9.03.2010
All good people...
Since I have figured out how to post animated gifs, I may as well post the first signature block I had when I was a Stratics Forum Moderator:
King of Pain
Well, I figured out how to cross post animated gifs to get them to show up properly, so here is the old King of Pain signature block I made for clan forums back when I was playing Age of Empires on the MS Game Zone.
 |
| Click to view the animated version without errors. |
The Gate (final?)
Streaks of wispy white clouds smear across the early morning sky. Gold, rose, and violet hued auras dance along the eastern horizon as the fiery dawn-beast emerges from a dark and silvery sea. The crisp smell of mountain pines and rocky scrub comes alive in the thin air as calls of morning birds filter up through the sparse conifers of the rocky spine from the lush oak and maple choked saddles below.
Two dark, cloaked and hooded figures stand still in this grandeur, seemingly afraid to break the spell of the moment. The first stands tall and strait, arms akimbo and legs planted shoulder width and solid, facing the rising sun and basking in the refreshing warmth of newborn day. The other, hunched and leaning heavily on a gnarled, capped staff faces northward, catching only sidelong rays from the sun. A trap of logic, an equation of power, draws his attention away from the splendor of dawn.
Following the gaze of the wizened figure northward, a menacing black edifice is seen to loom some 40 yards distant. All signs of life dissipate near the linteled arch. It is clearly an anathema to things living and natural. Not even the mottled lichens that cover the stony ground grow near it. Yet there are black and twisted remains of chaparral that dared grow to close in times past. But did these ill fated plants grow there by the whims of the whispering breezes that play across this bleak peak, or did they court the danger… for there is an attraction in this thing, as much as it repels.
The monument stands as high as three men, with harsh, irregular angles and sharp, precise edges. It is comprised of two inclined columns cantilevered against a heavy horizontal beam. As immovable and solid as it seems, there is a sense of frailness in its construction that suggests it could topple at any moment. Numerous glyphs and sigils that reflect the dawn's light break the polish of the arch's dark marbled surface. A feeling escapes from it that hints of a power that should not be contained, a dark and viscous aura that is a poison to innocence.
The bent elder's lips move in a silent litany as he begins hobbling toward the construct, leaning heavily on his staff. Shuffling loose gravel on the eroded granite face draws the other's attention, and reluctantly, he turns from basking appreciation of the rising sun and follows, teeth gritted from the unease permeating his body as he approaches the portal. Every step heightens the tough's burden, even as the elder seems heartened, his muttering now audible.
Standing before the portal, the hunched figure draws a yellowed crystalline stone from some hidden pouch, and presses it into a barely perceptible recess on the western column. The glyphs of the column catch the crystal's hue as weathered hands trace their path, the muttering charged with purpose and urgency. An azure crystal is produced from the depths of the elder's robes, and placed in a similar niche on the eastern column, glyphs aglow with the crystal's tint, crooked fingers follow the meandering signs on the dark stone's face.
Reluctantly, the tall one steps toward the center of the arch as the old man beckons him over. Then, in a practiced but clumsy process, the young man laces his fingers and boosts the elder to stand on his shoulders. The old man steadies himself on the arch, reaches up and shaking, pressing a rose hued crystal into a indentation on the underside of the lintel-stone, where it clings in spite of gravity's incessant pull. Grunting in annoyance, pain, and frustration, the old hands trace the reddened symbols on the bottom of the horizontal slab.
Awkwardly, the elder clings and clambers off the tall youth's shoulders, nervously making his way to the ground. The unease of the youth is clear on his face as he grimaces against the dull throb now emanating from the portal, it's glyphs pulsing with light. Maniacal eyes reflect the light from under the elder's hood, a wicked grin spreading as he traces a last sign on the western column.
The old man's gnarled hand grasps the arm of the youth as the humming begins to heighten and wail, the pulsing light of the sigils matching the keening of the stone arch. Suddenly, a blast of light and heat sears down from a clear blue sky, a chromatic lightning strike that forks and hisses as it is caught in the extended fork of the columns rising above the lintel. The blast of power is deafening as the glyphs ignite in a white hot glow, then all goes deathly silent, even the chirping birds in the valley below stilled.
The hunched elder's lifeless corpse collapses to the stony ground under the archway, his grasp finally releasing from the tall youth's arm. Using the elder's staff, the rosy crystal is dislodged, caught, and pocketed by the survivor, then the blue and yellow crystals are taken in turn.
With a maniacal glint in his eye, the tall youth casts the menacing arch a wry grin as he saunters away, reciting a silent litany, the staff cradled fondly in the crook of his arm.
Two dark, cloaked and hooded figures stand still in this grandeur, seemingly afraid to break the spell of the moment. The first stands tall and strait, arms akimbo and legs planted shoulder width and solid, facing the rising sun and basking in the refreshing warmth of newborn day. The other, hunched and leaning heavily on a gnarled, capped staff faces northward, catching only sidelong rays from the sun. A trap of logic, an equation of power, draws his attention away from the splendor of dawn.
Following the gaze of the wizened figure northward, a menacing black edifice is seen to loom some 40 yards distant. All signs of life dissipate near the linteled arch. It is clearly an anathema to things living and natural. Not even the mottled lichens that cover the stony ground grow near it. Yet there are black and twisted remains of chaparral that dared grow to close in times past. But did these ill fated plants grow there by the whims of the whispering breezes that play across this bleak peak, or did they court the danger… for there is an attraction in this thing, as much as it repels.
The monument stands as high as three men, with harsh, irregular angles and sharp, precise edges. It is comprised of two inclined columns cantilevered against a heavy horizontal beam. As immovable and solid as it seems, there is a sense of frailness in its construction that suggests it could topple at any moment. Numerous glyphs and sigils that reflect the dawn's light break the polish of the arch's dark marbled surface. A feeling escapes from it that hints of a power that should not be contained, a dark and viscous aura that is a poison to innocence.
The bent elder's lips move in a silent litany as he begins hobbling toward the construct, leaning heavily on his staff. Shuffling loose gravel on the eroded granite face draws the other's attention, and reluctantly, he turns from basking appreciation of the rising sun and follows, teeth gritted from the unease permeating his body as he approaches the portal. Every step heightens the tough's burden, even as the elder seems heartened, his muttering now audible.
Standing before the portal, the hunched figure draws a yellowed crystalline stone from some hidden pouch, and presses it into a barely perceptible recess on the western column. The glyphs of the column catch the crystal's hue as weathered hands trace their path, the muttering charged with purpose and urgency. An azure crystal is produced from the depths of the elder's robes, and placed in a similar niche on the eastern column, glyphs aglow with the crystal's tint, crooked fingers follow the meandering signs on the dark stone's face.
Reluctantly, the tall one steps toward the center of the arch as the old man beckons him over. Then, in a practiced but clumsy process, the young man laces his fingers and boosts the elder to stand on his shoulders. The old man steadies himself on the arch, reaches up and shaking, pressing a rose hued crystal into a indentation on the underside of the lintel-stone, where it clings in spite of gravity's incessant pull. Grunting in annoyance, pain, and frustration, the old hands trace the reddened symbols on the bottom of the horizontal slab.
Awkwardly, the elder clings and clambers off the tall youth's shoulders, nervously making his way to the ground. The unease of the youth is clear on his face as he grimaces against the dull throb now emanating from the portal, it's glyphs pulsing with light. Maniacal eyes reflect the light from under the elder's hood, a wicked grin spreading as he traces a last sign on the western column.
The old man's gnarled hand grasps the arm of the youth as the humming begins to heighten and wail, the pulsing light of the sigils matching the keening of the stone arch. Suddenly, a blast of light and heat sears down from a clear blue sky, a chromatic lightning strike that forks and hisses as it is caught in the extended fork of the columns rising above the lintel. The blast of power is deafening as the glyphs ignite in a white hot glow, then all goes deathly silent, even the chirping birds in the valley below stilled.
The hunched elder's lifeless corpse collapses to the stony ground under the archway, his grasp finally releasing from the tall youth's arm. Using the elder's staff, the rosy crystal is dislodged, caught, and pocketed by the survivor, then the blue and yellow crystals are taken in turn.
With a maniacal glint in his eye, the tall youth casts the menacing arch a wry grin as he saunters away, reciting a silent litany, the staff cradled fondly in the crook of his arm.
8.30.2010
Card Arcana (Pectomancy)
I have played various card games since I was small: War, solitaire, go fish, Uno, then later rummy, gin, hearts, poker, blackjack, and canasta. Along the way, I discovered Tarot cards; better decks have a wonderfully mysterious ambiance that makes you want to believe they have power. Years later, trading card games were introduced, and again I was enthralled, combining the fantasy of the mystical with gaming and chance. Short, simple game play and lack of depth or elegance eventually dulled the charm of even those, though.
Since that early exposure, a variety of anime and children's shows themed around trading card game experiences have emerged. Most are mediocre, but they do present some interesting concepts. The thin exposure I have had to those shows, and the slightly deeper exposure I have had to actual trading card games and tarot have all been left to percolate and now things are bubbling!
The Cards:
Cards are made from a variety of materials, selected for their various metaphysical properties and their conductivity of arcane energy. The various solutions and treatments that are used to cure, pulp, enamel, etch, or otherwise treat the card stock are also specially selected for their properties and potency. More exotic and usually potent cards are often made from compounded materials, with perhaps a bone laminate on the face, a leather backing, and a metal edge treatment.The pigments and surface treatments of the cards are compounded from various materials ranging from minerals, plant extracts, lard, blood, bile, ichor, etc. The potency of such compounds are usually related to the nature of their source, the synergy they create with other ingredients and the card stock itself.
In general order of potency, not withstanding the natural properties of the source :
- Thick paper
- Woven fiber
- Leather
- Wood (solid or plied)
- Metals (enameled, etched, engraved, and/or stamped)
- Scale, Horn, or Bone (solid or plied)
Simple cards are constructed from pulped fibers, usually plants attributed with various medicinal or metaphysical properties. The illustrations are simple with limited glyph-work. The effects of these cards tend to be love charms; wards; sleep aids; cures for minor poisoning, skin rashes, sore muscles, etc; or causing such effects. More potent effects of these simple cards involve mending minor wounds and broken bones, igniting flammable materials, or producing light. Many paper cards are intended to be consumed when used, such as a pack of cards intended to be used as matches or temporary light sources.More sophisticated cards, made of lacquered cloth, leather, or wood, usually have greater capacity for energy transfer, so the extent to the effects are far greater. The imagery is usually more refined, with moderate glyph-work. Some of these cards are simply improved versions of the simpler paper cards, but the greater energy potential allows effects such as curing or inducing paralysis, pain, or unconsciousness; electrical shocks; etc. Cards with this level of workmanship are rarely intended to be consumed when used.
Metal cards can be relatively simple, but are usually inscribed, etched and/or enameled with ornate illustrations and complex glyph-work. The durability of metal cards makes them ideal for fiery uses, and their natural conductivity allows them to produce large effects. The simplest metal cards are often used like modern lighters or flashlights, with more sophisticated cards being used for small pyrotechnics. The most elaborate metallic cards can produce large destructive effects. Generally speaking, because of the attributes of metallic cards, they are not used medicinally.
Scale, bone, and horn cards tend to be particularly potent if the sources are creatures with natural energies. These cards are usually the most ornate, with intricate illustrations and glyph-work, usually rendered in pigments made of the various fluids from the same creature that was used to make the card-stock. This class of card is often used to summon creatures or manipulate whatever natural energies the donor creature had.
Card Casting:
Card-casting requires the user to be attuned to their cards. The method for this involves a series of rituals to cleanse the card of any old aura sticking to it, then to cleanse the caster of any auras sticking to them, and finally, a binding ritual to put the caster's cleansed aura on the card. The more sophisticated and potent the card, the more extensive the rituals for attunement. Simple paper cards can be attuned very quickly, metallic or bone cards require lengthy rituals and may take weeks of repeated effort to finally bind the card. Some casters are incompatible with some cards or classes of cards, and attempts at attunement will fail, and may even have negative consequences for the caster, the card, or both. Such incompatibility is often obvious, but in the cases of the most potent cards, the only way to find out is try and fail, often catastrophically.Card-casting is done by holding a card appropriately (don't point that fire-jet card at your head!), and either invoking aloud or focusing inwardly on the card's glyphs to push energy into and through the card.
The Craftsmen:
The artisans who make finer cards are skilled card-casters, and the greatest casters are the ones responsible for the major summoning cards and other major cards. Minor cards, particularly paper cards, are usually made by student casters, and it isn't uncommon for the first 'deck' a student owns to be crafted entirely by his own hand.Students also make stacks of disposable igniter, glow, and charm cards, as well as various other cardsets to be sold off or traded for other goods and services, offsetting the cost of apprenticeship.
Application:
I envision card-casting soldiers with small decks of cards crippling, burning, and electrocuting in combat, or using cards to tend the wounded; master craftsman card-casters using cards to precisely shape stone and assemble buildings; town doctors using cards to tend to the ills of the community; and so on.The images in this post have been culled from the internet over the years. If you own the images or know who does, please let me know and I will properly attribute or remove them.
7.13.2010
Dark Dreaming
Several days gone now, but still holding well in my memory, is this dream:
I found myself laying in a hospital bed, in an institutional room, austere, hinting at a government or corporate facility. I was morbidly obese, trapped by my own mass. Harsh looking nurses would wander in occasionally with food and medication. This was my routine.
Then I got a visitor... a young child, blond hair, wearing what might have been a hospital gown, or a night shirt. They approached me, and whispered in my ear 'You don't belong here, you have to leave.' Then they seemed to be gone.
I struggled to free myself from the bed, but knew the door was locked. The windowless chamber offered only one other possible escape: a ventilation panel. The panel was no more than 2 feet to a side, if that. In spite of my girth, I struggled to the panel, and managed to open it. I began to try to force my way into the duct beyond. As I struggled, I began to catch glimpses of myself as a thin man, struggling. Then, the child was there, pushing my obese body as I struggled. Once again, I was thin. Suddenly, I realized I wasn't really obese at all. I had been tricked into thinking I was, by whoever had placed me in the cell, as if believing I was incapable of escape would prevent my from trying.
I crawled through the ducts, and came out in another room of the facility. The walls were lined with shelves, stacked with peculiar items, the floor was littered with odd items as well. I understood that the items, at least some of them, had belonged to me, and it seemed that must be why I was a prisoner here. The child again appeared, and told me I must hurry. They made me realize I had to decipher a book in this collection.
I quickly found the small leather clad book in the room I was in, but it was filled with strange glyphs, demonic texts. I had to make my way to another room, via the ducts.
I was searching for a medical kit bag. I dropped into another room similar to the last, at the far end of a hall I could not access for some reason. In this room, I found the kit, and in it there were antique, baroque surgeon's tools. Silver scalpels ornamented with vine and flower motifs, syringes, saws, and finally, what I sought, a stethoscope.
This stethoscope was not ordinary by any means. It was crafted from human skin instead of flexible tubing, and the armatures and ear pieces were not made of metal tube, but instead were carved human rib bones. Most disturbing of all, was the actual scope... it was a leathery human ear affixed to the tube. This too had been in my collection, but why I hadn't understood its importance before fails me. I knew it had belonged to a plague doctor, who had made dark pacts and been researching things best left alone.
The child again appeared, urging me onward. In the yet another chamber was a coin I must acquire, but I could not touch it with bare flesh, lest I lose my mind. Back into the ducts I crawled, passing over another long hall, and finally dropping into this last room, which formed, with the medical chamber and the other cluttered rooms of mysterious treasure, a square, connected by long halls.
The coin was found quickly, and in a flash of inspiration, or perhaps at the child's guidance, I lifted the coin carefully with my sleeve, and placed the stethoscope to it. I could hear the beating of a heart, from within the coin. Only this stethoscope was capable of hearing the coin's heart beat. I knew then that I must meditate on the beating of the demonic heart trapped in this coin, no doubt payment for some dark dead in days long gone, and perhaps forged by some madman who sought to imprison a demon with it, so as to command its power.
I got the book out, and began to copy the glyphs into a notebook. The child appeared, this time a young girl, but otherwise very similar... she picked up the coin, and I tried to stop her, but then I knew that she was immune to whatever power it held. So she held the coin, and the ear of the stethoscope to it, while I listened and drifted into a trance. Mesmerized, I began to scrawl equally cryptic glyphs next to each of the glyphs I copied from the book... but somehow, it all made sense to me.
After a great deal of time, the book was decoded to my satisfaction. I found a large painting in the room I was in, and when I looked at it while entranced by the beating of the heart, it was a map, and with the information I decoded, I knew where on the map I had to go... more notes were made, then my escape.
How exactly, I escaped, is a blur, but I was next on the ground in front of the facility I was imprisoned in, a guard post in front of it. Here, I have teamed with a group of Afghan men, who have agreed to take me into the desert, to whatever it is that is hidden there, the thing I was imprisoned and my collection stolen in order to acquire.
I knew time was essential, and as we trekked into the wastelands, the sky grew dark with ominous clouds that roiled across the sky, and the harsh winds blew. My guides warned that since the land had been flattened, the storms tore across it without mercy, and we must find shelter and wait, but I knew it was dark forces mounting against me in this final leg of my journey.
And then, I woke.
I found myself laying in a hospital bed, in an institutional room, austere, hinting at a government or corporate facility. I was morbidly obese, trapped by my own mass. Harsh looking nurses would wander in occasionally with food and medication. This was my routine.
Then I got a visitor... a young child, blond hair, wearing what might have been a hospital gown, or a night shirt. They approached me, and whispered in my ear 'You don't belong here, you have to leave.' Then they seemed to be gone.
I struggled to free myself from the bed, but knew the door was locked. The windowless chamber offered only one other possible escape: a ventilation panel. The panel was no more than 2 feet to a side, if that. In spite of my girth, I struggled to the panel, and managed to open it. I began to try to force my way into the duct beyond. As I struggled, I began to catch glimpses of myself as a thin man, struggling. Then, the child was there, pushing my obese body as I struggled. Once again, I was thin. Suddenly, I realized I wasn't really obese at all. I had been tricked into thinking I was, by whoever had placed me in the cell, as if believing I was incapable of escape would prevent my from trying.
I crawled through the ducts, and came out in another room of the facility. The walls were lined with shelves, stacked with peculiar items, the floor was littered with odd items as well. I understood that the items, at least some of them, had belonged to me, and it seemed that must be why I was a prisoner here. The child again appeared, and told me I must hurry. They made me realize I had to decipher a book in this collection.
I quickly found the small leather clad book in the room I was in, but it was filled with strange glyphs, demonic texts. I had to make my way to another room, via the ducts.
I was searching for a medical kit bag. I dropped into another room similar to the last, at the far end of a hall I could not access for some reason. In this room, I found the kit, and in it there were antique, baroque surgeon's tools. Silver scalpels ornamented with vine and flower motifs, syringes, saws, and finally, what I sought, a stethoscope.
This stethoscope was not ordinary by any means. It was crafted from human skin instead of flexible tubing, and the armatures and ear pieces were not made of metal tube, but instead were carved human rib bones. Most disturbing of all, was the actual scope... it was a leathery human ear affixed to the tube. This too had been in my collection, but why I hadn't understood its importance before fails me. I knew it had belonged to a plague doctor, who had made dark pacts and been researching things best left alone.
The child again appeared, urging me onward. In the yet another chamber was a coin I must acquire, but I could not touch it with bare flesh, lest I lose my mind. Back into the ducts I crawled, passing over another long hall, and finally dropping into this last room, which formed, with the medical chamber and the other cluttered rooms of mysterious treasure, a square, connected by long halls.
The coin was found quickly, and in a flash of inspiration, or perhaps at the child's guidance, I lifted the coin carefully with my sleeve, and placed the stethoscope to it. I could hear the beating of a heart, from within the coin. Only this stethoscope was capable of hearing the coin's heart beat. I knew then that I must meditate on the beating of the demonic heart trapped in this coin, no doubt payment for some dark dead in days long gone, and perhaps forged by some madman who sought to imprison a demon with it, so as to command its power.
I got the book out, and began to copy the glyphs into a notebook. The child appeared, this time a young girl, but otherwise very similar... she picked up the coin, and I tried to stop her, but then I knew that she was immune to whatever power it held. So she held the coin, and the ear of the stethoscope to it, while I listened and drifted into a trance. Mesmerized, I began to scrawl equally cryptic glyphs next to each of the glyphs I copied from the book... but somehow, it all made sense to me.
After a great deal of time, the book was decoded to my satisfaction. I found a large painting in the room I was in, and when I looked at it while entranced by the beating of the heart, it was a map, and with the information I decoded, I knew where on the map I had to go... more notes were made, then my escape.
How exactly, I escaped, is a blur, but I was next on the ground in front of the facility I was imprisoned in, a guard post in front of it. Here, I have teamed with a group of Afghan men, who have agreed to take me into the desert, to whatever it is that is hidden there, the thing I was imprisoned and my collection stolen in order to acquire.
I knew time was essential, and as we trekked into the wastelands, the sky grew dark with ominous clouds that roiled across the sky, and the harsh winds blew. My guides warned that since the land had been flattened, the storms tore across it without mercy, and we must find shelter and wait, but I knew it was dark forces mounting against me in this final leg of my journey.
And then, I woke.
3.31.2010
The Super Collider, Arcane Edition
Lots of buzz about super colliders lately; I live in a world of steam-punk and fantasy imagery though, so my first thought as I saw a recent news report was how mystifying to future civilizations these constructs may be. Large circular tunnels, filled with arcane equipment. If such a civilization does not appreciate our technology (either by assuming us too primitive to having advanced laterally in a way that makes this technology meaningless) then this tunnel will be a mystery wrapped in an enigma, and so on.
So in the parlance of my fantasy science, I began to postulate a large circular tunnel, its entirety marked in glyphs and lay-lines designed to channel and focus arcane energies, with the intent to accelerate motes of mystically infused matter to discover what happens when such materials collide. I would assume that this strange construct would be the precursor to the discovery of methods of teleportation used to create the various teleportation portals I have detailed many variations of over the years. Not sure where I am going with this yet, but it's keeping my mind moving.
I might get ambitious and scan a few of those out of the archive, but don't bank on it.
So in the parlance of my fantasy science, I began to postulate a large circular tunnel, its entirety marked in glyphs and lay-lines designed to channel and focus arcane energies, with the intent to accelerate motes of mystically infused matter to discover what happens when such materials collide. I would assume that this strange construct would be the precursor to the discovery of methods of teleportation used to create the various teleportation portals I have detailed many variations of over the years. Not sure where I am going with this yet, but it's keeping my mind moving.
I might get ambitious and scan a few of those out of the archive, but don't bank on it.
11.30.2009
World of Hellfire
As previously written, there is a world, the surface of which is consumed by Hellfire, unleashed perhaps by an Avatar of an ancient fire-lord, intent on ascension... but alas, it was all for naught, or maybe not, but regardless, the world that the Avatar of Fire, Lord of the Last Flesh, sought to arise to dominate, was instead dominated by raw fiery power and consumed.
Consumed that is, save for a few isolated motes of humanity that struggle on. As also previously explored, some of those motes of humanity exist in carved out spaces deep within the bowels of the earth, existing in dependence upon harnessed hellfire, known to the dwellers below as sun-shards... those communities are linked via long tunnels which are traveled by some equivalent of a subway, more conventional train cars or carriages, or perhaps akin to the pneumatic tube cars or floating subways envisioned in the 19th century. Into that complex of subterranean city states, there is also a surface access leading to a mountain top fortress with a standing gate, locked down and attuned to a surviving satellite-city (the hellfire spread through unsecured portals and consumed many of the satellite cities).
That forms one confederacy of human endeavor toward survival, but there are others...
A large circular valley, formed by an ancient blast, is know as the God-Wall, and its diameter is in excess of a hundred miles. Within is a large teardrop lake its point reaching the mountainous wall of the crater at the site of an ancient construction: a flight of steps rise from the lake, each standing at least as tall as a man, rising up the slope some distance, terminating at a large semi-circular landing, before a huge upright circular construction made of a mysterious mineral, appearing to be a closed portal of some sort. Spotted throughout the valley, chiefly on its perimeter, are small structures of similar ancient design, the insides of which are adorned with a multitude of glyphs, the meaning of which is lost to antiquity. The upper slopes of this valley are covered with woods filled with savage creatures, forcing the human denizens to live close to the lake. Other points of interest: Several locations where trails exist that lead to mountainous overlooks, giving both dramatic views of the valley, as well as the Hellfire beyond the God-Wall. An ancient breech in the mountains, that was sealed with a wall of similar build to the ancient structures within. Peculiar ruins deep under the surface of the lake. The main centers of human existence are on the lake, on fixed islands, or even some free floating islands made of reeds.
Consumed that is, save for a few isolated motes of humanity that struggle on. As also previously explored, some of those motes of humanity exist in carved out spaces deep within the bowels of the earth, existing in dependence upon harnessed hellfire, known to the dwellers below as sun-shards... those communities are linked via long tunnels which are traveled by some equivalent of a subway, more conventional train cars or carriages, or perhaps akin to the pneumatic tube cars or floating subways envisioned in the 19th century. Into that complex of subterranean city states, there is also a surface access leading to a mountain top fortress with a standing gate, locked down and attuned to a surviving satellite-city (the hellfire spread through unsecured portals and consumed many of the satellite cities).
That forms one confederacy of human endeavor toward survival, but there are others...
A large circular valley, formed by an ancient blast, is know as the God-Wall, and its diameter is in excess of a hundred miles. Within is a large teardrop lake its point reaching the mountainous wall of the crater at the site of an ancient construction: a flight of steps rise from the lake, each standing at least as tall as a man, rising up the slope some distance, terminating at a large semi-circular landing, before a huge upright circular construction made of a mysterious mineral, appearing to be a closed portal of some sort. Spotted throughout the valley, chiefly on its perimeter, are small structures of similar ancient design, the insides of which are adorned with a multitude of glyphs, the meaning of which is lost to antiquity. The upper slopes of this valley are covered with woods filled with savage creatures, forcing the human denizens to live close to the lake. Other points of interest: Several locations where trails exist that lead to mountainous overlooks, giving both dramatic views of the valley, as well as the Hellfire beyond the God-Wall. An ancient breech in the mountains, that was sealed with a wall of similar build to the ancient structures within. Peculiar ruins deep under the surface of the lake. The main centers of human existence are on the lake, on fixed islands, or even some free floating islands made of reeds.
10.13.2009
An Elegant Game
I have in my catalogue of unfinished projects, a game. Actually I have several, but I am going to be writing about one in particular right now:
It is played on grid composed of diamonds arranged in radial patterns of six, intermeshed to form a conceptually infinite plane. the tiles are colored in three shades so that no 2 tiles of the same color are in contact on any face.
There are 4 pieces:
Pieces can be completely blocked by opposing pieces, or partially blocked by allied pieces. A complete block terminates all influence at and beyond the blocking piece. Partial blocking only prevents movement to the blocked tile, but allows influence to and beyond the tile occupied by the allied piece.
Pieces can be captured via 'isolation'. A piece that is isolated is blocked so that it has no movement options, even if it still has influence. A piece (or group of pieces) that is so isolated is then removed from play.
Every turn can be played as a placement, a promotion, or a move.
Placements or promotions are made in the start phase (usually lasting 4-10 turns) at base value. In the remaining turns, regular promotion and placement requirements apply.
Placement in regular play consists of applying 1 influence to a space that has other influence applied, and this 'placing' a piece that has at least the minimum influence requirements met.
Promotion is similar to Placement, except the influence is applied to a piece on a tile that has contributing influence exerted on it, thus allowing it to be promoted to a higher state.
A move is as the name implies, moving a piece to an unblocked location that it influences.
The theoretical goal is to control space. I say theoretical because the ancients (and those who play as they did) played on infinite fields and would, when bored with the current construct, liberate a Ray and send it far afield, where they would create new complexities. Victory in these games, just as in life, was transient, and more a moment of tally taking before another foray.
In 'human' games, play is on finite fields of varied sizes, depending on the desired rank of complexity.
Osbolique
This game, in concept, was once played by the ancient Elvorae as an exercise in exploring the beauty of creative logic in others, as well as one's self.
There are 4 pieces:
- The Rote. also known as a Mote, its movement is 'rotational' around the vertices on the short axis of the diamond... this allows for any Mote to influence 4 tiles at any given time. Motes have a value of 1 and require 2 influence to place in regular play. Usually represented by a stone with a dot on it.
- The Rev, moves in 'revolutions' around the vertices on the long axis of the diamond it occupies, allowing it to influence 10 tiles. Revs have a value of 2 and require 4 influences to place or promote. Usually represented by a stone with a circle on it.
- The Orb, moves in 'orbits'. These are the two like colored circles of tiles that intersect in the tile the piece occupies, allowing it to influence 10 tiles at any given time. Orbs have a value of 4 and require 8 influences to place or promote. Usually represented by a stone with a figure 8 on it.
- The Ray, moves in the 'line' formed on the diagonal along the long axis of the tile. Rays have a value of 8 and require 16 influences to place or promote. Usually represented by a stone with a line on it.
Pieces can be completely blocked by opposing pieces, or partially blocked by allied pieces. A complete block terminates all influence at and beyond the blocking piece. Partial blocking only prevents movement to the blocked tile, but allows influence to and beyond the tile occupied by the allied piece.
Pieces can be captured via 'isolation'. A piece that is isolated is blocked so that it has no movement options, even if it still has influence. A piece (or group of pieces) that is so isolated is then removed from play.
Every turn can be played as a placement, a promotion, or a move.
Placements or promotions are made in the start phase (usually lasting 4-10 turns) at base value. In the remaining turns, regular promotion and placement requirements apply.
Placement in regular play consists of applying 1 influence to a space that has other influence applied, and this 'placing' a piece that has at least the minimum influence requirements met.
Promotion is similar to Placement, except the influence is applied to a piece on a tile that has contributing influence exerted on it, thus allowing it to be promoted to a higher state.
A move is as the name implies, moving a piece to an unblocked location that it influences.
The theoretical goal is to control space. I say theoretical because the ancients (and those who play as they did) played on infinite fields and would, when bored with the current construct, liberate a Ray and send it far afield, where they would create new complexities. Victory in these games, just as in life, was transient, and more a moment of tally taking before another foray.
In 'human' games, play is on finite fields of varied sizes, depending on the desired rank of complexity.
6.27.2009
Dreams and Stories
Delicious dreams fade so fast, but this one lingers longer...
It seemed, it felt, a movie made from a novel, but no novel I have read.
The world: a world where dogmatic occult studies were the norm, and sects and specialties were trained in common institutes, although the hierarchies of disciplines and organizations made for awkward social interactions, as a forced and formatted road map for the haves and have-nots was superimposed on everything.
The opening was on a school of sorts, set in an overcast city, its name and trim lit brightly, back-lit frosted lettering in an alien alphabet. *The viewer, it must be noted, thought that it should have been lit with slightly more colorful neon tubes, the lettering in neon, although said viewer also approved this treatment for the artistic theme of the interpretation by the director. The voice-overs are all a blur, but they related to some minor extent the nature of the world and the educational system.
We then find ourselves in a rather sparce and monochromatic cafeteria style dining hall, where the students are gathered. We find ourselves looking at a table of miscreant children, wearing disheveled and worn garments, traditional gray wool school uniforms with no apparent crests or logos. As they sit murmuring and whispering amongst themselves, obviously students who live with the knowledge of their mediocrity in the heirarchy, they hush and look both respectfully and with a note of longing as a group of tall figures wearing large ornamental headress/helms and long dark robes glide down the center aisle to one of the prominant tables near the front. The voice-over intones that these are the '??? of the light' *a word is lost in the fog of memory. They are clearly the upper eschelon of the school, if not the society.
A stern looking older woman sits at the miscreant table and chastises a girl, who we understand to be our heroine, for slouching and looking reproachfully toward the elites. She straightens and sits properly, glancing nerviously at her peers.
The headmaster makes some sort of announcement, then with a typical and wizardly cliche, summons forth the meal... in this case, what appears to be some sort of roast fowl, chicken or game hen, plops down inelligantly onto the platters in spaced down the long, gray, formica tables. The appearance of overcooked green beans and mashed potato is not shown, but its assumed it was all conjured forth. It is also a safe assumption that the meal is considered mediocre by many, but not our focus, the miscreant table.
Our heroine is looking at the mistress at the table, mocking chewing as she is discreetly moving the food she mocks eating into a dish. As the meal comes to a close the mistress leaves, and so our heroine pours the left over potato and gravy into the bowl she had already moved the green beans and meat into, filled to the point that only surface tension and viscosity are keeping the gravy from running out. She then spends some time securing another bowl to the top of the first, an impromptu lid.
The audio track has been subdued at this point, a noticable quiet. The adolescent heroine and her classmates are at this point having a hushed arguement about what she is doing. She must be insane to do this. She insists her family is alive, and she has found somebody who will help her find them. The food is obviously a payment of sort, but she either says or implies that this person is a mercenary or proffesional... a claim left questionable by this first payment.
She dismisses herself and meanders down a series of halls and out a side door, where she is on a stark sea-cliff, tiered brown stone with moss and close grass on the top of the rocky escarpment. A trail of sorts meanders down toward a tall-grass medow and beyond that, a forest. A thin fog lingers over the damp scene as she makes her way to the forest. At this point, a figure in a gray cloak is slithering along the cliff trail behind her, ameoba like in its movement. *The viewer understand this almost sinister figure to be a person who is a member of a sect that is trained to move so in their gray robes and cloaks. He also has the anticipation that this will be her ally in the upcoming story, but no indication of such is on the screen at this point... our viewer has, after all, read the book.
The next scene (that I recall), is her and several of her miscreant classmates being brought in to an office for questioning, the classmates are dutifully shielding her without lying, but eventually they are lead out and she is alone. Later still, she is being led down the dark monochrome halls toward what is clearly to be some sort of room of review and judgement.
This is where the story fractures and the dream unraveled, but it was clearly anticipated by the viewer that the boy in the gray cloak was going to come in at the last minute of this review and justify her presence on the cliff with a fabrication about her doing him a favor of some sort.... cementing their bond as a duo in the story to come.
It is also clearly understood by the viewer that the mercenary she was taking food too was actually an outcast member of the elite group we glimpsed at the beginning of the 'movie', moving on his own tragectory of revenge and validation.
It seemed, it felt, a movie made from a novel, but no novel I have read.
The world: a world where dogmatic occult studies were the norm, and sects and specialties were trained in common institutes, although the hierarchies of disciplines and organizations made for awkward social interactions, as a forced and formatted road map for the haves and have-nots was superimposed on everything.
The opening was on a school of sorts, set in an overcast city, its name and trim lit brightly, back-lit frosted lettering in an alien alphabet. *The viewer, it must be noted, thought that it should have been lit with slightly more colorful neon tubes, the lettering in neon, although said viewer also approved this treatment for the artistic theme of the interpretation by the director. The voice-overs are all a blur, but they related to some minor extent the nature of the world and the educational system.
We then find ourselves in a rather sparce and monochromatic cafeteria style dining hall, where the students are gathered. We find ourselves looking at a table of miscreant children, wearing disheveled and worn garments, traditional gray wool school uniforms with no apparent crests or logos. As they sit murmuring and whispering amongst themselves, obviously students who live with the knowledge of their mediocrity in the heirarchy, they hush and look both respectfully and with a note of longing as a group of tall figures wearing large ornamental headress/helms and long dark robes glide down the center aisle to one of the prominant tables near the front. The voice-over intones that these are the '??? of the light' *a word is lost in the fog of memory. They are clearly the upper eschelon of the school, if not the society.
A stern looking older woman sits at the miscreant table and chastises a girl, who we understand to be our heroine, for slouching and looking reproachfully toward the elites. She straightens and sits properly, glancing nerviously at her peers.
The headmaster makes some sort of announcement, then with a typical and wizardly cliche, summons forth the meal... in this case, what appears to be some sort of roast fowl, chicken or game hen, plops down inelligantly onto the platters in spaced down the long, gray, formica tables. The appearance of overcooked green beans and mashed potato is not shown, but its assumed it was all conjured forth. It is also a safe assumption that the meal is considered mediocre by many, but not our focus, the miscreant table.
Our heroine is looking at the mistress at the table, mocking chewing as she is discreetly moving the food she mocks eating into a dish. As the meal comes to a close the mistress leaves, and so our heroine pours the left over potato and gravy into the bowl she had already moved the green beans and meat into, filled to the point that only surface tension and viscosity are keeping the gravy from running out. She then spends some time securing another bowl to the top of the first, an impromptu lid.
The audio track has been subdued at this point, a noticable quiet. The adolescent heroine and her classmates are at this point having a hushed arguement about what she is doing. She must be insane to do this. She insists her family is alive, and she has found somebody who will help her find them. The food is obviously a payment of sort, but she either says or implies that this person is a mercenary or proffesional... a claim left questionable by this first payment.
She dismisses herself and meanders down a series of halls and out a side door, where she is on a stark sea-cliff, tiered brown stone with moss and close grass on the top of the rocky escarpment. A trail of sorts meanders down toward a tall-grass medow and beyond that, a forest. A thin fog lingers over the damp scene as she makes her way to the forest. At this point, a figure in a gray cloak is slithering along the cliff trail behind her, ameoba like in its movement. *The viewer understand this almost sinister figure to be a person who is a member of a sect that is trained to move so in their gray robes and cloaks. He also has the anticipation that this will be her ally in the upcoming story, but no indication of such is on the screen at this point... our viewer has, after all, read the book.
The next scene (that I recall), is her and several of her miscreant classmates being brought in to an office for questioning, the classmates are dutifully shielding her without lying, but eventually they are lead out and she is alone. Later still, she is being led down the dark monochrome halls toward what is clearly to be some sort of room of review and judgement.
This is where the story fractures and the dream unraveled, but it was clearly anticipated by the viewer that the boy in the gray cloak was going to come in at the last minute of this review and justify her presence on the cliff with a fabrication about her doing him a favor of some sort.... cementing their bond as a duo in the story to come.
It is also clearly understood by the viewer that the mercenary she was taking food too was actually an outcast member of the elite group we glimpsed at the beginning of the 'movie', moving on his own tragectory of revenge and validation.
5.05.2009
Circles circles all around
I was driving through Gig Harbor a few days ago, and the new commercial district is bereft of traffic lights, instead, the area is a series of traffic circles connected by short roads. As I was putting along through this labyrinth of circles and lines, my mind began to wander, to wonder...
And so these thoughts lead to an abstract notion of an intersection, and then a tiered circular intersection, and from that, I envisioned circular intersections tiered and connected in a larger circle, with tiered circles beyond, rising upward. Then it seemed that the circles rising from a central depression was a poor design for a city, and I inverted the concept, making them rise to a pinnacle and decending in tiers lower and lower. At this point, my mulling notion of subterranean cities in spherical voids connected with the initial thought of the tiers rising from a depression, and I realized I had a solid concept for one (or more) of the cities in this fictional world I am envisioning.
So now, I have a new layout for a reasonably artistic and unique set of cities in spheres. This will certainly not be the only design style for these places, but it will definitely be the signature for a particular class of such cities, in much the same way that many periods of history have seen the development of unique layouts or styles.
And so these thoughts lead to an abstract notion of an intersection, and then a tiered circular intersection, and from that, I envisioned circular intersections tiered and connected in a larger circle, with tiered circles beyond, rising upward. Then it seemed that the circles rising from a central depression was a poor design for a city, and I inverted the concept, making them rise to a pinnacle and decending in tiers lower and lower. At this point, my mulling notion of subterranean cities in spherical voids connected with the initial thought of the tiers rising from a depression, and I realized I had a solid concept for one (or more) of the cities in this fictional world I am envisioning.
So now, I have a new layout for a reasonably artistic and unique set of cities in spheres. This will certainly not be the only design style for these places, but it will definitely be the signature for a particular class of such cities, in much the same way that many periods of history have seen the development of unique layouts or styles.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)