I've been going over some of my old posts. I'm trying to figure out the most elegant way of getting all my content off of LJ...it's not promising.

Anyway, whilst I was here I thought I would post a link to my blog and my most recent blog post, to sort of let anybody who was interested see what kind of stuff I'm doing right now, and where I'm doing it.



http://blackintheback.blogspot.com/



Among the many challenges, both commonplace and unique, that I face as a Dungeon Master; there are a few that I think I might be able to improve on by writing a how-to guide directed at myself. Every so often, I’d like to use a post to force myself to cognitively process my issues as a DM, in the hopes that I can work my way through such problems via writing. Like any other topic I write on, these posts will be intermittent at best. I’ll write one when I feel inspired to do so.

The first issue I’d like to work through is that of designing towns, cities, and other communities in a game. Any time you run a campaign, this is something that you’ll invariably need to do—but it can be quite overwhelming to attempt, not only due to the inherent difficulties in bringing an open-ended fictional community to life, but because it can be easy to become far too bogged down in details whilst trying to do so . Depending on the size of your town you may be faced with the issue of figuring out what the absolute necessities are which will allow your town to function, or you might have to figure out how to deal with an immense sprawling cityscape without making a full-time job out of game design. As with many such problems, the task can be simplified by designing a process.

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I've been using LJ for a long time now. During my most active years, it was even a paid account--though that was largely thanks to Stephanie. I have always respected, and trusted the LJ team.

However, the recent...change in direction that LJ has taken has led me to believe that the LJ I've always respected no longer exists. And it's true, my presence on LJ has been GREATLY lessened as of late--largely due to me working on another writing project which required me not using LJ, among other things--but I always planned to really make this place home again someday. Because unlike the rest of the internet, which is as fickle as the wind, I felt LJ could be trusted. However, it seems now that what I believed about most of the rest of the internet all along was the actual case: the only websites that you can trust to continue their function as long as you want that function to exist are the websites that you create yourself. I don't say this out of anger, simply out of disappointment. I'm not even really disappointed in LJ--LJ has done what LJ wanted to do with LJ. I'm simply disappointed that LJ and I can no longer be the close friends we once were.

If anybody needs to contact me, the best way is via my AIM: linkskywalker14, however, email is also very reliable: linkskywalker14@gmail.com

It will probably take me awhile to copy all my old posts and sort them into folders, especially due to my busy life, but what the hell, right?

I don't know if I'll be posting here again, I'm not going to say that I'm leaving forever, but so long as I can't trust LJ, I'm not going to entrust anything to them: such as my writing.

If I do post here again, it will most likely be links to where my old content / new content can be viewed. I'm actually starting to get some pretty spiffy ideas =P

War out, my friends--my family--and lets see each other soon okay?

I decided awhile ago only to use LJ for serious writings. Stuff I wanted other people to see. Maybe the occasional personal post, but I figured since I'm a writer this would be a good place to...write. Well, as of late I have been silent and it's due to two things. 1) my current writing project being a novel, and 2) my recent inability to write anything. A lot is going on in my head, and I'm sorry I've been unable to post anything here. Stories just aren't a very good way of expressing raw emotion. And so I've decided to try my hand at poetry, since nothing else has worked. I must admit, I feel a bit better after this. It's shitty, but it expresses how I feel I think. Tell me what you think, and I'll decide whether or not I want to post future poems like this one.



I lay, helpless against the realities of life
I roar and rage in silence, I strike the air
my life, like everyone else, must be earned it seems
so much wasted time
so much that could be done
so many missed joys
all in the name of living

Work
Work
Work

Whilst there, misery comes from drudgery
no matter how I try, repetition is empty
there is nothing to take joy in
my companions are different
we talk, but there is no elevation
no friendly discourse
just people wiling away the hours until they return home

I try to avoid it
I distract myself with pleasures
perhaps it I do, I can stave off the innevitable
each precious hour ticks away wihtout substance
for it is all I can do to distract myself with petty nothings
I cannot think about what comes tomorrow
continued misery

Though I am not tired, I know I must rest
for if I do not rest, I will not be able to prepare in the morning
irony, that my greatest
life consuming
misery is one that I willingly prepare for.
I lay again, helpless against the realities of life.

Is it worth it?

I miss you.

Goodnight Linds. Love ya, sleep well.

I'll help you with any schoolwork you need help with any time I'm around.

I'm sorry I'm not around a lot. I'm sorry I'm a bad friend in that way. Over few years, especially the last couple months, I've been becoming more and more closed off, and I'm sorry. You guys...kilovh, steph, liam, dean, megan, kelly, lindsey hux, annie, freyar, kaynil, rinny, godzilla, oltri, zeph....all of you. You guys are my family. I love you.

People who have known me for awhile know how I work when it comes to things like World of Warcraft. I am introduced, I go through a fast and furious obsession, and then interest (mostly) fades. Part of the obsession phase involves a lot of mental tinkering. I wonder, if I were a developer, what would I do to make the game better? What would be a good addition for the next patch, or expansion? Obviously I don’t have the numbers in front of me, and there’s a good chance I wouldn’t understand them if I did, but I like to think I have a good chance of stumbling across an idea that would actually improve the game. Not to say it would be implemented even if I did, but I find it enjoyable to try anyways.

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Recently, while thinking about a person I know, the thought "they're a bit too judgmental" came up. Then I had to ask myself...

Is it possible to say somebody is "too judgmental" without being a hypocrite?

When something important happens in my life that I’d like to remember, I write it down in a paper. The problem, of course, is that this often turns into such a massive project that I put it off and put it off until I can’t really write things down in the kind of detail I want because the events are no longer fresh in my mind. Those of you who have been reading my journal for over a year and have decent memories might remember that it took me months to write about meeting Stephanie for the first time, and I never even go through day 3 of our second meeting. It’s a problem all writers have, to my understanding. One of my favorite textbooks, for English 231 I think it was, had a quote in it. I can’t recall the specifics, but the gist of things was “The most difficult part of writing is sitting down.” And so, in an attempt to combat this procrastination, I’ve decided to break my current “Memoir” into segments, which I will write in a single sitting and post individually. With that introduction out of the way, here are my memories of the two most influential years of my life.
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Recently I have been downloading episodes of the old Gargoyles television program from the 90s or so. For people who didn’t grow up in North America during the 90s, the show follows the adventures of a small group of stone Gargoyles, who come to life at night. The show was produced by Disney, and was notable for its fluid yet angular art, and somewhat dark content. I’ve rarely met someone in my age bracket who didn’t watch the show.

Now that I’m watching it with several years more experience under my belt, however, I’m surprised to discover how stupendous the show really is. When I downloaded the old Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles cartoon, I got most of my viewing pleasure from the nostalgia factor. The show is camp, and cliché, and I honestly wasn’t even able to finish watching it. It just got too repetitive after the first hundred episodes or so. Gargoyles, however, is quite different.

I’m not going to say that the show isn’t primarily aimed at children—some episodes are obviously thinly veiled PSAs about the importance of reading or something like that. However, at least half of the show if not more will go over the head of most children, and the violence is pretty edgy for a children’s show. One episode was even banned due to an excess of violence.

Even if you only look at the four-episode miniseries which the show opened with, you can see how very superior it is to many other shows with the same target audience. We open with an army of Vikings attacking a small castle, and that alone is enough to rocket this show past most others on the awesome scale. More importantly however, the show deals with racism, honestly shocking betrayals, and we see nearly every character develop in a realistic and believable way. Even the villains are extremely sympathetic—something they maintain throughout the entire series. What’s more, people die. Really seriously die. Granted, they’re turned to stone at the time, but you actually see them being smashed to pieces. In later episodes, humans are destroyed the same way. In one particularly jarring scene, somebody picks up a rock only to discover that it was once their friend’s face.

Beyond good storytelling, the show makes excellent use of intertextuality—almost all of which is far beyond the understanding of a child. The lead character makes references to Dostoyevsky for example, and key plot points are tied directly with Shakespeare’s plays. In fact, Shakespeare is a central motif for the series. “A Midsummer Night’s Dream” is noted as being a true story, and Macbeth is a pivotal character in the show’s plot.

As exceptional as everything above is, what makes the show truly shine is its plot progression. Many American shows seem to work with the following formula:

1) Hook people
2) Do the same thing over and over until they get bored.
3) Hook them again before they stop watching.
4) Repeat steps 2 and 3 until you’ve sucked as much life out of the show as you can.

In Gargoyles, things work a hell of a lot differently. Almost every episode progresses the plot in some way, and it’s clear from the way early episodes lead into later ones that the overall story was planned out from the very beginning. Furthermore, the effects of these episodes are maintained throughout the show. For example, one character is tricked into betraying his friends by another character early in the series, and for the rest of the show that character feels a particular amount of enmity towards that villain specifically, though he does gradually learn to have more control over himself when dealing with her.

I’m sorry if this came out a little messily; sometimes I find it difficult to write well when I have as much to say about something as I do about this show. It really truly is fantastic, and I encourage anybody who enjoys watching old cartoons—or hell, anybody who enjoys an interesting and original story—to find a copy of this show and watch it. It really is worth your time.

As of late, I’ve been playing World of Warcraft quite a bit, which I finally have time to do now that I’ve graduated. Being the nerd that I am, I role play. Honestly, without role-playing, the game would hold very little appeal for me. It’s rather boring if you don’t make your own fun, I think. Serious lack of gameplay mechanics in WoW.

Anyway, I thought I wanted to take a minute to write down the histories of each of my characters.

Sentai Gresk, The Corpseseeker, is the son of Jubahl Gresk, also Corpseseeker, and Syntha Gresk, mage of the Fifth Circle. Sentai spent the first 18 years of his life living in Stormwind. Since his father was often busy working (under the table) with the Scarlet Crusade, far to the north, and his mother was busy with her own duties as a member of the Fifth Circle, Sentai had a lot of time to himself. Though he showed adeptness for the Arcane, he never managed to focus his energies on study. And so he decided to follow in his father’s footsteps, down the path of the Warlock. When Sentai was 18, after the death of his mother, he accompanied Jubahl to the north to fight the Scourge. However, they encountered something they did not expect—a new, sapient form of undead. These monsters, who called themselves the Forsaken, fought fiercely, and the unit was decimated. Jubahl was injured severely early in the fray, and Sentai carried him away from the battlefield. When the two returned to Stormwind, the Scarlet Crusade refused to acknowledge the now handicapped warlock, who they had never been fond of working with in the first place. Filled with rage, Jugahl moved to Ironforge with his son, and began teaching younger warlocks the secrets of summoning demons. Meanwhile, Sentai’s infatuation with the Forsaken grew ever stronger. The death of his mother had shaken him, and seeing that it was possible to live forever through undeath, without forsaking your free will, intrigued him. Sentai decided to pursue undeath for himself. He began traveling the world, taking the mantle “Corpseseeker,” as an ironic nod to his father’s life pursuit.

McJiggins, the gnome, is an absolutely maniacal serial killer. He killed most of his family, several women walking through the park, a few children, and dozens, even hundreds of puppies. Unfortunately, McJiggins is something of a Medieval fantasy OJ—they were never able to pin the crimes on him, and so, after a few years in jail for puppy murder, McJiggins was back on the street. His time in jail had taught him something though—if he wasn’t careful, he was going to end up serving a life sentence or worse. And so, the wily gnome decided to join the fight against the Horde. Not particularly because he hates them any more than his own people, but because he can get away with killing them. Not only will he not get in trouble, but he’ll be praised for his bloodlust!

Ganji was a simple Troll Priest, struggling to progress ever farther down his chosen path, so that he might sooth the wounds of his brethren in the horde. One day, as he was gathering apples, a powerful Blood Elf Paladin strode into the encampment where he was working. She smiled at him, and asked if he needed any help. Ganji was a bit taken aback—the few blood elves he had encountered had always been haughty, bordering on hostile. Later, as she was helping Ganji carry the basket of apples back to the encampment, she told him of the past glory of the High Elves, and how she believed her people had been corrupted by their new leader. Even the other Paladins gained their powers aggressively, by bending holy energies to their will, rather than allowing the holy energies to guide them. She wanted to attempt to guide her people, but she told terrible stories of those who spoke out against the new order. So instead she had decided it was best to go out to the other races, and foster good will towards them, in the hopes it would inspire her people. Ganji found her story inspiring, but pointed out that her example would to little to inspire a people who resided halfway across the world. Eyes downcast, the paladin agreed, saying she could think of no other way. After a moment of consideration, Ganji told her he would go back to her homeland with her, and the two could be an example of racial unity together. The two set off on the perilous journey the very next day, and Ganji has worked hard to gain the respect of the blood elves since then, though there is a long road left to travel.

Rodnee is a slightly retarded crossdressing dwarf. There’s nothing sexual about Rodnee’s crossdressing. In fact his retardation seems to have left him completely asexual. None the less, Rodnee is never seen out of his dress. He left home at an early age to travel the world. He currently resides in Stormwind, where he tries his best to convince others of the superiority of dwarvish ways. His physical strength and perpetual innocence make him ideally suited to the path of the paladin.

Linkskywalkr was a 24 year old carpenter when the plague spread through his village, killing every living thing—including him. When he awoke as an undead, he was quickly selected for a rogue’s life due to his lithe form and knowledge of wood. Until recently, Linkskywalkr was unsure of his purpose, and though he fulfilled the duties given to him, he did so simply because it was the only life that seemed open to him. After a particularly useful assignment, however, he was allowed an audience with Lady Sylvanus. That day, everything changed. The Banshee queen filled him with terror and inspired him to devotion all at once. Never one for words in life, and even less so in death, Linkskywalkr couldn’t express how he felt—not that he had anyone to express his feelings too. All he knew is that he would go anywhere and do anything for the dark lady. Fulfilling her wishes became his only purpose in life—and his current life the only one he cared to remember.

Every Forsaken must live through the day when they wake up, and realize that they should not have done so. For Deitra, that experience is every morning. Every night, as she sleeps, her memories of the previous day twist and blur. Her undead body regains its former luster, her goals are those of a human mage, and her surroundings are full of life. Every morning, she must experience once again the realization that she has become undead. This constantly jarring existence has left Deitra very much less than sane, and she is erratic and angry nearly all the time.

Matrice is totally gay for Lindsey. Linds wears the pants in the relationship, so Matrice pretty much just follows her around. (Linds: We need to play more. Matrice is still at level 5 ;_;)

It's done, over. For the last two years of my life I've pushed myself academically at that school, and now I never get to go back. I just turned my last assignment in, over the internet, about 2 minutes ago. I can't even express what I'm feeling right now. I've been going to school since I was two years old. I've spent 18 years of my life pursuing one academic achievement or another. I don't even know what to expect...no assignments due at all?

I almost cried while I was pulling into the parking lot. I can't even tell you how hard it was not to cry during my last test. I'm glad it was a Vanneson test...that teacher can be a bit repetitive, but he's taught me so much. Not only about basic Geography, and Chinese History (the classes I took with him) but about life, and about how to impart knowledge to another person.

I can't even comprehend it. Even if, tomorrow, or next fall, or whatever...even if I did go back--it really wouldn't be the same. Sure some people I know would still be there, but most of them were leaving with me. At least the Teachers are there. I'll probably be going back if only to get letters of recommendation from a couple of them.

I dunno, maybe I'm so emotional because I never experienced this before. When I left grade school it was sudden, and I actually resisted it really hard. My parents just decided I would be homeschooled over the summer, and just like that I lost all the people I knew from that place. Friends I had known for 3 years or more.

Then again...maybe I'm feeling this way because these past two years have easily been the most important of my life so far...and now they're over. If not for those two years, and the things I learned during them...I would be a completely different person.

Anyway, I've rambled long enough.


ps. I need to write down my memories...before they go away. I will do that.

Twilight of Heroes is back up. If Darky and Oltri are gone, I'm hunting them down.

http://www.linkskywalker.com/forums

My server is down, I don't know why. This tends to happen once a year or so. I should have the problem rectified within 24 hours. (Usually I'd get right on it, but I only noticed it was down as I was getting into bed.)

This is something of a rough draft:
----------------------------------

Darkness was all around him, he had no idea where he was or how he had gotten there. Occasionally, he could see lights flickering in the distance, but they were obscured by a thick fog, and he could never keep his eye on them long enough to move towards them. He was beginning to become truly frightened, when he heard a voice. It was a girl’s voice, and she was calling his name. Her voice was soft, and kind—yet filled with duress. She begged him to help her…and then there was nothing.

He sat up straight. He was in his bed, a cold sweat covering his body. He rubbed his eyes and swung his legs onto the floor, noticing for the first time that his uncle, the only family he had ever really known, was sitting in a chair, tightening the laces on his boots.

“Is it morning already?” the boy asked with a yawn, stretching his arms out wide. His uncle glanced up, surprised to see him awake. All he said in response was,

“Stay here. I’ll be back before sunup.”

It was then that the boy noticed that his uncle’s sword was strapped to his side. He began to ask what was going on, but his uncle was already halfway out the door by the time he managed to get the words out. The boy was alone.

He couldn’t sleep, so he got out of bed and began to pace in the flickering lamplight. Minutes seemed like hours, and after about twenty of those, the boy’s curiosity got the better of him. He dressed hurriedly and grabbed the oil lamp from the table before moving out into the thunderous storm outside.

The rain pelted him like spears of ice, but it did little to sway him. In fact he was thankful for it—the rain had created a mud so thick that his uncle’s footsteps were easy to locate and follow. The boy moved slowly, careful not to lose the trail, while at the same time trying to shield the tiny flame of his lamp from the harsh winds.

It wasn’t until the boy stood in front of them that he realized the trail had led him right up to the gates of the castle. He was no stranger to the place—he had played here often when he was younger, looking forward to the day he would be old enough to become a guard himself. In recent months however, his uncle had warned him that it was best he stay away from the castle—that it was a dangerous place. What was going on?

The boy continued to follow his uncle’s footprints as they moved to the right, skirting the edges of the castle wall, until they rounded a corner into a small exterior garden. Here, the footprints continued only for a short while, eventually disappearing just as they reached a small bush. Thinking he had lost the trail, the young boy searched around desperately for the next set of prints. He was just about to give up and turn back, when he noticed a bit of polished stone under the bush. Brushing dirt away, he discovered that the entire bush was atop some sort of stone slab.

Curious, the boy gave the stone a push, and was shocked when it gave way, revealing a large hole in the ground, with a ladder descending into the darkness. If the boy had been confused before, now he was outright frightened, but that only served to heighten his curiosity. After only a moment’s hesitation, the boy descended into the darkness.

At the bottom of the hole, the ground was covered in several inches of water, runoff from the rainfall above. He waved his lantern through the air, getting a bearing on his surroundings. It there seemed to be only one direction he could go from here, and unless his sense of direction was totally off, it would take him directly under the castle.

Cautiously, more afraid that he would be caught by the guards than of any unseen terrors, the boy moved slowly forward, inching through the narrow hallway, listening intently for any sign of trouble. After only a few steps, trouble came into the faint light emitted by the lantern.

Rushing forward, the boy took his uncle’s limp form in his arms, shaking him gently and calling his name. After a moment, the man’s eyes fluttered open, and he saw his nephew.

“I…told you not to come…” he managed to choke out. The boy began to apologies, but his uncle cut him off. “No…it was right for you to come. You have to carry on. You have to save her, you have to stop him.”

“I don’t understand” the boy said, shaking his head. Tears filled his eyes. “Uncle we have to get you to town, there’s so much blood…”

“There is no time!” his uncle said sternly, grabbing the boy’s hand, and forcing the hilt of his sword into it. With his free hand, the older man took hold of his nephew’s tunic and pulled their faces close together. “You…must…save…Zelda! Your destinies are intertwined…”

Exhausted, the elder man fell back against the wall. The boy was crying heavily now, knowing that these were the last moments he would spend with his uncle. The dying man gasped, and managed to whisper “I…love..you…Link…” before he finally lay still.

For a long time he just knelt there, holding his uncle, wondering what to do. Then it hit him—he was going to do exactly what his uncle had told him to do. Clutching his uncle’s sword, the young man stood. He was going to save the princess.

In my experience, there are two responses you’re likely to get when you ask somebody why they decided to pursue English. The first goes something like this: “I’ve loved reading / writing as long as I can remember, so it just seemed like the logical choice for me.” This is probably the most common response. Hell, any academic is likely to tell you they’ve enjoyed reading from an early age.

The second response comes from people who didn’t always want to pursue English. They’ll often say that they read some wonderful poem, or some fantastic novel, and were inspired to pursue the art. A lot of people who use this response are probably lying, but that’s beside the point. The point I’m oh so clumsily driving at is that I fall into this category, in a way, and I’d like to share my story with you. You’ll either laugh or cry, I really can’t be sure.

I can’t say I recall the year, 2000 maybe? That would make me somewhere around 13 years old. This was the year, I think, that I got something I’d wanted ever since the first grade. I spent days calling up pawn shops looking for it, and eventually I found it: a copy of “A Link to the Past” for the SNES. I’d managed to find the system on my first day of looking, so I rushed home and put the cartridge in, and began one of the greatest gaming adventures of my life. Good times.

No, the brilliant dialogue in the video game didn’t inspire me. That would have been silly. The Dialogue was terrible. But you see, when I become obsessed with something, I become really truly obsessed with it. Back in those days, before I had access to the internet, this meant a trip to the library! Actually I went to the library once a week anyway, but THIS week, I went with a special intention: Zelda reading material.

As you might guess, there wasn’t much to be found…except Prima’s “The Secrets of: The Legend of Zelda: A Link to the Past” by Zach Meston. The first edition, with the purple and black cover, though I did later read the second “sword and shield cover” edition, which featured additional information covering “Link’s Awakening.”

It was good. It was witty, it was silly, and it was about Zelda. I actually read the thing cover to cover, just for pleasure. And I did it SEVERAL TIMES. I checked it out of the library frequently. I probably wouldn’t find it very quite as enchanting anymore, but I was young, and damn it—it was about Zelda!

This little known work by Zach Meston inspired me to write my own Zelda walkthroughs, which in turn caused me to create my own Zelda website. The website prompted more general content writing, which prompted me to write fanfiction, which eventually led me to writing non-Zelda fiction, all the way up to the present day.

I would love to have a copy of that book, and I fully intend to buy it once I find one for sale on ebay which doesn’t have the crap beaten out of it. Furthermore, I want to get it autographed by Meston. Because after all these years, I still remember his name. I still think of him when I play LttP. And while his writing may be relegated to copying down actions he takes in a video game, I think he’s a pretty neat guy.

“When I have Fears that my Art will Never Be”
By Nick Whelan
English 102
Poetry Explication



Of all the poems touched on in this segment of the class, John Keats’ “When I have fears that I may cease to be” spoke to me the most. I often feel the same fear Keats expresses in the theme of this poem—fear not of death, but that death will come too soon. Or worse; that death will come at the proper time, and I will not be ready. The conclusion the poem comes to is that when it does come time for us to die, the things that seem important to us in life really won’t matter anymore.

The teeming brain on the second line, “Before my pen has glean’d my teeming brain,” (2) refers to the ideas and thoughts that the author feels he must pass on to future generations through writing them down. His fear is that he may “case to be” (1) before he has taken those thoughts from his mind, and transferred them to paper via writing, Thus, his pen gleaning his brain. This is an implied metaphor.

The second Stanza is home to an interesting Simile. The “books piled high” (3) are a metaphor for all the knowledge that he does not yet possess. This knowledge seems to him to be “like rich garners the full ripen’d grain.” (4) My knowledge of language during the author’s lifetime is not the best, but by my understanding, garners would be granaries. Ergo, the books piled high around Keats are filled with knowledge, much like a granary might be full of grain. The verbal irony of the situation, of course, is that even as such things (be it grain or knowledge) are appealing partially because of how plentiful they are. It is that very trait which makes us incapable of fully experiencing the object of our desires.

The greatest irony in this poem is difficult to categorize. It’s something of a meta-irony as it concerns the real-life situation of the author, which I suppose would fall under the category of dramatic irony. The entire poem is about the fear that death will come before one completes all that they want to do in their life. This sobering concept becomes even more poignant when one learns that the author, Keats, died a mere four years after writing this piece, in the year 1821, at the age of twenty-five. It is likely, since the cause of Keats’ death was a long standing illness, that he wrote this poem knowing that his death was not far off.

The poem’s Rhyme seems to be rather simple, using primarily the end rhyme structure to create a separation of ideas. The lines alternate between indented and not. Each line rhymes with one of the adjacent lines, which has the same indentation. For example, the first four lines are not indented / indented / not indented / indented. Similarly their rhyme is in a one, two, one, two pattern. After that, however, a new rhyme begins which covers lines five through eight; three, four, three, four, and so on. Each section of rhyme contains an entire idea within it. The first 4 lines express the character’s fear that he will run out of time for academia in life, the next 4 lines express the similar fear that he will die before he experiences and writes about the wonders of the natural world. The 4 lines after that continue the trend by expressing the character’s fear that he may pass on before he has fully experienced love.

The concluding two lines of the poem offer a slight variation of the rhyme structure. This fourth and final stanza has no indented lines, and so the lines rhyme with each other without a break in between them. The final section expresses the resignation of the character, as he comes to accept the fact that life and death are not certain. In the end, we must accept death when it comes, and realize that our worldly accomplishments prestige will mean nothing then.

“When I have fears that I may cease to be” is a sobering piece. At a casual glance, one might take it as profound, and simply walk away from it. But the fact that the author experienced these fears as a reality, rather than an abstract concept makes the poem much more touching than it would be otherwise. It’s a slap in the face, forcing the reader to gaze into the eyes of death without the luxury of turning away. Our time on this earth is short, and there is a lot to do. The world is full of wonders—knowledge, art, loves—will we put it off until later, or will we live our lives to the fullest as Keats did. If we died at 25, would anybody remember us?

"John Keats." Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia. 15 May 2007, 20:03 UTC. Wikimedia Foundation, Inc. 17 May. 2007 <http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/john_keats>


Keats, John. "When I have fears that I may cease to be." Reading and Writing from Literature, 3rd ed. Ed. John Schwiebert. Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 2005. 1021.

Last night I finished reading “The Flood,” which is the second book in the Halo trilogy. It covers the events from just before the beginning of the game, to the exact ending of the game. Now I’m not usually one to write a review of something right after experiencing it, but I felt this was a situation in which I should speak out. Everybody I know who read the book said it was terrible—which is why it took me a few years to get around to reading it after I finished the first book. However, I’m happy to say that this is simply not the case! The book was quite good, despite the obvious hurdles the author had to overcome. Before I go any further, however, I’d like to say that I’m not going to be avoiding spoilers at all, so if you don’t want the book spoiled, stop here.

William C. Dietz, the author of the book, really picked the short straw on this project. Not only does he have to live up to the excellent writing of Eric Nylund—who wrote the books which take place before and after Dietz book—but he has to write about the events of the game itself! I don’t know how I would even approach a project like that. How do you take a game like Halo, where the periods of unaccounted for time can be counted on a single hand, and make it interesting to a readership who has probably beaten the game. On legendary. Twice.

Dietz rises to this challenge with commendable grace, recognizing several key opportunities for original and compelling storytelling. Most of these opportunities come in the form of factions which are unaccounted for throughout most of the storyline. The Covenant are the most obvious candidates for this, seeing as they are Master Chief’s primary (intelligent) adversaries. But Dietz goes beyond the sinister, inhuman villains that the reader would expect to see after playing the game. He makes the covenant forces into people, by singling out two in particular, a grunt named Yapyap and an Elite named Zamamee. Zamamee was knocked out by Master Chief on the Pillar of Autumn (near the beginning of the game) and in order to soothe his wounded pride, he heads out on a vendetta against his assailant. Deitz craftily writes Zamamee into several of the more memorable battles in the game, claiming that the character set them up. Between these encounters, Zamamee and his sidekick, Yapyap (whose relationship with the Elite resembles that between a knight and a squire) deal with Covenant internal politics, try to hide from their unforgiving superiors after a particularly costly failed attempt, all the time creating something of a rapport with each other, and the reader. Are they evil, or at least selfish? Yes, very much so. But the reader can relate to them, they aren’t clichéd villains. I would read the book for their parts alone.

The other major faction unique to the book is what can be collectively referred to as “Alpha Base.” While Master Chief is gallivanting around Halo causing trouble for the Covenant, Major Silva and Lieutenant McKay of the Helljumper unit are taking over a base on a high plateau, fortifying it, and defending it. When the Master Chief rescues soldiers, Alpha Base’s where they go. When he needs backup or extraction, Alpha Base is where the dropship comes from. Of course, fortifying a rest stop would hardly make these characters worthy of a footnote. The thing that really drives their stories is Major Silva’s outspokenness, and ambition. Several compelling scenes center on Silva’s strong dislike of the Master Chief, who he regards as a the result of “mad science,” as it were. Still more conflict results when Silva decides to bring samples of The Flood back to Earth, trusting that such a discovery will lead to the advancement of his own military ideology. The recklessness of her superior’s decision causes Liutenant McKay to turn on the Major, ensuring the safety of Earth. I’m really only scratching the surface of the compelling drama Dietz weaves through these characters.

There are other factions as well, which make a few appearances throughout the novel. Captain Keyes, a particular Covenant General, a victim of the flood who regains some small semblance of consciousness, and a marine sniper who gets separated from his unit, just to name a few. Dietz uses them all to give the reader breaks from the unavoidably predictable story of Master Chief, and these breaks, which take up at least half of the book, keep the main story from becoming dry and boring at all

Of course, the book would still be terrible if the primary story sucked, but it doesn’t. Dietz does a great job of editing out the unnecessary parts of gameplay, while retaining the feeling that the Chief is fighting an uphill battle against a numerically superior foe. Not only does the story maintain a fast pace, but the characters of Master Chief and Cortana are developed much further than they are in the game, giving the reader a good deal more perspective on who this faceless warrior and his incorporeal companion are. Suddenly the Chief has emotions; he has memories, and a real relationship with Cortana—who’s not just a sassy computer. She actually cares about the chief, and about the survival of the human race.

All in all, I really enjoyed this book, and would recommend it to anyone who enjoyed the game, though you should definitely read “The Fall of Reach” first. If you HAVEN’T played the game, I would actually recommend reading the book first. You’re bound to get a kick out of knowing all the background and such when you do play the game. Hell, if you like science fiction or military drama at all, you’ll probably enjoy this book even if you never intend to play the game.

I had a plan. I was going to sit down and rewrite Beloch’s history tonight. It’s something I have wanted to do for awhile. Beloch is my other self and I like his linguistic portrait to represent who I am. Given how much I’ve changed since I last wrote the bio, I think it’s past time for another rewrite. On top of that, a lot has happened to that character which isn’t reflected in his history. That needs to be taken care of.

That’s what I was going to do, anyway. Then Lindsey got on.

Our conversation started out innocently enough. We caught up on each others latest adventures. Incidentally, she joined an outer-space RP on some forum somewhere. When I brought up that I intended to rewrite Beloch’s history, she quickly said that she didn’t want me to put Sanieko in there. Sanieko, for those who weren’t there, was her character in a small RP that a few of us took part in called “Hylian Minace” on Thorian’s old EZboard, “The Chaos Realm.”

I’m an archivist, as I’m sure many of you know, and it wasn’t long before I had produced the link to my archived copy of that particular RPG, and we went through it together, giggling about how terrible our spelling was, and how much worse our storytelling was. But they were good times, and even though we make fun of them now, I can’t help but look back on those days and think it might be nice to re-live them.

That pretty much set the tone for the evening. We talked about my ex girlfriends, including our own romantic history. We got really deep into that particular subject, in fact. I learned a lot about what she had felt about my dating history. After all, she’s one of the very few people who actually met all my girlfriends. At least, inasmuch as I met them.

We also talked about old friends, and the stupid decisions those friends made. It’s funny how very out of date we are with each other. She didn’t seem to have any knowledge of the stuff that had been going on in my circle of friends over the past two years—a circle she’s very much a part of. Likewise, I didn’t even recognize the names of some of the people who seem to be very close to her.

To top it off, there were the forums. I started with CCP, where I spent a good deal of time looking over old threads, even posting a bit. We were all so close back then; it was such a different time. After that I went to my EZboard control panel and noticed that they have a new feature which shows you all the forums you’ve posted on. I opened each one in tabs, and scrolled through them, slowly. Most of them are gone by now—The Chaos Realm, some Zelda forums, and several I don’t even recognize. There are a few which are still around—Twilight of the Gods, Anime Café, and two or three others not worth mentioning.

I really can’t express the strong feelings of nostalgia washing over me right no Lindsey seems to have a way of making me feel things like this. I’ll never forgive her for it, but it’s probably also why I love her the way I do. I probably shouldn’t even post this, considering how often I think I’ve gone off about “the old days.” But it’s been a long time since I posted anything…so it might as well be something generic.

I love you guys, you who stick around even after all this time has gone by. You’re my family.

GROSS!


[b]Name: Razi Ellenholst

[b]Age: [/b] 22

[b]Genre: [/b] Dominic Deegan (Traditional Fantasy)

[b]Race: [/b] Human

[b]Gender: [/b] F

[b]Alignment: [/b] Chaotic Good

[b]Physical: [/b] Short and a bit pudgy, with red, disheveled hair. She has a small, but very visible, scar under her right eye. She also has lots and lots of freckles.

[b]Clothing: [/b] Baggy blue sweater, with a beige skirt. Her shoes are typical brown fair, and she wears glasses.

[b]Occupation: [/b] Student at the Arcane Academy in Quirral. She's majoring in Physical Magic, with a minor in Time Magic. She is in her final year of study at the academy before she achieves these goals, though she is strongly considering staying on to gain a masters degree.

[b]Skills/Abilities: [/b] Razi is very intelligent, and has extensive knowledge in any field relating to the natural world.

[b]Supernatural Abilities: [/b] Razi is capable of casting semi-advanced Physical Magic spells, as well as moderately difficult Time Spells.

[b]On-hand Resources/Items/Possessions: [/b] A small wand her father gave her before she left home for the Academy.

[b]History: (Very Rough Draft)[/b]

Born to a middle class family in Lynn's Brook, Razi was never a particularly remarkable child. Her Father, a blacksmith, was a loving, understanding man. Her mother,
a large, jolly woman, who helped her husband in the smithy, was outgoing and always seemed happy. Though she got most of her looks from her mother, Razi definitely
took after her father, who was shy and reserved, much more. Razi lived happily with her parents, and her two younger brothers, until she was 16. When she was 16, she
began to wonder what she should do with her life. The boys her age were passing her over in favor of thinner game, which worked just fine for her anyway. But still, it
raised a lot of questions in her mind. What was she going to do with her life?

Thinking it might help, Razi's father took her to see the town seer, a man named Dominic Deegan. They thought he might be able to peer into the future and see what would
be best for Razi. When they got there, though, the seer didn't use his crystal ball at all. Instead, he simply talked to Razi, asking her questions until she eventually came
to her own conclusion--she wanted to study magic. After thanking him for his help, Razi asked what method he recommended for beginning to study magic. Without missing a beat,
Dominic replied that books were the best place to start. He also added that in two years, she would be old enough to apply to the Arcade Academy in Quirral, where his mother
was headmistress. Asking them to wait a moment, Dominic briefly disappeared into another room of the house, and returned a moment later with a book. "This should get you started,"
he said. "There's not much of an academic selection in the Lynn's Brook store, so you keep this. It will help you figure out what kind of magic you'd like to study. Thanking him
profusely, Razi and her father went home together, smiling broadly.

Excited as she was, Razi didn't exactly rush through the book. However, in two years, when she was old enough to apply to the school, she was ready. Once she was accepted, she began
making arrangements--finding a caravan to travel with, choosing only the most essential possessions to take with her, etcetera. Fortunately the university had dormitories, so she wouldn't
have to worry about housing. After a tearful farewell to her family, her father presented her with a gift--a magnificent wand. It was black, and made of iron. Ever so slender, it still managed
to taper off a bit over its 16 inch length. At the end was a small purple gem, held in place by criss-crossing iron weave. Giving her a kiss on the forehead, her father said, "I didn't
always want to shoe horses you know." and smiled at her. Wiping the tears from her eyes, Razi smiled back, and hopped on the wagon that would take her to Quirral.

Four years she's been at the Academy now. She hasn't particularly made a name for herself, residing somewhere in the middle of her class. Still, she is respected by her peers for her dedication,
even if she doesn't always do her reading assignments on time.


[b]Personality: [/b] Introverted and shy, but very friendly.

[b]Interesting Facts: [/b]

* Razi hates reading. She prefers to do her learning first hand.

* During the Battle for Barthis, Razi was one of the students who helped build the stage, by casting "Strength" spells on her classmates.

* Physical magic is the magic of helping or hindering basic bodily functions. Spells exist to strengthen the body, increase the jumping or running power of the legs, or turn the skin hard like armor.