Category Archives: Writing

Ephemeral

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Woah double back
I flip through the pages
I turn them back
I think I missed the best part

Woah no turn around
I’m going way too fast
My stamina won’t last
Spirit is fading fast.

Oh come on, just now what?
You say I missed a spot?
How could I when it’s one big grey blot?
I’m not catastrophising.

Just how can I be like that
When I’m fading so fast
I’m here for now but stay I’ll not.
I am accelerating.

I am emphreal.

 

The World Ends With You

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My favorite video game is probably The World Ends With You. One week ago a remake/port was released on the Iphone and Ipad (Not Ipod unless you hack, and then I hear it’s buggy…)

Last month I had a post about video games as story telling. The story of this game was what resonated with me. It perfectly matches my philosophy: while we can never know another person, we can try, and the only way to explore more of our world is to talk to other people and open up to them. Just because someone’s views are different from yours, it doesn’t mean you have to accept them, but by listening you only gain. The world we have is very small, unless we have other people bringing their individuality and insight into our lives. The game follows an anti-social kid who realizes all of this through all sorts of crazy-ness too insane to actually go into on this blog.

The philosophy in this game is beyond a simple moral. It’s a way to live your life.

If you haven’t played this, play it. The new version is pretty impressive. The message remains the same and just as outstanding as before. There may be another game or some DLC content on the way apparently, but if it’s a sequel it has a lot to live up to, not just gameplay-wise but story and message wise.

Grounded Nature

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Every now and then I forget why I’m here. Nothing can matter if you have no fears. Anytime I feel the earth under my feet, I’m reminded of grounded nature. The sound and the beats of leafs. The hum and whistle-whir of engines in the street. The daily meet and greet of walking-onward’s. Burn it use it but never waste it. Too many do; I walk in the forest instead. Connected through my limbs to the ground and transcending with sight beyond bounds. I discard thoughts of absolution. I will never find solace in retribution. Yet, I may find resolution here. Down and ground and twists and earth-made-rock-steps traversed only by large bounds, upside down, hanging without a sound the pale oak-cast shadows that drown, over the lake that speaks in tongues which confound those who never look around.

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Video games as a storytelling medium

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A really longtime pet peeve of mine are people who dis video games for being video games. Sure, many have violence, poor representation of women, graphic content, illegal substances ect., but what doesn’t? Many books, music, and movies all have that too! This all easily leads to a question. Why are video games singled out?

Most people answer by saying it’s the interactive element. That can’t be right. When watching a horror movie our hearts race and when we read a sad story we feel the emotions of the characters. Everything is interactive. I think it’s because video games are newer. Eventually, I hope they will be accepted as what they should be, another storytelling medium.

I’m not talking about Pong or (most) other sports games when I say that (Pong is totally a sports game. It’s table tennis! That’s an olympic sport!). But just about every other genre has stories. Shooter games have stories. Action games have stories. Perhaps the largest, most expansive stories are found in Role Playing Games. Most good RPG’s are essentially fantasy novels in another format.

Over at Artix.com (the homepage for my favorite indie game company) a few weeks ago Artix posted a PDF of a guide for creating game worlds and quests. This is incredibly similar to a guide one would use for writing a story. Why? Because it’s the same idea. What is the goal of the character(s)? What adversity will he or she face? What are their motivations for success? Video games have just as much merit as other storytelling!

And that concludes my rant of what was on my mind.

That Darn Baseball Bat

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A silly, nonsensical Projection on Paper story

That darn baseball bat. The one over the mantel. Yeah, the one dad died over and mom lived over.

It was forty years ago when that fire broke out at the baseball emporium downtown. Dad couldn’t really think too straight back then, either. See, there was the fire, and he got stuck. A “baseball player” saved him. Smacked the wood beam he was stuck under clear in half and pulled him to safety. Smacked it with that darn baseball bat. Ten years later, I was born. Dad had kept the bat that had saved his life. The darn one. He had even started a collection of bats. That made us poor. Then it became things that were not baseball bats, but could be used as one. It was a huge collection. I started selling them under his nose; we were broke and needed food. But it didn’t matter how many I sold. Dad never noticed and he just kept buying more and more of them. Mom got sick. She was going to die. I tried to sell the darn one, the darn baseball bat. Now that he noticed. That one sent him into a rage when he saw it was missing.

And his heart broke down.

Empathy

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Twisting, diving, spinning and turning. Watching the flow drift and soar, weaving patterns of worlds up in the air. Energy that warps, bends, has no end. Like a lucid dream that never wakes. Water silently roaring, cascading down, falling into the deep abyss below.

Under the earth where the water falls is a lake of emotion. The limestone walls are of lies and pains. It flows into a steam of time through the tunnels of direction. Sight leads to the left and an endless fall. Collapse. The right leads past the walls and outside, and can only be traversed with word. Empathy.

Outside the trees grow tall, the energy spirals and the stream flows between them all, into another lake. Ripples form on the surface and meet. Scatter. Converge. Waters meet as one lake, one mind. Time ends. The winds pick up suddenly. A storm carries droplets into the grass where they sink back down into the earth. Cycle.