dizzcity » Writing

Wedding Vows done!

Joshua — Thu, 16 Jul 2009 15:24:02 +0000

Finally, Wedding Vows has been done and released!

You can view the page with downloads here, and the comments and discussion forum here.

Relationship Webs and Characters in a VN

Joshua — Fri, 19 Jun 2009 15:28:46 +0000

Today, I wrote an essay about creating characters for a Visual Novel, by thinking about characters being defined by their relationships to each other. Posted it in at the Lemmasoft forums, which is a forum for amateur / hobbyist English-language Visual Novel and dating-sim creators, which I am a part of (with Wedding Vows as my project). You can view the forum post, and the discussion, here.

Be warned that it uses a lot of references to works that the casual / average reader won’t be aware of… but the theory of the article should be understandable even without the examples. It’s basically a theoretical piece reflecting on how to make deeper, more complex stories in the medium of Visual Novels.

Art & Literature

Joshua — Tue, 02 Jun 2009 14:56:07 +0000

I was browsing through Scott McCloud’s books the other day. Scott McCloud is a Western comics artist, and he has authored a graphic novel called Understanding Comics, which is considered to be the classic and best textbook reference for the study of comics as a medium. Anyway, I just skimmed through some of his ideas, but a couple things remain in my memory. One of them is how he defined Art and Literature.

According to McCloud, most forms of media (books, film, comics, photographs, paintings, music) can be used in a wide variety of ways, from entertainment to education. What elevates a particular instance of a medium from “common” to “Literature” or “Art” (as the snobs would call it), can be shown like this. We call things Literature when the message and themes that the medium conveys is meaningful or addresses an issue that is, for all intents and purposes, speaks to our souls and is “serious”. In other words, if a book talks about coffeeshop gossip, it’s probably not Literature, but if it portrays the human condition under conditions of war, depravity, stress, etc. , it can be called Literature. Literature is concerned with the content and meaning of the message being delivered by the medium. Art, on the other hand, explores the medium itself, and the techniques and ways in which a message can be brought forth through that medium. In other words, a medium becomes an Art form when it finds new ways to express something that is cannot be expressed by other media and leverages its’ inherent unique properties. Artistry is concerned with the properties and techniques inherent to that medium, and how to use them effectively.

I found those two definitions remarkably useful in clarifying my thought processes, and helping me think in new ways about all the mediums I create in – short stories, visual novels, games. I’ve always been interested in pushing the boundaries of innovation in those media – I don’t want to stick to the simple and boring entertainment. I want to try something different, something unique. And now I know where to concentrate my efforts. The boundaries become defined. Art and Literature – changing how a message is conveyed through a medium, and changing the message that the medium is trying to convey. That’s my goal.

Wedding Vows is on again!

Joshua — Fri, 29 May 2009 15:12:12 +0000

Finally! The Wedding Vows project is on again! Today I met Wei Man, a former coursemate and junior in the NUS Games Developing Group, who has agreed to be the artist for the project. And she liked the story, and was willing to illustrate it. We discussed art styles that would suit the mood and feel of Wedding Vows. And what was great was that she agreed with me about what sort of style would fit Wedding Vows best… it is always nice to have your opinion confirmed. Plus, she also pointed out weaknesses in the story that I had half-sensed, but not managed to articulate. Two heads are definitely better than one on something like this… especially if they belong to different genders and have different tastes in media.

In one week, I will have portraits in multiple styles to choose from. In two weeks, we should have most of the portraits done. By that time, I also hope to finish the rest of the background pictures and re-writing the weak parts of the script. By the end of this summer break, I want Wedding Vows to be completed!

(Plus, once I told my cell group about it, and how it has been dangling unfinished for two years now, they threatened to fine me $1000 if it wasnt finished by August. Ah, the motivation and encouragement I get from the people close to me. )

On Character-Building in Stories

Joshua — Sat, 16 May 2009 13:53:29 +0000

I recently finished reading the Ender saga novels by Orson Scott Card. However, apart from the powerful stories and themes in the novels themselves, what struck me the most was his philosophy and thoughts about writing, which he put into the preface of his books. Very thought-provoking insights into the nature of how to write a powerful story that can touch people profoundly.

One of the insights that he wrote and I am still absorbing is this: A character is not defined by who she is or what she does, but by his or her relationships with other characters, and their reactions to her and her actions. It is a very profound way of thinking, but when you examine it closely, it rings true. We are all shaped by our surroundings. Call someone an idiot often enough, and he believes it himself. When a reader reads a story, his perception of a character is determined by the judgements made by the other characters in the novel. It is their perceptions and thought processes that are the lens by which he views a characters actions in the story.

What does this mean, then, and how is it helpful?

What this means is, when I try to create characters for a new story, the most important thing to focus on is the relationship dynamics between characters, instead of just the personality traits that make them memorable to the audience. It is one thing to say “Amy is the character that always insults other people.” But that is not enough. That sort of personality trait is easy to write into a story, but it does not turn Amy into a living, breathing character. What makes her live is the reactions of the other characters towards her insults. Do they laugh at her, making her a pitiable object of impotent rage who only has her tongue as a weapon? Do they laugh with her, making her a merry and witty comedian who bestows affectionate insults and teasing in the name of good cheer and fun? Do they weep at her harsh insults, making her a despotic tyrant who likes to hurt people deliberately? Do they insult her back, turning her into a character trapped in a web of destructive relationships, unable to get free? Do different characters react differently? Can Amy be viewed as affectionately teasing by one character, but harsh and caustic by another?

Of course. That is what makes Amy alive in the mind of the reader.

But what this means is that, for every character I include in the story I write, I must think not only of their personality traits, but also of their relationships with all the other characters that already exist. Which means that the complexity of the story grows exponentially. So you can either have a small cast with a deep and complex web of relationships, or a large cast with many shallow characters that only serve one function and are defined by at most one or two relationships. Given the choice, I think I would prefer the former to the latter – it makes for more compelling stories – but it is also much more difficult to write.

The most basic configuration of relationships that can make good drama, I think, consists of three characters. Two of them should be in conflict, and the third serves as the judging function which determines who wins and who loses. That is the classic love triangle. Two suitors fighting over a girl who will choose which one of them to marry. But it can get more complex than that. What if there are multiple issues at stake, and the functions of the characters differ depending on the issue that is involved? With just three characters, you could have a whole potential multiplicity of complex relationships going on. For example, A and B are fighting for the romantic affections of C. However, at the same time, B and C are in conflict over the type of job that C wants to be employed in, and both want A to support one of them. And equally, A and C are in conflict over the treatment of a family member, and want B to judge between them. Triple-deadlock. One judgement may affect the decision of a party on a different issue. But that makes really good drama.

So, to sum up… characters are defined by relationships with other characters. The greater the depth and complexity of layers within the relationships, the greater the dramatic potential of a story. Multiple themes and issues can be overlaid upon each other, making different characters perform different functions for each layer or issue, thus providing a more complex relationship web. Boy, this is going to take some time to think through and put into practice. It is definitely not so easy as it seems.

No wonder some authors spend a year or so just on world-building and character-building before even starting to write a story.

Planetstorm: Prisoner of War 2

Joshua — Mon, 04 May 2009 23:34:33 +0000

Warning: Heavy use of foul language. I’m writing from the perspective of a criminal who grew up in a ghetto, after all. Having said that, I’m moderately proud of this chapter. It’s kind of long, but I think it sets the world up quite nicely.

Episode 1 – You’re In the Army Now

The officer waiting at the desk looked a little nonplussed at seeing the private standing in line with the rest of us, holding onto the tattered limbs of the prisoner that was killed. He was a cultured-looking man, possibly a politically-appointed officer that couldn’t make it as a line officer and so was relegated to desk jobs. He definitely didn’t radiate the same sort of leashed ferocity that was present in all of the soldiers outside.

He raised an oh-so-cultured eyebrow. “And what, pray tell, Private… Lichtnikov,” he said, reading the nametag on the soldier’s breast, “are you doing with an arm and a leg?”

Even his voice sounded like a bureaucrat, a high nasally whine with overtones of pompous grandeur that he probably meant to sound impressive, but just came off as sounding ridiculous. Back in the ghetto, he would have lasted about 5 seconds before someone iced him for his pocket change. Still, he managed to scare the shit out of the soldier in front of me. Must be some big fish, with lots of connections back home.

Lichtnikov gulped. “The General ordered me to carry them in, sir!” he said, in a kind of parade-ground shout, eyes aimed somewhere above the officer’s head. “She shot a prisoner as he was trying to escape, sir! Since he was chained to the rest, I was ordered to carry them in until the prisoners were unchained, sir!” I noticed he made no mention of the fact that he had been involved in the scuffle, nor that it was his kicking and screaming that had caused the incident in the first place.

“I see,” the officer said. He sighed and massaged his forehead. “Well, I don’t think there’s any reason to keep you waiting around any longer, Private. I’m sure there must be other things that you have to do… duty and all that.” He gestured to a sergeant standing behind him. “Unlock the prisoners and escort them to the medical room.”

The processing was fast and efficient. They did a quick medical checkup and issued us some badly-fitting, thin uniforms. You could see where laser holes in the uniforms had been patched over and mended, and in some cases there were some wine-dark stains that couldn’t be removed. I shivered again. Dead men’s clothes.

After we had gotten our clothes, they made all of us prisoners file through an AutoDoc machine, which quickly slapped a white patch on the back of each prisoner’s neck. Some cried out in pain, while others just winced. When it came to my turn, I could feel a sharp pricking sensation, as though a bee had stung me where the patch was, and a sensation of some cold liquid entering my bloodstream.

“What’s this for?” I asked the medtech manning the machine.

“Insurance, jailbird,” he grinned evilly at me. “That patch contains a little cocktail of chemical enzymes linked to an RF receiver. If they’re set off, they metabolise all your body cells into liquid fuel and set off an explosive chain reaction throughout your body. The transmitter’s given to the leader of your squad. You even think about running away, and ka-boom! You’re toast.”

My heart sank. My vague hopes of trying to escape in the night faded. Not that they would amount to much, anyway. I had no place to go, and this entire area was a warzone. Most likely, I would be mistaken for an enemy soldier and killed by some random fire before I could even make my way back to civilization.

“And don’t even try to tamper with it,” the medtech further advised me. “The thing’s set to go off if it detects anyone fiddling with it as well. We had one or two incidents already with the last shipment of prisoners. ‘Course, the only problem was that they managed to destroy the uniforms they were wearing too. ” He sounded a little miffed at the thought. “Those were brand-new, not like the ones you guys are wearing now.”

With that morbid thought, he waved us through. We then had to file into a briefing room, where the same political officer that was at the entrance sat at the desk in front and the rest of us took seats in the hall. We prisoners weren’t alone. There were other soldiers – also fresh recruits, by the looks of them – coming in from another doorway at the far end. They were wearing proper uniforms, decently made, warm and clean. Red Brigade troops, not penal soldiers like us. Most of them looked like they had just stepped out of a recruiting poster. The Kollective wants YOU, Komrade! Join the fight against the evil and rebellious machines.

Farmer’s boys and college kids, most of them. Still believing in all that idealist nationalistic crap. I pitied them and envied them at the same time. Most of them had never seen a day of hunger in their lives, I bet. Not like the ghetto where a rat a day was considered good, and if someone managed to steal a chicken from a street vendor it was considered a feast for their entire gang.

I wondered if there would be any rats in the trenches, and what they would taste like. My mouth started salivating at the thought, and I remembered that I hadn’t eaten for nearly an entire day.

“Welcome to Koleishnov Base,” the officer began after everyone was seated. “In a moment, you will be given your squad assignments. Some of you will be trained to handle heavy equipment and weaponry here at the base, while others will be formed into six-man infantry squads and assigned to the various brigades fighting at the front lines.”

A group of junior officers formed a line along one side of the room. “As I call out your name, stand up and go to your squad leaders,” the officer pointed at them. “They will lead you to your new assignments.”

He opened a large ledger in front of him and began reading out names. A Red Brigade officer lazily raised his hand and strolled unhurriedly to the door. “Broushnakovi, Alicia. Tank Operator, 512th Armored, Zeta squad.” A small woman got up and went over to the squad leader who had raised his hand. “Daniels, Jack. Ground support. Air Force, 17th Air Squadron.” A blond prisoner stood up. “Drakowski, Vladimir. Medical, 1099th Volunteers, Squad A.” A Red Brigade soldier. “Fenzig, Hans…”

I settled in to wait. The list was alphabetical, so it would be a long time before they got to my name.

“Stanislav, Victor.” That was me. “Infantry, 1099^th Volunteers, Squad A.” I got up and went over to the rest of the 1099^th Volunteers squad. The other five people nodded as I came up. With me, the squad was completed. There were four Red Brigade soldiers – one corporal, two privates, and a medic – and another prisoner alongside me.

“I’m Corporal Janissen,” the corporal, a blond Norweigian giant, nodded at me. He looked like he could tear a person in half with his bare hands, but would have trouble putting a complete sentence together. “Follow me.” Great. A modern-day Viking berserker was leading us in the war against machines. We were doomed.

I followed the rest of the squad as Janissen led us at a brisk pace across the camp towards the trenches in the distance that I had first noticed when I got off the transport. The base was built in the ruins of an old town – jagged outlines of concrete and steel stood against the moonlit night. The Kollective soldiers had selected a wide avenue where a cluster of fairly-sturdy buildings still stood, and placed sandbags to fortify the area. I could see the glint of weaponry among the upper stories of the buildings around the sandbags. There must be soldiers up there too.

“T-t-those must be anti-aircraft missiles,” a thin, reedy voice said on my left. I turned to find my fellow prisoner in the squad looking up at the same buildings I was, his teeth chattering in the cold night air. He turned to look at me. “You think we’ll get to carry those too?”

His eyes were bright, beady like a rat’s. His nose was twitching as well, adding further to the impression. I wasn’t sure whether it was due to a nervous habit, or whether the smell of the place got to him too. The trenches stank, like my old Aunt Marisa’s armpit hair after she finished a hard day’s work in the fertilizer plant.

“I’m Rat,” he said, when he saw me looking at him. “You’re Victor, right?” Okay, so apparently I wasn’t the only one who had noticed his similarity to rodentkind. I nodded, unsure whether I wanted to start up a conversation with this guy. The other members of the squad had drawn ahead, and we two prisoners were at the tail end of the squad after pausing to gawk at the sky defences.

I guess he didn’t see the frown on my face, since he went on talking. “So what’d they get you for?” he asked, huffing a little as we ran a bit faster to catch up with the rest. I debated about keeping silent for a while, but then sighed and answered. Rat looked like one of those annoying pests that would keep on trying to make conversation even if you ignored him, just to hear the sound of his voice.

“Assault and battery.” Well, that was one of the charges, yes. Alongside grand larceny, grand theft auto, breaking and entering, and manslaughter (it wasn’t technically murder, since I had no idea the old guy was using a pacemaker when I set off the EMP device to disable the electronic security bots).

“Cool,” Rat chattered, as we neared the squat bunker which Janissen seemed to be heading for. “They got me in for arson.” He cackled in an insane sort of way. “I set fire to the Komissar’s stables.” I looked sidelong at the twitchy, nervous-sounding wretch. He sounded like he was trying to pretend he was a master criminal in order to psyche himself into believing in his own immortality. “And the best part is, after they make me a soldier for committing arson, they turn my body into a living bomb!” Another maniacal cackle.

Or maybe he was just insane.

Big Tim’s cousin from the ghetto was like that. He got off when he saw blood. Any kind of blood. He would cut himself just to watch himself bleed in ecstasy. Rat sounded a bit like him. Except he liked fire and explosions, I guessed. Yippee for him. I made a mental note to stay as far away from Rat as possible. No telling what he would do on the battlefield.

“No more talking!” Corporal Janissen barked. We had arrived at the bunker. It was a crude steel shell half planted into the earth, surrounded by EMP charges and sandbags. The corporal pulled open the door and marched us all in just as another whine zoomed overhead and gunfire broke out.

“Hell, not again!” another soldier brushed past us, running out towards the mass of soldiers. “Use the goddamn missiles!”

Rat turned his head to follow him, while I examined the bunker’s interior. A dim light bulb provided all the illumination there was. A pile of assorted weaponry stood in one corner, all jumbled together. A couple of lockers and file cabinets stood against the back wall, alongside an emergency power generator. At the center was a battered wooden desk, where a withered-looking man wearing sergeant’s stripes scratched notes into a filthy ledger.

“Squad A, reporting for duty, sir!” Corporal Janissen snapped out, coming to attention. The other Red Brigade troopers also sprang to attention while Rat and I shuffled into an approximation of the position.

“More maggoty meat for the grinder,” the sergeant looked up with a grimace. “Cut out that damned saluting crap they taught you at the academy.” Corporal Janissen flushed red and lowered his hand. The sergeant nodded. “Welcome to the 1099^th Volunteers,” he said, his shout nearly drowned out by the sound of the nearby gunfire. “Get your squad some gear and get your asses over the wall. If you survive, you will find me waiting here. My name is Petrovo.”

He waved a hand at the stack of weaponry. “Help yourselves. Find whatever that suits you. It’s not like we’re short of weapons.” He laughed bitterly. The squad trudged over in silence to find weapons for ourselves. Sergeant Petrovo’s words brought the reality of imminent death very close. Even Rat was silent. But that could be because he was too busy twitching his nose and trying to find the largest, most dangerous weapon in the stack.

I picked up a simple shotgun. I knew how to use this. The grip felt comfortable, familiar. Just like the one I had taken from Aunt Marisa’s basement when I first ran away to join the Skins. I gave it a quick, cursory examination. Everything was working fine. I scrounged around for more ammunition. No way I would run out of ammo in a gunfight this time.

The gunfire outside had stopped, and the door to the bunker banged open. General Danova strode in, cloak flapping in the wind.

“Petrovo,” she snapped. “Give me a squad. I’m going to find out what keeps sending those probes across our lines and take it out now before it causes any more trouble.”

Sergeant Petrovo straightened in his chair. “Yes ma’am,” he said. He looked briefly down at his ledger, then glanced over to us. Oh no, I prayed silently. Please don’t send us out on a mission with that homicidal queen of hell.

“Corporal Janissen,” he rasped. “You’re to take Squad A and accompany General Danova in a patrol against the machines.” He ended in a deeply ironic tone. “Count yourself lucky, boys. You get to play heroes with the General.”

Shit.

Labour May Day

Joshua — Fri, 01 May 2009 15:53:40 +0000

May Day, Labour Day… the first day of May, and the beginning of what I think of as my holidays. The NUS students are through with one week of exams, and have one more week to go before the term officially ends. My marking has been completed, my lecturer is preparing to submit them now, and all that is left is a postmortem meeting discussing how this semester went.

So, since this is Labour Day, I decided to plan all my doings for May, separated into different categories:

Work

Attend postmortem meeting for Game Design module. (1/2 day)

Tidy up files and come up with a coherent filing system to handle multiple semesters of accumulated teaching work. (1/2 day)

Help out with Arts and Social Sciences Open House on 16th May. (1 day)

Locate and purchase finger toy for CNM Games Library. (1/2 day)

Total = 2.5 days

Research / Studies

Check whether my application for Master’s has gone through. (1/2 day)

Read at least 2 journal papers / articles a week about my proposed research topic to find out about the competition. (4-5 days total)

Help vet Siti’s thesis if she needs it, and learn how to structure a thesis. (1-2 days)

Total = 7.5 days.

Ministry

Finish Study of John leader’s training course. (30 hours total)

Plan and implement Study of John in cell group. (20 hours total)

Call at least two cell members a week to spend time with them. (8-10 hours total)

Organise birthday party for two cell members in May (6 hours)

Organise board games party cum outreach event for NUS students. (6 hours)

Collect reimbursement for paying for VCF website hosting. (1 hour)

Sign up for church camp in June. (1 hour)

Read book on Spiritual Gifts in preparation for next season. (10 hours)

Total = 84 hours = 7 days (assuming 12 hours a day)

Relationships

Attend PGP CF reunion on 2nd May (6 hours)

Send birthday card to Val. (3 hours)

Send email to Wai Pick. (3 hours)

Pick out presents for Mother’s Day. (1 day)

Wish the rest of the May babies a happy birthday. (1 hour total)

Total = 2 days.

Hobbies / Projects

Add Portfolio, past projects and Fanfiction.net link to this website. (6 hours)

Blog regularly at least 3 times a week. (24 hours total, at least)

Find artist and finish Wedding Vows project. (5 days)

Finish writing Planetstorm fanfiction. (1-2 days)

Decide and reply to monele whether to continue with Royal Explorer project or not. (1/2 day)

Total = 10 days

Leisure

Finish David Drake’s book “In the Stormy Red Sky” (5 hours total)

Finish “The Case for the Real Jesus” by Lee Strobel. (5 hours total)

Finish at least one round of Sid Meier’s Pirates! game. (10 hours)

Catch up to latest Family Outing episode. (2 days)

Finish playing Fallout game. (20 hours)

Finish playing Baldur’s Gate game. (20 hours)

Watch Cross Game, Hanasekeru Seishounen, Eden of the East and Ristoranto Paradiso anime. (8 – 10 hours total)

Stay current with various manga series. (12 hours total)

Read Naval Chronicles of Alan Lewrie series of books. (40 hours total)

Total = 12 days

Summary Breakdown

Work = 2.5 days
Research = 7.5 days
Ministry = 7 days
Relationships = 2 days
Projects = 10 days
Leisure = 12 days
TOTAL = 41 days (12 hours per day, excluding sleep, meals and daily necessities)
TOTAL without any leisure time = 29 days.

Hmmm… that’s enough. I think I can do most of these in May, though I’ll probably not be able to complete everything on my leisure list. Actually, chances are I’ll get distracted by something not on this list and waste time here and there. But here’s hoping I should be able to complete at least 90% of the stuff here, which would then clear the boards in time for an equally-heavy list in June.

… Am I doing too much again?

Planetstorm: Prisoner of War 1

Joshua — Tue, 28 Apr 2009 15:06:38 +0000

Lately, I’ve been playing some browser-based strategy card games, like Warstorm and Planetstorm. Pretty interesting, because they focus almost entirely on the strategic and logistical aspects of forming armies that can fight effectively, but don’t give you any control over the tactical aspects of actually controlling them on the battlefield. In any case, I was inspired to write some short stories as fanfiction, just on the spur of the moment and to practise my rather rusty writing skills. This story is set in Planetstorm’s grim, hard-edged military sci-fi world, featuring characters and soldier names from the cards used in the game.

Read the first part after the break.

Planetstorm: Prisoner of War

Disclaimer: Planetstorm and all related intellectual properties rights belong to Challenge Games Inc. This fanfiction is written for leisure and non-profit purposes only.

Episode 0 – Prologue

I stood shivering in the cold north wind, clad only in a loincloth and chained hand-and-foot to the guy in front of me. We were at the end of a long line of prisoners slowly shuffling out of the troop transport and into the military base, where we were to be processed for military service.

Military service, hah.

The judge had been very clear when he handed down the sentence at my trial – 15 years of service in the armed forces for the Kollective, or imprisonment for life. Except that they had no more jail space since the Koleika Prison got bombed by the machines, so they would probably just throw me into a cell and then shoot me.

Technically, I would have been imprisoned for life – however short that was.

So naturally, I had “volunteered” for military service instead. Which resulted in a jerky ride in a battered transport out to the Ash Wastes, where new units of the People’s Militia were to be formed. The moment we had entered the base, however, the Machines launched an aerial attack on the fortifications. An explosion shook the trenches, and I instinctively cringed. Many other prisoners were also cowering in fear, some blubbering and refusing to move another step.

“Oh please…” I heard the guy in front of me whispering. “Oh please oh please oh please…” He was squatting down with his hands over his head, and flinched as the sound of gunfire roared out of the trenches. A machinegun started to whine, and was rewarded with a distant explosion and cheering that signalled the destruction of the aerial scout.

“Get up! Get a move on, you!” a burly soldier with a mean expression went down the line, kicking and hauling the cowering prisoners to their feet. Most of them started to stumble onwards, blinded by terror. “You can shit in your pants later, when you actually got some.” He aimed a particularly vicious kick at the guy in front of me. “MOVE, I said!”

I heard a crack as the boot connected with the guy’s ribcage, and then the prisoner went berserk. He lunged out of the squat with his arms outstretched for the guard’s neck. My left arm and leg, which were still chained to him, were nearly yanked out of their sockets. His eyes were bulging and his throat were making horrible gargling sounds, like he was strangling except that there was no obvious cause.

The soldier was caught off-guard, and gave a shout as he was knocked down by the prisoner’s tackle. They both dragged me down with them as they struggled on the ground, trying to reach for the army knife tucked into the soldier’s belt.

BLAM!

A shot rang out, startlingly close, and the prisoner’s head was blown to smithereens. Bits of his face and other unnameable objects flew in all directions, splattering me all over with blood and gunk. I turned around and saw her for the first time.

A brown-haired woman, pale as a ghost and with an eyepatch covering her left eye, dressed in tan military fatigues and a brown cloak. She lowered the huge pistol she was carrying and holstered it before striding over to where the fallen guard still lay on the ground in bemusement. Everyone seemed to be in shock, because the world seemed unnaturally silent to me.

It’s amazing how some people can leave such a strong first impression on you. I would never forget my first sight of General Danova, or the feeling I got at the moment – a heady mix of fear, terror and sheer awe. She looked like one of the ancient gods of humankind, come down to earth to smite anyone who stood in her path. I was torn between an impulse to run away screaming or lie down flat in hopes she wouldn’t notice me. In the end, I did nothing.

She strode up to where the twitching body of the prisoner lay on the ground and drew her army knife. With a grunt, she severed the arm and leg which were still chained to the rest of us, and then handed the limbs to the soldier, who was just shakily starting to get to his feet.

“Private, you will carry these limbs in line with the rest of the prisoners until they are released from their chains,” she said, in a clear and commanding voice. “Perhaps this will help you remember not to show unnecessary abuse to people who will soon become your fellow soldiers,” she added softly, before turning around to face us and raising her voice again. “As for the rest of you, let this be a warning. The armed forces of the Kollective will not tolerate cowardice or rebellion. If any of you breaks under fire like this man did, he will be shot like the mad dog he is.”

“Now move.”

She didn’t even have to raise her voice for that last line. We all quietly shuffled along into the processing office without a word of protest. The private marched stiffly in front of me, back straight and face forward as he carried the arm and leg that was chained. She watched us go, arms folded and her mouth set in a grim line. Beyond her, the other soldiers manning the fortifications also watched silently, mercilessly.

I shivered again, but not due to the cold north wind. I was truly in the army now.

To be continued…

Eternal Lands Stories page!

Joshua — Wed, 10 Dec 2008 07:45:35 +0000

Finally, I’ve updated this website with copies of all the stories I’ve written for Eternal Lands. I’ve been meaning to do this forever, but it kept on getting delayed until now. Here, on one page, you can see a list of all that I’ve written as Lyanna and Shouja. Whew! I didn’t know I wrote so much until I started cataloguing it. Amazing.

Go to the Eternal Lands Stories page

Blog. Blog. Blog. Blog

Joshua — Thu, 18 Sep 2008 13:16:44 +0000

Robin Hobb, a well-respected fantasy author, has this to say about blogging:

Vampires of the internet

Pretty interesting, and quite apt, I thought. I definitely found it to be true – not just for blogging, but also for forums.