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Of Guild Wars, Platitudes, and the American Ninja

Platitudes.   Everyone speaks them, few understand how utterly obnoxious they can be.   Rewind to a few months ago, I was on my ventrilo server (as in my, I own it) with my guild mates from Guild Wars.   Allow me to sort of explain that, the Guild Wars thing I mean.   You see, I purchased Guild Wars a long time ago, actually about four years ago when it first came out for the PC.  I was looking for an RPG to play online with my friends that wasn’t an MMO.   Since Guild Wars is a co-operative role playing game and not a persistent world MMO, I thought I would enjoy it.   Little did I know the horrors that awaited me.   Little did I know…

Let me plant a visual in your head to sort of describe the game play experience I’ve had while playing Guild Wars.    You see, Guild Wars allows you to play solo, by bringing AI henchmen.    You can’t solo a god damn thing unless you’re farming or vastly experienced, and the first expansion was so bug ridden you had to do some missions five times in a row in order to enchant each piece of your equipment, leading to annoyance and mostly rage.   The first six months I sort of struggled through Guild Wars was kind of like fighting that crazy asshole Mike Tyson in an electrified cage when he’s got boxing gloves that are actually spiked gauntlets and I’m armed only with a really soft pillow and armor made out of novelty plastic ears.   I chose a Warrior, because I always enjoy getting the Melee classes to do neat little tricks.   I decided to make my secondary class Elementalist.    So I’d be basically a Spellsword.   If you’ve played guild wars you know where this is going,  if you haven’t let me tell you something about that combination of classes… it only works in specialized circumstances, or when you know what the fuck you are doing.   Thankfully, I didn’t.   So I gleefully wandered around getting killed, the sheer variety of places I manged to get myself killed was really the only adventure I got to experience in my brave journey though Tyria.    Dead in a marsh.   Dead in a desert.   Dead in a magical flying castle.   Dead in a river.   Dead on a mountain summit.   Dead in river of molten lava, giving a dramatic thumbs up much like The Terminator.    Dead in a pristine field surrounded by bunnies, piggies and magical rainbows that reflect the innocence of a child’s dream playfully in the sky.     Dead along with my worthless, inept, AI controlled companions.

The face of uselessness.

If you decide to go on a magical quest to save the world armed only with good intentions and a heart for adventure and these are the faces you see when you go to town to assemble a party, for your safety and sanity’s sake, just turn around and go home.   Trust me.

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Exploitation of the Dead for Fun and Profit

If you live in Central Florida, you’d have to agree with me that this Caylee Anthony case has completely got out of control.  It’s disgusting how the media has been going on and on about this for months.  You’d almost believe there was nothing better to talk about.  Certainly not the housing crisis…

… or joblessness…

… or Central Florida Blood Banks profiteering off donated blood for their board of directors…

… or the endless homeless problem…

… or the rising murder rate…

…or the State’s lame duck do-nothing governor who only seems to be able to take a position when it comes to what brand of  brand of sun-tan lotion to use in between press conferences where he assures everyone that ‘everything’s going to be fine’ as long as you don’t ask questions or think about the situation at large, of course.

To think, that those are just things that I’ve thought of off the top of my head.

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Starship Rock 69 & 1/2 – Chapter 3

3

Wayward Son

Dudelicious looked over the ship’s command room, truly impressive. Sexy women handling all the flight controls and armed guards at all the doors. A wide window panned around the room in a large circle. He was standing on the command deck with Rockbring. Rocker 69 was on his way to the infirmary, so he was not present. Rock Whore had already began to undress Nurse Kiki and continued to … do things… to her on the ship’s command console.

“So youse wanted to lay some info-mation on me?”

Rockbring pressed a button on the command console that was right next to Rock Whore’s CENSORED. An image came up, of one of them tentacles and all. “Dudelicious, we’ve been looking for you for some time. It seems you’ve attracted their attention. You’ve done smuggling jobs for a lot of my men and agents, and your combat prowess is impressive. You see the band is both a front and our focus. We pull jobs all across the galaxy in order to find the great rift.”

“The great rift doesn’t exist, ya dig. I’ve been chasin’ that wild goose fo the past five years o my life. I’m tellin’ you, there’s no hint not even a rumor of where it could be. If that’s your goal then youse is jus’ wastin’ my time.”

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Scortched Frontier – Bring Me The Disco King – Chapter 2

The meeting room was densely populated, it was clear, upon Ezekiel’s late entry that Estrada was waiting for him. There was a thin haze of cigar smoke hanging overhead as he made his way towards a seat in the front of the room. The room itself was far too open for the couple dozen people scattered about its dusty halls.

Estrada wasted little time getting things started, he stood behind a church window as the dawns light poured in through the stained glass behind them. This was the Cathedral back in the day, now it was town hall. The general consensus around the frontier was that whatever god was watching over the old ones died with them and as a result all their holy books were purged from the area long ago. Estrada once told Ezekiel that their was enough kindling from the books that as a young boy staring into the flames he felt like he was he was in front of a great burning tower, like one of the buildings in the great cities that could no longer be reached and existed only as a memory suddenly manifested before his eyes to burn as it sure had in the cataclysm.

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Scorched Frontier – Dawn is a Feeling – Chapter 1

The cool winds blow across the veranda stirring a glass wind chime. A man dressed in a wrinkled brown suit and a pair of pilot sunglasses stirs slightly, beginning to wake to the cool afternoon. With an almost spectacular struggle he manages to get one arm over the edge of the small daybed before sinking back into the cool polyurethane cushions. The man brushes the shades off his face carelessly and struggles to open one eye, making the world seem distorted and blurry. A flag billowing in the wind, attached to the smooth white columns by a small metal mounting bracket, catches his eye and he fumbles for his sword. Of course even in his groggy condition it only takes him a moment to realize he was looking at the red flag that marked the independent territories and not one of the dust cloak bandits he rolled onto his back and waited for his heart to stop pounding.

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Monolithic Horizon – Station to Station

Station to Station

The train passed through Amersterdam, my headphones pounding the tunes of a past century’s long-dead music. They were corrupted files downloaded off an ancient database, audio that came through perfectly clear, the only flaw in being the gibberish file names that scrolled by the LED screen of my side box as a series of garbled characters. The names had been encrypted to avoid detection on the networks. Old files were considered dangerous, regardless of their content. I had been riding the trains as it passed from station to station; to my right we glided by a patch of post-apocalypse. It was a cityscape ruined and charred, looking like a fried circuit board that had been shelved and never repaired. Everything was covered in dust, dirt, and grit. The settled dust of ancient fallout had covered everything in thin layers. It vaguely reminded me of those old black and white movies.

The buildings and skyscrapers were collapsed and ruined, resting on top of other buildings and even more skyscrapers, making it look as though a giant had played dominos with them. Retrofitted chunks of old buildings had been turned into slipshod shelters and businesses that were capped with bent and twisted metal and crumbling pieces of concrete. All over the streets there were kiosks that had set up for the days business, some of them sold bioware chips v-pak upgrades, ‘softs and OS upgrades; some even proclaimed to have “newly developed AI” available for installation, but everyone who had a brain in their head knew that was a scam and had avoided those places. A fool who walked up my be jacked into some sort of new v-stim and fried right down to the last synapse. There were, after all, a lot of unemployed scientists who needed to further their research without the testing resources of most of the high-end corporate labs. It was not uncommon to plug in some new software into your v-pak or PAN only to have a DataStream the size of the Internet flood your head. The human brain could only take so much stimulus before shutting down. These people weren’t very good at setting limits to the amount of data they could unleash with their “revolutionary” technologies, without a cap it just become a flood that spread across the mind of the user like wildfire; amateurs.

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Starship Rock 69 & 1/2 – Chapter 2

Candilicious


Rocker 69 woke up to the sound of his alarm blasting the tune to Capitan Atom’s Lament, a little animatronic Capitan Atom saluted and yelled “Hail The Dark Lord.” He sat up in his custom skull-shaped bed and grabbed a guitar from the floor. He then proceeded to smash the alarm clock to pieces with it, then carelessly tossed the guitar into a pile in the corner of the room that contained laundry and discarded pop rocks packets. “The Dark Lord demands that I feed!” Rocker 69 braced himself against the bed with his right hand, dizziness overtaking him for a moment. How long have I been asleep, he wondered. Must have been another diabetic coma, Rocker 69 reasoned. He tried to re-set his Mohawk as it was sitting crooked on his head, by eyeballing it in the mirrors that surrounded the room. “Bah!”

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Starship Rock 69 1/2 – Chapter One

Starship Rock 69 and a ½:

A Tale of Romance and Rock that Echoes Eternally

Throughout the Cosmos so Epically

it Could Only be Properly Represented by Having

the Book that Contains it Have the Most Impossibly

Lengthy Title in the History of Publications and

Quite Possibly the World, Though That is a Stretch as

There Might be a Longer Title Out There Somewhere.

I Mean There’s No Real Way to Know for Sure but

I Can Say That I am at Least 99% Certain

This is the Longest Title Ever; However,

Should That Lingering 1% of Uncertainty Become

A Reality I Would Hope That at Least this Title

Proudly Achieves Second Place for Longest Book

Title Ever, Though I would be Loathe to Lose as

Second Place is Merely the First to Lose. Therefore,

In the Event That a Longer Title is Discovered I would

Call Upon You, Dear Readers, to Buy Every Copy of

the Book with the Longest Title Ever and Burn it so

That I Alone Remain at the Apex of Title Lengthyness

By, Hopefully, a Wide Margin.

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Karma Police – Chapter 1

The sun was pure and the skies were a crystal blue, the light broke through the trees on the narrow road like the fingers of angels gently stroking the torn and broken surface of the world. I was at peace with myself, as I drove though the back roads of the country. The simple joy of these long rides though those barely visited places far away from the hustle of the consumer world. The flurry of early shopping and 24-hour mega stores. The memories of that place haunting me even this far out away from it all.

I stopped along the side of the road to have a sandwich, there was time now for such things. No rushing to get to the office on time, or to pay the bills. Just the road, earth, and sky. These moments seemed to me like those hazy seconds after awaking from a dream, when your perception is blurry and confusing. The dream was where I came from, and the longer I was awake here in this new world the more distant it became. The details gradually lost and forgotten yet still prominent enough for me to know that they were out there somewhere, looking on the horizon of the dreamscape in my mind. Waiting for me with knifes drawn when I close my eyes to rest.

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Flame Town Adventures