Balls Continued

When last we met our fearless heroes they were balanced on an impractically placed ship. They were also letting some mysterious pirate captain get the better of them. However, one name seemed curiously absent from this encounter.

Our eponymous bard appears to have sat this little adventure out. I wonder what he could be getting himself involved in...

---------------Break ---------------

“I just don’t know where I see this going.”

“Don’t worry, I’m sure they’ll be here. They’re only two days late.”

“I don’t mean that,” Aliessa sighed. “Have you not been listening to me at all?”

“Weren’t you saying how annoyed you were that the others weren’t here and how you couldn’t wait anymore?” Derrek asked.

He looked past the irritated woman, eyeing the man climbing upon the stage with suspicion. Aliesse leaned back into his vision, expectation written all over her face.

Derrek regarded her politely.

“Yes?”

“Do you even remember what day this is?”

“The Seventh of Wintermarch according to the Aretessian Calendar, also known as Trolfynnan Day in honour of the Corindian god of flutes, whistles and general drunken revelry. It is the day that many bard colleges decide to hold a festival in his honour and to test the mettle of all registered minstrels through challenges of skill, knowledge and trivial uselessness.”

“… and our anniversary?”

“Yeah… that too.”

Aliessa sighed, crossing her arms over her chest. Her exaggerated attempt at agitation caused her nestled newt to scamper from his perch upon her wrist and seek refuge beneath the slip of her shoulder strap.

The young woman of elongated delicateness wore a shimmering dress of shifting emerald and turquoise scales that appeared almost as if it were fashioned from the skin of some exotic beast. Her hair had been gathered amongst several colourful wooden pegs in which her pet snake had wound herself amongst like a long streak of cardinal highlight in her chestnut hair festooned with soft pink petals.

She had even worn delicate shoes that appeared as if they had been fashioned from the very element of ice and exposed carefully painted toes that seemed to refract into a rainbow of colour within her footwear. Not that Derrek could see this as her cat had curled upon her feet to nap as the evening progressed.

All in all, the girl was woefully overdressed for the establishment she currently occupied. Upon her arrival, all the patrons had turned to ogle in their muddied and tattered leathers and cottons. It was perhaps the long, curious staff that kept them mostly at bay. The curving fingers of the top seeming to trap an ever shifting eye within that maintained a wary, unblinking stare at anyone that showed too much interest.

The woman sighed, reaching for her drink. From beneath the table sprung a small ferret that bounced across and pushed her cup to her outstretched fingers.

But Derrek didn’t care. It was the man that was standing upon the stage, shouting at one of the audience before him and gesticulating wildly towards that chair that drew his attention.

“You know,” Aliessa said, setting down her cup, “when your friends had set off on their quest, I thought this would have given us the perfect opportunity to spend some time alone. It seems I’ve hardly seen you since you’ve been tromping off across the countryside for what seems like years now.”

“Mhmm.”

“And when you said that this weekend was going to be special I thought you had taken the time to arrange something pleasant for the occasion.”

“Yeah.”

“And instead you dragged me to the Copper Laurel and haven’t even said a word to me since entering the door.”

“Sure.”

“By the blistering winds of Arcadia! WILL YOU PAY ATTENTION!”

Aliessa slammed her hand upon the table, causing the cups to jump and spill their contents across the stained top. A small dish of nuts spun, tipping the food upon the dirty floor before immediately being beset by the ferret.

All the present eyes turned to the couple, save one pair. Derrek still looked warily upon the man at the stage, wrestling the stool from the distracted patron.  

“I don’t mean to interrupt,” the man called, his voice high and screeching like someone scrapping their fingernails over Derrek’s eardrums, “but I’m trying to put a show on here!”

“I’m sorry,” Derrek said, finally blinking. “Was there something you said?”

Aliessa stood, a small gerbil tumbling from the folds of her dress.

“I’m going to use the chute.”

She stomped away, pursued quickly by her mini-menagerie.

Derrek merely motioned for more mead and kept a cold stare towards the fat man now fixing himself upon the stool.  

“Right. Let’s get this start. So an ugly orc walks into a bar, right? And he’s got this parrot on his shoulder. Well, the bartender takes one look at that parrot and his eyes get real big. Then he’s all like ‘that’s pretty neat, where did you get it?’

“’In a cave!’”

The man gave a terrific squawk and fluttered his arms in mimicry of the colourful animal. The great rolls of his arms, squeezed out of the pressed but stained white shirt, flopped wildly about as he gestured. But only dead silence greeted his performance. Derrek merely shook his head.

“Guess I’ll have to explain it later,” the man called. He shrugged, picking up his lute and plucking at the strings a couple of times. Derrek could already tell the instrument was out of tune, but the man made no effort to fix it. Instead, he broke immediately into the Ballad of Baronug Crossing, his straining voice belting out the lyrics raucously over his hamstrung cords.  

It was a painful experience, made even more intense by the slowly built clapping from the crowd. By the final stanza, they were cheering and singing along with the tune, mindless of the creatively void performance. At last, the song came to an end to mediocre applause and a few celebratory coins before the bard stood, kicking the stool to the ground and boldly striding down the steps.

He took enough time to smile and chat with a few passing patrons before making a beeline towards Derrek.

“Ah, friend, long time no see! How long has it been since the mighty Derrek Gungrik graced this fair city? I hardly recognized you earlier.”

“Alec Carver, still training in the practice of the lute I see?”

“Haha! I am a graduated master!” the fat man laughed, slapping Derrek upon the back. “I do hope that my performance hasn’t dissuaded you from joining in with the festivities.”

“I don’t know, I wouldn’t want to overshadow you once again. I mean, there’s only so long people can put up with your music once they actually hear talent.”

“Aha! Indeed! I’m so glad to hear that your lengthy exile hasn’t softened that wit of yours. I suppose you couldn’t enter the competition seeing that you are not a registered minstrel. Pity.”

“Don’t worry, I wouldn’t want to reveal you for the fraud that you are.”

“Ha, you wish, dunderic. But I see your date has decided to come back for some reason.”

Aliessa returned slowly to the table, eyeing Alec carefully.  

“My lady! Still treating with second rate, two bit musicians after all these years.”

“Good to see you too Carver,” Aliessa smiled.

“I suppose that university of yours never found a cure for your unfortunate condition then?”

Aliessa merely crossed her arms.

“There is nothing wrong with me.”

“The lady doth still protest,” Alec smiled. “A pity too, you would be quite beautiful if you ever got that seen to.”

“Careful Carver. Don’t forget, should I desire, I could always turn you into the toad that you are.”

“But you couldn’t transform yourself into a maiden? Hoho, you pair are a real laugh. Good luck with the challenge, Drek, it’ll take more than miss fancy fingers to get you past the preliminaries.”

Alec turned, giving a carefree wave as he walked out. Aliessa turned to Derrek, her cross expression never changing.

“The Challenge? You had no intention of celebrating our anniversary, did you?”

“You know how much this means,” Derrek said. “The winner of the Challenge receives the title of Seeker of the Cord!”

“I don’t care about your silly titles.”

“Title! Seeker is more than just a title. If I received it, they would be clamouring for my plays from her to the Boiling Sea! Derrek Gungrik would be a household name. People would start appreciating my unique melodies.”

“Fine!” Aliessa cried, reaching for her bag. “You do what you think is most important and seek this stupid title.”

“Where are you going?”

Aliessa shook her head as she stomped away, her cat and ferret bouncing after her.

“Aren’t you going to wait for the others to return!” Derrek called.

“They can find me at the Academy!” Aliessa shouted, slamming the door as she left. Derrek leaned back in his chair, looking at the half finished mead.

“If I knew she didn’t want to wait, I could have spent my time registering,” he grumbled. He turned to watch the next performer to take the stage. At the very least he could continue to scope the competition until his drinks were done.

Christmas Boo Hoos

It occurs to me that posting one day of my travel journal might be a little cruel since I tend to get in adventures that last more than one day. It also occurred to me that posting these might be a bad idea since I've never even spell checked them.

Let alone looked them over for anything embarrassing.

But despite these issues, I've decided to throw up day two of my adventures at Yakushima.

Day 2 – The Fun Never Stops

I woke up early (7:30) and was out of the hostel by 8:00. I decided to take a casual stroll down to the pier since I wouldn’t have any real time to spend in Kagoshima. Along the main road, the city had erected innumerous statues and plaques commemorating the important historical events that happened in the city. Most of it centered around the Meiji Restoration. For those of you not fluent in Japanese history, this was about the 1800s, when the Japanese Shogunate abruptly came to an end and a new monarchial parliament was put into place.

When I arrived at the pier I took a few pictures of Sakurajima – the volcanic island that never stops smoking. Once I gave up on trying to get something decent I strolled into the ferry office to discover it had left at 8:30.

Frantic, I confirmed that my ticket was still valid for tomorrow then meandered back to the inhospitable hostel trying to figure out what I would do in the city I had completely written off. I also worried about my hostel bookings in Yakushima and how well I would be able to change them.

Course, I stepped into the hostel and was abruptly asked for my reservation. I tried to explain my situation but the owner didn’t care, telling me that the hostel was completely full. I thought this was odd, since my booking last night had been last minute and when I was there only two other people were in my dorm.

It also struck me as odd that a hostel would be full on Christmas day when, presumably, most people would be visiting their families.

God damn it.

I pulled out my Lonely Planet and went searching for the next cheapest hotel. Wandered around the block about three times before giving up (having no desire in repeating the previous night). During my walk I pieced together all the disparate information I had gathered about my travel.

I was caught off-guard by there only being one ferry because there was no listed time on my ticket. I had read in my travel book that the ferries had a tendency to cancel at the first sign of a dark cloud in the sky and that catching the next ferry was usually a simple task unless you traveled during Golden Week or the summer. I also found out that the ferry ride was 13 hours!

I then realized that I had been confusing the JetFoil and ferry as one and the same. I had assumed the difference in my ticket prices was because Mary found me a holiday deal and not that I was taking two different types of boats. When I was planning my holiday, I still needed to prepare for my climb on the day I arrived in Yakushima and I wouldn’t be able to do this if I took the ferry.

So, I decided to just swallow the $40 ferry ticket and purchase and Jet Foil ticket. I sat in the Jet Foil lobby, waiting for my boat to arrive (there was an amusing mix-up between the two companies and my ticket and instead of trying to sort it out I just decided to take a later boat with the same company as my return ticket).

There is one other white couple in the lobby but otherwise I’m surrounded by a bunch of old Japanese. I’m also beginning to suspect that Yakushima won’t be as green as these videos are suggesting.

…

Nope, Yakushima is green. And a little rainy.

I had a brief run in with the couple from the ferry when I rushed outside to take pictures of Sakurajima exploding. However, I haven’t seen them since landing. Finding my hostel was easy enough. I just had to walk down the street and turn left. It’s a small, unremarkable building pressed up against some sea rusted factory. The proprietor is miles friendlier than the Kagoshima dirty one-sixth dozen and he communicates to me mostly in Japanese. Whether this is out of consideration or necessity I’m not entirely sure.

I stocked up on supplies before hunkering down in the hostel for the rest of the day. My first human contact was with a small group of Australians who weren’t very outgoing. I focused on packing my food, showering one last time and not reminding myself how alone I was. Also, I had to avoid the proprietor who is trying to tell me my path is snowed in. Obviously, if he can’t discuss the situation with me, the snow won’t be there when I arrive tomorrow.

That’s how things work right?

My roommates began to arrive later in the evening. The first was a very friendly Japanese man from Saitama with acceptable English. His sunny disposition lifted my spirits and his forthright attitude helped break the ice with my other roommate.

Though likely just starved for company, I chatted up the young Australian for quite awhile. He, too, is an ALT working with Interac. He’s placed somewhere near Kagoshima in two junior high schools. This is his second year teaching and he hopes to continue for several more. We share a similar taste in fiction though his taste in movies and music leaves something to be desired.

Translation: he likes noise.

Though, I have a small confession to make. While traveling in Japan I don’t like to admit that I am an ALT working here. I don’t know why, perhaps I feel it makes for a good excuse why my Japanese is so terrible. Also, it avoids the awkward “marry my daughter” moments with Japanese parents. Why I tell other ALTs that I’m just traveling is likely just to maintain appearances. Also, it spares having to do the same song and dance about my company, work and the other tired conversations that often come up between co-workers.

Dammit, I’m on vacation! I refuse to discuss Interac for the rest of the week!

Balls

So here's a little introduction since my counterpart just threw my writing willy-nilly into the Interwebs.

I've written a few scraps, collections and short stories tentatively branded as D&D (because I are so clever) and basically running under the premise of what life would be like if my friends and I lived in a fantasy world... of dungeons and dragons. Since they are all silly projects, I haven't actually given them any editing time.

Turns out, there's a lot less dungeons and dragons and a lot more bickering and squabbling. Most of the ideas for the stories come from big or little life events of the people around me. This one in particular was inspired by - you know what, I don't want to ruin the surprise. It has the rather impressive title of Balls and is the first real short to feature Derrek as the main character.

Since they are all silly projects, I haven't actually given them any editing time. So mind the spelling errors, grammar mistakes and logical inconsistencies. It's the least I could do for my friends. So, enjoy!

---------------Break ---------------

“If you know what is good for you, you will hand me the talisman.”

“Don’t do it!” Keirn called.

The wind whipped ferociously about them, mangling his words so that even Jeremiah had difficulty hearing them. He wasn’t sure if his friend was actually trying to persuade him or just giving the expected protestations of a man in his position.

Not that Jeremiah was in any shape to follow his advice. They were had by the balls.

The woman known as Scarlet Heather turned her hand crossbow, releasing a cackling bolt into the air that sizzled past Jeremiah’s left ear.

“Must this be protracted any further? Don’t make me ask politely.”

Her other hand held aloft the soft glowing balls clutched tightly in her fingers. They clinked as the woman swayed upon her feet. A great palpitation of light emitted from the twin artefacts, the flash curiously striated with red and blue. Jeremiah could almost hear them crackle like ice slowly breaking apart.

Jeremiah took one step forward. But the deck pitched beneath his feet, causing all those aboard to grab madly for support. Only the pirate captain herself seemed to keep her footing upon the pitching vessel, her tired expression never loosening.

“We need to hurry!” Vera cried. The squat girl had her arms wrapped tightly about some dangling netting, her feet barely skipping the rotting wood of the ship. “This ship won’t stand forever.”

“The least you could do is bargain our freedom first!” Kait shouted.

“Honestly, I could just shoot you know and take the talisman from your body,” Scarlet Heather said, aiming her weapon squarely at Jeremiah’s chest.

He felt his heart skip at the threat. He looked at her pleadingly, staring straight at that soft face framed by the long, whipping strands of shimmering russet hair. Only her hardened gaze stared back.

“Please!” he shouted. “Why… why are you doing this!”

The deck shifted once more, causing Jeremiah to slip and fall heavily against the wood. Pain shot up his banged elbow but his hand still managed to grasp the rail, keeping him from tumbling to his doom. Once he regained his footing, he saw his adversary’s weapon had dropped slightly.

“It’s nothing personal, dear,” she whispered, the words barely escaping her ruby lips. “Trust me, I had no intention of things ending like this. But I have a contract that I must finish. Please don’t think this is has any bearing on my opinion of your character.”

“But the bounty on us has been dropped!” Jeremiah said. “Our lives aren’t worth anything.”

“Speak for yourself!” Keirn shouted.

“Like I said, this is nothing personal. I just need the talisman, you can have your globes and we can all go our merry way.”

“You can’t give them those!” Vera shouted as her feet, fully airborne now, kicked helplessly while the ship leaned even further upon its side. “Our instructions were very precise!”

“Yours perhaps. I was hired solely to retrieve the talisman.”

“I don’t think that was the intention of your contract,” Vera said.

“I don’t deal with intentions, only with gold. Now, shall we continue this standoff or shall we wait for this miserable wreck to completely dislodge itself and plummet to our collective grave?”

The tattered sails overhead snapped warningly in the wind, each gust threatening to pull the vessel further from the craggy perch. The ship groaned beneath its own rotting bulk as if it were conscious of its eagerly anticipated demise.

“You can’t give her Messchernizzer’s Talisman of Shattered Dimensions!” Kait warned. “We don’t know the ramifications of activating it without the protection of Glory Aessalia! This could doom us all!”

A sudden gust careened against the hull, pitching all the members forcefully to the ground. A terrific explosion of splintering wood filled the air as the ancient ship screeched down the cliff side. Vera screamed as the ropes she clung to unravelled dropping her down the length of the deck as it ground itself to a sheer wall disintegrating against the stones.

Jeremiah suddenly felt his full girth supported by the lone hand grasping the rail, and his fingers burned with the strain of keeping him anchored to the collapsing vessel. With a shout, his strength gave way and he felt the sickening sense of airlessness as he tumbled. He caught sight of the hired thugs falling like screaming planks of wood to the yawning chasm beneath them. Jeremiah was about to join them as the old contents of the ship’s cargo burst through the hall, leaving enough broken wood and debris for him to land roughly upon the broken skeletal frame of the elderly craft.

He groaned, shifting to his side. But the wood splintered beneath his shifting mass, causing for him to throw his arms roughly about the thick shattered planks forming the sheer deck.

“We’re going to diiiiiiiiiieeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!” Vera shrieked. She clung hysterically to the dangling rope, her body swinging with momentum to smack her against the deck over and over again as the wind rushed up from beneath them.

Suddenly, the ship came to a sudden stop with a tremendous crash. More wood burst from its degraded bonds, raining in splinters into the air. Jeremiah looked between his legs to see what had stopped their fall. The ship had managed to drive itself between a great rocky spire pinning them, temporarily, in the air at a great ninety degree angle.

He then quickly looked towards his friends. Though now guardless, as the last thug fell screaming past with his arms flailing, the siblings remained tied securely to the ship’s mast.

But what of the globes?!

Jeremiah looked back where Scarlet Heather had stood. The space was now completely empty of both woman and artefacts. Had she dropped? He looked down the length of the ship frantically searching for the rogue.

Miraculously, she stood upon the shattered rail, her hands unimpressively resting upon her hips. Beneath her, a great spider web of coils had appeared, likely launched by the curious contraption upon her wrist. Her hands still even glowed with the faint light of the orbs.

“Well, now that my men have fallen to their untimely demise, can we finally finish this exchange?”

Jeremiah turned to the two dissenting opinions. But Kait merely looked on the verge of tears and Keirn dangled curiously with his eyes closed as if he had drifted off into a boredom induced slumber.

Jeremiah scrambled to find some footing, the wood groaning beneath him. At last, he found enough purchase to turn and hold the talisman out, looking down at the remarkable woman.

“Very well. The talisman for the orb and my friend’s freedom.”

“If you think I’m coming up there to release your companions, you have another thing coming,” Heather called. “But drop the talisman and I will send up your globes.”

“No,” Jeremiah said. “How do I know I can trust you? The globes first.”

“Seriously? It would almost be easier to just wait for this damn ship to crash and search through its wreckage.”

“Just make the trade!” Kait called, her voice quivering.

Jeremiah took a resolute breath, reaching his hand out into the growling air as far as he could, then he released his grip.

The talisman tumbled from his fingers, turning about and about as it fell. Its long silver chain whipped about like a wild comet’s tail.

Heather raised her wrist launcher, shutting one eye as she steadied her aim. With unerring accuracy, a single bolt was loosed, snatching the twisting chain and plugging the object into the hall just within arm’s reach of her position.

She then grabbed a single piece of leather, looping it upon itself and nestling the globes beneath. She fastened it to her launcher, took careful aim once more, and fired the orbs towards Jeremiah. It struck the side of the deck just by his head, the tinkling of the orbs within giving off another rainbow pulsation.

“Until next time!” Heather called, raising her fingers to her lips and blowing Jeremiah a kiss. He felt his heart skip quickly once more.

“What about my friends?” Jeremiah called.

“I suggest you get them quickly,” Heather cried. “I don’t think this ship will remain for long.”

She balanced along her makeshift platform until she reached the rocky spire, taking the time to inspect it before finding a suitable ledge to begin her descent.

“And what of meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee?!” Vera cried.

“I shall see you back at the port!”

And with that, the pirate captain departed, leaving Jeremiah with the sobbing redhead and his still bound companions. With tears still running down her cheeks, Vera began to slowly inch her way up the dangling rope but Jeremiah had no idea of how he was going to get to Keirn and Kait.

Had he been a religious man, he would have prayed.

“Why can’t these things ever be easy,” he muttered.

Oh God It's Friday

Whelp, almost forgot to post today. Since most of my stuff is on my external (which is all the way downstairs and ain't no body got time for stairs) I rooted about my computer until I could find some words to post. It's also far too late for me to actually come up with something original so I present an entry from my exotic Christmas travels in the mysterious and verdant Yakushima Island.

Side Note - is it redundant to call it Yakushima Island?

Day 1 – Christmas Eve

To say that the start of my journey was a little haphazard might be a bit of an understatement. Let it be known, at the very least, I have interesting adventures. For some reason, I had the wrong dates in my mind for when I began and it was only a last minute confirmation that revealed I was leaving a full day earlier than expected. Apparently, I had been reading my ferry ticket instead of my airplane ticket for the last month.

So, my day started at 6:45 with a last minute check of Steam’s Christmas Sale. There are some priorities that just can’t be ignored. Sadly, there was nothing of interesting so I grabbed my pack and was on my bike by 8:30. The plan was to take the direct bus right to Haneda airport which, assuming nothing unexpected happened, would leave me with a two hour wait at the airport. I figured it was better to be early than late in these situations.

The plan also included stopping by the post office to get some extra cash. However, it seems, ATMs have more benefits than most workers as they were closed until after the yuubinkyoku opened at 9:00. So I had to stop at the central post office. At least that was on the way to the hotel.

I parked my bike in the notoriously dangerous Belinda/George neighbourhood, hoping that the sad state of repair my bike was in would deter any would-be thieves. I then hurried to the hotel and quickly purchased two tickets for the Haneda airport. Curious when my bus would arrive, I popped outside to check the timetable.

I had missed the only one that would get me there on time – at 8:00. The next one wasn’t until 11:35. Oh shit.

With few options, I hopped on the bus to Tokyo station, fishing my Lonely Planet out and plotting a route through Tokyo’s underground to Haneda airport. Thankfully, getting there by train was incredibly easy. According to my research, I had three stops and a twenty minute tram. It was good that I allotted two hours in case of emergency.

Alas, it turned out, that two hours wasn’t enough. Who would have guessed that the roads would be incredibly congested on Christmas Eve. Well… this probably surprises nobody but me. It took over 3 hours to get into Tokyo and though I got from the station to the airport without any difficulties, I still managed to arrive just as my plane was leaving.

Thankfully, the Japanese pride themselves on customer service and an incredibly helpful worker got me a new ticket for a plane in a hour and ushered me through security before I even knew what was going on. It seemed that, while everyone was going somewhere, they weren’t going by plane.

I also learned that my backpack counts as carry-on. Furthermore, I learned that tripods can’t be brought on as carry-on. Good things to know for when I return.

Now, I don’t know if it is customary or if the attendants saw me board, but they gave an English version of every announcement. I was more impressed that I could understand them more than anything else. Not that this was anything but a nice observation since I promptly spent the entire two hour flight unconscious save for a brief moment when they offered me a complimentary drink. Too groggy to want to deal with it, I told them I was fine in Japanese. To which, the attendants immediately began talking about how I spoke Japanese… or something. I can’t really remember too well since I just rolled over and went back to sleep.

I have notes here on turbulence during the flight but that’s pretty boring. Let’s see if there was anything else of interest that happened this day. Airport staff got me safely on a bus for Kagoshima. Couldn’t find my hostel for an hour since the Lonely Planet’s map is incredibly useless. Hostel service was pretty unimpressive but the place was cheap.

Oh, to celebrate the festive season I made some wonderful purchases for you – the reader. First was a new pair of earbuds that are both rain and sweat resistant! They’ll be perfect for my runs on Monday which, invariably, is the same day Kamisu decides to rain on every week. I also bought a tripod, one of those Gorilla things that can wrap around posts. I’ve been meaning to get a tripod in order to improve my photos for awhile now and Yakushima seemed the perfect time to try and get better photos.

I passed a Kentucky Fried Chicken and can confirm that the Japanese eat chicken on Christmas. There was no seating in the restaurant as that whole area was packed with piles of take-out buckets. I wish I was exaggerating. Had I my camera with me, I would have photographic proof. Sadly, you’ll just have to take my work for it.

My dinner was less exciting. I stopped by a conveni for a typical bento and a piece of “Christmas” cake and eat it in my bunk at the hostel.

Merry Christmas…

Sigh. Forever Alone.

Because I'm Bad At This

So, here's my friend's website. Of course he's just doing this to look better than me:

derekgingrich.com

FTL - FRE : First Real Entry

Well, seeing that my co-contributor has decided to brazenly post some of my stories already leaving me with little to write myself, I've decided to start this off with something a little special.

As my interests are greater than just writing, I have a tendency to peruse the digital landscape for some of my entertainment. As such, I thought I would start this off with a little review of a rare gem released last year.

And what better game to post on a blog called Out of my Mind than a game that is literally out of this world?

FTL - also known as Faster Than Light - is a delightful pseudo-roguelike space faring, ship captaining game. That little genre title is a fancy way of saying that there's not much to the actual game then you exploring a "dungeon" or "space sectors" in this regard and everything you really need and will use to win is found through your exploration.

The premise is simple, which is what I really like about it. You are one of the last remaining loyalists fleeing from the unstoppable forces of the rebel alliance as you try and deliver some crucial information to your leaders. It's a cute little reversal and homage to Star Wars and kind of nice to take a perspective that isn't from the scrappy little underdog. The rebels really feel more like a galactic empire, with their drones reaching the furthest flung space sectors and their fleets always nipping right at your heels (FTL engines) the entire journey through.

And while the story is light, I would have liked to see the designers play with that a little more. You'll get the odd dialogue entry from the planets you visit about how they have no love for the rebels (especially when they are seen bullying around these little colonies) but I would have really liked for a narrative to be subtly woven through in these random exchanges. We could have seen colonies express why they never sided with the rebels. Perhaps we could get a few captains comment on where the fell on the conflict or even offer possible reasons why the conflict occurred. It's not much, but it's the sort of subtle storytelling that not only seems to be growing popular these days but also offer some extra form or replayability to the game.

As it stands, once you get to the end you have a rather unexpected boss fight and then... it's done. There are a number of different styled ships you can acquire but since the game ends the same way every time I don't know if I see the appeal for repeating just because of that. And, unlike other games in a similar style, your ship and crew are almost wholly determined by what you can scrap up through your exploration. Having these little story elements could encourage some people to try and seek out all the little events in order to understand the greater, global issue.

But I could only be saying this because I love stories. What really bothered me about the game, however, was a tonal shift. It's made pretty clear that you're being pursued by these scumbag rebels and your ultimate goal is to press through dangerous and treacherous space to reach the last friendly outpost. The game really seems focused on this journey - the crew that you assemble on the way and the tough decisions you make between them and how you'll deal with the issues facing colonies and other ships you encounter. It's got a very strong 'flight to freedom' vibe, so I was more than a little disappointed when I reached the end to realize not only is the journey pretty short (only about nine sector jumps in total) but then you're inexplicably expected to face this enormous boss at the end. Needless to say, you die the first time and every playthrough after feels like you're now preparing for this fight that you really don't narratively have any expectation to face. I can understand the inclusion of the boss as a way to add difficulty to a game that would otherwise be too easy (if you just fled from every encounter and made a strict beeline to the end of each sector) but I really would have liked to see the challenge balanced better. Make the journey itself challenging, not some artificial encounter at the end.

All in all, I really enjoyed the game and it's a strong showing for a little independent developer. And a lot of my criticism is probably unfair since the people making this are more game developers than writers. But, at the very least, I hope some of my complaints can highlight how important stories are to our entertainment and just how they can be included in a wide variety of ways. Really, we've been telling each other stories since the earliest recording of history and I don't think all our fancy technology will ever replace the enjoyment of a good tale.

Anyway, for anyone who would actually care for a numbered rating but don't want to be bothered with this rambling wall of text with little real "games journalism" information, this one's for you:

8.5/10 successfully killed space spiders

Testy McTesterson.

This is a test. If you are reading this, do not be afraid. It is only a test. There will be no quiz afterwards as it is only a test of the system capabilities of this blog. Test.

P.S. Don't ask about the plaid.