Dearest Claudia, It has been so long since I have seen you, too long. I think about our goodbye at the docks at my boarding of the Eastern Gloam to set sail for Indochina. I remember how you wept, and how I did too, as we kissed goodbye. I remember how you worried about what you heard, about how the people there attacked the French, but I told you that it was still worth it. A decision I still stand by, even though it meant being so far from home, and you. But I have joyous news; I will be home soon. Let me tell you of my adventures! The chance to join the university expedition to parts unknown was well worth it, as it has given me so much to share with you. I was hesitant at first, watching Port Astor sink below the horizon, but if I had only known what awaited! The journey was long, and I assisted the professors with planning the route we would take overland once we arrived in that tropical land so far away. It was then, after spending so much time with Professor Garland,

    Mass Effect was an sci-fi action RPG developed in by BioWare and published by Microsoft Game Studios on the Xbox 360, and EA on the PC and PlayStation 3. It's sequel, Mass Effect 2, was released in 2010, and was also developed by BioWare, and published by EA for the PC and Xbox 360, and later ported to the PlayStation 3 in 2011.      When I first played Mass Effect 1, first released on November 20th, 2007, it was a few years past that. The game had come out, received some good attention, but it had just passed me by. It was not until '08 or '09 that I finally could be bothered to pick it up. But when I did, it quickly become my biggest time sink; cruising the Milky Way in the SR1 Normandy with friends and crew alike filled the bulk of my days, such a luxury was for a fourteen-year-old dropout. But those days are ones I look back fondly on, driving around in the Mako, clunky and awkward as it was, or fighting my way through the worlds that were plot critical; saving or d

      Detective Morris was stumped. He had been assigned this case, and he swore it was going to be the end of him. Dozens of murders across the city, and no leads. The victims were either career criminals, or were killed in commission of a crime-- no saints, to be sure; killers in their own right, thieves, and so on, but nothing to deserve what they got. Vigilantism wasn't a new thing in Port Astor, hell, it used to be something it was (in)famous for in the early 1900's, with the likes of the Ghost of Astor, but those were days long gone. The city, and the detective himself, had enough problems right now, and it didn't need some psycho-hero wannabe taking matters into their own hands.     Half the department, let alone his precinct, was on the take to god-knows-who, crime rates only ever seem to go up, capture rates haven't risen since Reagan, and he's continuously expected to do more with less despite the fact that the police budget has ballooned, with the funds g

      The sound of the shot cracked through the white trees, and the Ritter went down with a sudden crash. Its comrades sharply stopped to see where the shot came from.     In the distance, the lithe shooter slid from her position in the tree, landing softly in the dip just below. This had been the second Ritter she had brought down today, but it would be forfeit if they found her; her thoughts recalled fighting Suited targets on Asovel-- one or two were enough to wipe out entire squads of standard infantry. Expert as she was, she would still be no match for an upfront fight against three of them.     She ran down the snow-lined gulley to remain out of sight. In the distance, the sound of the Ritter's rollers crashing through brush, breaking and snapping, with garbled digitized chatter. The sound grew nearer, and without hesitation, she dived into a hollowed tree. The Ritters went off their rollers with a loud clang, their heavy metal stomping subtly shaking the ground beneath. It

      "You're all that's left?" Aqil al-Azazil asked incredulously. The night before, a encampment of mercenaries was before him, but when he emerged from his caravan, all but the scrawny man before him had gone. The Ragged Hounds, the mercenaries in question, were ones he had bought before he left his home far to the east. They were to be his way of restoring his fortune, but now instead, they have only added to his loss by desertion.     Aqil cleared his throat, and addressed the young man in front of him; young, of dark hair, but sunken eyes of someone much, much older.  "I commend you on your loyalty and dedication to your employer, good sir! Surely this speaks much to your integrity of your character" Aqil said in a commanding voice, fit for stage. "Mister, I don't know what those words mean. The old boss just said that you were the boss now" the younger man said. Aqil's eye twitched. "Good sir, may I ask your name?" he asked

Hello Everyone!         I hope everyone is doing well in the interesting times we live in. There's no story in this; just me talking.     I was never one to keep a diary or journal, though my parents did buy me one once upon a time when I was a kid. It was blue, and had an itty-bitty padlock. I never wrote in it. I don't even know why I had it, or why it was bought for me. For a long time, I think the idea of recording my own thoughts for myself was an odd one, but commonly enough seen on shows like Doug on Nickelodeon back in the day. So why am I doing it here? Fuck if I now, I guess I just feel like it? Do I need a reason? I don't know anymore, man. As far as what I am actually doing, I am working on a few projects. The investigation pieces have been fun, just thinking about presenting information outside of traditional storytelling. Not focusing on how it flows, but what the information is actually presenting. I don't know if, or how, it'll go or if it is receive

     With nowhere else to go, Harah begun a cautious walk down the emergency-lit corridor from Port-3. The Roux was gone, and so the only way off Folban Station was to find either another ship, or smaller launch. After the recent events, it was clear that either this station was experiencing the worst ever recorded incident of system control error, or something was very intent on killing him. He had no desire to find out which one.     The sound of his steps echoed dully, then the PA system cracked on: "...twelve-million dead in the Asovel, and the resignation of Frontier Marshall Reidt to his Majesty for the disgraceful defeat at the hands of the genocidal rebels."      "We weren't the only ones" Harah growled back in his mind, recalling what he had seen planet side on Asovel; aftermaths of civilian executions by Imperial forces as retribution for aiding the "rebels". That was one the images that kept him fighting. It was one of the reasons he did w

Note: This is an early work of mine from 2015. I included it to maybe show differences between how I write now versus how I wrote then.  His head pounded as his senses came back to him. Tom lay on a cool, damp cement floor and the scent of rot and sewage permeated all around. He remembered what had happened what seemed like only moments ago. He and his comrades, Raul and Rog, were chasing their quarry; a horrid beast, but with only patches of skin and fur to cover its bare muscle and gore. It led them on a grand chase through the narrow streets illuminated only by the dingy streetlamps which colored it the same as dark urine. As they turned the corner, their prey had seemed to elude them. They cursed and spat in frustration; this wasn’t the first time this had happened. This moment lasted only but a brief second, before the beast announced itself from behind, from behind its pursuers. It flung itself at them, with the hunters only having enough time to gaze in horror in realizatio

      " Folban Station , MPV Roux , requesting permission to land" Harah droned once again to no reply. He had already tried the radio a number of times to no effect. He wasn't sure what would be worse-- continuing to get nothing back, or having to explain why he was coming back in their patrol craft. It is not like he had much choice; when the Roux "detained" him, they only had enough fuel for the return trip which had already been punched into the navigation. Where else could he have gone? He looked out the porthole in the cockpit, and saw that one of the docking stations, Port-3, was open.      "It's not like anyone is telling me no" he justified to himself, and slowly brought in the Roux . Besides, he wanted to see what was going on-- stations don't typically go silent for no reason, and he was just unwise enough to be curious.     As the Roux drifted in, he soon regretted his choice; the landing lights on the ship revealed a scene of mass

 Hello! A friend of mine recently made their own blog for their writing. I've known them some time now, and I admire the use of narrative voice in their work. Give them a read! You can find their stuff here.

  Note: This was a work I had feelings about putting on here. It gets a bit graphic on the violence end. If that is something you have a hard time with, then it's a-okay to skip this one. I wrote it some years ago when I was in a weird place in my life. Harris Johnson walked home late at night, to his small apartment in North Port. He had stayed out late, having a few drinks to numb his unease over losing his job earlier that day. He had worked at a bank, in a back financial office, dealing in corporate finance and leasing. It had been the second job he had of that nature, and couldn’t stand them—but they paid well. He wasn’t sure why he had been fired; had he taken one too many days off? He thought about it as he shuffled home. “Good riddance” he thought to himself, trying to bluff himself out of his concern. When he arrived, he unlocked his door, but not before missing the key slot half a dozen times in his buzzed and exhausted state. He dragged himself in, placing his hat and

     Released in 2004, Star Wars: Knights of The Old Republic 2: The Sith Lords ( KOTOR 2: TSL ) is a CRPG developed by Obsidian Entertainment. Upon release, it left a lot of content on the cutting room floor which was subsequently re-introduced by fans via the  TSLRCM , or The Sith Lord Restored Content Mod, which also resolved a number of technical issues the plagued the game such as stability problems and broken in-game quests. This is the third in a series of articles detailing specific choices made in the design of KOTOR 2. The first article covering item and characterization design can be found  here , and the second covering party companions here .     In KOTOR 1, Darth Malak is the undisputed antagonist through the entire game, after betraying his master Darth Revan before the events of the game. Despite the revelation of Revan's true fate toward the end of the main plot. Its sequel, KOTOR 2, has a much less well-defined series of antagonists. This isn't a condemnation,

     Released in 2004, Star Wars: Knights of The Old Republic 2: The Sith Lords ( KOTOR 2: TSL ) is a CRPG developed by Obsidian Entertainment. Upon release, it left a lot of content on the cutting room floor which was subsequently re-introduced by fans via the  TSLRCM , or The Sith Lord Restored Content Mod, which also resolved a number of technical issues the plagued the game such as stability problems and broken in-game quests. This is the second in a series of articles detailing specific choices made in the design of KOTOR 2. The first article can be found here .     One of the most important aspects of CRPGs is the party composition. You'll spend tens of hours with these characters, and how they are portrayed is important to not only enjoyment of the game, but how the narrative interfaces with the gameplay and immersing the player in that world. When done poorly, it can jerk the player out of the experience with jarring dialogue, poor characterization, and bad mechanical imple

 The black liquid was oil, we’d struck it rich. We knew that we could now retire, and live in leisure. We actually started talking about all the ways we’d spend the money. Our first choice was to move out west, and buy land, or even try our hand in the market. Ross said we could go back east; return in glorious triumph. Joseph didn’t know what to do with it, but then again, he didn’t know what to do with himself in the best of times. As the burning sun bore down on us and our discovery, we began to feel a growing sense of annoyance to take us. All alone in the wastes, we bickered about how we ought to split our find. Ross said he should get the majority, since it was rightly his equipment, while Joseph staked his claim by virtue of it being his land. While, I myself being a gentleman of sensible mind, suggested even shares, but the others would not have any of it. Ross swung first at Joseph, knocking the smaller man to the ground; then mounting and pummeling as he went. I tried to pull

  “ I’m going to hang them by their tool s , and beat them with sticks! ” Harah roared in the cramped compartment. The fuel gauge read empty, which was why his small freighter dropped out of phase so violently. So much so, that Harah had been ejected from his cot, hitting his head against the bulkhead. He could still feel his skull ringing. Staring at the gauge, he theorized that the shady roustabouts at Port Lancel siphoned fuel-- not a surprising act in more remote areas that don’t produce much of their own. They would fill your reserves with inert liquid with the same density, leaving just enough actual go-juice in the line to get you off and running into phase, and leave you stranded far enough away to where you couldn’t sub-light back. Harah stood there in his impotent anger, alone, with just the subtle hum of shipboard electrical to keep him company. Thankfully, his arcanite generator would power that indefinitely as far as he knew. At least, longer than what probably remai