Friday, November 30, 2012

The NaNoing: The End

50,022 words.  Done, done, and doner.  My story ended up wrapping up nicely as well.

Wednesday, November 28, 2012

The NaNoing: Day 27

46,666 words done!  Yes, it's a very specific number.  I promised an excerpt, so here we are.  As usual, completely unedited.

“The White Forest?” Benedict said. They had met back at the house and had told Benedict what the Arcanists had told them.
“Yes,” Abigail said.
“Well I suppose you should go, then. Be careful. You should get going immediately, I’ll make you some food.”
“Perhaps we could request some help from the Inquisition?” Abigail said.
“Yeah, they don’t like me, but I doubt thye could justify not helping me,” ROland said.
“NO!” Benedict shouted. “No... I told you the Inquisition can’t be trusted. My investigations are making me more suspicious of them than ever. DO NOT TELL THEM ANYTHING.”
“Well...” Roland said nervously. “Into the White Forest alone.”
“Well, not alone,” Abigail said.
“Right, sorry. What I mean was defenseless.”
By this point Benedict had left the room.
Roland looked around quickly. “Abigail,” he said, “Benedict is... making me a little nervous. His behaviour oesn’t seem like a good idea.”
“He’s just... he’s just emotionally invested. That’s all it is. Emotionally invested.”
“...If you say so, but I-”
Benedict burst back into the room carrying two backpacks. “Good news!” he said jovially, “I found some spare packs to carry your stuff!”
“Yay...” Roland said wanly.
He handed the packs to Roland and Abigail and then effectively pushed them out the door.
“Well,” Abigail said, “Putting on her pack. The White Forest.”
“The White Forest,” Roland said. “Funny that it’s coming back to the White Forest again. I’m getting the feeling we’ll discover something important in there.”
“Or die.”
“Or die.”
“LEt’s go.”
They walked out of the city, in the opposite direction of the docks. There was no gate around the city, the Red River on one side and the White Forest on the other provided enough protection. The buildings simply became smaller and smaller and t hen... stopped. It was about mid day.
They stepped onto the grass where the cobblestone path out of the city stopped. Ahead of them only a shrot distance was the forest.
“I don’t, uh, suppose you’ve ever been inside?” Roland said.
“Of course not,” Abigail said, “No one is allowed free pass in the White Forest.”
“Because it’s dangerous.”
“Yes, so they say.”
“You don’t believe them?”
“Well, it is a forest, but why would it be more dangerous than any other?”
“Strange creatures? Fae?”
“Perhaps, =but then why have we never seen themm. It’s right nect to the city. No, I think the Council knows the there are valuable things in the White Forest, abd they want to keep us from them.”
“How optimisti. Are you just saying that so you’re not nervous about being eaten by monsters?”
“Possibly. Let’s go.”
They stepped up to the forest. The trees were, of course, white. Thin and towering, with white, and orange, and green leaves. It looked dark inside.
Roland pulled up another ball of light, and they stepped in.
It was hard going. There was no path, simply lots of undergrowth and bramble.
“How could they get a caravan though tthis?” Roland said.
“It’s enchanted, presumably,” Abigail said, “Perhaps it floats.”
Roland looked over at Abigail and noticed that today she was wearing simple pants and shirts, as opposed to her usual regal dressed. Good choice.
Finally, they started to beat their way throug the brambles, Roland hacking with his sword, and seemed to see a place ahead with less in the way. They tried to make their way towards it.
As they stepped into the clearing, the whole clearing suddenly lit up with a bright blue light, and Roland’s light went out. The light appeared to be coming from the large mushrooms surrounding the clearing.
“Wow,” Roland said, examining one of the mushrooms. He poked it and it wobbled friendlyly. The mushroom continued to wobble back and forth and spin.
“Roland,” Abigail said, “Are the lights over there... spinning?”
Roland stood up. “Yeah, are they-” But he stopped as he saw they indeed were. The lights were spinning rapidly, faster and faster, around and around and around and around and around and around and around adna around.

Roland closed his eyes.

When Roland opened his eyes, it was dark. He couldn’t see anything. He tried to summon up a light, but nothing happened. He stood up. But he was already standing up. He looked around.

Black. Black. BlACK.

Roland heard something, a scrabbling, up down left right. He looked around          up down left right.
He heard the scrabbling again
       up down left right

Roland saw something moving
for some reason, Roland could only see the
f e e t
                         The ankles disappeare dinto dark ness
darkness the ankles disappeared into.
He heard a           GENTLE
a            gigglekind


But he
      began to
see more
      light moved
up the
He could see the clothes
The arns
 the stomach
   the neck
                                  the face
the... face
                      THE FACE
there was something

Roland looked at his mother and the world around him seemed to resolve. He was standing in a fine house he did not recognize. It looked middle high class. Certainly better than how they had actually lived. His mother was wearing a beautiful dress of white, red, and green.

Sunday, November 25, 2012

The NaNoing: Day 25

So.  I, uh, kinda forgot I was supposed to be updating this here blog with NaNo progress.  Sorry about that.  Currently at 41,670 words.  I think I'll probably go over though, at least how I'm currently seeing my story end up.  Could change, you never know.


“Oh, they are. They are turhleess, cold, calculating, cruel, and other things thet beging with c and are disparaging. Wait, I didn’t mean for that to sound like thjat START THIS SENTENCE OVER.”

Yeah, so I started writing this sentence, knew it was stupid halfway through, but didn't mean for it to end up accidentally offensive. So yeah. Also spelling errors, but whatever.

"An ancient, fowl race. Similar to us, but far fowler."

Oh homophones, where would I be without you to confuse my brain? Also: Redundancy!

“Surely we could at least use the seers?” andraoma said. [Ugh headace, here’s what that line should actually say because I don’t feel like rewriting it:] “Surely we could at least scry for her friend?”

Writing when sick: Always good for a few extra words.

“Good. Abigael, we are the council of sex."

Oh what a difference one letter makes. It was supposed to be the council of six!

I shall post an excerpt on the morrow!

Wednesday, November 21, 2012

Album Review: Peter Gabriel: OVO

Gabriel-era Genesis is one of my favorite bands.  They're just so full of awesome songs (also ridiculous outfits).  That being said, I'm a fairly casual Peter Gabriel fan.  I like his first album, and then basically a few songs from most of his albums after that.  Still, there's this one album of his that could use a bit more consideration.  That album is OVO.  No, not an owl smiley, but as in eggs.  Okay, so the genesis (har har) of this album is a little unusual.

Thursday, November 15, 2012

You Should Probably Play This: The Journey Down - Part 1: Over The Edge

You Should Probably Play This is my positive review column. In it, I'll review a game that I think needs more attention. It may be an obscure oldie, something that was released recently with little fanfare, or something that was badly received on release but has since been made better. This time: Here be Jamaicans.

Go here if you want to listen to the music, it's not on YouTube.

An adventure game?  Heavily stylized 3D graphics over 2D backgrounds?  Jazzy music?  A thematic world based on the traditions of one culture?  A main character with an unexplained marking on his head?  That's right, it's Grim Fandango The Journey Down!

Friday, November 9, 2012

The NaNoing: Week 1 (or so)

9 days now, up to 15,400 words, which is slightly ahead (goal for today if 15,000).  No particularly goofy typos this time around, so!  Excerpt!  Again, totally unedited.

Saturday, November 3, 2012

The NaNoing: Day 2&3

Hey all.  Forgot to post yesterday, but I don't really plan on posting every day in any case.  Only when I have some interesting stuff saved up.  Up to 5,078 words now, right on track.  Day 3 went smoothly, but Day 2...  Well, my fingers sort of dissolved into paste (not literally.  No finger injury, just lots of typos).  Some NaNoisms:

"He wondered what Marilyn would think f fthat. ProbABLY MAKE SOME snarky omment"
I hate how the capslock button is right next to A.  Why can't it be somewhere else?  Like across the room?  Also: Typos.

"And how do you even know what I’m a suspect?”
This is a small one, but I find it amusing that Roland appears to have suddenly become cockney.

"Taking a deep breath, ROland entered the small receeded... Sunken door thingy that served as an entrance to the warehouse."
So you know how sometimes you have stairs down right in front of a storefront so the store is sort of underground?  That's what I was thinking of.  Far from the worst description fail I've made in NaNo (two years ago describing the Oval Office as "ovacular", and last year describing the sun beating down as, "Like an abusive father with a baseball bat").

"Roland groanded for the thousandth time today (seriously Roland, I know your situation sucks, but stop grumbling)"
One thing I do a lot in NaNo is leave little notes to myself.  Editing during NaNo is bad, but sometimes I want to specifically mark a part I want to come back to afterwards.  Sometimes these notes get kind of derisive, though.  Also: groanded.

"As far as slums and back alleys went, Hadrian’s turf was decent. After all. Hadrian was classy. There was hardly any trast, and the only gangs that roamed the steets were those approved by Hadianvfna’lkrv,ved,..."
Another common NaNo thing.  My fingers refused to type Hadrian for the thousdanth time, so I just kind of ended up randomly hitting keys before moving on.

These were all from Day 2, Day 3 went much more smoothly, quality-wise and plot-wise.

Friday, November 2, 2012

The NaNoing: Day 1

So, day 1 of NaNoWriMo is now over!  Went pretty smoothly for me, nothing much to note, so this is going to be a pretty dull log.  Wrote 1,701 words out of the 1,667 goal, I'm gonna try and get ahead by at least 1,000 tomorrow.  So, uh, yeah.  I've honestly not got much else to say...  Have an excerpt!  And keep in mind all excerpts I post will be entirely unedited!  Wee!

There was a figure on the side of the clock tower. Dressed in black and grey, a stark disguise to blend in with the great clock. But there was more to the tower than the clock, and the figure had no particular interest in the time of night. No, there was a much more tantalizing plum for the spooks and ghosts who dwell in the shadows of the city. Tonight, in the ballroom, the Baroness was having a grand masquerade ball. All of the city’s most important people would be there, and a noble and his jewelry are easily parted.

This was something not entirely lost on Roland Denholm, as he entered the tower through the ground floor. Roland knew he wasn’t exactly top-class material, the king of thieves he was not, but even a petty Spook with marginal Talent could likely make away with an easy catch or two from a ball like this. And it was a masquerade ball, Roland thought, which means everyone would be wearing masks, so he didn’t even have to bother with a disguise. Well, except to try to make himself look presentable so he’d actually get let in. Roland grinned to himself as he thought this, he did always say he’d clean up nicely. Indeed, he’d managed to find a discarded old suit that fit him well, and he was able to wash his scraggly hair in the bursting banks of the Red River. Handily equipped with a mask he’d taken from a preemptively drunk aristocrat, Roland felt he could pull off the noble look pretty well. Granted, a two-bit noble, probably on the last rung of the hierarchy, but as long as he got let in. The smell, however, was a different issue... Of course, he’d only have to get close to people in order to take their belongings, so Roland personally felt it was a moot point. And he wasn’t about to go out of his way to fully clean himself anyway. So Roland, dressed as presentably as he could possibly manage, entered into the ground floor of the clock tower. Spying a group of chittering aristocrats, mostly women, he quickly stepped over to them and wedged himself into the middle of the crowd. They paid him no heed, barely noticed him. Roland was used to not being noticed, it was a blessing in his line of work, but it did feel like a bit of an affront in this case. All the work he’d spent dressing up and no one even noticed him.