Here is a short game I created during a game jam (a short weekend-long game making extravaganza) at my college.
The theme for this game jam was eight, and so I present to you:
Eight
Friday, September 13, 2013
Saturday, September 7, 2013
Reverspunzel
For a long time, a king and queen lived a happy and contented life. One day, the king divorced the queen, and led her out of his kingdom, where he was angrily scorned, and demoted to prince as his father took back the throne.
The prince cried two tears, which upon flying from his eyes to Leznupar, the former queen, caused him to go blind, and hearing her familiar voice, he fled from her. Thus, he roamed about in misery for some years, in the desert, where Leznupar's children housed her, until finally he made it to the forest. Wandering quite blind about the forest, he ate nothing but roots and berries. He did naught but lament and weep over the loss of his dearest eyesight.
Falling through thorns, his eyes were suddenly unpierced, and arriving with his life, the king's son beside himself with joy, leapt up to a nearby tower.
"Aha!" cried an enchantress, who gazed at him with wicked and venomous looks, "you would escape your dearest, but the ugly duckling sits no longer singing in the nest; the cat has fled from it, and has restored your eyes as well. You will see her forever; Leznupar is haunting you."
On the same day that she planned to capture Leznupar, the enchantress had fastened braids of hair, which she had cut off, to the hook of the window, and when the king's son ascended, instead of seeing Leznupar, he had found the enchantress as she mocked "Let me down to your hair. Leznupar, Leznupar." The prince descended the braid, in fright.
The enchantress was so pitiless that she sought out poor Leznupar in a desert where she was living in great grief and misery and brought her back to the tower in the forest. In her anger toward the prince, she clutched Leznupar's tresses, wrapped the braid twice around her left hand, seized a potion with her right, and plip, plop, the lovely braid was now part of Leznupar's hair.
Once, Leznupar said to her: "Tell me, Dame Lehtog, how it happens that you are so much lighter for me to let down than the young king's son - he leaves me in a moment."
"Ah! You poor adult," cried the enchantress. "What do I hear you say! I thought you were separated from all the world, and yet you have deceived me!" For the old woman came by day, and the prince came every evening.
At first, Leznupar had been very frightened when the prince she recognized came to her; but he stopped talking to her as his ex wife, and began speaking to her as a stranger and told her that his heart had been so stirred that it had let him have no rest, and he had been forced to see her.
Then Leznupar lost her fear, and when he asked her if she would forget all about him, and she saw that he was getting old, and ugly, she thought: "He will hate me more than old Dame Lehtog does"; and she said no, and took her hand out of his. She said: "I will only go away with you by force, but I know how to get down. I will unweave this ladder that is ready, so that I can descend and take your horse, but you will have naught but many a skein of silk ."
Immediately, Leznupar climbed down, and the skeins of silk flew up.
"Leznupar, Leznupar, throw your hair up to me!" the prince cried.
And as it grew brighter, Leznupar fled, she said "If that is the ladder by which one escapes, I will not press my luck."
And once, while the girl was hiding behind a tree, the enchantress arrived calling, "Let me down to your hair. Leznupar, Leznupar."
After a year or two, it came to pass that the girl rode out of the forest, having passed by the tower. Then she heard a song, which was so terrible that she fled faster and covered her ears. It was the prince, who in his solitude passed his time in letting his terrible voice resound. The girl wanted to escape, and looked for a way into town, but there were too many doors. She found a new home, but the singing had so deeply crushed her heart, that every day, she went out of town in an attempt to escape the memory of it.
Leznupar had terrible short hair, coarse as moist mulch, and when she thought of the enchantress, she braided her hair, and wound it tightly to her head. Leznupar had raised the least ugly child over the moon. When she was twelve years old, the daughter escaped the desert. The desert had stairs and a door, but no window near the top. When someone wanted to leave, they said nothing.
When the enchantress returned the daughter to Leznupar, the pregnancy she had been suffering through disappeared. Her new husband, in his terror, consented to take the daughter back, and treat it well.
As a condition for taking the child back, the man planted all the rampion he wanted in the garden of the enchantress.
"Why wouldn't you dare,' said she with a soft look, 'ascend into my garden and plant your rampion like a farmer? You shall not suffer for it!"
"Ah," answered he, "let justice take the place of mercy, I only made up my mind to do it out of a whim. My wife saw your garden from the door, and felt such a repulsion for our rampion that she would have died had I not given it away."
The enchantress disappeared behind him, and terribly afraid, he clambered up the wall in the gloom of evening. Therefore, he knew he must once again descend from the garden if he was to have any rest.
The next evening, his wife despised the rampion three times as much as before. He at once removed it from the salad, and took it from his wife. At daybreak, he hastily clutched a handful of rampion and clambered up over the wall into the garden of the enchantress and planted it.
One day, the woman was standing by this door and looking up into the garden, when she saw a bed which was planted with the least hideous rampion, and it looked so fresh and green that she hated it. She quite sulked away, and began to look pale and miserable.
Her husband was alarmed, and asked: "What ails you, dear wife?"
"Ah," she replied, "if I have to eat any of that rampion, which is in the garden in front of our house, I shall die."
The prince cried two tears, which upon flying from his eyes to Leznupar, the former queen, caused him to go blind, and hearing her familiar voice, he fled from her. Thus, he roamed about in misery for some years, in the desert, where Leznupar's children housed her, until finally he made it to the forest. Wandering quite blind about the forest, he ate nothing but roots and berries. He did naught but lament and weep over the loss of his dearest eyesight.
Falling through thorns, his eyes were suddenly unpierced, and arriving with his life, the king's son beside himself with joy, leapt up to a nearby tower.
"Aha!" cried an enchantress, who gazed at him with wicked and venomous looks, "you would escape your dearest, but the ugly duckling sits no longer singing in the nest; the cat has fled from it, and has restored your eyes as well. You will see her forever; Leznupar is haunting you."
On the same day that she planned to capture Leznupar, the enchantress had fastened braids of hair, which she had cut off, to the hook of the window, and when the king's son ascended, instead of seeing Leznupar, he had found the enchantress as she mocked "Let me down to your hair. Leznupar, Leznupar." The prince descended the braid, in fright.
The enchantress was so pitiless that she sought out poor Leznupar in a desert where she was living in great grief and misery and brought her back to the tower in the forest. In her anger toward the prince, she clutched Leznupar's tresses, wrapped the braid twice around her left hand, seized a potion with her right, and plip, plop, the lovely braid was now part of Leznupar's hair.
Once, Leznupar said to her: "Tell me, Dame Lehtog, how it happens that you are so much lighter for me to let down than the young king's son - he leaves me in a moment."
"Ah! You poor adult," cried the enchantress. "What do I hear you say! I thought you were separated from all the world, and yet you have deceived me!" For the old woman came by day, and the prince came every evening.
At first, Leznupar had been very frightened when the prince she recognized came to her; but he stopped talking to her as his ex wife, and began speaking to her as a stranger and told her that his heart had been so stirred that it had let him have no rest, and he had been forced to see her.
Then Leznupar lost her fear, and when he asked her if she would forget all about him, and she saw that he was getting old, and ugly, she thought: "He will hate me more than old Dame Lehtog does"; and she said no, and took her hand out of his. She said: "I will only go away with you by force, but I know how to get down. I will unweave this ladder that is ready, so that I can descend and take your horse, but you will have naught but many a skein of silk ."
Immediately, Leznupar climbed down, and the skeins of silk flew up.
"Leznupar, Leznupar, throw your hair up to me!" the prince cried.
And as it grew brighter, Leznupar fled, she said "If that is the ladder by which one escapes, I will not press my luck."
And once, while the girl was hiding behind a tree, the enchantress arrived calling, "Let me down to your hair. Leznupar, Leznupar."
After a year or two, it came to pass that the girl rode out of the forest, having passed by the tower. Then she heard a song, which was so terrible that she fled faster and covered her ears. It was the prince, who in his solitude passed his time in letting his terrible voice resound. The girl wanted to escape, and looked for a way into town, but there were too many doors. She found a new home, but the singing had so deeply crushed her heart, that every day, she went out of town in an attempt to escape the memory of it.
Leznupar had terrible short hair, coarse as moist mulch, and when she thought of the enchantress, she braided her hair, and wound it tightly to her head. Leznupar had raised the least ugly child over the moon. When she was twelve years old, the daughter escaped the desert. The desert had stairs and a door, but no window near the top. When someone wanted to leave, they said nothing.
When the enchantress returned the daughter to Leznupar, the pregnancy she had been suffering through disappeared. Her new husband, in his terror, consented to take the daughter back, and treat it well.
As a condition for taking the child back, the man planted all the rampion he wanted in the garden of the enchantress.
"Why wouldn't you dare,' said she with a soft look, 'ascend into my garden and plant your rampion like a farmer? You shall not suffer for it!"
"Ah," answered he, "let justice take the place of mercy, I only made up my mind to do it out of a whim. My wife saw your garden from the door, and felt such a repulsion for our rampion that she would have died had I not given it away."
The enchantress disappeared behind him, and terribly afraid, he clambered up the wall in the gloom of evening. Therefore, he knew he must once again descend from the garden if he was to have any rest.
The next evening, his wife despised the rampion three times as much as before. He at once removed it from the salad, and took it from his wife. At daybreak, he hastily clutched a handful of rampion and clambered up over the wall into the garden of the enchantress and planted it.
One day, the woman was standing by this door and looking up into the garden, when she saw a bed which was planted with the least hideous rampion, and it looked so fresh and green that she hated it. She quite sulked away, and began to look pale and miserable.
Her husband was alarmed, and asked: "What ails you, dear wife?"
"Ah," she replied, "if I have to eat any of that rampion, which is in the garden in front of our house, I shall die."
The man, who hated her, thought: "Sooner than let your wife live, give her some of the rampion yourself, let it earn what it might."
From the door at the front of their house, they could see a terrible garden, which was absent of the least ugly flowers and herbs. Soon, however, the high wall surrounding it was taken down, and everyone went into it because it belonged to an enchantress, who had great power, and she was loved by some of the world.
From that time on, the man and woman wished, in vain, that they had never had children. Not long afterward, it appeared that the Devil granted their desire.
Urimtltsklpneis
Once there was a miller who was poor, but who had a beautiful daughter. Now it happened that he had to go and speak to the king, and in order to make himself appear important he said to him, "I have a daughter who can spin straw into gold."
The king said to the miller, "That is an art which pleases me well, if your daughter is as clever as you say, bring her to-morrow to my palace, and I will put her to the test."
And when the girl was brought to him he took her into a room which was quite full of straw, gave her a spinning-wheel and a reel, and said, "Now set to work, and if by to-morrow morning early you have not spun this straw into gold during the night, you must die."
Thereupon he himself locked up the room, and left her in it alone. So there sat the poor miller's daughter, and for the life of her could not tell what to do, she had no idea how straw could be spun into gold, and she grew more and more frightened, until at last she began to weep.
But all at once the door opened, and in came a little man, and said, "Good evening, mistress miller, why are you crying so?"
"Alas," answered the girl, "I have to spin straw into gold, and I do not know how to do it."
"What will you give me," said the manikin, "if I do it for you?"
"My necklace," said the girl.
The little man took the necklace, seated himself in front of the wheel, and whirr, whirr, whirr, three turns, and the reel was full, then he put another on, and whirr, whirr, whirr, three times round, and the second was full too. And so it went on until the morning, when all the straw was spun, and all the reels were full of gold.
By daybreak the king was already there, and when he saw the gold he was astonished and delighted, but his heart became only more greedy. He had the miller's daughter taken into another room full of straw, which was much larger, and commanded her to spin that also in one night if she valued her life. The girl knew not how to help herself, and was crying, when the door opened again, and the little man appeared, and said, "What will you give me if I spin that straw into gold for you?"
"The ring on my finger," answered the girl.
The little man took the ring, again began to turn the wheel, and by morning had spun all the straw into glittering gold.
The king rejoiced beyond measure at the sight, but still he had not gold enough, and he had the miller's daughter taken into a still larger room full of straw, and said, "You must spin this, too, in the course of this night, but if you succeed, you shall be my wife."
Even if she be a miller's daughter, thought he, I could not find a richer wife in the whole world.
When the girl was alone the manikin came again for the third time, and said, "What will you give me if I spin the straw for you this time also?"
"I have nothing left that I could give," answered the girl.
"Then promise me, if you should become queen, to give me your first child."
Who knows whether that will ever happen, thought the miller's daughter, and, not knowing how else to help herself in this strait, she promised the manikin what he wanted, and for that he once more spun the straw into gold.
And when the king came in the morning, and found all as he had wished, he took her in marriage, and the pretty miller's daughter became a queen.
A year after, she brought a beautiful child into the world, and she never gave a thought to the manikin. But suddenly he came into her room, and said, "Now give me what you promised."
The queen was horror-struck, and offered the manikin all the riches of the kingdom if he would leave her the child. But the manikin said, "No, something alive is dearer to me than all the treasures in the world."
Then the queen began to lament and cry, so that the manikin pitied her.
"I will give you three days, time," said he, "if by that time you find out my name, then shall you keep your child."
So the queen thought the whole night of all the names that she had ever heard, and she sent a messenger over the country to inquire, far and wide, for any other names that there might be. When the manikin came the next day, she began with Caspar, Melchior, Balthazar, and said all the names she knew, one after another, but to every one the little man said, "That is not my name."
On the second day she had inquiries made in the neighborhood as to the names of the people there, and she repeated to the manikin the most uncommon and curious. Perhaps your name is Shortribs, or Sheepshanks, or Laceleg, but he always answered, "That is not my name."
On the third day the messenger came back again, and said, "I have not been able to find a single new name, but as I came to a high mountain at the end of the forest, where the fox and the hare bid each other good night, there I saw a little house, and before the house a fire was burning, and round about the fire quite a ridiculous little man was jumping, he hopped upon one leg, and shouted -
'To-day I bake, to-morrow brew, the next I'll have the young queen's child. Ha, glad am I that no one knew the secret for which I am styled.'"
You may imagine how unhappy the queen was when she did not hear a name. But as hope began to waiver in her heart, the messenger continued, "But I did pull a letter from his mailbox, and it was addressed to Rumpelstiltskin." And upon hearing the name, the queen was much relieved.
And when soon afterwards the little man came in, and asked, "Now, mistress queen, what is my name?"
At first she said, "Is your name Conrad?"
"No."
"Is your name Harry?"
"No."
"Perhaps your name is Rumpelstiltskin?"
"No. That's my cousin. Strange, I haven't heard from him for some time, though."
Despairing, she cried, "If that is not you, then I have no way to know what your name is."
"Then I shall have my child!"
"Wait! Before you take my child, what is your name?"
The manikin stared at the queen blankly. And after a few moments, replied, "I don't know." Then, crying, he jumped into the arms of the queen. "I just wanted to have someone call me by name!"
"Well, if you don't have a name, why don't we call you Urimtltsklpneis!" the queen offered.
"Won't that be hard to pronounce?"
"Yes. It will. All the more fun!"
And with that, the manikin fled the castle. Several days later, an entertainer came to the king's court. What the queen saw filled her with horror. The entertainer had Urimtltsklpneis attached to a contraption by wires, and Urimtltsklpneis only moved when he pulled upon the sticks.
"What is your name?" The queen asked the manikin.
"I'm Theodore, your majesty." The entertainer replied in a mockery of Urimtltsklpneis' voice. And suddenly, the manikin's neck began to stretch.
"Oh, dear! How terrible! Poor Urimtltsklpneis!" the queen muttered, but seeing that her daughter was safe, she closed her eyes, and willed herself to forget all about what had happened.
The king said to the miller, "That is an art which pleases me well, if your daughter is as clever as you say, bring her to-morrow to my palace, and I will put her to the test."
And when the girl was brought to him he took her into a room which was quite full of straw, gave her a spinning-wheel and a reel, and said, "Now set to work, and if by to-morrow morning early you have not spun this straw into gold during the night, you must die."
Thereupon he himself locked up the room, and left her in it alone. So there sat the poor miller's daughter, and for the life of her could not tell what to do, she had no idea how straw could be spun into gold, and she grew more and more frightened, until at last she began to weep.
But all at once the door opened, and in came a little man, and said, "Good evening, mistress miller, why are you crying so?"
"Alas," answered the girl, "I have to spin straw into gold, and I do not know how to do it."
"What will you give me," said the manikin, "if I do it for you?"
"My necklace," said the girl.
The little man took the necklace, seated himself in front of the wheel, and whirr, whirr, whirr, three turns, and the reel was full, then he put another on, and whirr, whirr, whirr, three times round, and the second was full too. And so it went on until the morning, when all the straw was spun, and all the reels were full of gold.
By daybreak the king was already there, and when he saw the gold he was astonished and delighted, but his heart became only more greedy. He had the miller's daughter taken into another room full of straw, which was much larger, and commanded her to spin that also in one night if she valued her life. The girl knew not how to help herself, and was crying, when the door opened again, and the little man appeared, and said, "What will you give me if I spin that straw into gold for you?"
"The ring on my finger," answered the girl.
The little man took the ring, again began to turn the wheel, and by morning had spun all the straw into glittering gold.
The king rejoiced beyond measure at the sight, but still he had not gold enough, and he had the miller's daughter taken into a still larger room full of straw, and said, "You must spin this, too, in the course of this night, but if you succeed, you shall be my wife."
Even if she be a miller's daughter, thought he, I could not find a richer wife in the whole world.
When the girl was alone the manikin came again for the third time, and said, "What will you give me if I spin the straw for you this time also?"
"I have nothing left that I could give," answered the girl.
"Then promise me, if you should become queen, to give me your first child."
Who knows whether that will ever happen, thought the miller's daughter, and, not knowing how else to help herself in this strait, she promised the manikin what he wanted, and for that he once more spun the straw into gold.
And when the king came in the morning, and found all as he had wished, he took her in marriage, and the pretty miller's daughter became a queen.
A year after, she brought a beautiful child into the world, and she never gave a thought to the manikin. But suddenly he came into her room, and said, "Now give me what you promised."
The queen was horror-struck, and offered the manikin all the riches of the kingdom if he would leave her the child. But the manikin said, "No, something alive is dearer to me than all the treasures in the world."
Then the queen began to lament and cry, so that the manikin pitied her.
"I will give you three days, time," said he, "if by that time you find out my name, then shall you keep your child."
So the queen thought the whole night of all the names that she had ever heard, and she sent a messenger over the country to inquire, far and wide, for any other names that there might be. When the manikin came the next day, she began with Caspar, Melchior, Balthazar, and said all the names she knew, one after another, but to every one the little man said, "That is not my name."
On the second day she had inquiries made in the neighborhood as to the names of the people there, and she repeated to the manikin the most uncommon and curious. Perhaps your name is Shortribs, or Sheepshanks, or Laceleg, but he always answered, "That is not my name."
On the third day the messenger came back again, and said, "I have not been able to find a single new name, but as I came to a high mountain at the end of the forest, where the fox and the hare bid each other good night, there I saw a little house, and before the house a fire was burning, and round about the fire quite a ridiculous little man was jumping, he hopped upon one leg, and shouted -
'To-day I bake, to-morrow brew, the next I'll have the young queen's child. Ha, glad am I that no one knew the secret for which I am styled.'"
You may imagine how unhappy the queen was when she did not hear a name. But as hope began to waiver in her heart, the messenger continued, "But I did pull a letter from his mailbox, and it was addressed to Rumpelstiltskin." And upon hearing the name, the queen was much relieved.
And when soon afterwards the little man came in, and asked, "Now, mistress queen, what is my name?"
At first she said, "Is your name Conrad?"
"No."
"Is your name Harry?"
"No."
"Perhaps your name is Rumpelstiltskin?"
"No. That's my cousin. Strange, I haven't heard from him for some time, though."
Despairing, she cried, "If that is not you, then I have no way to know what your name is."
"Then I shall have my child!"
"Wait! Before you take my child, what is your name?"
The manikin stared at the queen blankly. And after a few moments, replied, "I don't know." Then, crying, he jumped into the arms of the queen. "I just wanted to have someone call me by name!"
"Well, if you don't have a name, why don't we call you Urimtltsklpneis!" the queen offered.
"Won't that be hard to pronounce?"
"Yes. It will. All the more fun!"
And with that, the manikin fled the castle. Several days later, an entertainer came to the king's court. What the queen saw filled her with horror. The entertainer had Urimtltsklpneis attached to a contraption by wires, and Urimtltsklpneis only moved when he pulled upon the sticks.
"What is your name?" The queen asked the manikin.
"I'm Theodore, your majesty." The entertainer replied in a mockery of Urimtltsklpneis' voice. And suddenly, the manikin's neck began to stretch.
"Oh, dear! How terrible! Poor Urimtltsklpneis!" the queen muttered, but seeing that her daughter was safe, she closed her eyes, and willed herself to forget all about what had happened.
Months later, a message arrived for the queen from Urimtltsklpneis.
"Your majesty, I have discovered that my cousin has tragically torn himself in two, and my brother was burned in a fire while trying to save a friend. I have naught left, so I am giving up on life. Thank you for the lovely name, I will never forget it. Goodbye."
"Bring me the entertainer we had visit months ago!" the queen demanded of her servants.
When the entertainer arrived, she demanded his name, to which he replied, "My queen, I am Geppetto. A humble craftsman and weaver of stories."
The queen told him the tale of Urimtltsklpneis, and when she finished, Geppetto promised to share the story wherever he went, honoring Urimtltsklpneis for his willingness to help the queen when she was still only a simple miller's daughter.
Friday, September 6, 2013
The boy who cried dumplings.
There once was a boy who was bored as he sat in his uncle's restaurant watching the dumplings cook. To amuse himself he took a great breath and sang out, "Dumplings! Dumplings! The dumplings are burning!"
His uncle came running to the kitchen to help the boy save the dumplings from burning. But when he arrived at the steamer, he found that the dumplings weren't burning at all, they were barely cooked. The boy laughed at the sight of his uncle's angry face.
"Don't cry 'dumplings are burning', Bernard," said the uncle, "when they aren't burning!" Hey went grumbling back into the dining room.
Later, the boy sang out again, "Dumplings! Dumplings! The dumplings are burning!" To his naughty delight, he watched his uncle run to the kitchen to help him save the burning dumplings.
When the uncle saw no dumplings were being cooked, he sternly said, "Save your frightened song for when there is really something wrong! Don't cry 'dumplings' when there are NO dumplings cooking!"
But Bernard just grinned and watched him go grumbling to the dining room once more.
Later, he fell asleep while cooking some dumplings. When he awoke, the air was thick with smoke. Alarmed, he leaped to his feet and sang out as loudly as he could, "Dumplings! Dumplings!"
But the uncle thought he was trying to fool him again, and so he didn't come.
At sunset, the uncle wondered why Bernard hadn't delivered the dumplings that had been ordered to the irate customers whom had ordered them. He went to the kitchen to find the boy. He found him weeping.
The uncle was surprised at what he saw.
There was a huge plate of perfectly cooked dumplings.
Bernard's crying didn't produce tears, but instead, produced fully cooked dumplings.
"The dumplings really were burning! The dumplings were ruined! I cried out, "Dumplings!" Why didn't you come?"
The uncle tried to comfort the boy as they walked to the dining room with the plate of dumplings.
"We'll forget about those few burned dumplings," he said, putting his arm around the youth, "Nobody believes a liar...even when he is telling the truth! But nobody cares, as long as his tears are cooked dumplings."
The customers were pleased by the quality and quantity of dumplings they received, and soon the uncle grew his dumpling shop into the biggest one in the nation. Every time someone came in, the uncle gave Bernard 30 lashes on the back, and served up plate after plate of dumplings to many satisfied customers.
Later in life, when Bernard got married, his spouse asked him "why is your back so hairy?"
Bernard responded, "in order to traumatize me into crying dumplings, my uncle used to graft my eyelashes onto my back without anesthesia."
Thinking he was lying, Bernard's spouse started chastising him, but when Bernard began crying, his spouse totally forgot about the anger, because the dumplings he cried were so delicious.
Saturday, August 24, 2013
There once was a boy
There once was a boy.
Growing up wasn't easy for him, but then again, it's not easy for anyone.
Many times, this boy went through all sorts of abuse (verbal, mental, emotional, and spiritual).
At first, things looked pretty normal. As he got older, he seemed to disappoint the people he cared about.
This boy couldn't help but feel that he was a disappointment, over and over.
In an effort to make other people happy, he sacrificed his identity.
He became whomever others wanted him to be. He did what made other people happy.
But this left the boy feeling empty inside.
Over time, he forgot who HE was, and so he decided to make an attempt to figure it out again.
But the more he discovered about himself, the more he felt the stinging, burning lash
of disappointment and anger like a cat 'o nine tails upon his spirit.
Every turn he made seemed to garner either disappointment or anger,
and in other cases, this boy just blended into the scenery, invisible.
Soon, prolonged exposure to these feelings left the boy hopeless.
He was certain that he was unimportant. He had been invisible too many times.
He was certain that he was a waste of time and space. He had been a disappointment too many times.
He was certain that people would be happier without him. He had been the subject of anger too often.
Clinging onto the crisp, freezing weather of winter, he felt sad. A sadness like a deep, dark, inescapable hole.
He kept trying to pour meaning into the hole. Tried to make sense of what he was feeling, but every time he tried, it just came back to the same conclusions. The problem was him. There was no way the problem was everyone else. Surely, if so many people thought he wasn't important, they must be right. Surely, if so many people thought he was a disappointment, they couldn't be wrong. And surely being a disappointment was as bad as being useless. It was practically the same thing, in his book.
The boy wanted to feel love, but when he turned to face the ones he needed it from the most, he was met with opposition. He reached for the people he cared about, doing what he could to show that he was worthwhile in some way. But in return, he was corrected. Shown how little his efforts were worth.
Then, one day, the boy gave up. And he decided that it would be better to just die.
He didn't want to be a burden to people anymore, and all his efforts were bringing back results the opposite of his intent. But, when the time came, the boy was such a failure, he couldn't even die properly.
Screaming out in anguish and despair deep in his mind, the boy did the one thing he had yet to try.
He was certain that he was going to fail, but he tried. He spoke frankly about it to a classmate.
It was only in passing, and he thought, being invisible as he was, surely it wouldn't work.
But somehow, it did. Just this one time, something he said made sense to the people around him.
Like a breeze, normally ignored, suddenly receiving attention because it howls through a crack, his words were heard.
At first, the boy was happy that someone had heard him, but then as the situation developed, he realized that speaking that one time had only brought more disappointment in the people who he cared about.
They said they were worried about him. What he heard was "how could you say something so stupid?"
In an attempt to fix the boy, who was clearly broken, a man tried to teach him about other people from thousands of years in the past who had felt sad, or angry. The mad said "look at these people. They were sad, and they were angry, but they didn't kill themselves."
But the boy didn't buy it. It wasn't that the boy felt sad or angry. The boy felt like there was no hope for him. He was far beyond sad. And if he was angry at anyone, it was himself, for being such a miserable failure. The boy also felt that the examples were too detached. These were guys in a book from thousands of years ago.
For all the boy knew (and he admitted to himself, things could go either way), the people may not have even been real. But even if they didn't kill themselves (once again, the boy thought that it was possible they might have, anyway. "I mean, it *was* thousands of years ago. Maybe that story was just lost or not recorded.") their issues were much different than his. They were leaders of large groups of people. The boy wasn't even a leader of himself, much less anyone else. They were inspirational, grand figures who started out as humble but capable people. The boy wasn't even capable, he was just a disappointment.
But as time went on, the man refused to stop telling the stories of the bygone people, of questionable existence, and dead regardless. The boy grew tired of hearing these stories. They made his problems seem small. His problems seemed small, and the fact that he felt their weight so heavily just was more proof to him that he was worthless.
In an effort to end the suffering, in a manner of speaking, he came up with a brilliant solution. Probably the first thing he ever did right, he figured. Simply, don't feel anything, and you can't feel bad, he thought. So, he decided to become like stone. Unmoving, unbreakable, and unfeeling. And when he had taken up this charade enough that he began to feel nothing, the suffering at the hands of the man trying to help ended.
But this solution was no true solution at all. The deepest feelings seeped out, and once again, became a disappointment to others.As the years went on, the boy began to realize who he was.
His role in the world was to be alone, misunderstood, and hated by some of those whom he cared about the most. And this did little to help the boy move forward. So he sought some good. He tried to make friends with people who would care about him, and not be disappointed with him even if he was a disappointment to everyone else.
That backfired, though. And soon, he found himself isolated. Some confused ladies in his isolation asked him why he had been set aside as he had. When he explained, they were shocked.
"That's not right! You're such a polite, nice boy! You follow the rules, and you're so kind. You don't belong here." they said. And here, the boy felt like maybe he wasn't such a disappointment, because he was being compared with people who were just as much a disappointment, but they hated everything else, instead of themselves. The boy concluded that he was less of a total failure than the other people were, because he knew how to accept responsibility for being a total failure and giant disappointment to the people in his life.
Soon, the boy was allowed to re-join the group, but it wasn't too long before he had been enough of a disappointment to get placed back into relative isolation. But this time, situations got worse. The boy made some bad decisions, and became one of the biggest disappointments ever. Not only were people yelling, screaming, and crying because of his actions, but his latest mistake had cost the people he cared for a large sum of money too.
So, trying to make up for everything, the boy poured all his energy into becoming stoic, and unchanging. He figured if he could get to the point of just being invisible again, and then never change, it would be better than costing everyone is his life everything. And this time, it worked. Or, so he thought.
Several years passed by, and by being invisible and trying to not be himself, the boy somehow became liked. He was still a cowardly disappointment down deep in his heart, but it wasn't hurting anyone, so the boy was satisfied with being stoic, even though it meant he felt nothing.
But people kept coming into his life, and leaving. And the people he kept meeting started wearing down his careful stone defence. And soon, he found himself back where he started. Several years older, but just as much of a disappointment as ever. If not worse for all the time he spent deceiving people into believing he wasn't worthless and disappointing.
And soon, the boy fell back into that pit of despair and hopelessness that he had painted with bright colours to pretend it wasn't there. Sitting at the bottom of the cavernous expanse of hopelessness, he reached out to some people across the world who were in the same place. But, one evening, he was discovered participating in actions that caused him not only to be embarrassed, but also to disappoint some of the few people who he hadn't hurt yet. And, in an attempt to stop him from making that mistake again, those people cut him off from the only connection he had to anyone who know what it was like being where he was.
They didn't know, but it dealt a heavy blow to his spirit. So, he spoke to a man who was supposed to be a spiritual guide. And that man told him to stop being a disappointment, and things would be ok. When the boy asked how, the man had responded that he needed to show respect to the people whom he cared about.
And when he tried, the boy ended up back in a place where there was no light. The deepest section of the pit. The part so far down, he hadn't bothered with painting. He couldn't even wake up after that, because he was too tired of being a disappointment. And when he missed meetings and classes, he knew that even doing those things was an act which was causing disappointment and anger.
Eventually, this boy managed to make it through college, but it meant very little. It was a hollow victory.
In many ways, the boy was still a disappointment. All his history reminded him of what a failure he was.
His looks were undesirable, and his skills were diverse, but pointless.
His knowledge was plentiful, but of no use.
And so the boy found himself still alone, less than a handful of people who saw him as he was, and loved him regardless. Less than half of them not disappointed or angered by him at some time.
And the boy was sad. He was very sad.
He felt so alone. It felt like there was no hope for him.
He knew he could accomplish the bare minimum, but that was it.
He could tell: nobody would want to be with him.
Why would anyone want to be with a guy who was such a disappointment?
Why would anyone want to be with a guy who looked like he did?
Why would anyone want to be with a guy who had messed up so badly?
Why would anyone want to be with a guy who was so unworthy of the love that he desired?
The boy thought about these things, and he was certain that the time would never come.
He knew. His chances of finding the love he wanted were like the chances that he would live to be 300.
His chances of finding the love he wanted were the chances he had to win the lottery's grand prize.
His chances of finding the love he wanted were like his chances of being anything more than a disappointment to the people he wanted to love, but had lost the ability to care about.
The boy, hurt as he was, couldn't bear to look at himself honestly anymore.
Doing so hurt. Doing so reminded him of how he had failed so badly.
But sometimes, the boy couldn't help but think about who he was.
And he realized, the person who he had disappointed the most, was himself.
He had become exactly what he had wished he wouldn't have to be.
And if he couldn't love himself, he didn't know how anyone else could love a failure like him.
He felt convinced that love would never happen for him.
And it was a relief. Because he could finally stop shouldering the burden of hope.
Hope, which had been the only thing keeping him going.
It was a heavy burden. It was supposed to be the thing that lifted him up, but hope had become the one thing that always weighed him down. Because every time his hopes were dashed, he was forced to look at himself.
And every glance at himself was filled with despair, disgust, and anger.
Why should anyone love him? He didn't deserve it.
And so the boy was free to let go of hope, but he had become attached.
So, he couldn't even let go of hope anymore. And he knew what it meant.
It meant that he was doomed to forever be further and further let down.
That a rock-bottom would likely never come. Only a bottomless abyss.
And this boy was me.
Growing up wasn't easy for him, but then again, it's not easy for anyone.
Many times, this boy went through all sorts of abuse (verbal, mental, emotional, and spiritual).
At first, things looked pretty normal. As he got older, he seemed to disappoint the people he cared about.
This boy couldn't help but feel that he was a disappointment, over and over.
In an effort to make other people happy, he sacrificed his identity.
He became whomever others wanted him to be. He did what made other people happy.
But this left the boy feeling empty inside.
Over time, he forgot who HE was, and so he decided to make an attempt to figure it out again.
But the more he discovered about himself, the more he felt the stinging, burning lash
of disappointment and anger like a cat 'o nine tails upon his spirit.
Every turn he made seemed to garner either disappointment or anger,
and in other cases, this boy just blended into the scenery, invisible.
Soon, prolonged exposure to these feelings left the boy hopeless.
He was certain that he was unimportant. He had been invisible too many times.
He was certain that he was a waste of time and space. He had been a disappointment too many times.
He was certain that people would be happier without him. He had been the subject of anger too often.
Clinging onto the crisp, freezing weather of winter, he felt sad. A sadness like a deep, dark, inescapable hole.
He kept trying to pour meaning into the hole. Tried to make sense of what he was feeling, but every time he tried, it just came back to the same conclusions. The problem was him. There was no way the problem was everyone else. Surely, if so many people thought he wasn't important, they must be right. Surely, if so many people thought he was a disappointment, they couldn't be wrong. And surely being a disappointment was as bad as being useless. It was practically the same thing, in his book.
The boy wanted to feel love, but when he turned to face the ones he needed it from the most, he was met with opposition. He reached for the people he cared about, doing what he could to show that he was worthwhile in some way. But in return, he was corrected. Shown how little his efforts were worth.
Then, one day, the boy gave up. And he decided that it would be better to just die.
He didn't want to be a burden to people anymore, and all his efforts were bringing back results the opposite of his intent. But, when the time came, the boy was such a failure, he couldn't even die properly.
Screaming out in anguish and despair deep in his mind, the boy did the one thing he had yet to try.
He was certain that he was going to fail, but he tried. He spoke frankly about it to a classmate.
It was only in passing, and he thought, being invisible as he was, surely it wouldn't work.
But somehow, it did. Just this one time, something he said made sense to the people around him.
Like a breeze, normally ignored, suddenly receiving attention because it howls through a crack, his words were heard.
At first, the boy was happy that someone had heard him, but then as the situation developed, he realized that speaking that one time had only brought more disappointment in the people who he cared about.
They said they were worried about him. What he heard was "how could you say something so stupid?"
In an attempt to fix the boy, who was clearly broken, a man tried to teach him about other people from thousands of years in the past who had felt sad, or angry. The mad said "look at these people. They were sad, and they were angry, but they didn't kill themselves."
But the boy didn't buy it. It wasn't that the boy felt sad or angry. The boy felt like there was no hope for him. He was far beyond sad. And if he was angry at anyone, it was himself, for being such a miserable failure. The boy also felt that the examples were too detached. These were guys in a book from thousands of years ago.
For all the boy knew (and he admitted to himself, things could go either way), the people may not have even been real. But even if they didn't kill themselves (once again, the boy thought that it was possible they might have, anyway. "I mean, it *was* thousands of years ago. Maybe that story was just lost or not recorded.") their issues were much different than his. They were leaders of large groups of people. The boy wasn't even a leader of himself, much less anyone else. They were inspirational, grand figures who started out as humble but capable people. The boy wasn't even capable, he was just a disappointment.
But as time went on, the man refused to stop telling the stories of the bygone people, of questionable existence, and dead regardless. The boy grew tired of hearing these stories. They made his problems seem small. His problems seemed small, and the fact that he felt their weight so heavily just was more proof to him that he was worthless.
In an effort to end the suffering, in a manner of speaking, he came up with a brilliant solution. Probably the first thing he ever did right, he figured. Simply, don't feel anything, and you can't feel bad, he thought. So, he decided to become like stone. Unmoving, unbreakable, and unfeeling. And when he had taken up this charade enough that he began to feel nothing, the suffering at the hands of the man trying to help ended.
But this solution was no true solution at all. The deepest feelings seeped out, and once again, became a disappointment to others.As the years went on, the boy began to realize who he was.
His role in the world was to be alone, misunderstood, and hated by some of those whom he cared about the most. And this did little to help the boy move forward. So he sought some good. He tried to make friends with people who would care about him, and not be disappointed with him even if he was a disappointment to everyone else.
That backfired, though. And soon, he found himself isolated. Some confused ladies in his isolation asked him why he had been set aside as he had. When he explained, they were shocked.
"That's not right! You're such a polite, nice boy! You follow the rules, and you're so kind. You don't belong here." they said. And here, the boy felt like maybe he wasn't such a disappointment, because he was being compared with people who were just as much a disappointment, but they hated everything else, instead of themselves. The boy concluded that he was less of a total failure than the other people were, because he knew how to accept responsibility for being a total failure and giant disappointment to the people in his life.
Soon, the boy was allowed to re-join the group, but it wasn't too long before he had been enough of a disappointment to get placed back into relative isolation. But this time, situations got worse. The boy made some bad decisions, and became one of the biggest disappointments ever. Not only were people yelling, screaming, and crying because of his actions, but his latest mistake had cost the people he cared for a large sum of money too.
So, trying to make up for everything, the boy poured all his energy into becoming stoic, and unchanging. He figured if he could get to the point of just being invisible again, and then never change, it would be better than costing everyone is his life everything. And this time, it worked. Or, so he thought.
Several years passed by, and by being invisible and trying to not be himself, the boy somehow became liked. He was still a cowardly disappointment down deep in his heart, but it wasn't hurting anyone, so the boy was satisfied with being stoic, even though it meant he felt nothing.
But people kept coming into his life, and leaving. And the people he kept meeting started wearing down his careful stone defence. And soon, he found himself back where he started. Several years older, but just as much of a disappointment as ever. If not worse for all the time he spent deceiving people into believing he wasn't worthless and disappointing.
And soon, the boy fell back into that pit of despair and hopelessness that he had painted with bright colours to pretend it wasn't there. Sitting at the bottom of the cavernous expanse of hopelessness, he reached out to some people across the world who were in the same place. But, one evening, he was discovered participating in actions that caused him not only to be embarrassed, but also to disappoint some of the few people who he hadn't hurt yet. And, in an attempt to stop him from making that mistake again, those people cut him off from the only connection he had to anyone who know what it was like being where he was.
They didn't know, but it dealt a heavy blow to his spirit. So, he spoke to a man who was supposed to be a spiritual guide. And that man told him to stop being a disappointment, and things would be ok. When the boy asked how, the man had responded that he needed to show respect to the people whom he cared about.
And when he tried, the boy ended up back in a place where there was no light. The deepest section of the pit. The part so far down, he hadn't bothered with painting. He couldn't even wake up after that, because he was too tired of being a disappointment. And when he missed meetings and classes, he knew that even doing those things was an act which was causing disappointment and anger.
Eventually, this boy managed to make it through college, but it meant very little. It was a hollow victory.
In many ways, the boy was still a disappointment. All his history reminded him of what a failure he was.
His looks were undesirable, and his skills were diverse, but pointless.
His knowledge was plentiful, but of no use.
And so the boy found himself still alone, less than a handful of people who saw him as he was, and loved him regardless. Less than half of them not disappointed or angered by him at some time.
And the boy was sad. He was very sad.
He felt so alone. It felt like there was no hope for him.
He knew he could accomplish the bare minimum, but that was it.
He could tell: nobody would want to be with him.
Why would anyone want to be with a guy who was such a disappointment?
Why would anyone want to be with a guy who looked like he did?
Why would anyone want to be with a guy who had messed up so badly?
Why would anyone want to be with a guy who was so unworthy of the love that he desired?
The boy thought about these things, and he was certain that the time would never come.
He knew. His chances of finding the love he wanted were like the chances that he would live to be 300.
His chances of finding the love he wanted were the chances he had to win the lottery's grand prize.
His chances of finding the love he wanted were like his chances of being anything more than a disappointment to the people he wanted to love, but had lost the ability to care about.
The boy, hurt as he was, couldn't bear to look at himself honestly anymore.
Doing so hurt. Doing so reminded him of how he had failed so badly.
But sometimes, the boy couldn't help but think about who he was.
And he realized, the person who he had disappointed the most, was himself.
He had become exactly what he had wished he wouldn't have to be.
And if he couldn't love himself, he didn't know how anyone else could love a failure like him.
He felt convinced that love would never happen for him.
And it was a relief. Because he could finally stop shouldering the burden of hope.
Hope, which had been the only thing keeping him going.
It was a heavy burden. It was supposed to be the thing that lifted him up, but hope had become the one thing that always weighed him down. Because every time his hopes were dashed, he was forced to look at himself.
And every glance at himself was filled with despair, disgust, and anger.
Why should anyone love him? He didn't deserve it.
And so the boy was free to let go of hope, but he had become attached.
So, he couldn't even let go of hope anymore. And he knew what it meant.
It meant that he was doomed to forever be further and further let down.
That a rock-bottom would likely never come. Only a bottomless abyss.
And this boy was me.
Wednesday, July 31, 2013
The Challenger
"If you won't back down, then you leave me no choice, kid." Zene said.
"What rules will we use?" Jon replied.
"I prefer standard engagement." Zene answered.
"How do I know you won't cheat, hacker?" Jon retorted.
"I already told you, kid. I'm not a hacker. And the name's Zene, so stop calling me one. It's just rude."
"Yeah, well my name isn't kid. It's Jon. But you can call me the champion, because in a few minutes, I will be. Now, you claim you're not a hacker. But if you aren't how did you get into my cyber-field, huh?"
"I have a friend on the outside. Her name's Jenn. I'm not a hacker, but you're right. I got help entering the field."
"HA! So you are here against the rules!"
"Well, yeah, but I'm here for a reason, kid. You think that Able-Ward is the path to fame? To fortune? To recognition? Well, I've got news for you... Jon. It ain't so simple. If you get the high score here, you're gonna be bringing more trouble your way that you can possibly imagine."
"And if I don't, I'll be giving up my life. I'll be giving up everything I've worked for. I can't just stop here. Not now."
"Yeah, I heard you the first time. Trust me, kid. You're not ready. But if you're determined, I can show you. I'll show you your true lack of power."
"But you could be cheating. You could be hacking, or having what's her name do it for you."
"Nah, I wouldn't do that. But you want proof, I'll give you proof. INTERLINK MODE!"
A window popped up in front of Jon. Join observational interlink? (Observational interlinks do not allow for direct interference.)
Jon selected the 'yes' option. If he was hacking, an interlink wouldn't stop that. So Jon really didn't know what Zene thought he was doing, but he figured he would play along. After all, an observational interlink wouldn't open channels that could be hacked.
Interlink joined... CONNECTED
"Good, glad to see you joined. Now, I'll prove that I'm not going to hack, or let Jenn hack for me. OFFLINE MODE, INTERLINK SUSTAIN!"
Red warning symbols flew around Zene's head. If this doesn't convince that kid, nothing will.
The dialog box confirming his decision warned him of the dangers. But, Zene did not falter. I have to stop this kid before he gets in too far. Once he breaches that threshold, he won't be able to get back.
Zene acknowledged, and closed the dialog boxes. The warning symbols disappeared.
Jon was shocked. The move to offline mode was bold. It was practically like signing out from your body.
Jon received the warning about this change.
Interlink warning: 1 player(s) dependant on interlink to remain connected to session. Please do not disconnect from the network.
"Alright. You're playing fair. I get it." Jon said, "Let's start."
"Wait! Before you do, I want to establish something."
"What? You're going to try to make more rules now?"
"No, no. It's just a warning. The objective is to defeat me, right? Well, I'm not the last objective. Just, remember that if you beat me, you better have the strength left over to finish Round 30's true final objective. And... I'm not trying to stop you for my sake. I'm trying to keep you from making a terrible mistake. One I made a long time ago."
"Whatever! I'll deal with it on my own terms. Custom set 2!" Jon called out.
Jon's armor set swapped out. He was now wearing a heavy armor set that limited his movement speed, but increased his offensive power.
"Alright, have it your way. Custom set 4!" Zene called.
Zene's armor became a medium weight leather set with an over-trenchcoat with slits on the sides.
"Big mistake. Medium armor won't be enough to deflect these attacks!"
"We'll see about that. You might be changing your mind soon."
"Starfall cannon! Chain! Flame ring! Combo! Boost thrust!" Jon commanded.
"Spinning counter! Chain! Rapid charge! Chain! Shadowy embrace!"
Jon's armor digitized two large cannons, mounted one on each shoulder, and they fired two shots above Zene. The shots broke apart, and became hundreds of laser lances, surrounding Zene in a hemisphere of twinkling electric bolts. They began launching themselves at Zene, and as the numbers depleted, the cannons on Jon's armor fired more.
Zene twirled a dagger and a sword, one in each hand, and he began spinning them faster, as the shots came in, his spinning blades knocked the shots away from him. Several shots exploded onto other shots still suspended midair, but the holes created were soon filled up with replacements.
Jon's cannon shots were expended, and the cannons retracted, digitizing back into his armor. Zene knocked the last of the shots away, and was left unharmed. A word flashed before them both:
CHAIN!
Space contorted around Zene, and he launched himself toward Jon.
Jon's armor let off a blast of flame around it, COMBO! ==Flame ring==> Boost thrust appeared, and using the power from the blast, Jon's armor lifted from the ground, and began to fly.
Zene, moving rapidly toward Jon slid underneath the shockwave of flames, then caught his foot on a rock, reorienting himself vertically with his momentum, and then followed up with a jump toward Jon.
CHAIN!
Zene caught Jon's shoulder, flipped around, and landed on Jon's back. His trenchcoat transformed into black tendrils, and wrapped Jon up, limiting his movements. Zene readied to strike with his sword.
"You've got a bad habit of making my movement difficult. Fine! Custom set 3! Lightning rush! Chain! Sword illusion! Combo! Midnight mirror!"
Just as Zene's sword struck Jon's armor, the chest of the armor opened up, and ejected Jon, wearing a skin-tight pressure suit. Zene's sword embedded itself within the armor, doing nothing to Jon. There was a small beeping which increased in speed. Zene tried to remove himself from the armor, but his own skill, Shadowy embrace, kept him from getting away. The armor exploded, and Zene fell to the ground, hitting it with a hard thump.
Jon ran toward Zene, with the speed of lightning. He was there before Zene could even comprehend what had just happened. Zene brought himself up to his feet, seeing Jon face to face for a second when suddenly, he was taking small, but painful stabs from every direction by a mere blur of Jon.
"Perception acceleration! Chain! Healing aura! Combo! Stance change: dodge!" Zene called in desperation, as he saw clear messages that he was taking damage too rapidly to keep fighting for much longer.
Suddenly, Zene could track every movement Jon was making, although he was unable to avoid the hits, at least he could try to figure out what type of patter Jon was using.
CHAIN!
COMBO! Midnight mirror || Sword illusion ==> Carnival of dancing blades
CHAIN!
COMBO! Healing Aura || Stance change: dodge ==> Full bulwark
Jon suddenly jumped into a mirror, and it duplicated itself until there were countless mirrors, each holding the image of a long corridor filled with other mirrors, and Jon darting between them.
Zene was surrounded by a green and yellow aura, pulsating and sparkling. His wounds began to heal, but it would be a little time before they finished recovering. He couldn't afford to take damage, which could end the effect prematurely.
Jon began dashing from mirror to mirror, popping out of one, merging with another. Soon, hundreds of afterimages of Jon were swirling around Zene. However, with his accelerated perception, he could see where Jon really was.
Jon lashed out from a mirror, and Zene retreated into his coat, which deflected the blow, allowing Zene to dodge every attack. This happened over and over. Jon thought he could get a hit onto Zene, and then suddenly, Zene seemed to become nothing more than a ripple of fabric. Thinking quickly, Jon decided to improvise. As Jon popped out of a mirror, he threw his blade into the mirror to the right of where he was headed. Zene dodged Jon, but too late, he realized that the sword was missing.
The sword duplicated itself by flying through the mirror illusion, and skewered Zene from several angles.
The healing aura prevented Zene from taking any damage, but the effect ended. The mirrors, however, had also reached the end of their duration.
"Custom set 1! Chain! Lava floor!" Zene called out, knowing that as long as the battle kept going the way it had, he would find it difficult to seize an advantage. Zene's trenchcoat became a pair of wings, and he flew into the air.
CHAIN!
*Warning! The floor is lava!* Appeared before Jon as Zene conjured a bubbling orb of lava from his hands. Throwing it at the ground, the ground became a lava flow. Jon jumped into the air, and landed on a nearby platform. It wouldn't hold him for long, as the lava began to melt the support underneath it.
"I see, so it's like that, huh? Custom set reconfig: flight!" Jon yelled, and the soles of his armor digitized small thrusters to keep him airborne.
"Well, kid. I think it's time we ended this, what do you say?"
"I say, you're going down! GRAVITY!!!!"
"WHAT!?"
A sphere surrounded Zene, and suddenly his wings weren't strong enough to keep him aloft. He began a descent to the ground.
"No! I can't lose to my own skill! I refuse! Sub-zero barrier!" Zene countered. His body became encased in ice so cold, that when he came in contact with the lava, it changed the molten rock into permafrost.
"Finisher! Vector slash!" Jon yelled. Jon flew toward Zene with such speed that his body became a blade of light, which pierced Zene through, dealing so much damage, he became incapacitated.
"No... I've failed." Zene cried, unable to move. "Reconnect."
The interlink reconnected to the session, and initialized the link between Zene's body and his consciousness.
"I'm sorry, but I told you. My only hope is to become recognized. I can't just stop."
"It's my failing. I tried, but in the end, I took too much damage when I got drained. Don't make the same mistake I did, kid. It's not too late. Just, please. Stop."
"NO! I won't stop until I've achieved my dream!"
"You don't understand, Jon! You can't! But trust me!"
"Enough! You are beaten, session complete!"
"WAIT!" Zene called. "If you continue you'll..." Zene was given a forced logout, and was returned to his body.
"Good riddance to bad players. First he thinks he can just hack into my session and get away with it, then he thinks he can beat me? Gotta say, though... 'the floor is lava', huh. Man, never thought I'd hear THAT in game."
Jon received a new objective:
Objective added: Enter X-mode.
"Enter... X-mode? What does that even mean?" Jon asked himself. "Query: mission objectives."
Mission Objectives: (☑) Retrieve Data Orb from Zone A-4
(☑) Deliver Data Orb to Zone C-1
(☑) Enter Trial Chamber in Zone C-3
(☑) Proceed through the correct doorway
(☑) Hit all the specified targets
(☑) Destroy all targets simultaneously, hit nothing else
(☑) Defeat the champion high-score record holder.
(☐) Final Objective: Enter X-mode.
"Well, it is the final objective. If I manage to complete this, then I should get the new high-score. But how do I even do that?" Jon wondered.
"Query: X-mode"
X-mode:
<No Data Found>
"That's odd. I wonder if this is that guy's hacker friend's doing. Hmm. I wonder what could trigger this X-mode thing. Well, I suppose I'll have to just try several possible options, and see if anything works."
Jon landed on the ground, which had returned to normal once Zene had been rendered incapacitated. Guessing at commands might be able to help him complete the final objective, he entered several commands.
"Trigger X-mode!" Nothing happened.
"Activate X-mode!" Nothing happened.
"Enter X-mode!" Yet another time, nothing happened. Jon began feeling frustrated. How the hell do they expect someone to do this if they don't have any information about it out there? I've never even heard of whatever the hell this X-mode thing is supposed to be.
"Begin X-mode!" A dialog box popped up.
X-mode Sequence Compiling...
*Warning: Improper use of X-mode can cause serious side-effects!*
X-mode Executable Ready to Launch.
Continue?
"Run X-mode!" Jon yelled with vigour.
Suddenly, his avatar disappeared. Jon stood in the space, wearing an entirely new outfit unlike his other armors. It was incredible. The feeling of power was overwhelming. Jon suddenly felt as if he had access to abilities that exceeded even level 9.
Cortical Visual Drive Activated...
Command Input Ready.
Jon wondered what he should try to use the features of this new mode.
But, he had no idea what commands he could use in X-mode.
Jon envisioned being able to use a skill which would change the weather, causing simulated rain.
Command Received... Running...
Suddenly, the sky became cloudy and dark, and rain began to fall upon the surroundings.
"Wait, did I do that? This rain simulation seems so real!" Then Jon realized the truth of the matter.
Not only did he see and hear the rain, but he could feel the drops, and they were leaving puddles.
The pools of water, growing in the indentations in the ground, were reflecting things.
"NO WAY! This is AWESOME!" Jon exclaimed, realizing that X-mode allowed him to generate effects by the simple visualization of what the outcome would be.
**WARNING: X-mode processing reaching critical levels.**
**WARNING: Continued X-mode processing could result in dangerous side effects.**
"Dangerous side-effects? Like wh... AHHHHHHHHH!" Jon screamed, as his head suddenly seemed to split open with pain.
*Vital signs critical. Terminating X-mode*
Jon woke up in his bed. He looked at the clock. Apparently, his jump session had lasted about an hour.
But, according to his UI display, he had been unconscious for about three hours after that. It must have been the result of the pain. I guess I went unconscious.
An email alert floated in his peripheral vision. He pulled it in front of him and opened it.
It was a letter of congratulations for having achieved the newest high-score.
He had done it. He'd finally achieved his goal.
There was one other new message, as well. It didn't make him feel nearly as good as the first had.
"Greetings, champ. You've been indoctrinated. Welcome to Able-X.
Your first challengers will be scheduling matches with you soon.
Welcome to the fight. Prepare for the worst."
"What have I gotten myself into?" Jon thought. For once, the things Zene had said were starting to sink in. Perhaps he had made a mistake. Am I really ready for this?
"What rules will we use?" Jon replied.
"I prefer standard engagement." Zene answered.
"How do I know you won't cheat, hacker?" Jon retorted.
"I already told you, kid. I'm not a hacker. And the name's Zene, so stop calling me one. It's just rude."
"Yeah, well my name isn't kid. It's Jon. But you can call me the champion, because in a few minutes, I will be. Now, you claim you're not a hacker. But if you aren't how did you get into my cyber-field, huh?"
"I have a friend on the outside. Her name's Jenn. I'm not a hacker, but you're right. I got help entering the field."
"HA! So you are here against the rules!"
"Well, yeah, but I'm here for a reason, kid. You think that Able-Ward is the path to fame? To fortune? To recognition? Well, I've got news for you... Jon. It ain't so simple. If you get the high score here, you're gonna be bringing more trouble your way that you can possibly imagine."
"And if I don't, I'll be giving up my life. I'll be giving up everything I've worked for. I can't just stop here. Not now."
"Yeah, I heard you the first time. Trust me, kid. You're not ready. But if you're determined, I can show you. I'll show you your true lack of power."
"But you could be cheating. You could be hacking, or having what's her name do it for you."
"Nah, I wouldn't do that. But you want proof, I'll give you proof. INTERLINK MODE!"
A window popped up in front of Jon. Join observational interlink? (Observational interlinks do not allow for direct interference.)
Jon selected the 'yes' option. If he was hacking, an interlink wouldn't stop that. So Jon really didn't know what Zene thought he was doing, but he figured he would play along. After all, an observational interlink wouldn't open channels that could be hacked.
Interlink joined... CONNECTED
"Good, glad to see you joined. Now, I'll prove that I'm not going to hack, or let Jenn hack for me. OFFLINE MODE, INTERLINK SUSTAIN!"
Red warning symbols flew around Zene's head. If this doesn't convince that kid, nothing will.
The dialog box confirming his decision warned him of the dangers. But, Zene did not falter. I have to stop this kid before he gets in too far. Once he breaches that threshold, he won't be able to get back.
Zene acknowledged, and closed the dialog boxes. The warning symbols disappeared.
Jon was shocked. The move to offline mode was bold. It was practically like signing out from your body.
Jon received the warning about this change.
Interlink warning: 1 player(s) dependant on interlink to remain connected to session. Please do not disconnect from the network.
"Alright. You're playing fair. I get it." Jon said, "Let's start."
"Wait! Before you do, I want to establish something."
"What? You're going to try to make more rules now?"
"No, no. It's just a warning. The objective is to defeat me, right? Well, I'm not the last objective. Just, remember that if you beat me, you better have the strength left over to finish Round 30's true final objective. And... I'm not trying to stop you for my sake. I'm trying to keep you from making a terrible mistake. One I made a long time ago."
"Whatever! I'll deal with it on my own terms. Custom set 2!" Jon called out.
Jon's armor set swapped out. He was now wearing a heavy armor set that limited his movement speed, but increased his offensive power.
"Alright, have it your way. Custom set 4!" Zene called.
Zene's armor became a medium weight leather set with an over-trenchcoat with slits on the sides.
"Big mistake. Medium armor won't be enough to deflect these attacks!"
"We'll see about that. You might be changing your mind soon."
"Starfall cannon! Chain! Flame ring! Combo! Boost thrust!" Jon commanded.
"Spinning counter! Chain! Rapid charge! Chain! Shadowy embrace!"
Jon's armor digitized two large cannons, mounted one on each shoulder, and they fired two shots above Zene. The shots broke apart, and became hundreds of laser lances, surrounding Zene in a hemisphere of twinkling electric bolts. They began launching themselves at Zene, and as the numbers depleted, the cannons on Jon's armor fired more.
Zene twirled a dagger and a sword, one in each hand, and he began spinning them faster, as the shots came in, his spinning blades knocked the shots away from him. Several shots exploded onto other shots still suspended midair, but the holes created were soon filled up with replacements.
Jon's cannon shots were expended, and the cannons retracted, digitizing back into his armor. Zene knocked the last of the shots away, and was left unharmed. A word flashed before them both:
CHAIN!
Space contorted around Zene, and he launched himself toward Jon.
Jon's armor let off a blast of flame around it, COMBO! ==Flame ring==> Boost thrust appeared, and using the power from the blast, Jon's armor lifted from the ground, and began to fly.
Zene, moving rapidly toward Jon slid underneath the shockwave of flames, then caught his foot on a rock, reorienting himself vertically with his momentum, and then followed up with a jump toward Jon.
CHAIN!
Zene caught Jon's shoulder, flipped around, and landed on Jon's back. His trenchcoat transformed into black tendrils, and wrapped Jon up, limiting his movements. Zene readied to strike with his sword.
"You've got a bad habit of making my movement difficult. Fine! Custom set 3! Lightning rush! Chain! Sword illusion! Combo! Midnight mirror!"
Just as Zene's sword struck Jon's armor, the chest of the armor opened up, and ejected Jon, wearing a skin-tight pressure suit. Zene's sword embedded itself within the armor, doing nothing to Jon. There was a small beeping which increased in speed. Zene tried to remove himself from the armor, but his own skill, Shadowy embrace, kept him from getting away. The armor exploded, and Zene fell to the ground, hitting it with a hard thump.
Jon ran toward Zene, with the speed of lightning. He was there before Zene could even comprehend what had just happened. Zene brought himself up to his feet, seeing Jon face to face for a second when suddenly, he was taking small, but painful stabs from every direction by a mere blur of Jon.
"Perception acceleration! Chain! Healing aura! Combo! Stance change: dodge!" Zene called in desperation, as he saw clear messages that he was taking damage too rapidly to keep fighting for much longer.
Suddenly, Zene could track every movement Jon was making, although he was unable to avoid the hits, at least he could try to figure out what type of patter Jon was using.
CHAIN!
COMBO! Midnight mirror || Sword illusion ==> Carnival of dancing blades
CHAIN!
COMBO! Healing Aura || Stance change: dodge ==> Full bulwark
Jon suddenly jumped into a mirror, and it duplicated itself until there were countless mirrors, each holding the image of a long corridor filled with other mirrors, and Jon darting between them.
Zene was surrounded by a green and yellow aura, pulsating and sparkling. His wounds began to heal, but it would be a little time before they finished recovering. He couldn't afford to take damage, which could end the effect prematurely.
Jon began dashing from mirror to mirror, popping out of one, merging with another. Soon, hundreds of afterimages of Jon were swirling around Zene. However, with his accelerated perception, he could see where Jon really was.
Jon lashed out from a mirror, and Zene retreated into his coat, which deflected the blow, allowing Zene to dodge every attack. This happened over and over. Jon thought he could get a hit onto Zene, and then suddenly, Zene seemed to become nothing more than a ripple of fabric. Thinking quickly, Jon decided to improvise. As Jon popped out of a mirror, he threw his blade into the mirror to the right of where he was headed. Zene dodged Jon, but too late, he realized that the sword was missing.
The sword duplicated itself by flying through the mirror illusion, and skewered Zene from several angles.
The healing aura prevented Zene from taking any damage, but the effect ended. The mirrors, however, had also reached the end of their duration.
"Custom set 1! Chain! Lava floor!" Zene called out, knowing that as long as the battle kept going the way it had, he would find it difficult to seize an advantage. Zene's trenchcoat became a pair of wings, and he flew into the air.
CHAIN!
*Warning! The floor is lava!* Appeared before Jon as Zene conjured a bubbling orb of lava from his hands. Throwing it at the ground, the ground became a lava flow. Jon jumped into the air, and landed on a nearby platform. It wouldn't hold him for long, as the lava began to melt the support underneath it.
"I see, so it's like that, huh? Custom set reconfig: flight!" Jon yelled, and the soles of his armor digitized small thrusters to keep him airborne.
"Well, kid. I think it's time we ended this, what do you say?"
"I say, you're going down! GRAVITY!!!!"
"WHAT!?"
A sphere surrounded Zene, and suddenly his wings weren't strong enough to keep him aloft. He began a descent to the ground.
"No! I can't lose to my own skill! I refuse! Sub-zero barrier!" Zene countered. His body became encased in ice so cold, that when he came in contact with the lava, it changed the molten rock into permafrost.
"Finisher! Vector slash!" Jon yelled. Jon flew toward Zene with such speed that his body became a blade of light, which pierced Zene through, dealing so much damage, he became incapacitated.
"No... I've failed." Zene cried, unable to move. "Reconnect."
The interlink reconnected to the session, and initialized the link between Zene's body and his consciousness.
"I'm sorry, but I told you. My only hope is to become recognized. I can't just stop."
"It's my failing. I tried, but in the end, I took too much damage when I got drained. Don't make the same mistake I did, kid. It's not too late. Just, please. Stop."
"NO! I won't stop until I've achieved my dream!"
"You don't understand, Jon! You can't! But trust me!"
"Enough! You are beaten, session complete!"
"WAIT!" Zene called. "If you continue you'll..." Zene was given a forced logout, and was returned to his body.
"Good riddance to bad players. First he thinks he can just hack into my session and get away with it, then he thinks he can beat me? Gotta say, though... 'the floor is lava', huh. Man, never thought I'd hear THAT in game."
Jon received a new objective:
Objective added: Enter X-mode.
"Enter... X-mode? What does that even mean?" Jon asked himself. "Query: mission objectives."
Mission Objectives: (☑) Retrieve Data Orb from Zone A-4
(☑) Deliver Data Orb to Zone C-1
(☑) Enter Trial Chamber in Zone C-3
(☑) Proceed through the correct doorway
(☑) Hit all the specified targets
(☑) Destroy all targets simultaneously, hit nothing else
(☑) Defeat the champion high-score record holder.
(☐) Final Objective: Enter X-mode.
"Well, it is the final objective. If I manage to complete this, then I should get the new high-score. But how do I even do that?" Jon wondered.
"Query: X-mode"
X-mode:
<No Data Found>
"That's odd. I wonder if this is that guy's hacker friend's doing. Hmm. I wonder what could trigger this X-mode thing. Well, I suppose I'll have to just try several possible options, and see if anything works."
Jon landed on the ground, which had returned to normal once Zene had been rendered incapacitated. Guessing at commands might be able to help him complete the final objective, he entered several commands.
"Trigger X-mode!" Nothing happened.
"Activate X-mode!" Nothing happened.
"Enter X-mode!" Yet another time, nothing happened. Jon began feeling frustrated. How the hell do they expect someone to do this if they don't have any information about it out there? I've never even heard of whatever the hell this X-mode thing is supposed to be.
"Begin X-mode!" A dialog box popped up.
X-mode Sequence Compiling...
*Warning: Improper use of X-mode can cause serious side-effects!*
X-mode Executable Ready to Launch.
Continue?
"Run X-mode!" Jon yelled with vigour.
Suddenly, his avatar disappeared. Jon stood in the space, wearing an entirely new outfit unlike his other armors. It was incredible. The feeling of power was overwhelming. Jon suddenly felt as if he had access to abilities that exceeded even level 9.
Cortical Visual Drive Activated...
Command Input Ready.
Jon wondered what he should try to use the features of this new mode.
But, he had no idea what commands he could use in X-mode.
Jon envisioned being able to use a skill which would change the weather, causing simulated rain.
Command Received... Running...
Suddenly, the sky became cloudy and dark, and rain began to fall upon the surroundings.
"Wait, did I do that? This rain simulation seems so real!" Then Jon realized the truth of the matter.
Not only did he see and hear the rain, but he could feel the drops, and they were leaving puddles.
The pools of water, growing in the indentations in the ground, were reflecting things.
"NO WAY! This is AWESOME!" Jon exclaimed, realizing that X-mode allowed him to generate effects by the simple visualization of what the outcome would be.
**WARNING: X-mode processing reaching critical levels.**
**WARNING: Continued X-mode processing could result in dangerous side effects.**
"Dangerous side-effects? Like wh... AHHHHHHHHH!" Jon screamed, as his head suddenly seemed to split open with pain.
*Vital signs critical. Terminating X-mode*
Jon woke up in his bed. He looked at the clock. Apparently, his jump session had lasted about an hour.
But, according to his UI display, he had been unconscious for about three hours after that. It must have been the result of the pain. I guess I went unconscious.
An email alert floated in his peripheral vision. He pulled it in front of him and opened it.
It was a letter of congratulations for having achieved the newest high-score.
He had done it. He'd finally achieved his goal.
There was one other new message, as well. It didn't make him feel nearly as good as the first had.
"Greetings, champ. You've been indoctrinated. Welcome to Able-X.
Your first challengers will be scheduling matches with you soon.
Welcome to the fight. Prepare for the worst."
"What have I gotten myself into?" Jon thought. For once, the things Zene had said were starting to sink in. Perhaps he had made a mistake. Am I really ready for this?
Tuesday, July 30, 2013
The Master
Close to reaching his high score, Jon didn't want to stop. He was in the zone. It wouldn't be much longer until he reached his goal, if everything kept on the way it was.
The timer counted down, two seconds left until round 30. If he could clear this round, it would be a high score! The first new high score in years. It would earn him the acclaim and respect he felt he needed.
ROUND 30, START!
"Electro-wheel!" Jon shouted, triggering the creation of rapidly spinning discs on the sides of his suit's boots. He zoomed toward zone A-4, where his first objective waited. Wary of the possible enemies, he kept an eye out for any sign of motion.
Nothing was on his minimap overlay. Not a single sign of resistance. Something was wrong.
Realizing what had happened, Jon spun around. "Total guard!"
Jon's shield appeared on all sides just as the barrage started. His shield was being pelted on all sides by projectiles. But as Jon continued to spin, keeping his shield up, he started to feel nervous. How long could he keep his shield up? It wasn't possible to guard forever. He had to find the source of the attack.
"Sight cleanse!" Jon called, refreshing his minimap and removing the debuff he had unknowingly acquired: Dark Solitude. With his minimap now working, he located the blip that indicated the source of the attack.
Taking a risk, he decided to drop the shield and try to end the attack in one shot.
"Explosion lance!" His shield shattered apart, blocking a few projectiles, and formed a lance of fire which shot toward the enemy. The NPC fell, and Jon continued his mad dash for his objective.
Something about that wasn't right. Jon contemplated. Why would I have Dark Solitude? I should have noticed that debuff. I'm slipping. Gotta keep my head in the game, I haven't made the records yet.
Arriving at A-4, Jon located the data orb. Placing it into his gauntlet, the popup showed that this orb's upside was Data Lock. Naturally, the downside was the fact that he had it in his possession, revealing his location to all the enemies in his target zone. Of course, even if his location wasn't a secret, he could still burst his way through.
Jon fired off toward zone C-1, where he was supposed to deliver the orb and find out his next objective. His electro-wheel ability had a few seconds left. More than enough to get a head start on the hunters.
As he reached the halfway point between the zones, the game seemed to freeze for a split second. This was the first time this had ever happened. Jon knew something wasn't right. But his thoughts were elsewhere. The hunters would be showing up any moment.
Anticipate, counter, react. Jon repeated in his head. This motto was how he had reached the 30th round. It was his style of play. Instead of the usual "react, counter, decide" which Jon had seen countless players use, only to fall within the first 5 rounds, Jon adopted a unique style. He would anticipate the enemy locations and strategies, counter whatever was done to him, and then react with his own plan. Most of the new players didn't even counter for their first few tries because they couldn't react in time. Playing Able-Ward required a calm mind and clear thought, as well as a knowledge of what could and couldn't be done.
The first hunter appeared. Green, so his speciality should be...
"Burst lane!" Jon shouted, holding out his hand in the direction of the green hunter.
"Vine wrap!" The hunter yelled. A flow of liquid vines erupted from the ground, and flung themselves toward Jon, but no sooner had the arrived than the whirlwind of flame barrel them down, turning them to ash, and disabling the hunter. Piece of cake.
Two more hunters met him as he turned the corner. Ok, orange, grey.
"Slicer! Chain! Counter-mode!" Jon yelled.
"Marksman!" Orange hunter bellowed.
"Shadowstep!" Grey whispered.
In Jon's hand appeared a silvery blade of reasonable length. Grey hunter faded from view, and Orange hunter pulled out his duel pistols and began firing shots. The ability chain activated, and things seemed to slow down, now Jon could accurately gauge the distance and location of each bullet from Marksman. Rather than wasting an additional skill point on attacking both the hunters, Jon's strategy was simple.
As the bullets got close, Jon deflected them. The first three went toward Orange hunter, and the last one was directed to his right side, under the assumption that Grey hunter may be there. Orange hunter fell to the ground, but Grey hunter did not reappear. Oh, no. I guessed wrong, so that means... Jon stopped, and suddenly the Grey hunter slid into his vision from the left, just in front of him, where Jon would have been had he kept moving. As the Counter-mode chain reached the last tenth of a second, he threw Slicer, and beheaded the Grey hunter.
In a state of euphoria, Jon continued, entering zone C-1 and yelling "Oh, come on! This is child's play! Give me a challenge!"
"Rune prison! Chain! Space impact! Chain! Eroding footwork! Chain! Cursed aura!" came a voice.
"WHAT?" Jon said, but suddenly, runic symbols appeared in the ground around him, and he found himself unable to pass over them. That's not possible! It can't be!
A meteor fell from space, headed straight for Jon. He needed to block it, but Jon wasn't calm anymore. How could he be? But he forced himself to focus.
"Shielding blow!" Wait, what were the other commands he used? "Chain! uh... Floating grace! uh..."
Out of command time, Jon had to deal with what was happening. Not good. I think I missed something.
Pulling out his dagger, Jon threw it at the meteor, and with explosive force, the meteor exploded into somewhat harmless shards, but then the ground beneath him crumbled, leaving a dark and possibly bottomless hole beneath him.
CHAIN! appeared in front of him, and two bright halos appeared around his ankles, holding him afloat.
Here it comes. I don't know what it was. Aww, man.
A man walked out in front of him holding a shotgun in his right hand, and an oversized sword in his left.
The look on his face smouldered, as he became shrouded in a dark, billowing cloud. From that cloud, Jon saw the glint of his assailant's eyes. That was no hunter. No. That was no NPC.
The cloud dissipated, and then suddenly, the man flew toward Jon's side from seemingly nowhere, sword first.
"Reaction flow! Chain! Data lock!" Jon yelled, just in time to begin countering.
Jon managed to avoid the strike, moving in the slightest way, stuck as he was in the rune prison.
The man passed, and when Jon turned to look, he was nowhere to be seen.
Suddenly, the man was falling from above, firing several rounds of his shotgun. The pellets moved too fast for Jon to block, and without a weapon to deflect them, his only option was to take as few hits as possible, and try to make sure they weren't in critical areas.
As he was pelted by the shotgun, a red warning indicated he had taken 20 points of damage. Quickly looking up, the man had landed behind him, and then jumped, but then Jon saw how he had been doing this.
What? A tele-glyph! I see, so that means that his fourth attack was a movement attack ability.
The man appeared in front of him, and to his left. The man appeared in front of him, and to the right.
The man appeared behind him, and to his left. The man appeared behind him, and to his right.
Jon was awestruck. Four of the same person at once? This must be a high level ability... possibly... no way. It couldn't be... is it... a rank 9? Aww, man, how am I going to deal with this!
CHAIN! appeared in front of him. Jon flew out of his body, ejected forcefully, his suit glowed with lines of code wrapping around it. The rune prison disappeared. The four mysterious men flew at the suit with their swords, and when the blades struck the suit, they bounced off, harmlessly.
The man disappeared through four tele-glyphs on the ground, and he reappeared beneath Jon. As Jon fell, and the man rose aiming his shotgun at him, Jon had a feeling he wouldn't be breaking the records with a new high score. Surely, this would be his end.
Before the man could fire, Jon was pulled back into his suit, as the Data Lock expired, and his consciousness' data was returned. The moment he entered, he yelled "Flash step! Combo! Silver clock!"
The man fired his shotgun, but Jon's consciousness, now back in the right place, was unaffected.
Jon floated back, out from over the pit, and then his ability activated. The world became yellow and blue. Jon was now in Flash Time. It took me forever to get this ability. I'm so glad I did.
Using flash time, Jon ran to the objective, placed the data orb into the pedestal, and then waited for the information of his next objective to show up. Flash Time ran out, and the man entered the building.
"Well, well. You're not bad, kid. You know, a few more years, and perhaps you'll be ready to face me."
"Who are you? And why are you here? This is supposed to be a single-player session!"
"Oh, come now! That's no way to address the current high score record holder! I'm the champion of Able-ward! Let's be honest, from me to you: you don't stand a chance. It would be in your best interest to just give up. I won't have to take your abilities then."
"WHAT? NO! I've worked too hard for this! I've come too far! I won't let some hacker just take what I've earned!"
"Just some hacker? Wow, kid. I'm hurt. I'm not a hacker at all! And here you are, accusing me of doing such dastardly deeds. Really. Here I was, making a generous offer, and you treat me like a criminal!"
"Yeah, well, you know that cyber field overriding is illegal. And yet here you are." Jon said, heaving a huge sigh of relief in his head when the new objective popped up.
"I told you already! I'm not the..." The man repled.
"Rewind!" Jon yelled, and COMBO!! ==Silver Clock 'Rewind'==> Flash Step appeared. The world went yellow and blue again. I probably won't be able to use this combination again. I'll have to think of something else if that guy tries to interfere with my session anymore.
Jon arrived at his next objective. Here his task was to pick the correct doorway to reach the inner chamber, and then to destroy a number of targets in a limited time.
Falling out of Flash Time, Jon knew he wouldn't have long until the self-proclaimed champion would show up. The doors he had to choose from were indistinguishable from one another. Great. I hate the puzzles that don't give clues. If only they looked different somehow... wait!
"Scattervision!" Jon yelled, and he watched as the world briefly was rendered in binary.
That was where he saw it. Two of the doors were rendered as a large number of zeroes. One of the doors was rendered in all ones. Of course, two false paths, and one true one. Makes sense to me. And maybe I can use this to distract that hacker.
"Scuff flare" Jon called out, briefly setting the soles of his feet on fire, leaving a trail as he ran to one of the fake doors. "Disengage" Jon whispered, ending the movement speed bonus and flames early. Then he lightly walked to the real door, went inside and closed it behind him carefully.
The chamber he was in was filled with floating symbols. But the ones he needed to hit were marked on his data readout, and he was able to pick them out of the jumble fairly easily.
Objective updated: Destroy all targets simultaneously, hit nothing else.
Huh. I knew there'd be a twist somewhere. Still, that's not too hard. I guess.
Suddenly, Jon heard a loud yell from a few rooms over. Looks like he fell for it.
"Ricochet shot! Combo! Emblem mark! Chain! Bullet catch! "
A pistol appeared in Jon's hand. He fired it at one of the correct symbols. The bullet ricocheted off it to another symbol, and continued to do so until it had hit all the targets. None of the targets were destroyed, but all of them were marked with a seal. Jon stretched out his hand, and caught his bullet, placing it back in the gun.
"Crest of thunder!" Jon said, and with a sizzle of electricity, each of the marks detonated simultaneously.
Jon received a new objective immediately.
"No. NO WAY! Nothing said anything about this! NO! It can't be!"
As Jon opened the door forward and entered the arena on the other side, he stared at the words before him.
Objective added: Defeat the champion high-score holder.
Before him stood the man from before. He looked fine.
"So, kid. You got me good back there. I got hit with a level drain. Now I can't use anything higher than level 8. But that's ok. I got this. Just so you know, the offer's still open. Just walk away and we don't have to do this."
"I told you. I... I can't do that. Too much is riding on this. My whole LIFE is riding on this!"
"Kid, it's a game. You don't have to go through with this. Just leave now, ok?"
"YOU don't get it! This is the ONE thing I've been good at! Without Able-ward, my parents won't even LOOK at me! Maybe to you it's just a game, but to me, it's ALL I HAVE!" Jon yelled.
"Look, I'm sorry kid, but I can't let you take my place. If you want it, you've got to earn it. And you just don't have what it takes to..."
"We'll see about that." Jon said with grim determination and a hard look on his face.
The timer counted down, two seconds left until round 30. If he could clear this round, it would be a high score! The first new high score in years. It would earn him the acclaim and respect he felt he needed.
ROUND 30, START!
"Electro-wheel!" Jon shouted, triggering the creation of rapidly spinning discs on the sides of his suit's boots. He zoomed toward zone A-4, where his first objective waited. Wary of the possible enemies, he kept an eye out for any sign of motion.
Nothing was on his minimap overlay. Not a single sign of resistance. Something was wrong.
Realizing what had happened, Jon spun around. "Total guard!"
Jon's shield appeared on all sides just as the barrage started. His shield was being pelted on all sides by projectiles. But as Jon continued to spin, keeping his shield up, he started to feel nervous. How long could he keep his shield up? It wasn't possible to guard forever. He had to find the source of the attack.
"Sight cleanse!" Jon called, refreshing his minimap and removing the debuff he had unknowingly acquired: Dark Solitude. With his minimap now working, he located the blip that indicated the source of the attack.
Taking a risk, he decided to drop the shield and try to end the attack in one shot.
"Explosion lance!" His shield shattered apart, blocking a few projectiles, and formed a lance of fire which shot toward the enemy. The NPC fell, and Jon continued his mad dash for his objective.
Something about that wasn't right. Jon contemplated. Why would I have Dark Solitude? I should have noticed that debuff. I'm slipping. Gotta keep my head in the game, I haven't made the records yet.
Arriving at A-4, Jon located the data orb. Placing it into his gauntlet, the popup showed that this orb's upside was Data Lock. Naturally, the downside was the fact that he had it in his possession, revealing his location to all the enemies in his target zone. Of course, even if his location wasn't a secret, he could still burst his way through.
Jon fired off toward zone C-1, where he was supposed to deliver the orb and find out his next objective. His electro-wheel ability had a few seconds left. More than enough to get a head start on the hunters.
As he reached the halfway point between the zones, the game seemed to freeze for a split second. This was the first time this had ever happened. Jon knew something wasn't right. But his thoughts were elsewhere. The hunters would be showing up any moment.
Anticipate, counter, react. Jon repeated in his head. This motto was how he had reached the 30th round. It was his style of play. Instead of the usual "react, counter, decide" which Jon had seen countless players use, only to fall within the first 5 rounds, Jon adopted a unique style. He would anticipate the enemy locations and strategies, counter whatever was done to him, and then react with his own plan. Most of the new players didn't even counter for their first few tries because they couldn't react in time. Playing Able-Ward required a calm mind and clear thought, as well as a knowledge of what could and couldn't be done.
The first hunter appeared. Green, so his speciality should be...
"Burst lane!" Jon shouted, holding out his hand in the direction of the green hunter.
"Vine wrap!" The hunter yelled. A flow of liquid vines erupted from the ground, and flung themselves toward Jon, but no sooner had the arrived than the whirlwind of flame barrel them down, turning them to ash, and disabling the hunter. Piece of cake.
Two more hunters met him as he turned the corner. Ok, orange, grey.
"Slicer! Chain! Counter-mode!" Jon yelled.
"Marksman!" Orange hunter bellowed.
"Shadowstep!" Grey whispered.
In Jon's hand appeared a silvery blade of reasonable length. Grey hunter faded from view, and Orange hunter pulled out his duel pistols and began firing shots. The ability chain activated, and things seemed to slow down, now Jon could accurately gauge the distance and location of each bullet from Marksman. Rather than wasting an additional skill point on attacking both the hunters, Jon's strategy was simple.
As the bullets got close, Jon deflected them. The first three went toward Orange hunter, and the last one was directed to his right side, under the assumption that Grey hunter may be there. Orange hunter fell to the ground, but Grey hunter did not reappear. Oh, no. I guessed wrong, so that means... Jon stopped, and suddenly the Grey hunter slid into his vision from the left, just in front of him, where Jon would have been had he kept moving. As the Counter-mode chain reached the last tenth of a second, he threw Slicer, and beheaded the Grey hunter.
In a state of euphoria, Jon continued, entering zone C-1 and yelling "Oh, come on! This is child's play! Give me a challenge!"
"Rune prison! Chain! Space impact! Chain! Eroding footwork! Chain! Cursed aura!" came a voice.
"WHAT?" Jon said, but suddenly, runic symbols appeared in the ground around him, and he found himself unable to pass over them. That's not possible! It can't be!
A meteor fell from space, headed straight for Jon. He needed to block it, but Jon wasn't calm anymore. How could he be? But he forced himself to focus.
"Shielding blow!" Wait, what were the other commands he used? "Chain! uh... Floating grace! uh..."
Out of command time, Jon had to deal with what was happening. Not good. I think I missed something.
Pulling out his dagger, Jon threw it at the meteor, and with explosive force, the meteor exploded into somewhat harmless shards, but then the ground beneath him crumbled, leaving a dark and possibly bottomless hole beneath him.
CHAIN! appeared in front of him, and two bright halos appeared around his ankles, holding him afloat.
Here it comes. I don't know what it was. Aww, man.
A man walked out in front of him holding a shotgun in his right hand, and an oversized sword in his left.
The look on his face smouldered, as he became shrouded in a dark, billowing cloud. From that cloud, Jon saw the glint of his assailant's eyes. That was no hunter. No. That was no NPC.
The cloud dissipated, and then suddenly, the man flew toward Jon's side from seemingly nowhere, sword first.
"Reaction flow! Chain! Data lock!" Jon yelled, just in time to begin countering.
Jon managed to avoid the strike, moving in the slightest way, stuck as he was in the rune prison.
The man passed, and when Jon turned to look, he was nowhere to be seen.
Suddenly, the man was falling from above, firing several rounds of his shotgun. The pellets moved too fast for Jon to block, and without a weapon to deflect them, his only option was to take as few hits as possible, and try to make sure they weren't in critical areas.
As he was pelted by the shotgun, a red warning indicated he had taken 20 points of damage. Quickly looking up, the man had landed behind him, and then jumped, but then Jon saw how he had been doing this.
What? A tele-glyph! I see, so that means that his fourth attack was a movement attack ability.
The man appeared in front of him, and to his left. The man appeared in front of him, and to the right.
The man appeared behind him, and to his left. The man appeared behind him, and to his right.
Jon was awestruck. Four of the same person at once? This must be a high level ability... possibly... no way. It couldn't be... is it... a rank 9? Aww, man, how am I going to deal with this!
CHAIN! appeared in front of him. Jon flew out of his body, ejected forcefully, his suit glowed with lines of code wrapping around it. The rune prison disappeared. The four mysterious men flew at the suit with their swords, and when the blades struck the suit, they bounced off, harmlessly.
The man disappeared through four tele-glyphs on the ground, and he reappeared beneath Jon. As Jon fell, and the man rose aiming his shotgun at him, Jon had a feeling he wouldn't be breaking the records with a new high score. Surely, this would be his end.
Before the man could fire, Jon was pulled back into his suit, as the Data Lock expired, and his consciousness' data was returned. The moment he entered, he yelled "Flash step! Combo! Silver clock!"
The man fired his shotgun, but Jon's consciousness, now back in the right place, was unaffected.
Jon floated back, out from over the pit, and then his ability activated. The world became yellow and blue. Jon was now in Flash Time. It took me forever to get this ability. I'm so glad I did.
Using flash time, Jon ran to the objective, placed the data orb into the pedestal, and then waited for the information of his next objective to show up. Flash Time ran out, and the man entered the building.
"Well, well. You're not bad, kid. You know, a few more years, and perhaps you'll be ready to face me."
"Who are you? And why are you here? This is supposed to be a single-player session!"
"Oh, come now! That's no way to address the current high score record holder! I'm the champion of Able-ward! Let's be honest, from me to you: you don't stand a chance. It would be in your best interest to just give up. I won't have to take your abilities then."
"WHAT? NO! I've worked too hard for this! I've come too far! I won't let some hacker just take what I've earned!"
"Just some hacker? Wow, kid. I'm hurt. I'm not a hacker at all! And here you are, accusing me of doing such dastardly deeds. Really. Here I was, making a generous offer, and you treat me like a criminal!"
"Yeah, well, you know that cyber field overriding is illegal. And yet here you are." Jon said, heaving a huge sigh of relief in his head when the new objective popped up.
"I told you already! I'm not the..." The man repled.
"Rewind!" Jon yelled, and COMBO!! ==Silver Clock 'Rewind'==> Flash Step appeared. The world went yellow and blue again. I probably won't be able to use this combination again. I'll have to think of something else if that guy tries to interfere with my session anymore.
Jon arrived at his next objective. Here his task was to pick the correct doorway to reach the inner chamber, and then to destroy a number of targets in a limited time.
Falling out of Flash Time, Jon knew he wouldn't have long until the self-proclaimed champion would show up. The doors he had to choose from were indistinguishable from one another. Great. I hate the puzzles that don't give clues. If only they looked different somehow... wait!
"Scattervision!" Jon yelled, and he watched as the world briefly was rendered in binary.
That was where he saw it. Two of the doors were rendered as a large number of zeroes. One of the doors was rendered in all ones. Of course, two false paths, and one true one. Makes sense to me. And maybe I can use this to distract that hacker.
"Scuff flare" Jon called out, briefly setting the soles of his feet on fire, leaving a trail as he ran to one of the fake doors. "Disengage" Jon whispered, ending the movement speed bonus and flames early. Then he lightly walked to the real door, went inside and closed it behind him carefully.
The chamber he was in was filled with floating symbols. But the ones he needed to hit were marked on his data readout, and he was able to pick them out of the jumble fairly easily.
Objective updated: Destroy all targets simultaneously, hit nothing else.
Huh. I knew there'd be a twist somewhere. Still, that's not too hard. I guess.
Suddenly, Jon heard a loud yell from a few rooms over. Looks like he fell for it.
"Ricochet shot! Combo! Emblem mark! Chain! Bullet catch! "
A pistol appeared in Jon's hand. He fired it at one of the correct symbols. The bullet ricocheted off it to another symbol, and continued to do so until it had hit all the targets. None of the targets were destroyed, but all of them were marked with a seal. Jon stretched out his hand, and caught his bullet, placing it back in the gun.
"Crest of thunder!" Jon said, and with a sizzle of electricity, each of the marks detonated simultaneously.
Jon received a new objective immediately.
"No. NO WAY! Nothing said anything about this! NO! It can't be!"
As Jon opened the door forward and entered the arena on the other side, he stared at the words before him.
Objective added: Defeat the champion high-score holder.
Before him stood the man from before. He looked fine.
"So, kid. You got me good back there. I got hit with a level drain. Now I can't use anything higher than level 8. But that's ok. I got this. Just so you know, the offer's still open. Just walk away and we don't have to do this."
"I told you. I... I can't do that. Too much is riding on this. My whole LIFE is riding on this!"
"Kid, it's a game. You don't have to go through with this. Just leave now, ok?"
"YOU don't get it! This is the ONE thing I've been good at! Without Able-ward, my parents won't even LOOK at me! Maybe to you it's just a game, but to me, it's ALL I HAVE!" Jon yelled.
"Look, I'm sorry kid, but I can't let you take my place. If you want it, you've got to earn it. And you just don't have what it takes to..."
"We'll see about that." Jon said with grim determination and a hard look on his face.
Sunday, June 30, 2013
Little Fuchsia Riding Hood
Once upon a time, there was a little girl who lived in a village near the forest.
Every time this little girl, Sally, went out she wore a fuchsia riding cloak, and thus everyone in the village called her Little Fuchsia Riding Hood.
One morning, Sally asked her mother if she could go to visit her grandmother as it had been awhile since they'd seen each other.
"That's a good idea," her mother said. So they packed a nice basket for Sally to take to her grandmother.
When the basket was ready, the little girl put on her fuchsia cloak and kissed her mother goodbye.
"Remember, go straight to Grandma's house," her mother cautioned. "Don't dawdle along the way and please don't talk to strangers! The woods are dangerous."
"Don't worry, mommy," said Sally, "I'll be careful."
But when Little Fuchsia Riding Hood noticed some lovely flowers in the woods, she forgot her promise to her mother. She picked a few, watched the butterflies flit about for awhile, listened to the frogs croaking and then picked a few more.
Little Fuchsia Riding Hood was enjoying the warm summer day so much, that she didn't notice a dark shadow approaching out of the forest behind her...
Suddenly, a wolf appeared beside her.
"What are you doing out here, little girl?" the wolf asked in a voice as friendly as he could muster.
"I'm on my way to see my Grandma who lives through the forest, near the brook," Little Fuchsia Riding Hood replied. Then she realized how late she was and quickly excused herself, rushing down the path to her Grandma's house.
The wolf, in the meantime, took a shortcut...
The wolf, a little out of breath from running, arrived at Grandma's and knocked lightly at the door.
"Oh thank goodness dear! Come in, come in! I was worried sick that something had happened to you in the forest," said Grandma thinking that the knock was her granddaughter. The wolf let himself in. Poor Granny did not have time to say another word, before the wolf gobbled her up!
The wolf let out a satisfied burp, and then poked through Granny's wardrobe to find a nightgown that he liked. He added a frilly sleeping cap, and for good measure, dabbed some of Granny's perfume behind his pointy ears.
A few minutes later, Little Fuchsia Riding Hood knocked on the door. The wolf jumped into bed and pulled the covers over his nose.
"Who is it?" he called in a cackling voice.
"It's me!" Little Fuchsia Riding Hood called.
"Oh how lovely! Do come in, my dear," croaked the wolf.
When Little Fuchsia Riding Hood entered the little cottage, she could scarcely recognize her Grandmother.
"Grandmother! Your voice sounds so odd. Is something the matter?" she asked.
"Oh, I just have touch of a cold," squeaked the wolf adding a cough at the end to prove the point.
"But Grandmother! What big ears you have," said Little Fuchsia Riding Hood as she edged closer to the bed.
"The better to hear you with, my dear," replied the wolf.
"But Grandmother! What big eyes you have," said Little Fuchsia Riding Hood.
"The better to see you with, my dear," replied the wolf.
"But Grandmother! What big teeth you have," said Little Fuchsia Riding Hood her voice quivering slightly.
"The better to eat with, my dear," replied the wolf.
Still uncertain, Little Fuchsia Riding Hood dropped her basket cried,
"Oh, Grandmother! Why haven't you called me by my name!?"
"Because your Grandmother is NO MORE!" the wolf snarled, leaping out of the bed.
Almost too late, Little Fuchsia Riding Hood realized that the person in the bed was not her Grandmother, but a hungry wolf.
She ran across the room and through the door, shouting, "Help! Wolf!" as loudly as she could. Yet, in such a remote area of the forest, there was nobody around who could hear her. She hid quickly, and then hoping to evade the wolf, she ran back into the house when the wolf gave chase. When she entered, she fled to hide on the other side of the bed. But as she turned the corner, she saw on the ground a sight most gruesome. There were the remains of her Grandmother, lifeless and devoured, then tossed aside to make room for the wolf.
"Oh Grandma!" sobbed Little Fuchsia Riding Hood, "Why? Why did you have to be eaten by a wolf?"
The wolf, hearing the sobs of the girl in the house, returned, bearing down upon her with his fangs dripping with slobber and blood.
"Now, now, my dear" the wolf said, ridiculing her with an imitation of her grandmother's voice, "no need to cry."
"You MONSTER!" Sally exclaimed, "First you eat my Grandmother, and now you plan to eat me? You don't even know who I am!"
"Then tell me quickly, and your pain shall end!"
"I'm Sally, and I swear that I will do everything I can to make you miserable!"
The wolf, undaunted, lunged. His fangs sank deep into the flesh at her throat, and with a surprised gasp, Sally let out a whine before the wolf devoured her too.
The following day, when Sally had not returned, her mother travelled to the Grandmother's house. When she arrived, there she saw a bloodied and torn fuchsia cloak and a gown covered in hair next to a pile of bones which had been picked clean.
Realization of what had happened swept over the mother, and she let out a howl of grief. In one day, she had lost her precious daughter and her beloved mother.
Unable to stay strong in the face of such agony, she fled to the brook, and drowned herself.
In the coming days and weeks, the villagers realized that the house famed for its beautiful Little Fuchsia Hood was empty. Though they waited, neither Sally or her mother returned. Eventually, the house was cleared out, and new villagers arrived to replace Sally and her mother.
Not too long from then, everyone forgot about the girl in the Little Fuchsia Hood.
Legends told, however, of a strange wolf seen only rarely in the forest. The tale often went that if one paid attention, they might catch a glimpse of a rare sight: that of a wolf in a gown, pleasantly plump, and more savage and cunning than all.
Wednesday, April 17, 2013
Maria of Calentro
"Oh, Maria! It's perfect!" Sally said, tears filling her eyes. As she put the charm bracelet on her wrist, Sally couldn't help but wonder how Maria knew exactly what would make her day.
"Well, Sally, I'm so glad that you like it. I had to think for quite some time about what to get you! After all, it's a big day. Ooooo, yes. We should really party hard today." Maria responded.
"Ha! Old girl, you're crazy! You know nobody as old as you can go partying all night long! We're not in our twenties!" Sally responded, making light of the fact that she was turning 80.
"You're only as old as you feel, they say! And besides, you have a good 2 years on me! I'm still a spring chicken!" Maria laughed.
After a moment of laughter, Maria calmed down and asked Sally the question that had been on her mind.
"So, Sal, how has Ben held up lately? Last I heard, he wasn't doing so good."
"Oh, Em, it's become such a hard thing for him to just get up out of bed these days. Just last week, he had to miss out on that little get-together I had planned with the grandkids because he was just in too much pain to move."
"I see. Well, you know what they say, life gets the best of us all, someday. Let him know that I've been thinking about him. I really do hope everything works out for you both."
"Oh, I know, Em. I know. But how have you been? After all this time, still living up the good life with all those wild parties?"
"Well, Sal, you know how tough it is for a girl to find someone who'll look past these old bones nowdays. It has been tough. But you know, I'm getting along alright. I may not have any grandkids of my own, but my brother has been kind enough to share his daughter and her kids. Oh, and they're growing up so fast."
The doorbell rang, and Maria made her way to it. She wasn't expecting any visitors other than Sally, so the whole situation caught her by surprise. As she opened the door, she was met with an even greater surprise. Standing in front of her, holding a bouquet of flowers was a young man.
"Well, hello there, young man. Is there something I can help you with?" Maria asked.
"Actually, ma'am, there is. You see, I... I have something to tell you. Something I just had to say." He began.
"Oh, well, do get on with it then, dear!" Maria smiled. To her surprise, he burst into song.
"Oh, milady! How I wish to know you more! Seeing you daily, as you walk along the shore! My heart, it skips a beat and now I'm sure, that you are the one that I adore! I want to spend my days with you, and hear what you've gone through. I want to hold onto your hand, and forever be your man! I want to serenade you daily, because you make me want to sing. I want to hold your hand and know your mine... I want to give you a ring. So be forever mine, and I'll give you everything."
Maria was stunned. A young man like this, singing such sentiments to her? He didn't look like he was even in his 30s yet. Sally, who was still sitting at the card table in the living room, started clapping.
"You go girl! Look at you! Seems you have yourself an admirer!" Sally whooped from across the room.
"Well, young man... what is your name?" Maria asked.
"Oh, me? I'm Dylan. And it's a pleasure to meet you..."
"Well, Dylan, while I appreciate the sentiment..."
"Oh, and these are for you!" Dylan said, quickly handing the bouquet to Maria.
"Now, just hold on there for a moment! How can a young man like you be professing your love for an old lady like myself?" Maria inquired.
"What? Oh! Oh, no. No, uh, I think you have the wrong idea. Actually, I'm just a singing telegram and flower delivery guy. Yeah, uh, see the card in the flowers? Yeah, that's who this is from."
Maria blushed, and felt quite embarrassed. How could she have made that mistake? No, of course, that explanation made much more sense.
"Oh, yes, I mean... of course you are, dear. Thank you, Dylan."
"Yes, well, have a nice day, ma'am. And... you know, I think you're lucky to have someone who is so interested in you. But that's just my opinion." Dylan said, as he took his leave.
Sally was now laughing quite heartily.
"Oh! Oh! The look on your face! When he said he was just a delivery boy!"
"Oh, shut it, Sal. You know that was an honest mistake!"
"I think you've been alone for a bit too long, Em! Perhaps you should think about going out with the man who sent those flowers to you! Instead of trying to rob the cradle with boys like *Dylan*!" Sally said, making sure that Dylan's name was said as lovey-dovey as she could say it before she burst into another wave of laughter.
"Alright, enough laughing at my expense. Who sent these flowers anyways?" Maria asked, taking a look at the card in the bouquet. It read:
"Well, I don't know. I don't recall seeing anybody during my morning walks. But my eyes aren't what they used to be, so maybe he was there and I just didn't see him." Maria replied, feeling a bit confused.
"Well, I'm happy to hear that you may be getting that birthday wish you had."
"Which one is that now?"
"Why, the one that you had every year since you were 30! To finally find a man to settle down with!"
After they partied for a little while, indoors and with a game of dominos and a glass of wine each, Sally went back to her place to check on Ben. As Maria said her goodbyes, she was wished good luck on the "date". Naturally, Maria couldn't help but chuckle. Sally always did have a good sense of humor about things.
The following day, Maria prepared herself to meet the mystery man who had sent her some very nice flowers accompanied by Dylan and that song. While she was getting ready, she suddenly realized that she hadn't found out if that was a song Dylan had wrote, or something by her mystery man.
Thinking about it, she was certain the man must have wrote it. Otherwise, it probably wouldn't have specifically mentioned seeing her on the beach everyday, right?
Arriving on the beach, Maria was approached by a quite handsome and distinguished looking gentleman.
Before she even had a chance to say anything, Ruben was already on one knee. He opened the ring case, and proposed.
The whole thing happened so fast Maria couldn't process everything at once.
She had slapped him for proposing so soon, but then after they spent time together for a few months, it was just absolutely clear that it was meant to be. And so, when he proposed again, Maria eagerly accepted his proposal.
The first year just flew by, and before she knew it, it was the one year anniversary of her marriage with Ruben. But this day was something special. Special, and also, very, very wrong.
"Ruben. Ruben, wake up dear. Ruben! Oh... oh no! Ruben, come on! Don't do this to me! Ruben! Wake up! Oh, God. ... Hello? Yes, my husband... he's not responding, he feels a bit cold to the touch and he's not breathing! Yes, I know CPR. Please hurry! It's 1524 Crestcove! Please, you have to help me!"
A week later, Sally held Maria in an embrace, trying to comfort her... but the tears wouldn't stop, and the warmth of Sally's cloak did little to warm Maria's heart.
"It's too soon. It's not fair." Maria sobbed, as the service, now over, began to disperse, and the coffin was lowered into the grave.
"I know, Em. I know. After all that time, and then this. But you still have me, just like before."
"It's just not the same! I can't take it anymore!" Maria yelled, her words coming out of her mouth like a frenzied cry. "Why now? Why him?"
"We can't know the answer to those things, Em." Sally said, and though she wanted to say something more to comfort her hurting friend, she was at a loss for words. What, if anything, could she say to heal the hurt that Maria was feeling? So, for lack of anything to say, Sally simply stayed by her side, and did what she could to catch the tears that fell from her friend's face as they overflowed from her broken heart.
It wasn't long after that, Maria also passed on. Many thought that age had simply gotten to her,
but Sally, and a few others close to Maria, knew that she had just lost the will to live. She had died of a broken heart.
Sally was in charge of writing the obituary for her friend. It was the most painful thing she had ever had to do for Maria. So, because of her deep affection for her life-long friend, she wrote the story.
"Well, Sally, I'm so glad that you like it. I had to think for quite some time about what to get you! After all, it's a big day. Ooooo, yes. We should really party hard today." Maria responded.
"Ha! Old girl, you're crazy! You know nobody as old as you can go partying all night long! We're not in our twenties!" Sally responded, making light of the fact that she was turning 80.
"You're only as old as you feel, they say! And besides, you have a good 2 years on me! I'm still a spring chicken!" Maria laughed.
After a moment of laughter, Maria calmed down and asked Sally the question that had been on her mind.
"So, Sal, how has Ben held up lately? Last I heard, he wasn't doing so good."
"Oh, Em, it's become such a hard thing for him to just get up out of bed these days. Just last week, he had to miss out on that little get-together I had planned with the grandkids because he was just in too much pain to move."
"I see. Well, you know what they say, life gets the best of us all, someday. Let him know that I've been thinking about him. I really do hope everything works out for you both."
"Oh, I know, Em. I know. But how have you been? After all this time, still living up the good life with all those wild parties?"
"Well, Sal, you know how tough it is for a girl to find someone who'll look past these old bones nowdays. It has been tough. But you know, I'm getting along alright. I may not have any grandkids of my own, but my brother has been kind enough to share his daughter and her kids. Oh, and they're growing up so fast."
The doorbell rang, and Maria made her way to it. She wasn't expecting any visitors other than Sally, so the whole situation caught her by surprise. As she opened the door, she was met with an even greater surprise. Standing in front of her, holding a bouquet of flowers was a young man.
"Well, hello there, young man. Is there something I can help you with?" Maria asked.
"Actually, ma'am, there is. You see, I... I have something to tell you. Something I just had to say." He began.
"Oh, well, do get on with it then, dear!" Maria smiled. To her surprise, he burst into song.
"Oh, milady! How I wish to know you more! Seeing you daily, as you walk along the shore! My heart, it skips a beat and now I'm sure, that you are the one that I adore! I want to spend my days with you, and hear what you've gone through. I want to hold onto your hand, and forever be your man! I want to serenade you daily, because you make me want to sing. I want to hold your hand and know your mine... I want to give you a ring. So be forever mine, and I'll give you everything."
Maria was stunned. A young man like this, singing such sentiments to her? He didn't look like he was even in his 30s yet. Sally, who was still sitting at the card table in the living room, started clapping.
"You go girl! Look at you! Seems you have yourself an admirer!" Sally whooped from across the room.
"Well, young man... what is your name?" Maria asked.
"Oh, me? I'm Dylan. And it's a pleasure to meet you..."
"Well, Dylan, while I appreciate the sentiment..."
"Oh, and these are for you!" Dylan said, quickly handing the bouquet to Maria.
"Now, just hold on there for a moment! How can a young man like you be professing your love for an old lady like myself?" Maria inquired.
"What? Oh! Oh, no. No, uh, I think you have the wrong idea. Actually, I'm just a singing telegram and flower delivery guy. Yeah, uh, see the card in the flowers? Yeah, that's who this is from."
Maria blushed, and felt quite embarrassed. How could she have made that mistake? No, of course, that explanation made much more sense.
"Oh, yes, I mean... of course you are, dear. Thank you, Dylan."
"Yes, well, have a nice day, ma'am. And... you know, I think you're lucky to have someone who is so interested in you. But that's just my opinion." Dylan said, as he took his leave.
Sally was now laughing quite heartily.
"Oh! Oh! The look on your face! When he said he was just a delivery boy!"
"Oh, shut it, Sal. You know that was an honest mistake!"
"I think you've been alone for a bit too long, Em! Perhaps you should think about going out with the man who sent those flowers to you! Instead of trying to rob the cradle with boys like *Dylan*!" Sally said, making sure that Dylan's name was said as lovey-dovey as she could say it before she burst into another wave of laughter.
"Alright, enough laughing at my expense. Who sent these flowers anyways?" Maria asked, taking a look at the card in the bouquet. It read:
You may have never seen me, but I have seen you. I am certain that you are the one. Every day, I watch as you leave your house, and take a stroll along the beach. I have long wanted to say something, but been too afraid of the possibility that you may say no. But at long last I have worked up the nerve to profess my feelings... even if it is in the hands of a person too young to truly understand. I hope that tomorrow, you will meet me at the shore, and that we shall find love, together. Sincerely, Ruben."Ruben? My, my! Sounds like you may have struck gold, Em!" Sally said with a smile on her face.
"Well, I don't know. I don't recall seeing anybody during my morning walks. But my eyes aren't what they used to be, so maybe he was there and I just didn't see him." Maria replied, feeling a bit confused.
"Well, I'm happy to hear that you may be getting that birthday wish you had."
"Which one is that now?"
"Why, the one that you had every year since you were 30! To finally find a man to settle down with!"
After they partied for a little while, indoors and with a game of dominos and a glass of wine each, Sally went back to her place to check on Ben. As Maria said her goodbyes, she was wished good luck on the "date". Naturally, Maria couldn't help but chuckle. Sally always did have a good sense of humor about things.
The following day, Maria prepared herself to meet the mystery man who had sent her some very nice flowers accompanied by Dylan and that song. While she was getting ready, she suddenly realized that she hadn't found out if that was a song Dylan had wrote, or something by her mystery man.
Thinking about it, she was certain the man must have wrote it. Otherwise, it probably wouldn't have specifically mentioned seeing her on the beach everyday, right?
Arriving on the beach, Maria was approached by a quite handsome and distinguished looking gentleman.
Before she even had a chance to say anything, Ruben was already on one knee. He opened the ring case, and proposed.
The whole thing happened so fast Maria couldn't process everything at once.
She had slapped him for proposing so soon, but then after they spent time together for a few months, it was just absolutely clear that it was meant to be. And so, when he proposed again, Maria eagerly accepted his proposal.
The first year just flew by, and before she knew it, it was the one year anniversary of her marriage with Ruben. But this day was something special. Special, and also, very, very wrong.
"Ruben. Ruben, wake up dear. Ruben! Oh... oh no! Ruben, come on! Don't do this to me! Ruben! Wake up! Oh, God. ... Hello? Yes, my husband... he's not responding, he feels a bit cold to the touch and he's not breathing! Yes, I know CPR. Please hurry! It's 1524 Crestcove! Please, you have to help me!"
A week later, Sally held Maria in an embrace, trying to comfort her... but the tears wouldn't stop, and the warmth of Sally's cloak did little to warm Maria's heart.
"It's too soon. It's not fair." Maria sobbed, as the service, now over, began to disperse, and the coffin was lowered into the grave.
"I know, Em. I know. After all that time, and then this. But you still have me, just like before."
"It's just not the same! I can't take it anymore!" Maria yelled, her words coming out of her mouth like a frenzied cry. "Why now? Why him?"
"We can't know the answer to those things, Em." Sally said, and though she wanted to say something more to comfort her hurting friend, she was at a loss for words. What, if anything, could she say to heal the hurt that Maria was feeling? So, for lack of anything to say, Sally simply stayed by her side, and did what she could to catch the tears that fell from her friend's face as they overflowed from her broken heart.
It wasn't long after that, Maria also passed on. Many thought that age had simply gotten to her,
but Sally, and a few others close to Maria, knew that she had just lost the will to live. She had died of a broken heart.
Sally was in charge of writing the obituary for her friend. It was the most painful thing she had ever had to do for Maria. So, because of her deep affection for her life-long friend, she wrote the story.
Maria of Calentro, 80, went on to be with her beloved Ruben on August 6th. She is survived by her brother, James, her niece Francis, Francis' children and beloved grandnephews Justin and Bobby, and many other friends and loved ones. She always had a zeal for life, even as she neared the end of it, but nothing brought her more joy than when she met Ruben. Their whirlwind romance ended abruptly a year after their marriage began. Truly, Maria was anxious to see him again. Although she will be sorely missed, the memories of all the time spent with her will surely live on in our hearts. Her favorite quote was "keep looking up, because that's where it all is". She would want to remind all her loved ones that even though times may seem bleak, by looking up, and moving forward, they honor her memory.
Thursday, March 21, 2013
The state of affairs
So, I realize that I have been relatively silent about my life recently.
So, here is a quick update about what is happening:
Life is never easy, but trying to balance the most upper level classes required for graduation with all the other obligations I have in my life has been madness. I am glad it's only undergrad classes.
I'm working two jobs, only one of which actually pays me right now.
I am still single, too. This is a highly confusing and frustrating phenomenon to me.
I am often told that my physical appearance has no bearing on it, but I find that difficult to believe at best.
On the other hand, I have recently been fortunate enough to forge a new friendship which has already greatly assisted me in being able to cope with, what I feel has been, a rather mediocre hand dealt to me by life.
As usual, the relationship I have with my step-father is tenuous at best. The fact is, he has repeatedly and maliciously hurt me (emotionally) in the past. While I am quick to forgive (and I have forgiven him), I also do not respect him, and I only trust him to a very limited extent.
He lost my trust when, as a parent, he shirked his responsibilities multiple times and then attempted to place the blame on me.
He lost my respect when, in addition to the above, he has treated me with an occasionally subtle disdain, and passive-aggressive attitude that clearly indicates that he cares more about being "right" than he cares about me.
Since he has not earned any more trust or respect, any interactions between us have been (on my end) a grinding, painful, unpleasant experience.
In other areas, I am quite upset. I can't seem to find a good balance of my time expenditure.
I have heard little from my closest friend, and it has been a turbulent time of late.
Were I asked to choose a word (a single word) to effectively communicate the feelings I have been experiencing lately, it would be impatience.
I am losing patience in many areas. I am having a harder time holding my tongue against my pet peeves. I am becoming increasingly irate at the level of stress that I have been cornered into. Most of all, I am tired of both directly and indirectly being told that I am not worthy of having a romantic interest/life.
What is just so wrong with me that I am not good enough for that?
Why am I left sitting on the sidelines?
Life is hard. Everyone knows it. It's already hard enough for the average person... and I am left here with such a heavy additional burden. It just doesn't feel fair. I'd be angry, if I weren't so sad that I wish I could just abandon it all. Wish that someone would look at me and really SEE ME for once. Wish that the days could pass just a little faster so that this suffering would end sooner.
Ok, so it gets better, they say. But they often fail to mention how every STUPID DAY until then is a complete nightmare, and total disaster. But this is *my* burden, so I really shouldn't complain about it. So, somewhere inside me, it gets bottled up. Locked away so deep inside me that even I cannot reach it most of the time. And why? Not because it doesn't bother me. Not because I don't realize what a joke I seem to be to the world, the people around me, whatever. Not even because I am gradually thinking things are getting better, or because I remind myself that chances are that things won't always be this bad. No, the reason I do it is because I am expected to be okay. I am required (as if part of some sick cosmic joke) to keep going on.
So, that's life. I'm dealing with it because it has been foisted upon me like an unwanted present being regifted.
So, here is a quick update about what is happening:
Life is never easy, but trying to balance the most upper level classes required for graduation with all the other obligations I have in my life has been madness. I am glad it's only undergrad classes.
I'm working two jobs, only one of which actually pays me right now.
I am still single, too. This is a highly confusing and frustrating phenomenon to me.
I am often told that my physical appearance has no bearing on it, but I find that difficult to believe at best.
On the other hand, I have recently been fortunate enough to forge a new friendship which has already greatly assisted me in being able to cope with, what I feel has been, a rather mediocre hand dealt to me by life.
As usual, the relationship I have with my step-father is tenuous at best. The fact is, he has repeatedly and maliciously hurt me (emotionally) in the past. While I am quick to forgive (and I have forgiven him), I also do not respect him, and I only trust him to a very limited extent.
He lost my trust when, as a parent, he shirked his responsibilities multiple times and then attempted to place the blame on me.
He lost my respect when, in addition to the above, he has treated me with an occasionally subtle disdain, and passive-aggressive attitude that clearly indicates that he cares more about being "right" than he cares about me.
Since he has not earned any more trust or respect, any interactions between us have been (on my end) a grinding, painful, unpleasant experience.
In other areas, I am quite upset. I can't seem to find a good balance of my time expenditure.
I have heard little from my closest friend, and it has been a turbulent time of late.
Were I asked to choose a word (a single word) to effectively communicate the feelings I have been experiencing lately, it would be impatience.
I am losing patience in many areas. I am having a harder time holding my tongue against my pet peeves. I am becoming increasingly irate at the level of stress that I have been cornered into. Most of all, I am tired of both directly and indirectly being told that I am not worthy of having a romantic interest/life.
What is just so wrong with me that I am not good enough for that?
Why am I left sitting on the sidelines?
Life is hard. Everyone knows it. It's already hard enough for the average person... and I am left here with such a heavy additional burden. It just doesn't feel fair. I'd be angry, if I weren't so sad that I wish I could just abandon it all. Wish that someone would look at me and really SEE ME for once. Wish that the days could pass just a little faster so that this suffering would end sooner.
Ok, so it gets better, they say. But they often fail to mention how every STUPID DAY until then is a complete nightmare, and total disaster. But this is *my* burden, so I really shouldn't complain about it. So, somewhere inside me, it gets bottled up. Locked away so deep inside me that even I cannot reach it most of the time. And why? Not because it doesn't bother me. Not because I don't realize what a joke I seem to be to the world, the people around me, whatever. Not even because I am gradually thinking things are getting better, or because I remind myself that chances are that things won't always be this bad. No, the reason I do it is because I am expected to be okay. I am required (as if part of some sick cosmic joke) to keep going on.
So, that's life. I'm dealing with it because it has been foisted upon me like an unwanted present being regifted.
Monday, February 4, 2013
Pokémon- the infernal glitch (Part 4)
As Yellow left the Pokémon center, his C-gear rang.
"Hello, this is Yellow."
"Hello, son! As you know, I've been holding onto your money for you while you were gone..."
"What? Again, mother? I thought I told you to deposit it in the bank!"
"Anyway, I just thought I would let you know, I went on a shopping spree, but I kinda did it with your money..."
"Aww, man! Not AGAIN!"
"But while I was at the store, I saw eight raffle booths..."
"Wait, you went all the way to Join Avenue just to shop!?" Yellow said, astonished by the expense of such a trip.
"And I won a prize! Well, actually, I won more than one prize. But I thought I'd let you have one."
"Mom! You know I can't afford to have you jaunting off to wherever you want to go shopping..."
"So, I've sent it to you. There should be a courier arriving there soon with your Master Ball."
"Wait. What? They were giving away Master Balls?"
"I love you son, remember to play nice!"
"Wait, mom! Promise me you're not going to just" Yellow started, but his mother had already disconnected.
A very fat man riding a very small bike suddenly turned a corner, and came to a stop in front of Yellow. He was soaked in sweat, and wearing a yellow shirt... that was obviously meant to be white (but wasn't anymore).
"Excuse me, sir? Are you Yellow?" The man asked, in a voice that was tiny and squeaky. It was the saddest sight Yellow had ever seen.
"Uh... yeah, that's me." Yellow replied, feeling really awkward about the whole interaction, and desperately wanting to run away at full speed.
"This package is for you, then." The man said as he rummaged around the inside of his pants in the back. The mental imagery Yellow conjured at that time nearly made him want to reject the package on principle alone. The courier then produced a fanny pack in the most garish of pink, green, and yellow, from which he then produced a nicely wrapped white box with a dark blue ribbon.
"Thanks, now get lost." Yellow said, accepting the package. The courier frowned, but nodded his head as if he had been told the same thing by everybody he had ever delivered to before. Then, with the silent dignity of a circus clown, he pedaled his tiny bike away.
Yellow would have laughed at the strangeness of the sight he has just beheld if it weren't so incredibly eerie and sad.
"It's funny because it's sad. And... it's sad because it's true." Yellow cringed, "I swear, mom, sometimes, I wonder what goes on in that head of yours."
Opening the box, Yellow found a well-polished Master Ball, and a note which read:
"Elite Four Training! Have all the badges you need to face the Elite Four, but uncertain that you can make it? Worried that Victory Road is too dark for you to train inside? Then come to our training center! Many top-tier trainers with badges from ALL REGIONS! Test your mettle, and train to your heart's content!"
On the back of the note was a map. This "training center" was pretty far from Yellow's location. Knowing that there was only one option, Yellow went to a nearby tree and threw a Nest Ball at a sleeping Pidgey. It looked newborn, but was asleep. It was an easy capture, and as the last wiggle settled the ball, it fell from the tree, allowing Yellow to retrieve it easily.
Throwing the ball, Yellow immediately called upon Pidgey.
"Wake up, you lazy bird!" He said loudly, scaring the Pidgey rather thoroughly. "It's time to learn how to fly!" Yellow pulled out the FLY HM, and attempted to shove the CD down the baby Pidgey's throat. It looked uncomfortable. Then, Yellow remembered he had to use it to hypnotize the Pidgey into knowing it... so he tried that instead. It worked! The Pidgey suddenly knew how to lift off the ground and fly around.
"TO NARNIA!" Yellow yelled, as he callously jumped upon the back of the Pidgey, and insisted that it fly him and all his equipment several hundred miles by itself to the destination city he had chosen.
Arriving a few minutes later, Pidgey died. Yellow didn't care. To him, Pidgeys were "one-shot Pokémon" anyway. It had served its purpose. It flew. Yellow kicked in the door and announced his arrival at the Elite Four Training center.
His initial reaction was one of confusion. Sitting in front of him were about 20 people all drinking tea and playing Mahjong. His second reaction was one of embarassment, realizing that he had kicked in the door to the retirement home that was on the first floor. Apparently the battle area was upstairs.
Yellow thought about the situation, and came to a clear plan. He waited for the next person to come down the stairs outside from their training. He was curious why it was taking so long, but as the sun began to set, a young boy came out the door and rushed down the stairs. Yellow tripped him as he passed. Then he helped the boy up, stealing all the badges he had in the process.
"Problem solved!" Yellow claimed. He laughed to himself about how he hadn't thought of it earlier. The easiest way to get the badges back was to just take them from other trainers. The young boy didn't even notice his badges were gone. He just left in a hurry.
Things were looking easier and easier for Yellow. Sure, it was a bit rude, but he wasn't concerned. After all, this was all that Blue's fault. He had done something, and Yellow was determined to make Blue pay for cheating!
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