Brothers – A Tale of Two Sons Review

Get it from http://store.steampowered.com/app/225080/ for $15 (Currently 50% off or even cheaper on Amazon if you have a $5 credit)

When you are trying to be a “game” things are relatively easy. You make up some mechanics, mix until it is fun and away you go. Brothers – A Tale of Two Sons is one of those games in a growing genre of “semi-interactive storytelling”. What that means is it is still a game, but it is sort of immune to criticism in terms of how fun it is to play. You are setting out on a journey here and you are certain to make it to the end, the only question is how much you will get out of it along the way. As it happens, you might not have a lot of fun, but the journey is well worth your time.

The setup is reasonably straight-forward. Your Dad is sick and you need to get some sort of medicine which only grows in the most inconvenient location possible. From there you navigate the two brothers around the environments solving some extremely simple puzzles such as pulling a switch with one while the other progress on to the next. At a pass, you could describe the actual gameplay mechanics as sufficient. While there is enough interactivity, there is also a lot of repetition (you’ll perform the same actions over and over), but there is just enough to keep you interested as you hold up to progress the story (on two sticks no less).

Yes, you use one stick of your controller to move each of the two brothers. Yes it is often as annoying and awkward as it sounds. Yes you will get used to it. No you will never quite master it. No, it isn’t too big a deal, you’ll get around easily enough (while still looking a bit silly most of the time, especially when the camera shifts).

Since there isn’t a whole lot to do (but much more than a Dear Esther or Machine for Pigs, think Uncharted with no shooting and Drake just rolling with it all) you then have to worry about the quality of the story and how it is told. Unfortunately there are a few issues with the approach chosen. The game adopts a sims like gibberish language so events are communicated through exaggerated actions. While that works to some extent, it also holds back the emotional attachment you can form with the characters. The method doesn’t necessarily preclude this, it just doesn’t come together in this instance because the game is so short. Had it have been a dozen hours or so, it would have been much more permissible.

The way the whole story plays out is rather far-fetched. For a start, what sort of Doctor doesn’t have a “guy” to fetch ingredients? While that seems like knit-picking, it sets the tone for the inconsistent set of themes running throughout. These writing issues are best exhibited by the opening few steps of the journey. To get to the medicine, you first have to climb to the very top of a mountain. Why? So you can jump right down to a cave at the very bottom with the help of a giant friend. Once you are in the cave, the giant friend drops you off and you progress through all sorts of dangerous leaps and jumps. When you finally get to the end of the cave? Your giant friend is back walking through the other door. You have to ask, why couldn’t he just drop you off at that point? Why, after you just saved his misses does he then leave you alone straight after? I mean, help or don’t help Mr Giant, don’t half-ass it.

What all this means is the whole journey seems complete contrived too the point of ridiculousness. Given the stakes established at the beginning and the fact that the game relies on the “journey” to a large extent you would hope the cracks would have been papered over better. Of course you could dismiss all that as “games being games” but if you are going to go for that excuse you need to be delivering more things for the gamer to do. You can’t just have it both ways and you need to be consistent. As it is, the game half explores such heavy themes such as suicide, loss and death. I probably wouldn’t have enjoyed it more if it had gone full “artistic” but it would at least have been less confused about what it was trying to be.

These sorts of strange coincidences continue until the end of the story. Luckily the pay-off is there and the game doesn’t overstay its welcome with the whole adventure lasting just a bit over three hours. In particular the last hour or so is filled with memorable scenes which should be celebrated even if they don’t all fit. There are a couple of optional things you can do on the way, but basically one run will be enough unless you are hunting for achievements. While I can’t quite recommend the game at full price (in relative terms to other games) it isn’t a hard choice if you can find it cheaper or are just looking for something a bit different. This is an experience that truly adds up to be more than the sum of its parts. You may need to be in the right mood to enjoy it (by no means do I expect it to be universally appealing) but it just ended up as a game I really liked.

Perhaps this was because beyond story, the other way a game like this can appeal is through amazing graphics or sound. While the sound direction is neither here nor there, the environments in particular are frequently stunning. Holding left for a minute to shimmy around a ledge might not be my idea of fun, but when you are doing it over a breathtaking scene you can be a lot more forgiving. Luckily the game knows it is a looker and allows you just enough control over the camera to line up a good shot. Other aspects such as the character models are a bit more uneven but there is nothing that will spoil the overall effect. It is by no means a technical showcase or something that will tax your computer, but it is impressive enough to check out in design even if you don’t enjoy the rest of what is going on.

Mechanically, beside the dual stick issue everything works as it should. I only hit one major glitch (sadly right at the end) where a model was appearing where it really shouldn’t be. Other than that the game is solid and the general design has a lot of polish. Later in the game when you need to throw a cog to your brother? You will know how because the game showed you the method earlier with a basketball. It isn’t much, but little touches like that are what makes a good game and they are all in place here.

Overall I enjoyed my time with Brothers despite the short length and thematic flaws. There isn’t anything too original or surprising to be found here, but sometimes that is more than ok, especially when it is so pretty. If you are prepared to turn your mind off and get invested quickly (presumably a real life brother would help) then you’ll still get your money’s worth here.

Dinner Date – Review

Dinner Date is available on Steam http://store.steampowered.com/app/94000/ and $1 on the current http://www.flyingbundle.com/.

Did you ever go into a game expecting one thing and getting a completely different experience? Dinner Date is one such game. Based off of the screens I was expecting a hilarious (hilariously bad) surgeon simulator type title, where you use impossible to master controls to pick up wine glasses and eat food over dinner. What you actually get is something a lot less funny.

Firstly, Dinner Date contains no actual date. It also technically doesn’t contain any dinner, if you don’t consider bread and soup a full meal. From there, things get even further away from the potential wackiness that could have been created. What you are getting is a short (25 minutes) slice of interactive fiction as the protagonist sits down and waits for his girl Meiko to arrive. When she doesn’t, he instead constantly stresses internally over his life, friends, job and his issues with getting old.

This doesn’t make for a particularly cheery experience. Given the short length it is hard to say more about the events without spoiling the ending. I will say however that you are not getting any great twists or epiphanies here. The game is really just about one man sitting down, eating a bit of bread and losing himself in his thoughts.

Is that fun? Probably not. Is it interesting or thought provoking? Not particularly. Many will identify with his stream of consciousness which may be comforting or alarming, but there is nothing new or original in what comes out of his head. Because of this you will not gain anything of real value from the overall experience.

In terms of interactive content, you are limited to matching button prompts to perform simple tasks like tapping the table or eating as the monologue goes on. You can also sit there and do nothing at all, with only drinking alcohol being the only step needed to progress the action.

Technically what is delivered is done well, with decent enough graphics and sounds effects with suitable voice acting. You’ll occasionally see a poor animation from the floating hands, but by and large the game does a good job of hiding troublesome aspects like eating off screen.

After finishing the “game”, it is hard not to think that you may have just wasted a short slice of your own life. When you think about it though, this is actually an interesting perspective given the tale being told. For that alone, it is almost worth a quick playthrough, but otherwise it is tough to recommend making the effort. Hopefully you really do have better things to do.

Expectations – Short Story Writing Challenge

It has been a few weeks, but I’m back with another short story challenge. I rushed this one out, but I’m gearing back up to start writing my next work so it was good to blow the cobwebs out.

This week, the theme is breakdown. I chose to go literal with the breakdown of ‘hell’ given contradictory rules. Please enjoy.

Expectations
Toddhunter

    “Name?”
    “Tom.”
    “Sex?”
    Tom hesitated, not quite understanding the relevance of the question. “Umm male? Why is that important-” Realization crashed home like a runaway train entering an orphanage for kittens.
    The small but suitably efficient demon winced. “You are going to have a long eternity down here. Ok, I have you down as male. Do you have any allergies?”
    Again tom hesitated, this time considering his answer a lot more carefully. “Yes… I’m allergic to … lack of torture.”
    “Lack of torture?” The demon squawked in what might have been an attempted imitation of laughter. “Boy I haven’t heard that one since this morning.” Despite the sarcasm, it still noted the allergy down on the parchment scroll in front of it in a careful fire based script.
    Tom was surprised. “You wrote that down? I didn’t think that would really work.”
    “Oh sorry, of course it won’t work. In fact as soon as we are done this whole parchment will be destroyed rendering it all a complete and excruciating waste of my time.”
    “But why?”
    “Because this is hell and that is the way things are done here.”
    With that, the demon waved a clawed hand to a door of fire which slowly materialised behind the pair. When it was around halfway visible, the process stopped and the door stood there incomplete and flickering away.
    “Yeah sorry about that,” the demon sighed, “we have been meaning to get that fixed but it is taking forever. You’ll have to sort of take a run and a jump at it…and try not to touch the sides.”

    Tom quickly discovered that hell wasn’t a very nice place to be. Contrary to popular belief, it wasn’t a land filled with fire and brimstone and an endless array of imaginative torture devices and beasts from…well local beasts. He had expected to be faced with brutal efficiency as his wildest fears were brought to life one after the other in a relentless assault of suffering. Instead, it was something much worse, which was a disorganised and broken down rabble of a place. Despite the alternative, he had to admit to himself that it was a little disappointing.
    As Tom emerged with singed clothes he began to understand the full extent of the problem. The landscape around him was cliché enough. He could see rocky outcrops, lava and desolate poisoned forests stretching out before him. But beyond that, he couldn’t see many other people at all. There were no flying beasts with six backs and a thousand teeth. He wasn’t greeted by a steel rod wielding muscular demon wearing a loin cloth that might as well be painted on. All he could see was a small white rabbit quietly eating the remains of some slightly spoiled lettuce.
    This left Tom at a bit of a loose end. When he had been faced with the prospect of entering hell he had immediately started preparing himself for the pain that would follow. He hadn’t even considered that he would be faced with the dilemma of working out exactly what he was supposed to do.
    “Umm hello?” He announced out to the strange world. It didn’t reply and nobody appeared so he tried it again with a little more volume. The rabbit did consider him carefully for a few seconds, but decided that the lettuce was a lot more interesting.
    Time passed. The only thing that Tom had to break up the boredom, was watching the rabbit continue to devour the spoiled lettuce. For some reason, the lettuce never seemed to be completely eaten and must have kept regenerating.
    Fascinated, Tom tried to remove the lettuce but this only resulted in more lettuce appearing. Kicking the rabbit worked a treat, but it only limped back to its original position and kept feasting. Idly, Tom considered kicking it harder, but that seemed to be a bit of a dick move on his first day. So instead he left it behind and began to explore the surroundings.
    The nearest landmark was a twisting river of fire so he made out directly for it. Progress was slow, given there were no roads or paths that he could follow as he picked his way through the sharp rocks. After quite some time, he realised that the river wasn’t getting any closer to him despite his steady progress. Guessing correctly, he surmised that it was one of those ironic trial things that he would never reach and stopped trying. As soon as he did so, he found himself on the river banks. The flowing fire was interesting for a few minutes, but it too seemed to serve no real purpose.
    “Wait!” A voice screamed out behind him. Tom turned to see a rotund blue demon puffing its way towards him. “Just a second, I’m supposed to be torturing you. Just wait there.”
    Tom waited as running didn’t seem a viable method of escape. Besides he could see that the blue demon had powerful wings tucked away on its rippled back. Despite the futility of escape, the cruel looking axe it brandished did give parts of his body other ideas about trying.
    Luckily the same effect as Tom had experienced with the river seemed to be in place. No matter how hard the demon tried to close the distance, he seemed to be getting no closer to its intended target. Finally it stopped and slumped down on the ground as it breathed hard.
    “Damn,” it muttered. “Any chance you can come over here towards me?”
    “Towards you?” Tom looked at it strangely. “So you can torture me?”
    “Yeah, that would be great.” The demon waved the axe around half-heartedly.
    Tom looked at it strangely. “Umm, No? Why would I do that?”
    “I don’t know,” the blue faced blue demon admitted. “Something to do I suppose? Maybe you could even overpower me and turn the tables? It might be a bit of fun and adventure for you to try.”
    Tom shrugged. The puffed demon wasn’t all that big really and he decided it would actually be something to do to pass the time. So he walked over to where the demon sat to try to take the axe. Of course having decided on what he wanted to do, he couldn’t achieve it and instead found the demon moving further away from him.
    He sighed in frustration. “How are we supposed to do this? Does anything work in this crazy place?”
    The demon shook its multi-horned head. “I’m afraid not. Some of the rules…well they sounded good, but the … the ‘it’ kept adding more and more and now they contradict each other and well… it used to be fun. I could have had all your limbs off by now, each one strung up on the ceiling and being devoured by…oh I don’t know, those little green triangle bugs you sometimes see under plants.”
    “Well, can we leave or get out of here? Is there a town or city or something we can get to?”
    “Yes,” the demon nodded, “but umm, you can’t get there now that you know about it, so not really worth trying.”
    “Oh.” Tom was starting to understand this place now. One thing still bugged him though. “What was with the rabbit? It seemed it was pretty happy eating an endless supply of lettuce. Wouldn’t that be like its heaven?”
    “Oh no. Rabbits hate lettuce.”
    Tom wasn’t convinced. “You sure? It seems to me that rabbits are pretty keen on the stuff. You might want to get that checked.”
    “Ok, we will,” lied the demon, now feeling a little embarrassed. “Well, I’ll report it to my supervisor, but I haven’t seen him in around a thousand years. Even before that he seemed to get sick an awful lot. Somebody will probably fix that at some stage.”
    The two unlikely members of the conversation just stared at each other awkwardly now, clearly having run out of things to say. Tom finally broke the silence.
    “Before you mentioned ‘it’. Were you talking about the Devil-”
    The world shifted around him as a series of purple lightning flashes crashed down around him.
    “WHO DARES USE ME NAME IN VAIN?” Echoed out a commanding voice. A giant horned being loomed over the small man, enormous horns and fiery eyes beating down oppressively from above.
    Tom, feeling quite put out by events so far was in no mood. “Hi,” he waved, “my name is Tom. Are you the Devil-”
    Again the strange world shifting sensation hit and the lightning crashed out again, still impressive despite the repeat performance.
    “WHO DARES USE ME NAME IN VAIN?” Again echoed out a commanding voice, this time with even more force and anger.
    Tom couldn’t help but smile at the absurdity. “Tom, my name is Tom and you are the De-”
    Before he could finish, the Devil stretched out a clawed hand. “Wait, wait, wait. Not again please, it really isn’t easy to do all that every time. Just give me a few minutes at least.”
    “A few minutes? … Wait, why are you asking me to help you out?”
    “Because it hurts, ok? Have you ever produced purple lightning? It isn’t something that just comes out naturally you know.”
    Tom shook his head slowly. Hell really wasn’t what he expected at all. “But are you not in charge of this operation?” Tom waved his hands around him. “Don’t you make all the rules?”
    “Technically.” The Devil sat down on the rocky slopes now, whilst trying to scratch itself in three different places at once. “It is all pretty complicated,” it sighed whilst looking at Tom with a raised eyebrow. Clearly it wanted to vent.
    Tom sighed himself and sat down beside the prince of darkness. He knew he would regret it, but he decided to play along. “Why is it complicated?”
    “Well, a few years ago things were getting a bit tame around here. Have you ever been cubed by piano wire? Terrible, terrible thing. But some of the people here had that done to them every hour on the hour for a hundred years. Even with the amazing pain it was getting a bit old you know?”
    Tom nodded. He assumed it would be like getting into a very hot bath, or talking to a teacher about the problems of their job. Sooner or later you just go numb to the pain.
    “We needed to mix things up. So I made some rules to make sure that things were even stricter on the irony and suffering. But now? Every time I try to do something bad, it actually turns into something good. When I try to fix it, it just gets worse.”
    “Like the rabbit?”
    “Yeah, I don’t even know what is going on with that. I’m afraid to touch it now, or we’ll have rabbits everywhere or something. Here I am, supposed to be the Devil and-”
The Devil had just enough time to roll its eyes before the scene shifted and the lightning came forth once more.
    “WHO DARES-”
    “It’s ok,” Tom interrupted, “you don’t have-”
    “USE ME NAME IN VAIN?” The Devil slumped down again. A tired look stretched across the humongous face.
    “So,” Tom thought deeply, “what are we supposed to do then? Can’t you just try to make things good? Then things would end up bad…”
    “Which would be good, so it would end up worse…which would be good, which isn’t what hell is supposed to be about.” The Devil closed his eyes tightly after spitting that last line out. It had a headache.
    Tom shrugged. “So I guess this really is hell in a sense then? What about heaven, is that any good?”
    “Terrible.” The Devil admitted. “Fucking rabbits everywhere.”

Amnesia: A Machine for Pigs – Mini Review

So I just finished this game.

I think it is worth noting that it took me just under three hours. I felt I was making pretty good progress through it, but I don’t see how I could have taken a whole lot more time. If you were thinking of picking up the game for full price I would recommend holding off. An experience you might love? Hmm, maybe. But it is far too short to justify the gaming $ at this time of year.

I have to say it wasn’t what I expected which was another horror game. It wasn’t bad, but I would largely describe my experience as negative. Here are the major points (as spoiler free as possible):

• It wasn’t scary to me at all beyond the early “jumps”. Whenever I saw an enemy I was like “lets do this” but most of the time they just walked off. I ended up chasing them for fun to try to catch them before they vanished.
• When an enemy does stick around, there is no challenge in the game, at all. You quickly learn when this will happen (lots of crates/boxes etc to hide behind), which kills a lot of the tension.
• Let’s be honest too. Pigs? If I am trying to save my kids I’m picking up a shovel and going to town on them. Sorry but they are not a believable threat at all.
• I don’t like how all the light/sanity/whatever mechanics were removed. There really isn’t much to do but keep walking forward. Those mechanics from Amnesia DD were not perfect, but they should have been fixed or replaced with “something”.
• The story/writing was very up and down and it was all very predictable. Somebody might pull me up and reveal lots of hidden deep meanings…but I don’t really think so and I’m not really interested in any case (which is much worse).
• On the positive side, I did like that it was pretty linear and items were easy to find. I’m not a big fan of the scavenger hunt of the original.
• The sound was amazing as you might expect. The graphics? Functional

What does that all add up to? This is not really an Amnesia game. It is a Dear Esther spinoff with all the positive and negatives of a purely story driven experience.

Ironically, I enjoyed it much more as a “game” than Dark Descent. But that game scared me to the point of needing breaks so it depends what you like. Just like a bad magician, a machine for pigs lets you see behind the curtain and this is the end of any fright.

One to wait on I’m afraid.

O2 – Creative Writing Challenge

This time, the main theme is “reunited” with a secondary theme of showing a glimpse of the past and future. I’ve met those themes quite literally, showing a family reunion of sorts whilst also addressing the past. To be different (and creative!) I’ve wrapped that up in a future world where the air is no longer breathable. As you’ll see, it doesn’t necessarily work out well.

This is an idea I’m keen to explore further on down the track, so I thought this would be a good way to wet my feet in it. I’m pretty happy with how it turned out even if it can still be enhanced a great deal in a longer context.

Please enjoy:

O2
By Toddhunter

    The sun was shining strong and bright through the green trees, casting a dancing pattern on the ground from the gentle wind. The forest seemed calm, with everything being in its proper place. There were some small birds around; Anna could hear them as they sung to each other in the branches. Somewhere nearby echoed the sound of rushing water cascading over rocks and fallen branches. That river is where she wanted to be.
    It wasn’t easy to make progress towards it due to the thick undergrowth. She had to push her way through where it seemed to be at its lightest, making for each small clearing as it was discovered. Time didn’t seem to be flowing as she made each step in a determined manner, but the ever increasing sound of the water ahead kept her making progress.
    A larger clearing gave her an opportunity to pause and catch her breath. She felt fit for her age, but this was still hard work for her tired body. As she stood considering the situation, she placed her hands near her hips for balance and rocked back and forth for a while amidst the orange leaves. Satisfied with her determined course of action, she tested out her legs to see if they were ready to return to the arduous task.
    As if in confusion about why she had paused, a solitary yellow bird flapped across her line of sight and settled down with a sense of ceremony in front of her. The bright coloured bird considered her for a while, cocking its head first one way and then another as if it didn’t trust what each eye saw. Somehow approving, the bird took to the air with a sudden flutter of its wings, leaving behind one brilliant feather in the scattered dirt.
    For a moment, Anna stopped and pondered picking up the discarded plumage. Even from her height above she could see the perfection and wondered if it would be just right for … Shaking her head she tore her eyes away and started to move. The sound of the rushing deep blue water called to her; the tumultuous song urging her onward to where she needed to be.
Anna scraped through the bushes, not caring as the purple thorns ripped away tiny shreds from her arms. Nor did she concern herself with the noise of her stumbling through the tangle of branches. She had visited this same place many times before and knew that the real danger wouldn’t be found here.
    There were no birds anymore, not here or anywhere else. Often it seemed hard to realise the full extent of what she experienced, but the fake birds always showed the truth. In that moment of clarity amidst the constant bombardment of her senses, she accepted she was dreaming. It meant none of the trees or bushes or the river rushing somewhere ahead of her where real.
Anna was dreaming and she knew being caught in dreams could be dangerous. But just like every other time, she didn’t want to leave in case she was here.
    As she emerged from the clustered brambles, her arms now mimicking the river with their own droplets of thick red blood, she came to a halt. It was different every time she had been here but even so she felt surprised. The empty riverside scene faded away in front of her as the water melted into an inky darkness and the sounds of the forest around her drew back into the void.
    This hadn’t happened to her before. It felt like the dream was crashing towards an ending, yet she was still here inside it. Could she be trapped? If not, what did it mean? Before Anna had the chance to digest the strange darkness around her everything snapped back into focus. The river returned, somehow flowing stronger and with more urgency. But now the trees huddled closer, encroaching on her body as if they reached for her arms once again.
    That wasn’t all that had changed. She was now there too, sitting on a brown log in front of her. In a flash Anna forgot all about the unexplained glitch and sprang towards the young girl.
    She couldn’t see her face but there was no doubting for Anna who it was. She dressed in a colourful fashion like any normal teenage girl, but with more layers as if to protect from a biting cold. The girl turned towards her now as Anna closed to within a few feet of where she sat upon a fresh felled tree. Recognition flared in the little eyes, but that emotion seemed tempered by a strong hint of sadness too.
    “You came again.” The girl said, shaking her head as if to scold the much older women. “You shouldn’t be here.”
    Anna ignored the comment and reached out her hand to touch the girl’s cheek. As usual her hand fell agonisingly short. It hovered, millimetres away no matter how much she tried to reach further. Anna didn’t fight hard for the extra distance, having suspected all along that it wouldn’t work. It was always worth trying, in case the rules of this place proved to be as fluid as the white foaming rapids rushing away in front of her. So try she always did.
    The girl turned away, ignoring the futile effort as she faced back towards the river. “It is dangerous here,” she paused as if weighing each word against her heart, “you need to leave before something bad happens to you.”
    Anna withdrew her hand. “I know. It is just… I wanted to find you here. I needed to see you again before I have to go back. Please, can you look at me?”
    The girl shook her head. “No, it’s better if you just go. What do you want from me? You know there is nothing left for you here. You know what I am.”
    Anna tried to reach her one more time, “Please…”
    The girl hesitated then turned once again. This time her features remained hidden as her face blurred and shimmered in the failing sunshine. Startled, Anna drew back her hand as if bitten. Amidst the blur, the girl’s green eyes still pierced into Anna’s as if once again questioning the wisdom of her presence. “Please? How can you ask anything of me? You know what you did.” She paused as if deciding how cruel she needed to be. “You didn’t protect me, now it is too late.”
    With this accusation, the river rushing along behind them started to fade out of the dream. The dark blue water and sparkling foam giving way to a grey emptiness stretching along before them. It seemed the dream was destroying itself somehow; Anna knew she would be forced to wake soon.
    In desperation, Anna jumped towards the small girl and tried to grab her in a hug. But her arms somehow passed through like she was trying to clutch at the wind itself. Instead, she fell in a heap on the still solid ground, losing the air from her lungs as the world crashed down around her.

    Anna woke with wild eyes and scratched at her throat as she gasped for breath. She was awake now, but terror gripped her as she realised something was wrong. The canister inserted into her neck flashed dark red as the oxygen level threatened to drop to zero, leaving her dead in the murky darkness of the decrepit office building.
    Her joints creaked as she shot to her feet and ripped the tiny canister out to check the meter. It flashed back at her to say it was empty, but she knew that couldn’t be right. She never would have dared sleep if it was even close to running low. But she didn’t have time to puzzle out the mistake, she just needed air and she needed it fast.
    Blinking her eyes in the pale light she tried to make out the buttons on the small lockbox she always kept with her. In the night gloom it was almost impossible to enter the correct code and the gasping of her breath just made it harder.
    The code must have been in, but the box flashed back at her in error as the door remained shut. She tried again, fighting her instinct to gasp at whatever poisoned air was around her, knowing it would lead to her certain death.
    Just as her lungs threatened to explore the code was right and the lockbox opened. A small treasure trove of canisters greeted her failing sight as she scrambled to grab the nearest one. Not even stopping to check how much oxygen remained in it, she ripped at the seal as her life slipped further away.
    A distant voice yelled out through the darkness, but Anna didn’t care. The tube of life was open now and was hissing in anger as she shoved it towards the socket burnt into her throat.
    The air never made it. Instead it clattered to the ground, spewing out its contents into the freezing night air. Anna soon joined it, slumping down onto the dark stained carpet as a vicious blow caved in the back of her head.
    Her last thought was to reach towards her belongings to take one last look at an old faded photograph. It was the same photograph she had kept with her as she struggled to survive each tortuous day. But as hard as she tried, she just couldn’t reach it.

Being Hamish – Word Cloud

Trying to always get better, I’ve been using a lot of the Pro Writing Aid plugin for Word lately (I stick with word for ease of integration with online tools).
Whilst it is excellent (and cheap) for picking up potential writing problems, it also has a handy little word cloud feature.

I just thought this fit really nicely with the themes of the novel. Check out the plugin at http://prowritingaid.com/. Costs about $35 a year.

Can anybody recommend any other good editing tools? They will never replace the full process of course, but anything that helps is welcome.

The Rising Saga – Short Story Writing Challenge

Here we are again with another short story. I must say after spending so many months editing and revising, it felt really good to just sit down and bash out a few words for a change.

The challenge this time? Was performance anxiety with a secondary theme of personal embarrassment. For a really big change, I chose to take the themes completely literally and then proceeded to build up a story around them.

To be honest this story is the beginning of an idea I’ve been kicking around in my head for a while. It is to produce a fantasy novel based on a group of everyday kick around characters. Been done? Probably many times, but so has most things these days. At this stage, it is good to just bash out a chapter and see where it all goes. I’m not sure about this world yet, but will let it marinate for a while and who knows what the future will hold.

In terms of the actual writing, what I’m trying to focus on here is building up the world without the use of long introductry paragraphs (something I personally don’t like). For example a small reference to candlelight places them in a world without electricity. The dirt floor? That means they are impoverished and so on. It is something I’m still working on, but that is all part of the fun of this crazy writing journey.

Either way, here it is and please enjoy. (PDF Version)

<strongThe Rising Saga
By Todd Hunter

   “You know… Lately I’ve been thinking…” Peter paused just long enough to see if anybody was listening to him around the old wooden table. As usual, everybody was too consumed with their eating and drinking to pay him much heed. Disgruntled by the lack of attention, Peter pounded the table in front of him causing the assortment of chipped plates and pewter mugs to bounce violently. “Hey! I’ve got something to say here. You guys better listen up whilst I say it.”

   Peter was just the type of guy who could make such a demand and have people stop to listen to him. He was also just the kind of guy who people would straight away disregard once they saw who it was. Everybody knew Peter; even by the weak candlelight you couldn’t miss a man with his size, strength and immense levels of stupidity. Through long experience they all knew it was best to completely ignore him, as difficult as that could sometimes prove to be.

   Greg however, was always a slow learner. It had been a quiet night tonight, with a distinct lack of energy in the old run down inn. If anything could spice things up, it would be winding up his old childhood friend.

   After draining his mug quickly and wiping his mouth across his sleeve to thinly conceal a large burp, he turned to address the target of his mirth. “What have you been thinking Peter? Wondering when you’ll be able to look down past your stomach and see your cock again? God knows how you manage to keep that belly going with the lack of food around.”

   Peter stood up with violent intent, this time bumping the table so viciously that several of the plates scattered themselves onto the floor. In the process they spilled the thin stew across the dirt, adding forever another layer of fifth and ambiguous odour. “You take that back you little shit, you take that back-”

   Greg held up his hands submissively whilst trying desperately to suppress a fast escaping grin. “Whoa there big fella… Sorry, I take it back. I was just joking around you know? So tell us then, what were you thinking about?”

   Peter stopped to consider this carefully as his slow mind mulled it over. The noise of the common room of the inn had subsided noticeably in the last few seconds as some people stopped to watch the events play out over the rims of their cups. However the majority simply went about their task of drinking themselves to oblivion. They had seen this scene many times before and knew how it all ended. Peter would just sit down again with taking things further. Peter always did.

   On cue, Peter scratched his head as he sat down roughly. “I was just… Nope, it is gone now. Thanks for that you idiot.” Greg tipped his now full mug towards his friend and smiled cheerfully. Peter had not yet noticed that his drink had been stolen in the confusion.

   Silence hit the small dinky hollow as the battered inn door suddenly creaked open. Now the only sound that could be heard was some distant and frantic barking off in the distance. It was a common sound these days, as what were hopefully dogs fought over a scrap of what was hopefully some piece of a wild animal. Everybody stopped to see who was entering, some glasses frozen in mid drink, other heads dropping down lower to the table or looking to sulk back into the shadows.

   To their relief it was only old Sam Bothring, the local blacksmith. Despite his rock hard and muscled physique, he still bustled himself inside with the wide eyed look that every member of the small town wore as they moved about alone. He stopped in the doorway himself, as in return he scanned the room for any hidden dangers. Satisfied, he raised his hands in half greeting and half apology to those present and moved in to find his usual seat. Following in on his heels from the door behind him, was a rich stench of shit, death and lingering fear. But none of the locals seemed to really notice, that was just the normal smell of their lives.

   The interruption had served a useful purpose as the inn sprang to life again. Peter had used the pause to rediscover the inspiration for his earlier idea.
“This was what I wanted to talk about. This,” he pointed at the door, “bullshit of living in constant fear for our lives every time a door opens. I’m sick to death of it, if you guys only grew some balls and joined with me then-”

   Greg rolled his eyes. “Not this shit again…”

   “Yes this shit again!” Peter thought about banging the table again with his massive arms to get his point across. However another quick look at the ominous doorway made him think better of it. It really could open again at any time and it was best not to be doing anything untoward if it did. “Look, I’m just saying it doesn’t have to be this way.” Despite himself, Peter still had the presence of mind to lower his voice carefully. He also instinctively glanced through the only window in the room to check that it wasn’t yet dark. A glimmer of light streaming through the cracked and broken glass told him that they still had a little bit of time before they would be forced to scurry home for their lives. “If we all just got together we could finally put an end to all of this. Are you really happy living this way?”

   “Rats.” Stated Greg simply, nodding his head towards the third silent member of their group.

   Peter was taken aback. “Rats? What do you fucking mean rats?”

   “When you get your stomach split open for talking shit like this, your guts will spill out everywhere. Then who is going to come in to clean it up? You know how much I hate rats”.

   Tom looked across at his friend and nodded reasonably. It wasn’t just that what he had said made sense, Greg also happened to have a lot of rat like features so he figured he would know what he was talking about. Still, “You do know that isn’t prime quality beef in that old stew you’ve been poking at right? Did you ever stop to think about what it really is?”

   Greg shook his head furiously. “Nope, I’ve never thought about it. Don’t think I’ll be starting any time soon either”.

   Peter reached across to yank his own beer roughly away from his disgusted pal. “Forget about the rats. Are you two happy with how things are at the moment? Is this how you want to live your lives? Are you fine with digging fucking holes all day for those… things … and then being sent off to sleep before the sun goes down?”

   “We’ve been through this,” Tom stated calmly, trying to sooth Peter’s anger.

   Greg took the opposite approach. “And just what do you think we can do about it?”

   “I don’t know,” Peter admitted, “but I heard up at Blanestown they started to do some planning. Apparently they took a couple of them out before it all went astray. Maybe we can learn from that.”

   Tom sighed deeply before he too looked around to make sure their conversation was not being overheard. They were a tight knot group in the town, at least amongst what was left of the humans. But you never could be sure who was watching and listening. Some people wanted to secure themselves a bit of favour or extra privileges, even if it only got them an extra painful death. The way things were going, he thought Peter was about to join them.

   “Look, the only thing we can learn from Blanestown is exactly what not to do. Who are you going to talk to about it anyway? There isn’t a Blanestown anymore. They are dead now, every last one of them.”

   “Lots of rats though, rats everywhere,” chimed in Greg, somehow enjoying the conversation despite its morbid tone.

   Peter wasn’t convinced. “So what should we do? Are you fucking happy with living in fear every second of your life? At any second that door could swing open and a Stalker could walk in here and start slicing us up. I’m sick of it.”

   “No of course not,” Tom soothed again, always trying to be the voice of reason. “But what would you really do about it?”

   Peter thumped his chest again. “I could take a Stalker.”

   “Fuck off could you,” scoffed Greg. “First thing it would do is freeze you and then it would kill you. Then bingo, rats are in here chomping away. Then the floor is all sticky for the next week.”

   Peter sat back stiffly in his chair, clearly exasperated by it all. “Well you can all go and get fucked then. If you all can’t be -”
Peter stopped short, but this time it wasn’t Greg that interrupted him, but the petite serving girl who had brushed past their table. This time around she had been a bit clumsier than usual as her behind had accidentally come into contact with the giant lump of a lad’s arm. There wasn’t much that could stop the beast mid-sentence, but that sort of intimate contact with the girl he lusted after was just one such thing.

   Sarah immediately knew her mistake. Excusing herself with not much more than a grunt, she gathered whatever kitchenware she could get within arm’s reach and scuttled away before any further damage could be done. As usual, all the guys watched her leaving with every last wiggle.

   When he could finally speak again, Peter wasn’t going to waste his words on flowery poetry as he dramatically shot up again to his feet. “Fuck me. Did you guys see that? Tell me you guys saw that?”

   “I saw it” stirred Greg, not having any clue about what had just happened. More than stirring up his companion about his weight, getting him excited about Sarah was always much more fun. “That was awesome!”

   Peter thumped his chest emphatically. “I’m so going to hit that one of these days. I’ve been thinking she might be into me, but now I’m starting to know for sure.”
Unlike the less responsible member of the group, Tom was not one to encourage such frivolities. “I saw it and it was just a bump. Just forget it Peter, or better yet keep your arms over the table so people in the next town can walk past.”

   Somehow, Tom always had a calming effect on the giant. He was a tiny man by comparison and thinly built besides. But his voice was always pitched just right to hit an understanding tone. Sometimes Peter even started to listen to him.

   “Not a bump,” Greg disagreed to keep the party moving, “I saw it and she looked at you straight in the eyes before waving her rear past you. She knew what she was doing.”

   “See!” Peter threw up his hands towards his tiny friend. “I told you it was something special. Maybe I should go talk to her…”

   “No you shouldn’t,” Tom calmed again, placing his arm upon his friends as he rose to his feet. “You know if you try to talk to her you’ll just end up vomiting all over the floor or standing there silently in front of her. Just what are you going to say exactly?”

   “I…” Peter looked confused now. “I’d just tell her that I … Yeah ok I don’t know.” He sat down again now with enough force to make the old cobbled together chair groan out in a creaking fit of agony. “Why can’t I ever talk to her? I’ve got so much to say but… it just never comes out. Come on Tom, help me out here?”

   Tom considered this carefully but was held back by a small pang of jealousy. Sarah wasn’t just one of the most attractive girls in town; she was one of the only girls in town. He was well aware of how the big lump next to him felt about her, but he had his own feelings too. The difficulty he faced was how to best sabotage his pal whilst still coming across as a great helper.

   Greg beat him too it. “Hang on, one second you are going on about how you can take down a Stalker. The next minute you are too scared to hit up old sweet tits over there for a bit of a kiss. You’ve got some messed up priorities right there you know?”

   “He has a point,” Tom agreed readily, “shouldn’t you be pretty good at that stuff after Kate?”

   The early drunken glow that Peter had been working on suddenly turned a much more distinct shade of red. “Well I didn’t… I…” Immediately, he realised his slip with wide eyes and stammered for a little bit longer before hiding his embarrassment behind a drink from his now near empty mug.

   Greg leant forward earnestly. “So hang on here, Kate was your first right? So if you didn’t-”

   Tom cut him off sharply with a look that could have set a whole pack of Stalkers running. “It doesn’t matter. Don’t worry about talking to her tonight. You are probably too pissed anyway. If you want … I could have a word to her.”

   Peter’s embarrassment flashed to anger now. “A word with her? I fucking bet you would. I’ve seen the way you look at her.” He jumped up, again sending the chipped crockery flying. “I’m done with this.”

   With that he stormed out of the inn, using his massive frame to almost rip the door off its hinges. Tom looked at Greg with an obvious unspoken question. Greg just shrugged back at him. “Yes, we had better go after him. It is getting a bit late anyway.”

   Tom and Greg walked out together, not even stopping to pick up the shattered plates and glasses from the uneven floor. Nobody bothered much to keep things clean and tidy these days. There just never seemed to be much point.

***

   Their friend was large and built like an overweight bull, but he wasn’t equipped for speed. They found him half a block away, spewing his guts up into an empty barrel that once must have held something like fresh apples or fish from the nearby stream. For that barrel too, life had taken a turn for the worse.

   Greg was the first to try to appease him again in the fading light. “Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to stir you up there. It has been a tough day you know?”
Peter didn’t reply straight away. He simply held up his hand for silence and then proceeded to continue on with his job of filling the barrel.

   Tom was getting worried. “Ok, it is starting to get a bit late. Are you going to be able to get home alright? There is no way the two of us can carry you and-”

   Suddenly he froze as a shape loomed up out of the shadows towards them. It wasn’t Sarah, or even another member of their small community. It was a Stalker and it was coming right for them. Immediately he cast his eyes down towards the ground. No man was brave enough to look at a Stalker for long. Even those who did didn’t tend to live to brag about it.

   Unfortunately Peter was still occupied with bringing up whatever exotic meat he had earlier consumed as part of his daily meal. It didn’t take him long to sense the change in mood though. There was something about the sudden look of horror on Greg’s face that told him exactly what was happening.

   The Stalker considered the three carefully. It was short when compared to a man and deathly thin. Whatever features it had or didn’t have where concealed in one of the thick brown robes they were told to wear, so as not to alarm the humans. Despite this concealment, the three men could somehow tell that it was thinking about which one it would like to kill first and in which manner it could most spectacularly do it. The low hiss it spat at them might as well have been a cruel smile.

   All three of them automatically dropped to their knees in front of the strange figure. There wasn’t ever a question about a lack of obedience; this was what you had to do to live when you heard that distinctive noise. There would be no bravado today or false show of courage. If it wanted to kill them, it would. If it left them alone, they might get to see another day.

   Tom’s heart almost exploded as he suddenly saw Peter jerk up beside him. The Stalker too noticed the motion and with a flash a long purple blade was drawn and held against the fat man’s neck. But it wasn’t an attack that Peter had planned; his body had merely betrayed him and started to vomit again. All he could do was hold the torrent back into his mouth whilst he tried desperately not to gag. Then he swallowed it again whilst wishing for all his life that he would be able to keep it down.

   If the Stalker could laugh, it would have been laughing right now. But that wasn’t something a Stalker could ever do. Instead, the blade seemed to disappear from its hand and it mercifully decided to slink off again, quickly lost in the deepening shadows.

   As a group, the three friends started to breathe once more. Without a further word, they each headed back off alone to their homes. All of them, even Peter, ran the entire way.

Just a Box – Short Story

This week’s theme? Being boxed in. I’ve chosen to go pretty literal with the theme (boxes in larger boxes), but completely abstract in the execution. See if you have any clue what I’m on about here!

PDF Version

Just a Box
By
Todd Hunter

      The box sat there silently in the storage shed. This was not unusual in itself, because for a box this was the generally expected behaviour. Had you fatefully walked past the box, perhaps looking for a set of tools or another item you would hardly have thought twice about it. Even the first inkling of curiosity, perhaps about its hidden contents, wouldn’t be a particularly strongly explored train of thought. It was of a regular shape in a shed filled with exactly the type of objects you would expect to find in a shed of regular objects. The result was that the chances of it being an exceptional storage device were hence incredibly small on a casual inspection.
      Despite this relatively boring and conventional approach to being a box, the box itself held a deep and dark secret. Unfortunately nobody knew what that secret was because the box had no way to communicate it outwards. This was of course, unless the secret was that it was a completely ordinary box, in which case it was ironically communicating this to the world in the most efficient matter possible.
      But that would hardly be a dark secret, so this description of the potential secret was not considered valid at all. This was just as well, because the box had no further part to play in the raison d’être of the shed. The box wasn’t considered important in any way, it really was just an ordinary box.
What really mattered was the storage shed.
      The shed you see, was enclosed in a much larger shed. Whilst this presented the opportunity for the larger shed to be considered a shed full of sheds, this opportunity was never fully realised. The larger shed only housed one shed in total, the very same shed we are discussing, which had inside it a box, which wasn’t important.
Just like the box inside the shed inside the larger shed, the shed had an even deeper and darker secret. Unfortunately this secret was related to the deep and dark secret that the box held, which could not be communicated. This made the discovery of the secret particularly difficult, which was just as well really because then it would no longer be a secret, but would just be a piece of regular information.
      This information would then hardly be considered dark, unless it was about something that was coloured in black. The box was not black; it was the regular brown colour common to many boxes. Nor was the shed particularly dark, it had an efficient lighting system which was always switched on and rarely failed. This made any item that you would try to locate inside it quite easy to find. People didn’t look for the box though, there were always other more important things inside.
      The larger shed itself was composed of many different colours. This was an unusually distinctive feature that would often be questioned. However nobody remember why the larger shed was coloured so brightly and inconsistently, so those questions where never answered in any satisfactory way. It had just always been that way for as long as anybody could remember. Mind you, this time wasn’t a particularly long time, because nobody devoted much of their memory to remember details about a large shed, a smaller shed, or a regular box.
      Curiously, the larger shed had no door or visible entrance to be found. It was, for all intents and purposes a shed that was impossible to enter. However the existence of the smaller shed and its inventory of boxes made this an absurdity to be pondered. It was clear either that a doorway once existed and was removed, or that the contents of the larger shed had been created from the inside.
      Because there was nobody left stuck in the larger shed, or the smaller shed or the box, it was hence unlikely that those objects had been created from the inside. Be default this gave credence to the theory that the entrance to the larger shed had been at some point removed.
      There were still issues with this conclusion though. Why would anybody build a large shed and seal off the entrance? If an entrance was sealed, was it still an entrance, albeit in a permanently closed state? Presumably if it was closed it could be reopened through the same procedure in reverse. However if this was the case, was any wall of the shed a potential gateway to the smaller shed and the unremarkable box contained within?
      The roof of the larger shed was not to be left out of the discussion on entrances either. Although fully sealed, it could potentially have been opened up to whatever lay outside the larger shed. Whilst not practical for cars or trucks or fork lifts, this method of entry would be very convenient for beings with the power of flight such as birds.
Upon opening, a flock of seagulls might very well enter the larger shed to find a smaller shed with a box that they would ignore. Seagulls were known to open some containers to search for food, but they couldn’t open this box. This was because it wasn’t accessible in the smaller shed, because the smaller shed had no entrance, or even a roof.
      The absence of a roof was another curiosity that was so far unexplained. The missing feature called into question if it was a small shed at all, or something quite different. Whilst the missing roof would suggest a de facto entrance, this was not the case for the small shed at all. It couldn’t be entered from above, because it was fused to the roof of the larger shed. This meant the roof of the larger shed could not be opened in any practical way to become an entrance, because than the small shed would cease to be a smaller shed by definition in the opening and besides the box could possibly also fall out.
      Falling, you see, was impossible for the box, because there was nothing to fall out into. The larger shed was not in a giant shed itself, there was nothing outside at all. Any attempt to leave the shed would be a futile exercise leading you back inside where you started. It couldn’t be done; there was simply nowhere else to go. In leaving the shed you would find yourself back inside it, besides the smaller shed, that you can’t get into, that has the box inside that you can’t see.
      Maybe this was why the large shed was so brightly coloured. Otherwise it would not be a very nice place to be. Nobody ever wants to be somewhere that you can’t enter or escape from especially when the surroundings are kind of drab. There would be nothing to keep you sane besides perhaps wondering about how to get into the smaller shed to borrow a tool as you ignored the box.
      If you did find yourself inside the impossible place one day, you would be in a bit of a fix. Once you concluded that there wasn’t anywhere else to go and no chance of ever leaving? You might be upset. If you could get into the smaller shed, you might find some tools to construct something of value. But what would you build? Perhaps you would build a shed, with a box, with no roof, with a deep dark secret.
      Then perhaps you wouldn’t tell anybody about it, because you were not sure if you were there and regardless you want to be someplace else and never come back. You want to be away from the people in the larger shed who got into the smaller shed and discretely ignored the box. They had to come from somewhere in the larger shed, there was nowhere else. Perhaps they were hiding from you now.
      Would you open the box?