A Personal Study of This One’s Experience with NaNoWriMo

I’m going to get the bragging out of the way: my word count upon writing this article was at 13,759 and constantly growing—more than anything I’ve ever written in any single story since the beginning of my pursuit of writing.

Now, in the words of Chris in the morning: “It’s not the thing you fling but the fling itself.”

So what the hell does this random quote have to do with writing? Those of you who’ve seen a number of episodes Northern Exposure know that Chris’s artistic mantra is something to the effect of, “It’s not about the product—it’s about the process.”

I can tell you right now that the product of this ordeal will be 50,000+ words both (in terms of grammar) coherently and incoherently mashed together, full of meaning and meaninglessness, both useful and useless prose. In other words, it will be a great number of novels on the shelves today. I’ll get it published or I won’t. That’s all folks, hasta la vista, game over. Or not.

The process is the most interesting part, in my opinion. Although everyone who participates in this national challenge goes through similar tribulations throughout the course of November (as evidenced by the numerous pep talks I’ve received from past winners), for each and every person it is a struggle, a conflict with one’s self—wrestling with one’s demons, you could say.

It’s the process that gives one of the most eternal gifts, something that can’t be erased from one’s being. I’ll elaborate later.

So what was my process like for week one?

Let me begin by telling you a little about myself.

One of my friends gave me a wonderful quote:

“There are two kinds of writers: blurters and bleeders. The blurters barf up all the words they have. The bleeders agonize over every single word.”

I am a bleeder.

It’s not so much that I can’t think of words that I can use—it’s more like I know there’s the perfect word out there that would fit exactly in the jigsaw puzzle of my prose or poetry, conveying exactly the idea or set of ideas that I want it to. And I am almost uncompromising in my search for that particular word. On the up side, my vocabulary has grown, I frequently get compliments for my ability to describe experiences that one takes for granted, and my finished product is already polished. On the downside, it takes me forever to get anything done, my works might end up stilted and stiff, and I don’t ever want to see my story again because it was so painful to write.

NaNoWriMo requires one to blurt, to a massive extent. I’ve had to do a complete 180 on my approach to writing. Naturally, this entirely new threshold is fertile ground for very familiar demons.

Procrastination: We all fall victim to this bad boy at least once in our lives. It became increasingly difficult for me to resist the lure of, “The day’s only just begun! You can get to your story later, say sometime this evening.” In fact, I’ve fallen victim to his sweet words a number of times—quite often, I’ve struggled to finish my daily quota of words after just after midnight, when my daily quota is already obsolete.

What I do to beat him is simple (but never easy): whenever I get the chance to really sit and work, I begin on my story, using Industriousness as a weapon.

Complacency: This one, Procrastination’s wife, is constantly whispering in my ear. The cruel fact is that her voice is that of comfort, of tempting compromise. “It’s late, you’ve had a long day, and tomorrow will be better. What you’ve got so far is a lot of words, anyway, worthy of a writer such as yourself, so why don’t you catch up on the other thousand tomorrow?” I’ve fallen victim to her, too. The next day almost never proves to be any better, and then I had to write 2,670 words rather than 1,670. Even now, she still insists, “Wow, over 13,000 words. Congratulations. If you like, you can stop now. That is quite an accomplishment.”

The way I deal with this particular demon is by wielding Restlessness, an abundant resource in my case. If I ever begin feeling content enough with where I am, I summon up that feeling and that does the trick.

Criticism: Her voice grates more than just my senses—it seems to send my thoughts into an abyss and my mind into a great whorl of frustration. “Good god, that passage sucked! Don’t use that same word so many times! There are plenty more words than ‘said’ to express dialogue, you know! Go back and edit this pile of utter crap!” She is a powerful demon, especially for artists who constantly seek improvement.

To her I parry with Discipline, strictly continuing onward and staunchly ignoring her wicked words.

Hopelessness: Now, this one, this one bugs me to no extent. He is Complacency’s younger brother, the one who drones an endless dirge of killjoy. “What? 50,000 words? That’s way too much. You can’t do it. You have three jobs and you’re going to school. You can barely wake up in the morning with a full night’s sleep—there’s no way you can go on any less.” He is perhaps the one I resist the most because I know it’ll be he who’ll be stay by my side the rest of my life if I decide to give up.

For him I use Gumption—although everything Hopelessness says may be true, I still attack the story each and every time regardless of whether I think I’m going to finish it or not.

Ambition: One would think that I’d get sick of stories and writing by now, that I would be so drained by all this effort in getting everything down. On the contrary! This challenge has been a wellspring of inspiration for me, for all sorts of different projects. That’s where Ambition comes in, with his greedy look and reedy voice. “Forget that story, pay attention to all these others! They’re gonna be great, and now you know you can actually get it done!” He exploits my inspiration and plays on my creativity to try and get me to lose focus.

His counter is Patience. I continually have to remind myself that this challenge is just for one month and I will have all the time in the world to work on the other creative projects.

Every NaNoWriMo participant encounters these demons in one form or another and, as you can tell, warding them off is no picnic. All of the tools, weapons, and counters that I mentioned require fuel: the force of will. It’s a very simple thing, but not very easy to come by—especially since one must provide it perpetually lest these defenses collapse. But (as many NaNos discover), if one can sustain one’s will for such a project, there are fewer limits to whatever else one can do.

but they are gone, all of them gone because I wanted them gone ever since I was younger, but I don’t want them gone now, no, because I need them, oh, how I need them, those voices that remind me that I am not insane, that I am a normal person;

although maybe that’s why Derek cheated on me because I was normal, so painfully average in everything I did—never “great,” not even “good,” just normal, a C student; could be prettier, not quite overweight, okay in bed; average cook, kept house fairly enough, had middle-of-the-line things; did only fine at my job, made a median salary, did not really stand out;

but with Derek gone I realized that I needed to change, and the voices, those voices in my head that I ignored for so long that told me to do this and that—they grew louder until it became hard to block them out:

the loudest one was a woman’s voice—like a middle-aged woman who doesn’t take shit or dole it out–the one telling me I could stand to lose a little weight so I decided that maybe that advice wasn’t so bad—I mean, the girl Derek cheated on me with was pretty skinny and maybe that was what he felt he was lacking in our relationship (among other things, probably) and so I listened and I worked out and dieted and did everything I could; and at first it was hard to lose weight, only a couple pounds in the first few months but then it melted away as I started taking up jogging and eating more veggies until my stomach was finally flat and my muscles defined—not too much but just enough; and then the voice was gone, it did not bug me to lose weight anymore, I guess it was happy;

then the next one was the one telling me to buy new clothes to show off my new body—a gay man who kept complimenting me on my firm calves and insisting that I get something to pump up my breasts a little more because they’re not as big as they should be and everyone loves boobs—and I tried to go out and get some nice clothes but it wasn’t in my budget;

and that’s where this next voice came in, the hard-hitting business man type voice that told me to get a better job, which would be so much easier because now I have a better body and then the gay one said that all I need to do is get a new set of nice interview clothes and I’m pretty much in, so I did just that and I looked around for a better paying job and I found one; on my new budget I could afford some actual designer clothing which looked really good on me—all my girlfriends agreed and they were envious and asked me how I found the motivation, that usually girls lose their will when they are betrayed by boyfriends, husbands, lovers—you know, that whole crying over a pint of ice cream thing, which I, in truth, had done; but I never told them about the voices, never, because then they would have thought I was insane but I’m not because those voices weren’t telling me to burn things or kill people, and besides the no-nonsense woman and the gay man had been gone for a while so even if I was insane I was getting better, right?;

the hard hitting business man was telling me to work harder at my new job, that if I didn’t work twice—no, three times as hard as any other worker that I would be expendable and in this economy they would lay me off just like that, so I worked harder and harder and got lots of praise and raise and I even once won a sort of employee of the month award;

meanwhile, an instructive and sort of overly pleasant woman’s voice kept telling me that I should decorate my apartment better, that so much can be done with so little and I should really invest in some decent furnishings and maybe some artwork here and there because a residence reflects upon the mind of a woman and that a lack of decorations is boring and I don’t want to be boring, do I? so I took some classes in interior decoration and I went through the metal stage and the glass stage and the Far East stage and it took me a while to finally settle on something that I really liked;

and it was getting harder to meet up with my girlfriends because I was working so much and taking classes on top of that and doing homework and working out so much, but I met with them every so often still over coffee or lunch or something and we would talk, and once I even showed them my house and they were impressed and asked me to decorate their homes—I agreed and I helped them and I wonder if they’ve still kept all the decorations I suggested they buy—they kept asking me how I managed to do such a complete turnaround because, to be honest, they thought that, in the Derek days, I was sort of stagnating but they never wanted to tell me—I was more tempted to tell them about the voices because now the business man and the overly pleasant woman were gone too and maybe they wouldn’t think me quite as crazy as they would have before, but I decided against it because who wants to hear about voices in someone’s head anyway? even if they are disappearing one-by-one;

then there was this young guy’s voice and it sounded like he loved fun and speed, especially speed because he thought I really ought to get the best of the best sports car and I always loved sports cars like Jaguars or Lamborghinis and hey! it would be totally cool to own a Lamborghini Diablo, but my budget wasn’t big enough to get one so I started looking for other jobs, but the jobs in my field that would pay well enough to be able to buy one of those suckers had super-high standards so I got the boob job—hey, I needed a little competitive edge—bought new clothes that were only the best designers in Europe and spent hours in the morning making my makeup and my hair and my attire perfect but all that hard work paid off and I finally got a really amazing job that paid seven figures so I wasted no time in buying a Lamborghini Diablo, not a yellow one—good god yellow is ugly—I got a silver one and when I first touched it I got goosebumps;

I was feeling kind of guilty that I couldn’t share this with my girlfriends and that I hadn’t seen them in a long time or even just sent them an email, and then there was this one old woman’s voice—the one that sounded kind of like the crazy cat lady in my neighborhood when I was growing up—that said that I had moved on and was now above my friends and that associating with them would just bring me down, in fact having any sort of girlfriends would either just demean me or make me seem too arrogant because at this point there was no gray area, people were either above me or below me and I should know exactly where my place was in the world or else I would be kicked out of Olympus—so I bought a new phone and did not transfer their numbers and got rid of my instant messenger screen name and my personal email; and once I had done all that the old lady wasn’t talking any more, which relieved me because the crazy cat lady in my neighborhood had always made me really nervous;

it was pretty hard to keep up with all the voices, they all demanded things of me that I often felt like I couldn’t do but eventually I did them, and when I did them the voices just stopped talking to me, probably because they had nothing else to say now that I was actually listening to them and that was kind of funny to me in short bursts so I would laugh at the most random times, which made people stare sometimes, but I didn’t care because I got the joke and if they didn’t that was their problem;

it was a long time, many, many years and I lost track of the exact amount because I never really celebrated my birthday or Christmas or New Year’s or anything like that anymore and who needs holidays anyway? besides, I would have just been bored if I took holidays off because all I would be doing would be sitting at home;

but eventually I was down to one voice, a little girl’s voice, and I don’t remember exactly what she wanted because she spoke so softly even if she was persistent, but whatever it was she wanted I did it and I had finally reached silence, absolute and utter silence;

I didn’t like it because it was with me day and night and wouldn’t leave me alone, kind of like the feeling that someone was watching me;

so I tried to get the voices to come back, I tried messing up my apartment suite and I was evicted and I ripped my clothes and I got piss-drunk and trashed my car and I even got fired from my job but the voices would not come back after all that, in fact, no matter what I did they wouldn’t come back, it was like I killed them when I was listening to them instead of making them quiet down a little and I feel like a murderer, a filthy criminal for doing that to them and I’m so sorry;

but sometimes I would hear a little snippet of a voice here and there but it came from someone else, so I figured maybe the voices just moved to different places and I could gather them all together and get them to talk to me again that everything would be alright that I wouldn’t be a murderer; I went to all those Someone Elses and took them home with me, but they tried to leave so I had to tie them up in my room—but then they didn’t want the voices to speak again to me, they wanted to keep them for themselves so I made them release the voices, I made them talk all the time; but there was always something wrong with the voices that they released, something a little off—maybe to sound right they needed the others, so I looked for all the others and brought them back to my mind as I found them;

though one day before I could find all of the other voices, one of the voices stopped speaking and I tried to get her to speak again but she wouldn’t, but I didn’t give up, even after she tried making me go away by making this really bad smell; and her rebellion encouraged the others because they stopped talking too and started smelling bad which made me really angry so I kicked them and hit them and pinched them and bit them but they still wouldn’t talk and the silence got worse;

and then the sirens interrupted the voices, and the angry men knocked me to the ground and tried to put cold metal around my wrists and they made my voices sound different; so I fought for my voices, I fought so hard for my voices and put three of the angry men on the ground; but there were too many of them and they put that cold metal around my wrists and put a sharp pain in my arm and then I don’t remember much after that;

but I woke up and now it is silent and my arms are all tied up and the room is white and plushy and I can’t see a door and I am calling out to the voices telling them what I did for them and asking them if they are happy because I took their advice and met their expectations and it made me happy; but they are so cruel because they aren’t answering me even though I know they’re still there;

oh, the silence, I cannot stand the silence, the silence which has seeped into my brain and driven me to do what I normally would not—no—what I normally can’t do and I must keep it away before it overcomes me again, yes;

but they are gone, all of them gone because I wanted them gone ever since I was younger, but I don’t want them gone now, no, because I need them, oh, how I need them, those voices that remind me that I am not insane, that I am a normal person

**Chapter One – Besieged**

I glanced around the interior of the old church at my squad. They were a rag tag bunch of privates, apart from my good friend – Jeeves, and the radio operator – Carlson. Tonight would be our first mission together as Topaz squad. In my opinion, Davryk couldn’t have chosen a better place to garrison us. Wardaria was a small outer rim colony that specialised in the production of munitions. The real perk though, was that the planet was pretty much as far form a conflict zone as you could get. As far as the Imperial records went, The Legion hadn’t even made it past blockade D, which was roughly 3 systems away. I felt quite safe here, even with the rookies.

“Hey Marco? It’s just started to rain, just so you know.” One of the rookies said. I took no notice. What did rain matter? We were inside a chapel, with walls roughly 3 foot thick, and a roof made up of intricately carved marble and then lined with lead. There was no way any rain would be getting inside any time soon. I looked over to the communication stack that Carlson was attending to, and wondered what exactly he was doing. He seemed to be staring it down. I yelled over to him and he broke his gaze for several seconds, before looking back to the stack and replying with a swift “What you want boss, I’m kinda busy at the minute.” I knew better than to ask, but I guessed the rest of the squad were starting to become restless too.

“You brought your guitar right? Break it out; I want to hear some more of your insane shredding. It is quite um… What’s the word? Inspirational… That’s the one! I’m sure the rest of the guys would enjoy it to. It’s that or we get Jeeves to do some stand up comedy, and believe me, you don’t want that.” I said, before laughing so hard I almost couldn’t breathe. I steadied myself and to my amazement he had left the stack and went over to his pack. I saw him rummage around briefly before returning with his antique Fender Stratocaster – one of the only remaining to have survived since the early 21st century. The only others that I knew about were in museums, but none of them were as loved and respected as much as Carlson’s. It gleamed, and looked spectacular, for an obsolete piece of kit anyway. The rest of my squad had since moved from where they were and now we were all bunched up in the centre of the chapel, anxiously awaiting Carlson to let off some insane metal riffs as he called them. I remember him telling me that they were popular in the 21st century, and many artists used them. If I recall, he named but one metal band – Dragonforce. He said that he admired their technique, and so he had spent the past 20 years of his life mastering it. He played several riffs, and we were all blown away. He had improved since I had last heard him play, which was always a good thing.

Before he could play anymore, a crack rang out in the distance and where Carlson’s head had been just a moment ago, there lingered a red haze, followed several seconds later by the sound of his guitar hitting the floor and splintering into several pieces. The oak doors at the front of the church flew open and a handful of shadowy figures rushed in with their rifles covering pretty much every angle of the room. Instinctively the entire squad threw themselves into cover behind the pews, before grabbing their weapons and providing suppression fire. I was quite surprised that even the greenest member of my squad could do that instantly, without an order. Training standards really have been going up I thought, before picking up my modified FN35 and taking out the figure closest to the door with a clean headshot, and ducking back into cover, just as the pew splintered above my head due to the others now concentrating on me. The fire fight continued before the attackers abruptly retreated.

Cautiously, the others and I stood and assessed the damage. We had a KIA squad member, which also meant no one to operate the radio equipment, and a wrecked guitar. Jeeves immediately set himself to closing the door and stacking pews against it. The other two caught on and helped him. I went over to where Carlson’s corpse was and I swore under my breath. I carefully picked up his body and took it over to the altar where I covered him with my overcoat. I whispered more to myself than anyone that I would avenge him. I turned back to the door to see that they had created a nicely defensible position from the pews and general objects in the room. I told Private Gregory to attempt to get an SOS signal out to base, and I went over to the barricade where Jeeves and the rook stood. I told them to cover Greg whilst I checked out the catacombs quickly, just incase we needed to make a quick getaway. I hoped we didn’t, but it was necessary to do.

**Chapter Two – Assault**

I took the steps down to the catacombs three at a time. Barging through the stone doors was probably a bad idea at that moment in time, but speed was of the essence. The shadowy goons could attack at any moment, and I didn’t like the prospect of leaving two rookies in the hands of Jeeves. I’m not saying I didn’t trust him; I just didn’t like the notion of it. I noticed almost straight away how stale the air was down there. It was warm too. That was quite odd but I had to map the tunnels quickly. There were three passageways here. I took the left one at random and started down it. I glanced at the plaques on the walls, that commemorated the fallen. There were so many names. I wondered how they could fit all these dead people into such a small place. My earpiece buzzed. I tapped the button and I was greeted by the sound of gunfire.

“Jeeves, what’s going on up there?” I shouted urgently.
“The bastards have started their push back in. Looks like they have some heavier gear this time too. I see combat shotguns and carbines, so, just get back here quickly will you?” He shouted back, barely audible over the crack of gunfire.
I turned and sprinted back the way I came. Clumsily I ended up tripping over an exposed root that I hadn’t seen earlier. I now had a bloody knee and a ripped trouser leg. I picked myself up and jogged the rest of the way, as fast as my leg could take me. I was now in the area at the bottom of the stairs and I could smell cordite. Someone had used some explosives, and I knew for a fact that we didn’t have any. With a greater sense of urgency now I took my FN from my back and hopped up the steps to find Jeeves and Gregory in cover on opposite sides of the room. There was no sign of the rookie anywhere. I dived behind the cover that Jeeves was occupying and asked where he was.

“Bad news I’m afraid. You see how the front most barricade is scattered now? He was standing behind it shooting his heart out. He ignored my warning to get down, and well…. They fired a rocket at him. That was when Greg and I took cover further back from the door.” He said in a solemn tone.
I nodded my head and peered over the top of the pew. There was roughly a hand full of figures there, each wearing the exact same thing. A one-piece black over suit and what looked like a speed bike helmet. All black, with nasty looking spikes. Just the sight of them frightened me. It was like seeing something out of a nightmare I had as a child. I fired off a few bursts in their direction and drew their fire. I yelled to Greg to throw a Frag Grenade. I watched as the green orb arced towards the figures. To my horror though, one of them caught it mid flight, and tossed it over to where me and Jeeves were. I instinctively rolled behind another pew. Jeeves on the other hand wasn’t so quick. I heard the crump of the grenade and his scream ring out. I crawled back around to where he was laying. The grenade had sent splinters and white hot shrapnel flying, and most of it had hit Jeeves in the leg. I was sick a little in my mouth, as I saw how shredded it was. I took a roll of bandages from my pouch and started to patch him up. It was this moment I knew we would all be dead if we didn’t get out of here. I told Jeeves that we would fall back to the Catacombs. I yelled over to Greg to provide some suppressing fire and I carefully picked Jeeves up from the marble floor and supported him as we made our way towards the steps. My heart was pounding. At least as far as I could tell, Greg was doing a super job at suppressing them. Going down the steps was very awkward and twice we nearly fell down them. Reaching the bottom I told Jeeves to wait, I would go and cover Greg. I sped up the steps and slid into cover.

“GREG! YOU BEST GET YOUR ASS DOWN THE STEPS, NOW!” I yelled.
I stood and fired off several rounds, but I was too late. As Greg started running, one of the goons had rushed forward. To my horror, he was carrying a shotgun. A single shot rang out, before the sound of Greg being torn apart by the shrapnel. I felt sick. I threw myself down the steps. No need to stay here much longer I thought. I opened the door and helped Jeeves through, before pulling the door shut, I slid the bracing across. That wouldn’t keep them out forever, but it would give us some time atleast

**Chapter Three – The Hive**

“Marco. I think, maybe, I could walk now.” Jeeves said slowly. I let him go and watched as he took a few steps. The agony showing on his face was terrible, but I knew he wouldn’t say anything.
“You sure you can walk?” I asked, just to be sure. He nodded. “I suggest we take the central path. As far as I can tell, the left hand one is a dead end, and so the right hand one probably is too.” I continued. Again he nodded, so we made our way down the dimly lit passage. This passage was lined with as many names as the other one, maybe more. I took my flashlight from my pouch and flicked it on. There were cobwebs everywhere. And dust. The amount of dust was shocking, and as far as I could tell, it wasn’t just ordinary dust…

Somewhere below us, something had happened – The ground had started to shake, causing Jeeves to fall to the floor. I stooped to pick him up, but before I could, the floor caved in, sending us tumbling through the air. Several moments later we landed in a heap, from the looks of it, around 30 metres below our previous location. Miraculously though, something had cushioned our fall, but due to the lighting I couldn’t distinguish what. I stood and helped Jeeves up, before noticing that our uniforms were slick with an unknown substance. It was sticky, and as far as I could tell, completely odourless. Foreboding pulled at my mind. There was no time for it though; I dismissed that as swiftly as I had dismissed everything else in the past few hours.

Down here, we were faced with two directions. I would say, the corridor was almost parallel to the one above. We started walking in the direction we faced when we stood up, it was much better to just get moving rather than wait for the goons to find us standing at the bottom of a big hole. Some time later we discovered ourselves in a cavernous area with a high domed roof. There was a distinct sound of dripping somewhere off in the distance. I slowed my pace and perched myself on an outcrop of rocks to the right of the entrance, and so did Jeeves. I thought now would be a good time to check over our gear.
My flashlight was beyond repair. I had 3 clips for my rifle, and checking my current clip, I noticed it was empty. I switched that for a fresh one, meaning I had even less ammo. On a brighter note, my earpiece seemed to be working. Although I didn’t really see how that would help me at the moment, because that was strictly for short range communication. I looked over at Jeeves. He had removed his bandage and was attempting to pull out the shrapnel. The wound looked infected already. I knew we would have to get to an infirmary as soon as we got out of here, lest he would need it amputating. I stood and took a small bottle of vodka from my pouch. Luckily, it was still intact. I slowly unscrewed the cap and ripping a piece of dry cloth from my coat sleeve, I applied it to his leg. I then helped him pull the metal shards out. He whimpered the whole time, but I knew it was better than leaving them in.

I think it took about 5 minutes in all to pull the majority out. He held his hand up for me to stop so I did. I noticed how pale he was, and imagined the pain he was in. I felt like throwing up, but didn’t show it. I had to show him we could make it out. I held out my hand to help him up but he just shook his head.

“God damn it man. You’ve made it this far. Those goons could come at any time, so moving is our best course of action. Hell. I’ll even carry you if I have to. But we need to find a way out of here. There is no way I’m leaving you here. You’re the only member of my squad left. I feel it’s my sole responsibility to get you out alive.” The words just came out of my mouth without thinking. To my relief he nodded and took my hand. He took a few steps before landing in a heap on the ground. I helped him up again, before bending down and hefting him up on my back. He was heavy, but I walked. The running water seemed a good direction to head in, so I moved off towards it. . It was then that I noticed how uneven the floor was. There were potholes, mounds of dirt, stalagmites, random rock outcrops, and even small pools of water, which were teeming with small insect life. That was quite odd I thought, but at least they weren’t giant sized. There had been many rumours flying around the barracks on Mar’Serus that on the outer rim worlds, giant, man eating insects had colonised under the surface. I was hoping that they were just rumours, as the prospect of giant man eating insects made my stomach turn with horror. Still I strode in search of the running water, as I hoped that that would lead us out of here.

Shouts rang out somewhere behind us. I looked over my shoulder and saw about a dozen silhouettes. Damn it I thought. I moved as fast as I could into the closest opening in the cave wall and hoped it wasn’t a dead end. The sound of running water had vanished with my entry in the corridor, but safety was the main priority. I carefully made my way through the pitch black corridor before ending up in another large cavernous room, almost an exact replica of the one that I had been in before. Except this time luminous grubs covered almost every space on the walls. Great. The rumours were true then. I slowly placed Jeeves down on the floor and unslung my FN. Just incase. I scanned the room and saw an opening on the far side of the room. I told Jeeves to make his way there. He nodded and lifted himself painfully. He made his way slowly over to the other side. Suddenly though, from the other side of the cavern several large black shiny bugs had appeared. I raised my rifle and told Jeeves to get down, before placing a bullet into each of them, causing them to explode in a shower of luminous green liquid, much like a set of fireworks. It was quite gratifying saving someone’s life, especially when they are seconds away from being ripped to shreds by huge insects.
Jeeves stood and carried on limping towards the opening. I followed a couple of steps behind. Then the grubs started to emit a high pitched screech. This startled me. I knew more of the insects would be here soon, so I ran to Jeeves and hefted him up on my back, before running for my life towards the other opening. I just had to get us out in one piece. I knew this was easier said than done, but I felt as though I was invincible. Maybe that was the animal instinct kicking in, or maybe I was going insane. Either way, I was fighting my way out of bug hell or I would die trying. Several more Chitinoids appeared and I shouldered my way past them. I dashed down the corridor and took a left turn followed by a right before descending further into the network of passages the Chitinoids called home. Chitinoid. What a funny name I thought. Well, I couldn’t think of anything better to call them at the moment. A few more skittered around the corner and I ran past them too. I paused for a second to catch my breath before sprinting further into the labyrinth.

Running Water! Somehow I had happened across the destination of the water from before. I set Jeeves down at the edge of the pool before kneeling down myself. I took a long drink. It rejuvenated me, but also brought back the fatigues that I had accumulated so far. I heard a barely audible hiss over the din of rushing water and turned in time to see a Chitinoid with a yellow pattern leap through the air. It pinned me to the ground knocking my Magnum from my breast holster. I could almost feel its pincers cut through my face. I struggled to keep it away from me long enough to wrench it off, but I knew that the bug had more strength than me. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Jeeves retrieving my Magnum from the floor before placing a single round into the side of the mad Chitinoid’s head. Streams of hot blood escaped into the air and some splashed across my face. It burnt. I recoiled with shock and dropped my face into the pool.

**Chapter Four – The Black Hand**

I collected my thoughts and thanked Jeeves, before reloading my assault rifle. Jeeves had stood up and was holding my Magnum out for me. I replaced it in my holster and thanked him again. He looked deathly pale now. I really needed to get him to an infirmary. I re-holstered my FN and hefted him upon my back once again, before proceeding up a narrow pathway. I hoped this was a way out, and to my surprise, it wound upwards. Things seemed to be going better for us already. I hoped I wouldn’t need my weapons again. I reached the top of the slope and saw the sun peeking over the horizon. I could see the capital city in the distance, on the other side of a forest.

Whispering into my ear, Jeeves said “Put me down here Marco. Please. I’ll be fine, I’m telling you. Just get back to the city and tell Davryk. Then get an ambulance crew out here. Resting is probably the best idea for me…” I grunted my approval and set him down against the cave entrance. I removed all my extra weight – My weapons, my pouch – pretty much everything but the clothes I was wearing. There would be no need for it now I thought. I placed it all down next to Jeeves, before turning and sprinting off towards the city, even though I was exhausted – a mans life was at stake if I didn’t get there quick enough.

Reaching the tree line I heard a single gunshot behind me. My stomach turned. Looking over my shoulder I saw three black figures standing over Jeeves. I fought back a fresh wave of nausea and the tears continued running. Bullets whizzed past my head, impacting upon the dense tree trunks, sending showers of wood chip everywhere. I knew that if I didn’t keep moving between the trees, I wouldn’t get back to the city in time. A needle of white hot pain shot up through my leg, bringing me down to the floor with a crash. I ignored the pain and stood again, limping towards the city. Footsteps… I could hear footsteps getting closer… A hot breath on the back of my neck and then blackness for a few seconds.

Marco opened his eyes to see a man standing over him. He wasn’t wearing a helmet like the others, but he knew he was one of them. He laughed and spat in his face.
Marco just lay there awaiting the inevitable. The figure fired a full clip into Marco before turning around to his comrades.
“Major. That’s the last of them.” The helmetless one said into his earpiece. “Good.” Came the reply. “Return to the drop. Ill send up the signal when you get back.”
The trio dashed off back towards the caverns.

“So there has been no response from any of our outposts? Hot damn. I guess we should put the military on High Alert. Prepare the city for evacuation. It is the only reasonable course of action, seeing as we don’t know anything about the size of the invaders force, or who they are. I’m pretty sure there is no chance it could be Legion though. They are surely too busy helping themselves to the core systems. Jesus. This stuff has definitely hit the fan. Big time.” Captain Davryk exclaimed. He had just been informed by his servitor that all of the outlying recon units had been wiped out. He had no idea that Marcus was still out there, edging further towards the city all the time. He shooed the Servitor away before going over to his assistant. He explained the situation and she scurried off, to do as she had been told. In a few moments, the industrial capital of Wardaria would become a flurry of activity. Davryk played the scene over in his head. Chaos. He reassured himself that there was no other way. Explosions rang out along the south wall of the city. Streams of Black Clad soldiers swarmed through the walls and began cutting through the citizenship like a hot knife through butter.
“Sir. We are getting a signal.” The servitor said. Davryk turned to the screen as it came to life. A man wearing a sinister black uniform and a deathly pale face was staring at him.
“So, you must be the man in charge of operations? I do apologize for not giving you any prior warning for this, but you have to believe me that there was no other way.” The man said, with a smile on his face. “I’m sorry, I haven’t introduced myself. I am Warlord Sulphanath, of the Black Hand. And I have one thing to say to you. All your base are belong to us.”
Before Davryk could say anything, the screen went black, leaving Sulphanath’s fanatical laughs echoing in the confines of the room. The door flew open and a Black Hand soldier was framed in the door way. Davryk turned and was cut down instantly.

The battle for Wardaria lasted all of 4 hours. The merciless coordination of the Black Hand rendered the defences of major facilities useless. Only an estimated 27% of the population was successfully evacuated. What percentage did make it into orbit were raked with fire from the Cruisers above. It seemed that Imperialis had another enemy in the war for the galaxy. Nobody was sure of the Black Hands incentive, although it is thought that their sole purpose was to strike fear into the hearts of the Imperial war machine. They had certainly accomplished this. Meanwhile above the planet of Mar’Serus, another Black Hand fleet had assembled, awaiting orders from the Overmind to begin another merciless attack…

**Chapter Five – Hope**

Silence gripped the bridge of the Repentance as it sliced through the immaterium and entered real-space several parsecs from Wardaria.
“Sir! We are picking up distress signals from Wardaria. What are your orders?” A young woman at the navigation controls said.
“Distress signals? This far out? How could the Legion possibly have got past our blockades? Let me see here…” Captain Lazarus said before stroking his facial hair and looking vacantly into the view screen at the planet that lay before them.

Aimee Wentz checked her rifle and yawned. She was eager to get off the ship and back on solid ground, back in the fresh air and not the stale conditioned air pumped around the Repentance. Slamming her locker and sitting on her bed she leapt out of her skin when her room’s communication channel chimed.
“Attention all Military Squad Leaders and Mercenaries. Would you kindly report to the bridge. We have a matter of urgency that needs to be attended to.” Came Lazarus’ voice.
Sighing, Aimee grabbed her jacket from the desk and slipped it on before exiting her quarters.

“As many of you can probably tell, we dropped out of slip-space several minutes ago. This is because we have received several distress signals from the planet you see before us” Captain Lazarus motioned to the view screen behind him.
“There is one major thing that stands out though. The signals were sent atleast 3 days ago, and no specifics are given. The later signals speak of a threat attacking the Capital, but the threat was never identified. We can only assume it was the work of Pirates at this moment, as there have been no reports of Legion breaking the blockade. I’m sorry. I’m rambling. Your mission as Squad Leaders is to go down to the planets surface and determine what exactly happened down there, and if necessary, rescue any survivors. You Mercenaries on the other hand, your mission is to provide support. Each of you will be assigned to a squad according to your speciality. If anything happens to the squad leader you have been attached to, you are to take command and answer only to myself or the two lieutenants on board. Any questions?”

The line of men and women standing at attention just stood silently. Then Lazarus noticed a mousey guy who he thought wouldn’t have even made it past basic with his hand barely raised over his head.
“Yes?”
The man looked around then pointed at himself, clearly taken aback that he was the only one that didn’t really understand the mission. Lazarus just nodded and fought the laugh attempting to burst from his mouth.
“Umm… S-s-Sir?” He stuttered. “Why do we n-n-n-need to send so many soldiers? I highly d-d-d-doubt the pirates would still be on the planet.”
“Son, did you learn anything in basic? It just isn’t profitable for a group of pirates to assault a city and then leave. They would stay and utilise the cities industry until the last possible moment. We have been monitoring space traffic since slipping out of slip-space and there has been no movement. Either they are still on the planet, or they aren’t pirates. Do you see my point?”
The man just looked at the floor; his face was crimson with embarrassment.
“Any serious questions?” Lazarus said, with a slightly more cutting tone than he had gauged for.
The soldiers, excluding the man who had spoken before, all chanted the words ‘Sir, No, Sir’ in unison.
“Alright then. Full briefing will be covered in roughly an hour’s time. Take this opportunity to check your gear and get ready. Dismissed.”

Aimee sat back in her chair and sighed heavily. She had been so eager to get planet side earlier, so what had changed? She tried to picture the city she would be in in around an hour or two. She also thought about the Pirates that would probably be down there. Why didn’t Lazarus send only the Mercenaries? Seven of us would be more than a match for a battalion of Pirates. Sending a small army against Pirates would be a little bit overkill she thought. Why would the captain send that many people down to what is probably a backwater mining world? She sat up and reached for her glass on the desk in front of her.
Empty. She cursed under her breath and stood up. She opened the locker and gazed at her rifle. It was an immaculate LSR-73, the current top of the line rifle. It had cost Aimee roughly 290 thousand credits, but it had been worth it. A rifle like this could kill a target at 4,000 metres in the hands of an expert, and Aimee wasn’t exactly an amateur. She was one of the best snipers hired by ‘Aspiriant Corp’, the most prestigious Mercenary group working under Imperial territory. They were trained by the Ex-Imperial Hero known only by his codename ‘Sulphane’.
Sirens wailed suddenly, causing Aimee to jump for the second time that day.
“Would all combatants report to the briefing room. I repeat. Would all combatants report to the briefing room. Briefing will commence in 5 minutes.” The computer chirped.
“Well. I suppose I best get going then.” Aimee grabbed her rifle and slung it across her shoulder and picked up several spare energy cells, before leaving her quarters.

Call of Juarez: Bound in Blood is developed by Techland, a nice little development studio that has mostly focused on racing games previously but has now decided to broaden it’s horizons. It has also been published by gaming giant known as Ubisoft, but how can you not like Ubisoft?

The game focuses on the adventures of three brothers: Ray, William, and Thomas–although you can only play as Ray and Thomas. As they are on the run from what remains of the Confederate army (I won’t you tell why) they begin searching for the treasure of Juarez in Mexico. The story in itself is very nice, although quite predictable towards the last couple of chapters, with a twist at the end will leave you with a satisfying grin at the end of the game. Another note worthy point about the storyline is that there is no clear protagonist nor is there a clear antagonist–not counting the brothers–and you will learn this in the first few chapters of the game. Anyone could become your friend or your foe.

It seems that just about all the cut scenes within Bound in Blood has one person pointing a gun at another.

The game starts you off in a tutorial level where you play as Ray, a member of the confederate army. It is assumed that you know the basics of a FPS and simply teaches you the controls that are unique to this game. Ray is the strong character, able to dual wield pistols, throw dynamite and rip off  Gatling guns (Halo, anyone?). Thomas is the Agile hero, having better proficiency with the rifle, able to use bow and arrow, climb, throw knives and use the lasso to get himself onto higher ground.

The level design is quite intuitive; there’s always just enough cover to hide but not enough so that you’d be safe from every angle. The pacing is also done quite well; it’s mixed with times of dark humor, a nice break or two once in a while, and the best blazing gun fights the wild west has to offer.

The controls are also very nice and simple. You simply run up to cover and you auto enter cover mode: you point down to auto cover and you point your gun at the sky to jump back in, you lean your mouse over to lean out of cover and pull it back to go in. The whole process feels good and natural, making gun fights nice and smooth and letting you focus on the actual gun play without having to divert attention to a faulty cover system.

The sounds are also very impressive. Each character seems to have a unique voice which sets an amazing atmosphere for the game. Sadly, the two characters exempt from this rule are Ray and Tom themselves, who during the later part of the game have a nearly identical voice. The only way to tell who’s who is to see which mouth is moving at the time, or if you paid good attention you would have learned enough about their personalities and you could distinguish from that–although I found this quite difficult. The sound track is quite beautiful, giving the feel of those wild west movies many of us watched as kids.

The multiplayer is also very interesting. A variety of modes will keep it fresh and the combat system in itself is as fun as the single player. Sadly, this is where the Bound in Blood greatness runs out. The upgrade system is quite shallow and it’s only a matter of time before a weapon is declared to be the cheapest and everyone is using it. The multiplayer will only keep new players to the genre addicted as it has no real hook to it. It’s nice, but most people already own games with far better multiplayer segments.

Bound in Blood also lacks any form of Co-Op, which I find to be quite a ridiculous thing to miss. I mean, the game SCREAMS co-op.

Another factor bringing the game down is the outdated graphics. Turning on the settings to the max will make the game look, at best, like a 2007 release (Crysis does not count!). There are still a few more things that ruin my sweet delicious Texas style apple pie. The campaign is too short; an average FPS player can beat the single player on normal in under 6 hours. Tom’s lasso is quite limited and is rarely used besides as mission objectives. There also seems to be no real reason to play Ray besides the dynamite–while dual wielding guns at close range does provide auto aim, most people don’t need it and can just as easily take down their enemies with Tom.

Although the game has a great atmosphere, it does break it sometimes. Lines are often repeated multiple times in the level and your brother seems to have a god-like ability to either be immune or be able to dodge all of those bullets. A simple example would be this: when the two brothers break down a door, you get shot at and hide behind cover to regenerate while your brother stands in the middle of the door with no cover and just shoots, which makes you feel that you’re not on the same level as your brother.

The AI is also not that impressive. You never see the enemy try to flank you–they just sit behind cover and pop out to shoot.

The boss minigame is, in fact, the only part of the game that suffers from bad controls. It’s very difficult to keep your hand near that gun and move to compensate for your opponent moving around the ring while the hand moves on it’s own. This makes this what could’ve been a fun mini-game the whole (as Yagtzee describes it) “Press X to not die” quick-time routine.

In the end I describe Bound in Blood as the game that could’ve been. It has potential, but I feel that the things that Techland cut corners to spoiled what was going to be my sweet, delicious apple pie. It does not mean that it is completely bad, it just means it could have been a hell of a lot better.

You might be asking yourself, “Dmitri, you sexy beast. Great review, but where’s the score?” The answer is quite simple. I don’t give scores, because if you’re too lazy to read through the entire review and just want to see the score, I doubt it will make a difference in your final decision as to whether or not you  buy this game. So you can simply decide for yourself.

The Good
Great gameplay, natural feeling controls, very nice theme, amazing sounds, great story telling… did I mention how good the controls are? They are that good.

The Bad
Outdated graphics, shallow multiplayer, broken mini-game, very short campaign, and much potential that wasn’t touched on.

I hope all of you enjoyed my first review.
Good luck, have fun and cya next week.
-Kabuto

Now, first off, I have to say that it wasn’t nearly what I expected when I first arrived. I walked through the doors of the Saltire Centre expecting to emerge at the end of the year with one or two games under my belt. True enough this happened, but the games themselves were not quite what I expected. I was fully aware that it was an introductory year and that we wouldn’t quite be doing what we had first thought, but I never imagined that we would create board games and table-top games. But what I expected less was that I would enjoy, and learn from, creating these ‘pre-historic’ games. But that is not all, creating games was in fact only a small part of this year.

The majority of my classes were comprised of basic/introductory lessons on a broad range of computing subjects, allowing a student to change streams if they feel they have made a wrong choice somewhere along the line. For instance, a Computer Networks student could switch to Computer Web Development or a Game Development student could become a Computer Network student. This was an extremely useful structure to the course as it meant that you had a more simple transition into your first year making life much easier for everyone.

Now, as to the actual classes that I studied this year. I knew the vast majority of what was being taught due to my year in college where they covered every subject except for Game Design and maths. So this made my first year that much easier and meant I had very little studying to actually do. Now the subjects were mostly revolving around the more important subject areas; Computer Systems Development, Database Development, Games Design, Programming, Multimedia Content Creation, Web Development, Computer Systems and Networks, Maths for Programming and an end of year project. Now there are a few fillers here and there but in general this covers what most computing students need to know to make an informed decision about their subject. The most useful for me being Game Design, Programming and Maths as these are the fundamental classes for a programming student. Each of these classes also contained assessments, well all except for the project, and the vast majority of them only required assessments. The two exceptions were Computer Systems and Networks and Maths for Programming. These two classes required that we sit an exam at the end of the year, which I passed, as well as the class assessments that these classes also had.

Meaning that my first year at University comprised of several subjects, each with assessments and only two exams. Can it get much more simple?

Now there was also a social aspect to the first year, as should be. Before I even started the course I had befriended two other students from my class, using an online website called yougofurther. After that there was the usual meeting/befriending/pizza eating you do with the people you meet, but also the occasional gaming day or trip to the local LAN centre that comes with being in a class full of Games students who have nothing better to do. The University also helps out in the social aspect of things, organising day trips, student organisations and most of all… the Union bar, where many a time was spent between classes. One of the best outings we had, in my opinion, was the day trip organised by our department. Where we went go-karting and lazer questing for the majority of the day. The highlight of that day was that our course organiser was in fact one of the best players campers in the Lazer Quest game.

I will bore you no-more as I leave you with a brief summary of my year at University, studying Game Development. A fun and exciting course thus far, proving to get even better as I continue into the new year in just over one month.

External Links
http://yougo.co.uk/

I had already slid off my equine construct of chrome and steel, watching as the rainbow veins flowed along the curves of the iron coat. I approached the pair of pale faces floating on the shadow, lit by glowing cherry-colored brands. My head became bare and my hands naked before I could see the people’s bodies.

“Hey there R,” purred a low, dusky voice from a woman with short hair and long, tapered fingers.

“Hello Rose,” I responded. My own voice still carried the briskness of the party before.

“Heyyy,” another spoke, gravelly timbre cleaving the muffled darkness. “Heyyy. Long time no see. Wanna smoke?” A rough hand offered a perfect white column.

“No, thanks,” I replied.

“R don’t smoke, Caius,” Rose murmured. She took a long drag from her own cigarette and held it in her lungs for a while. The smoke billowed quickly from her lips and disappeared, as if eager to leave.

“I know. There’s a first time for everything,” Caius retorted, more to me than to Rose. Despite his statement, he put his offering back in its package. “Anyway, how ya doin’?”

“So far, so good,” I responded. “Yourself?”

“Can’t complain,” he answered. “It’s the weekend.”

“The party’s hot.” Rose’s soft words slowly rose on the threshold of conversation, so natural that they seemed as if they belonged there. “Good music, good guests, good booze. Everyone’s waiting for your poem. Some newbies are interested.”

“Yeah,” Caius interjected. “They want to meet you.”

“I’ll enter when you two decide to go back in,” I said.

Not another word drifted among the smoke that rose into the void. Conversation would have ruined that which was being shared between the two of them—a loud, speechless understanding. I was not excluded, but I was not included. I observed, but I did not participate.

Soon enough their cigarettes shrank to stubs and were tossed into the street. I followed them through the battered metal door, past the garish sign that declared ‘OPEN’ to the night.

The inside was as dark as the outside, lit only by dim multicolored lights that never lingered too long in one spot. A heavy, throbbing beat filled the building, underscored by a soft buzzing murmur that danced across the scales. One minute the buzz crept through the walls around me and the next it seemed to emit from my own ears.

In the middle of the dance floor was an undulating ocean of cloth, skin, and sweat, where one person might end where another began. The frivolous lights danced among them, lighting up faces, arms, torsos. The air was alive with their collective energy, making me realize how cold I was. I could pick out no individual body, instead only catching glimpses of a hand here and a leg there.

Some sat at the bar. Others lounged on couches or chairs. Rose made her way behind the bar. Darkness obscured and then melded with her form as she whispered into the shadowy bartender’s ear. Caius disappeared into the body of dancers.

My eyes settled upon Emmeline, who had broken away from the dancing shortly after Caius had entered. Her lazy, catlike smile, pink cheeks, and drooping eyelids told me more than she would have. She was approaching me, head tilted in a friendly manner. I smiled politely.

“You again?” she said, the cadence of her voice slow and drawling. “I thought I told you I didn’t wanna see your face around here anymore.” Her smile did not waver.

“Close your eyes, then,” I retorted, grinning.

Her laughter proved to be no faster than her speech. “How ‘bout a drink?”

“No, thank you.”

“Oh, c’mon, R. You’ll have more fun with some of the good stuff in you. Don’t tell me you won’t.”

“Very well, I won’t tell you.”

“Suit yourself. You’re gonna dance at least, right?”

“Certainly.”

“Well come on, then.”

Emmeline held her hand out to me, her chin and smirk at a playfully haughty angle. I took her lead—her fingers were warm but not damp with sweat. She pulled me into the amorphous crowd with a sort of grace despite intoxication. We cut through it, a needle in the great beating heart, and after we stopped, the wound closed and we were absorbed into the very center of things. Soon enough we joined the eternal beat.

The Center may have been surrounded by great stems topped with funnel-like caps; hours could be as slow as seconds and minutes as fast as days.

Together, we jumped and whirled and rocked silently in the warm womb of darkness.

We saw only skin, which was quickly enveloped by ethereal ebony.

There I saw drooped eyelids. There I saw rough hands. There I saw short hair.

The Darkness, the Source of Fear, took them all.

It called to me.

I did not answer.

It demanded I embrace It.

I could not.

It demanded I fear It.

I could not.

It demanded I hate It.

I could not.

Crushed my thoughts.

Scattered them.

Wanted chaos.

Away from the Center. Sat on a couch. Collected myself.

I caught my breath. I returned to myself. I became aware of something other than the Shadow.

Next to me was a couple barely separated by their clothing. The dimness was safe for them, protecting their own, isolated little world. I could see neither face, but I could tell that it was Calvin and Fay. They were formless as well, constantly shifting like the crowd on the dance floor. Again, my thoughts began dispersing. There would be no sanctuary for me while I remained inside.

Outside, my lungs eagerly collected the cold, open air, sending out the closeness of the club. My skin prickled as sweat began drying up. My feet led me to the one place I knew would always stabilize me.

I rested on my motorcycle, staring up at the universe. There, even in the most endless of nights light was still present; little points of life that burned brighter and hotter than any imagination. Slowly, methodically, I collected my thoughts to the rhythm of my breath, replacing the cogs in my mind and carefully testing their connections, tightening the screws, making sure everything belonged. I could think whole thoughts again, not just fragments. Once everything was in place, I bound them together tightly. The gray cast of approaching dawn trickled into my vision.

The piece of paper suddenly seemed to assert its presence in my pocket. I could feel the paper, now bent and crinkled from movement, press gently against my thigh. My memory brought forth the words written on that scrap, words that unobtrusively motivated my legs to swing down onto the ground and carry me back inside the club.

My feet picked my way around the crowd. Shadow remained inert and darkness inanimate. The DJ, shrouded in dusk, had already known what to do when I asked for a microphone.

Slowly the sea of bodies calmed and turned to me. I picked out hooded eyes and short, boyish hair on a feminine face. Some faces I recognized, some I did not. I pulled the paper from my pocket.

“Like ants marching

two by two, he

walks, step by step.

Trim, unruffled,

a just right smile;

all know well where

they stand with him.

Everything is

clear and precise,

measurable.

With him there are

no secrets, no

mysteries, no

obscurities.

Nothing is veiled;

all is revealed.”

I returned the microphone to the DJ and stepped off stage. She began packing up her equipment. People approached me and I met their comments and questions politely. I was introduced to some and spoke again to others. Calvin and Fay conversed with me briefly. Soon enough I had said my goodbyes and, as I left, put my helmet and gloves back on.

My motorcycle and I greeted the new sunlight together.

Author’s Note: This is the second of three in the “Raven” series. The third will be released in the Asylum Monthly ezine. To read the first, click here.

It may sound a little absurd, but let’s face it, characters need to change, need to develop, and Power Pack is not a concept that ages well. Imagine if Adam West’s Batman had starred in The Dark Knight. Imagine Heath Ledger’s performance running a silk robe-wearing playboy who slides down poles with underage boys. Oh, the fangirls would have loved that.

But I digress; this isn’t about Power Pack being a bad basis for a movie in this day and age, this is about the Marvel films on the whole. Let’s face it; they’re too cut-and-paste. They all seem the same, lacking the respective moods of the character and even the comic itself. Spider-man 3 can best be summed up by the whiny Nickelback tune that acted as its official song, and the closest Daredevil had to atmosphere was rain. Lots of rain. So much rain, in fact, that they decided for the final fight to have the water sprinklers on so there’d be rain. Rain isn’t a damn mood.

And now what worries me is the idea of an Avengers movie. Such a movie wouldn’t be made to make an Avengers movie, it would be made to shop around more character-specific films. Soon enough, there will be movies of everyone in the universe they can find a script for, which really worries me. I don’t want to see a Dazzler that could easily double as Jem: The Motion Picture.

On the other hand, X-Men Origins: Magneto may be the salvation Marvel’s movies need, being on the scale of sheer awesome equivalent to Watchmen or The Dark Knight. It has the potential to embody the fantasy I’ve had sitting through every dull holocaust movie; that Max Eisenhardt bursts in and righteously fucks up the SS. Admit it, you’ve thought it too while sitting through Schindler’s List in high school. It would be the ultimate vindication of Marvel films.

However, one good idea isn’t enough. Given how superhero movies are becoming dime-a-dozen action flicks they need original ideas. And who better to give these ideas than a college student on summer break with a sleep disorder?

First up is Luke Cage. A Luke Cage film has a lot of promise in the character’s roots as a blaxploitation comic. That’s a genre we sorely need in 2009. Imagine a Luke Cage movie in the style of Shaft or Dolemite, complete with a funky soul theme. It’s clear we’re not getting a Blade movie in the vein of Blacula, so at least give us that. If there’s three things not to have died from the 70s, it’s disco, cocaine, and exclamations like “Sweet Christmas”, all of which would be great additions to a Luke Cage flick. I’d love a film that could give us a sense of humour.

Or how about Deadpool? Since they fucked him up in the movie continuity, a movie seems like a bad idea. However, the realm of animation is wide open. I say we give him his own animated talk show, complete with a co-host; I’m thinking Loki or Bob, Agent of HYDRA. This could easily air on Adult Swim, sort of like a Marvel version of Space Ghost: Coast to Coast. Except funny.

Or, if that’s a stretch, why not go the sitcom route? Cable and Deadpool share an apartment in a middle-class New York neighbourhood, with Cable, a single dad raising the first mutant child since M-Day, playing straight man to Deadpool’s wacky antics, Weasel living in their cave-like basement emerging in a Kramer-like fashion, and regular assassination attempts from the comically inept Bishop. Throw some regular drop-ins from associated characters like Outlaw and Agent X, and you have yourself comedic gold, man.

Another character who should be better placed on television; Moon Knight. A millionaire superhero who works as a Chicago cab driver who fights crime; how did this not happen in the early nineties anyway? Watch him fumble as he tries to lead a normal life while his personality disorder leaves him with the wrong persona at the wrong time.

A World War 2 era Captain America film. Along the same lines as X-Men Origins: Magneto, I just want to see Captain America punch Adolf Hitler in the soul. Since it’s Golden Age Captain America, I’d also like to see a lot of cheese and goofiness.

Archie Meets The Punisher. That one needs no comment.

Runaways. This is an attempt to broaden the appeal of their licences, instead being a teen drama in the vein of The OC and The Hills and eschewing much of the superhero stuff. I don’t want to give much away, but a great season finale cliffhanger would involve Xavin working to separate Nico and Karolina in the guise of his fiance.

Runaways has some chance, but it won’t win over adult women. That’s where the more mature drama comes in, revolving around the romantic lives of the X-Men, Cyclops in particular. There’s such an insane love web there that Cyclops alone could keep people captivated for a year or so.

Another comedy, this one in the vein of Superbad and American Pie. The Mediocre Six; the quest of six d-list members of Spider-man’s rogue’s gallery, all roughly college aged, looking to be a thorn in the side of New York’s crime fighting community. Unfortunately, in the end they get beaten by the crack team of Howard the Duck and Spider-ham, a duo almost as inept as the villains.

And finally, to end on a serious note, Namor. I think a movie with Marvel’s kick-ass version of Aqua Man has a lot of potential to deliver a message. They could easily pull off a movie with an environmental message that doesn’t blow with Namor, portraying him with much more ambiguity than they’d grant any other character. Namor’s never been afraid to do things most heroes wouldn’t dare, and putting that into action with a message about polluting the seas would be an admirable redemption for their movies and show us that they aren’t just looking to supplant different characters into the same general plots. While social commentary isn’t always good in comics, it’s had its moments.

Writing Code in RPG Maker - The Editor

Well, before we get underway let me teach you some tricks and some useful tidbits that everyone programming in RPG Maker should know.

1. F1 is help! - You can actually be surprised at the amount of information held in the help files. Telling you how to track down errors and more. Take a read of some of the material if you have a moment.
2. Current Section Search( Shift + F) or All Sections Search (CTRL + Shift + F) - I cannot tell you how often I use these hot keys! Without these, I would be scrolling through code for hours trying to find a particular something.
3. Replace ( CTRL + H ) - Ever name something that you didn’t like? I do this from time to time when I am trying to rename something, but this function makes it much faster. Be sure to always look at what you are replacing and that it is replaced correctly before proceeding!
4. F3 - Repeats the previous search criteria on the current document.
5. Forums - There are lots of scripters out there that are willing to lend a helping hand if you get lost in your own code or just want to talk theory with. If you are having a tough time trying to resolve a problem and the help isnt ‘helpful’, then post it here on the Creation Asylum Forum’s to get some help.

Other useful tidbits about the editor include:

• Highlights - nearly all keywords when typed correctly highlight themselves to let you know that it is reserved. ( Green for comments, Blue for key words, Purple for text, Red for Numbers, etc)
  
• Anytime you want to comment out an entire section of code but don’t want to add a # to the beginning of each of the lines. Just use the commands =begin and =end. One note about these comment codes, is that they must be placed at the beginning of the line (No extra spaces/tabs/etc before it) or it will not work and will produce a syntax error.

Well, have I drummed your eye’s enough with useless banter on the editor yet? If you don’t think so, then you should read it again. Otherwise I think we are ready to finally begin.

Your first real script

Well, it has been a long time coming, but you are finally here. You have been informed of many of the useful tools and tips to help you through this process. Now it is finally time to begin. To start we will be creating a small window to display some information. I will describe some of the things you will need to know as we go along.

To create a blank script first open RPG Maker to your desired project, then press F11 to open the script editor. Scroll to the bottom of the script section list and choose main. Press Insert on your keyboard to insert a new blank script entry. Highlight the new script entry and give it a name by typing in the box on the bottom of the dialog.

Now we are going to create a small window. Nothing really special, but we will have it print the name of the current party leader. So… lets begin.

Type in the following: (All code displayed here is in Blue, but your editor will display only keywords in blue etc)

As of right now, the window can be called and displayed. The Window_Base ’super class’ already has some existing methods for creation(initialize)/update/refresh etc. However it requires 4 arguments(variables). These arguments are x,y,width, height. Now to call this window in game, I want you to create an event on the map, and have it use the ‘call script’ command on the 3rd page. Using that type in the following to ‘initialize’ the window.

But we don’t want to have to tell it this stuff when we call it, so we are going to change it to be a little more friendly when calling.

What this does is change the initialize method for the current class, by calling the ’super class’ with a preset x,y,width, and height. Now depending on what you are actually trying to do this may be desirable or not, but you can now call the window by doing the following in the call script:

Now, shall we put something in the window? I thought you might say so. Before we continue though, you need to finish ‘initializing’ the window. To do this we have to create a ‘bitmap’ that is the size of the window minus borders. You can see this done in every default window script in RPG Maker. As for why they didn’t have an auto method is beyond me, but regardless, here you have it:

The line Bitmap.new(width, height) creates a blank foreground drawing board for the window. The window itself doesn’t change, but the foreground does. That is why scrolling etc is capable and when you don’t minus the borders you have a ‘arrow’ pointing down and right when created. This is to signify (from within the Window class) that there is more information that is not displayed in the current viewable area of the ‘window’. I hope I said that in a way you can understand it. But its basically like you looking out your bedroom window and only seeing part of the tree outside.

So.. anyway. Lets move on shall we? The next part is to actually draw the name on it. We will be doing this by adding that draw information to the ‘refresh’ method. To do this your code should look like the following:

Now, you will have noticed that I used what is called a ‘method’ of the bitmap class, 2 of them in fact. ‘.clear’ and ‘.draw_text’. Both are hidden methods of ‘Bitmap’ which is explained in the help file. The clear method takes no arguments and erases the current bitmap. Setting all the x,y coordinates of the bitmap back to clear (Color.new(0,0,0,0)). The draw_text command uses 5-6 arguments. When I say 5-6 arguments, I mean that 5 are required and the 6th is optional. The first 5 are x,y,width,height,text. The 6th is alignment, used for left justify(0), middle(1) or right(2). You don’t have to use these options, but they are available regardless. The width/height is the ‘area’ in which can be drawn on. In the case of text, it should normally re-size itself automatically to make itself fit if the text you are trying to display is too large for the ‘area’ in which you have chosen to draw it at the current font size.

So, enough explaining things, lets see the window again.

Repeat our last event command, no changes necessary.

You should get the following:

Now.. the thing about that window is that it never goes away right? So we need a method to get it to go away, commonly called disposed in programming. The good news is that its a built in method for ‘object’ which is the super class of well… everything in ruby. In fact we don’t even need to write anything extra to make this dispose, because that is handled inside of the Window hidden class. We simply need to tell this window when to dispose.

For this example we will dispose it when the ‘A’ button is pressed. We will add this to the ‘update’ method of the window so as to not clutter the script call event, but mind you it could be done there as well.

Now call your window again and press the ‘A’ button. Note that the ‘A’ button is according to the RPG Maker application and usually is not mapped to the actual A key on your keyboard. In most cases it is either the D or the Z keys.

You will find that it still doesn’t close as you would expect. Why is this? Its because you have to ‘loop’ to have it check for that input. To do this you need to update your command to be like this:

Now do you see why I didn’t want to clutter up that window? You only have so many lines in there and its the fastest way for me to show you stuff without creating an entire scene. Which we will do next tutorial. It will be something simple, but regardless you should grasp the main concept of these things.

Anyway.. go ahead and retest the game, and you will note that once the window is opened that you cannot do anything until the ‘A’ key is pressed. Once it is.. the window is closed and everything returns to normal.

I personally use this method to test my windows when I am creating stuff, because it is far faster than building an entire scene. Unless you make yourself a template scene etc. (which they have in VX, Scene_Base)

Well, I hope you enjoyed this brief tutorial and hope to see you back again soon. Our next tutorial will go over the Menu Scene (main portion only) to explain how it works and why, then we will play with it a little to help you get a better understanding of how things interact with each other.

Until next time!

What is RGSS?

RGSS(Ruby Game Scripting Source) is a scripting language based on Ruby.  Ruby was created by Yukihiro Matsumoto and is a fully object-oriented(OO) language.  You can find more information about ruby from their official website at http://www.ruby-lang.org.

Using RGSS in your game will help you take it to the next level and beyond if you really want.  The only draw back to Ruby versus other languages is, in my opinion, that Ruby is slower.  Obviously this is because it is a scripting language, which is always slower compared to compiled languages.   Anyway, I feel that is enough on this.  Lets get onto actually learning something useful!

Understanding the Basics

To understand the basics of programming in ruby or any other language for that matter.  You need to get a grip of the lingo and usage of a number of things.  To do this, I am actually going to send you elsewhere.  I feel that their tutorial is more than adequate to get you to understand the basics and will save me from typing a novel.  Plus its funny!  So for this section, please read the first 4 chapters of Why’s Poignant Guide to Ruby which can be found at http://poignantguide.net/ruby/chapter-1.html.   Once you have completed reading this, this is where we will start the next section.  Writing code for RPG Maker!

Writing code for RPG Maker

First I want you to stop, go get a drink and roll up your sleeves.   There is going to be a rather steep learning curve here, but just remember.  Stick with it and you will understand.

“Hey Marco? It’s just started to rain, just so you know,” one of the rookies said.

I took no notice. What did rain matter? We were inside a chapel, with walls roughly 3 foot thick, and a roof made up of intricately carved marble and then lined with lead. There was no way any rain would be getting inside any time soon. I looked over to the communication stack that Carlson was attending to, and wondered what exactly he was doing. He seemed to be staring it down.

I yelled over to him and he broke his gaze for several seconds, before looking back to the stack and replying with a swift, “What you want boss, I’m kinda busy at the minute.”

I knew better than to ask, but I guessed the rest of the squad were starting to become restless too.

“You brought your guitar right? Break it out; I want to hear some more of your insane shredding. It is quite um… What’s the word? Inspirational… That’s the one! I’m sure the rest of he guys would enjoy it to. It’s that or we get Jeeves to do some stand up comedy, and believe me, you don’t want that,” I said, before laughing so hard I almost couldn’t breathe.

I steadied myself and to my amazement he had left the stack and went over to his pack. I saw him rummage around briefly before returning with his antique Fender Stratocaster – one of the only remaining to have survived since the early 21st century. The only others that I knew about were in museums, but none of them were as loved and respected as much as Carlson’s. It gleamed, and looked spectacular, for an obsolete piece of kit anyway. The rest of my squad had since moved from where they were and now we were all bunched up in the centre of the chapel, anxiously awaiting Carlson to let off some insane metal riffs as he called them.

I remember him telling me that they were popular in the 21st century, and many artists used them. If I recall, he named but one metal band – Dragonforce. He said that he admired their technique, and so he had spent the past 20 years of his life mastering it. He played several riffs, and we were all blown away. He had improved since I had last heard him play, which was always a good thing.

Before he could play any more, a crack rang out in the distance and where Carlson’s head had been just a moment ago, there lingered a red haze, followed several seconds later by the sound of his guitar hitting the floor and splintering into several pieces. The oak doors at the front of the church flew open and a handful of shadowy figures rushed in with their rifles covering pretty much every angle of the room.

Instinctively the entire squad threw themselves into cover behind the pews, before grabbing their weapons and providing suppression fire. I was quite surprised that even the greenest member of my squad could do that instantly, without an order.

Training standards really have been going up, I thought, before picking up my modified FN35 and taking out the figure closest to the door with a clean headshot, and ducking back into cover, just as the pew splintered above my head due to the others now concentrating on me. The fire fight continued before the attackers abruptly retreated.

Cautiously, the others and I stood and assessed the damage. We had a KIA squad member, which also meant no one to operate the radio equipment, and a wrecked guitar. Jeeves immediately set himself to closing the door and stacking pews against it. The other two caught on and helped him. I went over to where Carlson’s corpse was and I swore under my breath. I carefully picked up his body and took it over to the altar where I covered him with my overcoat. I whispered more to myself than anyone that I would avenge him. I turned back to the door to see that they had created a nicely defensible position from the pews and general objects in the room. I told Private Gregory to attempt to get an SOS signal out to base, and I went over to the barricade where Jeeves and the rook stood. I told them to cover Greg whilst I checked out the catacombs quickly, just incase we needed to make a quick getaway. I hoped we didn’t, but it was necessary to do.

By Marc Peasgood