mundane tasks to make it better. Available at starpirates.net.

Cybernations: Similar to Star Pirates but much larger and has a much greater portion of player decision. The game is about as in depth as Star Pirates but you have a lot more data on your civilization. Available at cybernations.net.

Artix Entertainment: Artix Entertainment has made a series of online flash RPGs. Their first was Adventure Quest, a classic Fantasy RPG. Since then they have created Dragon Fable, Mech Quest and Adventure Quest Worlds. AQW is a MMORPG. All of their games have fairly simple graphics and simple, intuitive and fun gameplay mechanics. It is possible to upgrade to a premium account for one payment and signing up for a premium account in earlier games allows access to special areas, items and other things in their later games. You can find AQ at battleon.com, DF at dragonfable.com, MQ at mechquest.com and AQW at aq.com.

Other Flash Games: There are loads of other fun, simple flash games available out there and one of the best places to find them is at kongregate.com. Kongregate allows its users to upload their own games to be played by the masses as well as making a tidy profit. Yes, the games you upload can earn you money, depending on the click-throughs. If you do choose to sign up my user name there is Lord_David and I would very much appreciate it if you let them know that I was the one who referred you during your signup (optional, of course, it just gets me more points).

Arisia 2010

Yeah, Arisia was my first con. For those of you who don't know Arisia is a sci-fi/fantasy con in Boston lasting four days. It seemed to be a pretty standard con- panels, an open-gaming room, and movies in the evening. You get to read my day-by-day account of the whole thing- I'll probably skimp on some details but you're big kids- you can deal with it.

Friday:

We get there around six and went to the hotel we were staying in- nobody else was in my room, and nobody was in my friends room so we just went to the con immediately. When we arrived, we wandered a bit and ate some free bread, not seeing anyone we knew (there were about 35 or so of us from my school). We visited all the dealers and I bought myself a pencil print of Boba Fett and David Weber and John Ringo's Mardukan Epic*. After not seeing anyone for the better part of two hours we saw Outlander- an amusing and predictable sci-fi film. Immediately after, we watch Horrible Turn, a fan made prequel to Dr. Horrible's sing along blog. The quality was pretty good and the casting fit the characters fairly well. After that we find that everyone else had been exploring Boston and has recently arrived at the con- we are tired and head back to our hotel. I finally get to sleep around 3 and my roommates say that they will set the alarm for 10.

Saturday:

I'm sleeping on the floor when I am awakened. It is 11:30. I go see some sword demonstrations, hang around with my friends for a while and then climb mount Arisia (16 stories in 1:55) for a ribbon to attach to my ID. I get myself a gladius- imperial area, centurions sword. We look at boff swords for a while trying to determine if we should get them for our pseudo-larp group we have. At some point we head out of the con and walk for a while until we find a good cheap place to eat (con food is ridiculously over-priced). We keep on walking, get to our hotel, relax there for a bit and head back to the con around 10. When we get there I and some friends watch Reptilicus, a 1961 Danish monster film. It is shown using the 'Emergo' system which is a system that is similar in concept to Imax. It is supposed to make the movie come to life and bring the audience closer to the film. This means they through a 5 1/2 foot long plushy lizard at us during the film. It hit me in the head. I got to keep it. It made my day. There was then a dance, which I found particularly invigorating and left with sword and reptile. Read for lots time- then go sleep (on the floor again).

Sunday:

Most people are leaving today and there isn't much to do. We go to the weapons dealer and I get another dagger and then we head off to the games room for a while. I go to a theremin panel for a bit and then go back to the games room. We play a game of Munchkin followed by a game of Catan [settlers of]. Probably around 5:30 me and a friend head up to the artists gallery and I get a really nice piece of art- nice meaning "it has a dragon in it". Around six we go to watch two hours of trailers/commericals shown on film. Note that Arisia is the only con on the east coast, possibly all of America that still shows film. After that I see the first two hours of stardust and leave because my driver does wanted to leave at ten and doesn't want to get stuck in bad weather. It was some of the worst weather I had ever seen.

I'm tired- again...

This is becoming a trend. Bad trends are bad.

Right now I have nothing special to say about WoW so I'm going to hold off saying anything cool, but you can wait. Tomorrow I'll have something equally random to this and Friday I'll probably just post my paper that I'll be writing on attention, consciousness and video games.

Some games that I'll talk about sometime in the future:

Bioshock

Bioshock 2 (when it is released)

Oblivion

Dragon Age

KotOR II

Dungeons and Dragons Online

Star Pirates

Cyber Nations

And quite possibly some others. Probably for tomorrow though, I will write about my vunderful experience at my first con, Arisia 2010.

The Management Likes Messages

I've gotten around to putting up tags (labels) for pretty much everything and will attempt to continue to do so. I WILL have a tag for each piece, even if I don't attach it at the time of the writing.