Re-T.A.R.D.-ed

     As some of you may know (and precisely none of you will be surprised to hear) I am a Whovian.  Yes, I am a follower of everybody's favorite Time Lord.  I am a big fan of the BBC mega-franchise, Doctor Who.

     As I sit here, catching up on the current episodes (I'm up to Matt Smith and 'The Almost People') with my buddy J.D. I have a thought.

     50-ish years ago, a Tardis was a pretty genius concept.  A time machine, camouflaged as a phone booth, that was bigger on the INSIDE than the outside.  Remember this was in the 1960s, when the moon landing was still a gleam in NASA's eye.  Our understanding of theoretical physics has come a long way since then.

     So.  Is a box that's bigger on the inside a possibility?

     (Okay, first a disclaimer:  I am NOT a physicist.  I am more of a hobbyist in the area of theoretical physics and cosmology.  I find it pretty fun to think about, and I fervently hope for a functional warp drive in my lifetime, but I have no formal training other than reading a few books by Hawking and his contemporaries.)

     (Disclaimer to the disclaimer:  if we as a species do manage a functional warp drive while I still have a few good years left, you can bet I'll be the FIRST volunteer for star fleet!)

     Ok, so back to the question at hand.  Can we create a box that is bigger on the inside than its' outer dimensions?  As far as I understand it, I believe the answer is yes.  Well, yes in a strictly theoretical sense, anyway.

     It's all to do with Gravity.  We already know that gravity and space time are functionally intertwined.  If the current theories are correct, and gravity is really a localized bending of space time around a significant amount of mass, and it also holds that Mass and energy are fundamentally interchangeable, then a high enough amount of energy in a confined space can distort space time in exactly the same way that gravity does.

     Look back at Einstein's famous equation:  E=MC(squared).  E means energy.  M is Mass.  C is shorthand for the speed of light (or 186,000 miles/second).  Here's the thing:  The equals sign in that equation tells me that energy is just mass in a different form.  Which holds true in the other direction as well.

     If enough mass can warp spacetime in such a way as to create the effect we call gravity, then energy can as well.  So here's my idea:  if we have an unlimited amount of energy, we can focus that energy into a form that will bend spacetime (since energy is matter and matter bends spacetime) we can create a localized distortion of gravity to warp and essentially stretch spacetime in a localized area.

     Thus, we need a way to condense energy into matter that is still in the flux state of energy...  Let's call this a 'flux capacitor' (see what I did there?)...  So, we build a focusing device to channel the distortion created by our Flux Capacitor.  We use these two devices in conjunction to essentially stretch the spacetime inside a box, creating more space on the inside than on the outside.  Tardis created.

     Wow, sometimes I even impress myself!  A fun thought experiment just let us begin construction of a working Tardis!  Let me know what you think.

     (Final Disclaimer:  I could be totally wrong about all of this.  I understand that I am just smart enough to get myself into trouble.  So please, if someone comes along who actually understands more about this stuff than I do, please feel free to enlighten me!)

     (Really Final I Mean It This Time Disclaimer:  If some covert agency is monitoring this blog, and let me say, you boys are doing a really bang up good job at whatever it is you do, if you ARE monitoring this and you happen to be impressed by my astounding genius; feel free to take me away from here (Good-Will-Hunting style) into a new life designing warp drives and such.  I'd be fine with that as long as my family can come as well!)

Six Seconds.

     So, I recently discovered Vines.  I knew there were people sending short videos on twitter, and I thought it was just a bunch of people posting cat videos and such, kind of like what YouTube used to be.

     Boy was I wrong.

     I've been watching vine compilations on YouTube, and I've been laughing my ass off!  I'm not gong to shill for anyone here (unless they want to front me some cash!) but there is some really creative stuff happening on vine, and you should all go check it out.  Wo knows, maybe my legion of followers can make an impact on the vine community!

     Come to think of it, does three people count as a legion of followers?  Even if one of them is me under a different name?  I'm so cold.  And alone...

     *Ahem* Sorry, lost my focus for a second.  Anyway.

     Frankly, I don't have a lot to write about today.  I am in the middle of end-of-semester exams right now and most of my free time is devoted to studying.  (Pro Tip:  Don't take Psychology and Sociology in the same semester.  They use a lot of the same terminology with different meanings).  

     So...   Um...

     I like coconuts!  Yeah!  Coconuts are funny, right?

     What do you want from me?  It's not like anyone is reading this.

     Until tomorrow, dear readers...

Who Am I Striving To Be?

     Recently I was given an assignment for my Psychology class to write an essay on who I am and who I am striving to be. Since it turned into a (very) abridged version of my life story, I decided to share the essay here, with you all. So you will have somewhat of a reference when you are reading this blog.

 - - - - -

Who am I striving to be. 

     That seems to be a fairly loaded question, one deserving of some thought, but I can't
answer about my future until you know more about my past.

     My name is Brian Shoop. I am a big, goofy, funny, sometimes crazy, easygoing guy. I
have an odd sense of humor. Sometimes I can hear a joke that has people rolling and
not laugh at all. Other times I can think of a simple phrase, or I read a sign in a funny
voice, and I can laugh for days! I was born in Jacksonville, NC in march of 1983, my
father was in the navy and we moved around a lot until I turned three. This county is
really the only place I remember.

     I grew up in Fremont, NC, moving out to Pikeville when I was ten. I still miss the feeling of
being in a small town community where everybody knew everybody else and you could
be on a first name basis with the whole town. I miss those days, even though I now am
old enough to realize that there were major problems under the surface of that
'hometown charm'. I remember when the public pool was for 'members only' and they
wouldn't allow black families to join. When my brother (six years my elder) was turning
14 he wanted a pool party, and the board of directors for the public pool wouldn't let him
invite his black friends. In short, Fremont was a town where the 'no coloreds' signs
hadn't so much been removed as they had been hidden in plain sight.

     By the time I was in high school, I had found the first of my passions: Theater. I was
very active in Stage Struck (the children's community theater) and later Center Stage
(the adult community theater) I loved to perform. In my high school days my love of
performance led me to audition for and join the Show Choir (what you would now call a
glee club). Some of my best memories of that age are in that choir room. I felt like I
belonged for the first time in any school setting. I still talk about the time my show choir
went to the national Musicale tournament in DC and took not only first prize, but several
awards for solo singers as well. We were even invited to be a part of the Macy's
Thanksgiving Day Parade that year! Unfortunately we were unable to attend due to
circumstances outside of our control, but we were invited, dammit!

     But while my time in the show choir was some of the happiest in my life, it was also
some of the worst. My father, my relationship with whom had been deteriorating for
years, walked out on us a week before I turned seventeen. It was awful, my entire
family fell apart. If it hadn't been for show choir, I don't know how I would have survived
that year. What my sister and I now refer half jokingly to as the 'Year of Hell'. Having to
get a job at McDonalds to buy groceries for the family, struggling with bills and finances,
even watching my mother (who had always been my rock) fall apart.  (She would go on 

to reconstruct herself as a strong, confident woman, of whom I am exceptionally proud). 

     The year of hell did serve one purpose, though: the hardships we suffered during that
year brought the three of us (myself, my sister, and my mom) much closer. Nothing
quite like adversity to really solidify the bonds between people. You see, my sister is
adopted. My family adopted her when she was 12, she had just turned 13 when my dad
walked out. She had been an emergency placement at first. We were just a place for
her to stay until DSS could find a permanent home for her. But from the moment she
walked through our door, she was a part of our family. It's funny, but I knew that this girl
was my sister before she ever introduced herself to me. She just FIT. We knew all this
before dad left, the hardships that were to follow simply became the fire in which the
steel of our family was tempered. The year of hell allowed the three of us to form a
bond closer than anything I had ever known, and to this day I feel closer to my sister
than I do to almost any other person on earth.

     Fast forward the better part of a decade. I met a girl with whom I moved out, got
married and had a child all within four years. Jessica and I are still married and our
daughter, Piper, has become the most important thing in my whole universe. We fight a
lot, mostly due to money, but I know we love each other, and there is nothing either of
us wouldn't do to make that little girl happy!

     At this point, I'm going to skip over a major part of my life. I got sick about three years
ago. I wound up on disability, and battled my way through some pretty severe
depression. But I came to the realization recently that the best way to not be sick was
to pretend not to be sick. So I started getting my life together, I'm back in school, I'm
walking without the cane, I'm even writing again. I'm still hurting and in pain, the
difference is, I'm choosing not to SUFFER anymore.

     Which brings us to now. Who am I striving to be? Frankly, I don't know. I have a
passion for storytelling, and I can see that leading down several paths in my future. I
am ostensibly striving to become a history teacher, preferably at the high school level,
where I can earn a living wage and support my family. But the thing I enjoy most is
designing board games and card games. I love designing games, coming up with
themes, figuring out mechanics, building prototypes to test and play with, it's all just the
thing I love to spend my free time doing. So I guess I want to become a teacher as a
backup plan so I will have a career to fall back on while I design games on the side.
And who knows, if I get rich by designing the next monopoly or risk, I'd probably be okay
with that. And if I don't, I'll be a teacher. Following in the footsteps of my mom (who,
despite her flaws is still my hero) whom I am very proud to say is an instructor at East
Carolina University. I can think of worse things to strive for.

     Ultimately, though, I am striving to be someone who takes care of his family. I want to
be a better man than my father turned out to be. So, in the immortal words of Forrest
Gump: "That's all I have to say about that."

 - Brian 'magicpokey' Shoop

 - - - - -

     So, now you know, and knowing is half the battle.

Small Stuff

     My laptop is still being held hostage in a pawn shop, so I'm updating today from my phone. I'm going to post the beginning of an unfinished story I started writing back in 2011. I woke up in a cold sweat after having the most vivid dream, and I immediately started writing it down.  This is what I was able to get down before the dream slipped from my mind.  I know it ends kind of abruptly, but as I said, it's unfinished.  Let me know in the comments what you think! I hope you enjoy!

 - - - - -

     They say not to sweat the small stuff, that the unimportant minutiae of your life won't matter at all when you're gone. They, whoever 'they' are, don't know how right they are. Details are unimportant. The only things that matter, the only things you take with you, are the things that reach you on a deep level. Only the most important things, the details that touched your soul, matter enough to make that final journey with you.

     I don't remember how I died, I don't remember how old I was, or the name of my boss, or even what job I had. I don't remember where, exactly, I lived, or where I ceased to live. I only knew three things for certain during those first few confusing moments. I am me, I am dead, I am loved. Details.

     Death is confusing, that's really the only word that describes it. Oh, the time leading up to it can be any number of things; painful, scary, relaxing, the whole gamut of human emotions and experience. But the actual moment of death, the moment when you cross over from this world to the next, is confusing. I remember a jumble of images. Thoughts, feelings, memories, sights,
sounds, smells and a cat all swirling around me in a maelstrom of chaos and confusion. I couldn't make sense of any of it, but I knew it all pertained to me.

     Like a thread tying all these loose images together, a theme ran through everything. Me, I was the center of it all. As my befuddled mind came to that realization, the chaos died down, and I found myself standing at a crossroads. The first thing I noticed were my clothes. My old favorite boots, most comfortable pair I ever had, fresh and whole even though I knew for certain that they had been worn down to the soles for years. A pair of khaki cargo pants, with big pockets. The comfortable weight of my old blue backpack hanging from my shoulders. And a Hawaiian shirt, its riot of colors almost as loud and confusing as the maelstrom that brought me here.

     Here. After taking stock of myself (and being pleasantly surprised to find a tin of Altoids in my shirt pocket) I took stock of my surroundings. I was standing at a crossroads of a couple of two lane highways, meeting in the middle of nowhere. Fresh cotton and golden corn fields lined the roads on all sides, I could see distant mountains on the horizon and I could hear flowing water somewhere nearby. It was a pleasant day on a nondescript stretch of road that could be
anywhere, and I was alone.

     Alone. Something about that thought bothered me. Not a feeling so much as a lack of one, a weight or a presence missing, something that should be here with me but wasn't. I was missing something, something important, but, for the life of me, I couldn't remember exactly what. Well, nothing I can do about it right now, I told myself, no sense in worrying. But I did worry.

     Before that nagging feeling could become a real concern, I heard the rumble and sigh of a large engine lumbering down the road towards me. The bus resembled an old white and blue school bus, the kind my high school show choir used to take to competitions. The bus had an old, faded picture of a gondola, like the rafts used in Venice, complete with a man standing in the back with a large pushing stick, painted on the sides, and the doors rolled open as the bus rumbled to a halt in front of me.

     I got on, smiling at the friendly looking old man in the black suit behind the wheel, who smiled back at me in pleasant surprise. Never hurts to be polite, as my mom used to say. I stopped at the top of the stairs, and told the nice man that I didn't have any money. He didn't say a word, just winked at me and pointed to the back of the bus with his thumb. I took the hint and made my way past semi crowded seats full of people, some silent and staring, some having muffled
conversations, towards the back.

     I found an open seat, stuffed my bag on the rack overhead, and sat down. There were perhaps another dozen people on the bus with me, all ages, male, female, white, black. Even a scared looking latino woman cooing to a baby in spanish near the front row. None of the other passengers seemed to want to chat, so I settled back on the comfortably uncomfortable seat and stared absently out the window as the bus got moving again.

     I watched the golden fields swim past the window in the afternoon sun, the flow of the horizon only disturbed once as the bus crossed a narrow concrete bridge over a large flowing river. The bus had been moving for perhaps an hour when the sun began to set, the sky turning a brilliant shade of red speared with golden rays of dying sunlight, I remember thinking it was one of the most beautiful sunsets I had ever seen.

     Like most of the passengers, I stared out the window as night fell, our ever silent driver piloting us with the ease and practice of someone many comfortable years at his job. When it got too dark to see the endless fields I turned to my fellow travelers, noticing that the latino woman had gotten her baby to sleep. Good, I thought, sleeping seems like a good choice right now. I grabbed my backpack from overhead and curled protectively around it, more out of habit than anything else, before laying my head against the window and letting the motion of the bus
lull me to sleep.

     The ride must have been smooth, because I didn't wake until the next morning, when the bus hissed to a stop in front of a large, off-white building. The building had strange way of reflecting the morning light. It had a glass front and a permanent sign hanging over the large open double doors that read, simply, Welcome. I gathered my meagre belongings and made my way to the front of the bus, bidding the thin driver safe travels as I waited my turn to jump down the stairs. I was rewarded with another pleasantly surprised smile, though he still didn't speak.

     "You must be special!" Came the voice of a cheerful woman in a white uniform who greeted me as soon as I was on the ground. "Old Che's been doing this rout for longer than I can remember, but I can count on one hand the number of times he's taken an interest in a passenger. Always means something interesting is gonna happen around here soon." She trailed off for a moment, her eyes alight with possibilities. "Oh well, no matter now. Welcome to the P.G. center, Mr. Davidson, your *ahem* gateway to The Summerland Resort.

     "The what now?" I was confused again. "Where am I? I think I'm missing something, I think I may have..." 

     "Died?" She said in a bright voice. "Don't worry Mr. Davidson, a little confusion is normal, thats what I'm here for! My name is Anna, and it's my job to get you settled happily in your new surroundings." She stuck out her hand, which I shook, noting how warm her skin felt. "Let's get the important bits out of the way first, easier that way, trust me." She winked at me conspiratorially. "Besides, I don't think you're going to have much of a problem grasping the finer bits, you seem pretty smart, at least Cheron thought so."

     She produced a clipboard from who knows where and proceeded to rattle off questions while my mind was still reeling with confusion. And always, there was the nagging feeling of missing something important. 

     "You are Mr. Byron Davidson, Born to Debbie and David in march of 1983, correct? Good." She consulted something on her clipboard. "You seem to be a genuinely nice person, a few minor infractions here and there, but nothing to worry about. You shouldn't have a problem passing through. which is a relief, trust me, you wouldn't believe the kind of stuff I see on here with some people." She tapped her board with a pen, glancing up at me with another welcoming smile. "And they all want to know why they just cant pass right on through, like we owe them something! Sheesh, can you believe it? Anyway, back to business."
...

To Be Continued...

- - - - -

     I know it's unfinished, but I'm posting it here because I kinda want to finish it, and leaving something unfinished where people can see it is a great motivator. Anyway, back to exams for me! (Yay!)

Pawn-sitive Thinking

     I'm a big believer in Karma. The idea that what you put out into the universe is the same as what the universe gives back to you. I believe that is the very bedrock how the world works. I believe that humans, when given no other information, will default to a state of kindness to each other. I believe that things like prejudice, racism, discrimination, and spite aren't intrinsic to our beings. I believe they are learned.

     I have to believe such, because otherwise I wouldn't have the strength to roll out of bed each and every misery-soaked morning.

     I have been sick for several years. A neurological disorder has robbed me of some of the prime years of my life, keeping me in a state of constant pain and weakness, leaving me barely able to walk (with a cane) and with very little muscle control (due to the shaking). I am on disability because I am unable to work, but disability is a poor substitute for an actual job with an actual paycheck.

     I was planning on going through my whole story at this point. Recounting the long sad tale of my illness and continuing money struggles. But I realized as I was typing it that I didn't want to be such a whiny little bitch. I'll just summarize a bit here: I was sick and suffering until I decided not to suffer anymore. I'm still sick, I still hurt, and I still have trouble with basic motor skills, but I made a decision not to suffer anymore. I got back into school, I started writing again, I rekindled some lapsed friendships, and I recommitted myself to my family. I decided, in short, that the only way to not be sick (and thereby improve my life) was to pretend to not be sick.

     But good intentions don't pay the bills. I wont go into details here with a sob story, but suffice it to say, I'm so bloody poor I can't even afford to pay respects at a funeral. My original idea for this post was to vent at you all and whine about how life has been consistently shitting on me for years, and it shows very little signs of stopping. But I'm not. I'm just going to make an announcement and I'm going to fuck off until tomorrow, when maybe I wont be so depressed.

     Long story short, I am making a minor (behind the scenes) change to this creative challenge. I am still more than willing to write something every day, and I have no intention of stopping the updates. But, due to the previously mentioned financial struggles, I am going to have to pawn my laptop for a while. Having a computer for school is useless if I don't have the gas to drive back and forth. I will get the laptop back when I get paid in a week or so, but until then I will have to update from my home PC (when it works), the school computers, or (failing everything else) my phone. Which means there may be some shifts in formatting.

     See, no real change for you other than this blog wont be quite as pretty as before. Just thought I'd let you know.

     - Magicpokey

Deus-Ex Arcanum

     

WARNING!  LONG POST INCOMING!

     A few years ago, some of my friends and I ran through a year long D&D campaign together in weekly sessions.  I realize that you must be shocked that I participated in the interminably geeky pastime of playing Dungeons and Dragons, but try to hold it back, I have a point here.

     I was the DM (or Dungeon Master, the guy in charge of all the non player things) of the group, and the entire campaign was one I designed from the ground up!  I designed an entire world, with its own history and political background.  I designed a major, overarching quest for my players to embark on.  I spent HOURS each week laying out maps and writing descriptions and dialogue for the people and places my players were likely to encounter.

     It was gruelling, it was tedious, and sometimes it was even a pain in my ass, but I did it, in fact; I would do it again.  I can tell you that having four people dedicate an entire evening of their lives, EVERY SINGLE WEEK, to exploring a world I had so lovingly crafted was more of an honor than I had ever felt before as a writer.  My friends still talk about the awesome stuff that happened during that campaign.

     My friends have moved on, now.  Schedules have changed, people have moved, D&D has become a good memory for most of us.  In short: life got in the way of gaming.  I'm okay with that.  It's natural and to be expected.  I am grateful for the good times we shared and I am VERY grateful that everyone chose to spend so much of our time playing in MY WORLD.  

     But, I still have all my old notes from that campaign.

     And I don't think that world is done with me.  There are more stories for this bard to tell.  So I will tell them here.  Every now and then during this year long creative challenge, I am going to write a story set in that world.  I have some good ideas that I am working on now, in fact.  But I don't think you would be able to really appreciate them until I lay the groundwork.  

     So I am going to post below the setting and history document I wrote before that fateful adventure even started.  I've done some minor editing: mostly to correct typos and misspellings, but also to include some information that I didn't know was going to be a part of the world until we ran across them during the adventure.  I hope you like it!

 - - - - -

Deus Ex Arcanum

A fanmade adventure setting for the Advanced Dungeons & Dragons ™ role playing system.

- World Name: Arcana (Pronounced Are-Cahn-Ah)

- Population: 500,000,000 (approx.)

- Prominent Species: Human, Elf, Dwarf, Half-Orc (called 'Trolls' on this world), Dragon (all other intelligent species in statistical minorites)

- Time Period: Swords and Sorcery / Fantasy Wild West Era

- Technology: Early Wild West Era technology taken to fantastical extremes.

- Politics: See history.

- Deity/s: Any deemed appropriate for setting

- History -

     To say that the world of Arcana lived in peace and harmony before The Dragon Wars would be laughably inaccurate. There was always a war going on, between neighboring city-states or indigenous peoples. Someone was always fighting someone else, somewhere. The Elves, occupying the western temperate continent, were content to let magic fill any complex roles in their society. Humans, living in the harsh eastern desert continent, were more inclined towards artifice and technology. This is not to say there were no Human mages or Elven artificers, but they would be a minority among their own kind. The other species made their livings as best they could. The Dwarves built mining installations throughout (and underneath) both continents, and prospered as blacksmiths and weapon makers. Trolls preferred their solitude among the tropical southern island chains, and the Dragons (at least as intelligent as humans) kept to their wyrs.

     Then Val'Narj appeared. An Elven priest and cleric, Val'Narj became obsessed with the idea that any technology more advanced than sword and shield were a defilement of his beloved nature. He was a gifted speaker and quickly rose to prominence among the Elves, allowing him to spread his rhetoric far and wide. He amassed an army of followers and traveled to the eastern continent via the southern island chains, preaching his gospel of 'Magic over Machine' to the trolls as he went, and a fair few of the trolls joined him. His message was not greeted as kindly in the eastern city-states as it had been among the Elves or even the trolls. Humans were stubborn and unwilling to turn their backs on their way of life.

     Val'Narj, filled with religious fervor made many a passionate speech in many a market square, but he could never convince more than a few Humans to join his cause. In the Elven lands he had been treated as royalty, dining with nobles and high priests, but here among the Humans he was nothing more than a minor distraction. Outraged at what he saw as a deliberate insult he soon began denouncing Humans from his pulpit, calling them enemies of the true way. In his own twisted head Humans became the DE-facto cause of all the rot in the world, and their technology the wellspring of all things evil. He quickly had his followers convinced of the same. Val'Narj and his followers soon returned to the Elven continent, preaching that the Human dependance on technology was the reason the Western continent was a desert wasteland. “Their lands are barren and dead, as are their souls!”

     History is not clear on the details of what happened next. Some time later (a few months to a year at most) a horde of heavily armed Elvish soldiers attacked one of the Human coastal settlements on the Eastern (Elven) continent, murdering any Humans they found and burning the entire village to the ground. Led by the now Power-Mad Val'Narj, the army advanced along the coast, razing entire villages that refused to join his new 'Elvish Imperium'. The war was short but brutal, with casualties and refugees numbering in the hundreds of thousands. Soon the entire Eastern continent was at war with itself, a war that ended with the foundation of the 'Worldwide Elvish Imperium'.

     The Elvish Imperium was a brutal regime, bent on conquering the entire world and spreading the mantra of 'Magic over Machine' to every living soul. Any being who could not be freed of their 'taint from the infernal technology' was purged from the face of the world. Soon most of the Dwarvish mines in the Eastern continent were closed (at least to the surface) and the Imperium set its sights on the Troll islands. Emissaries of the True Way were sent south, but were unable to persuade the trolls to join an empire where they would become second class citizens. At this time, the Dragons were still untouched by the growing war.  They preferred not to involve themselves and nobody was dumb enough to bring an army to the doorstep of a Dragon Wyr.

     The war for the Trollish lands was just as short and brutal as the consolidation of the Eastern mainland had been. The Trolls, though great warriors and stronger than any ten Elves put together were quickly overrun by superior numbers and tactics. Within a matter of months the Trolls were brought to heel and their lands were claimed in the name of the Imperium. The trolls became nothing more than forced labor for their new Elvish overlords. All in all it had taken less than two years for the Imperium to conquer the entire Eastern continent as well as the tropical islands in the south that form the major trade route with the West.

     During this time the Human city-states on the Western continent came together to form a cohesive response to what was now a clear and present danger posed by the Imperium. The Confederation of Free Peoples was born, and (unlike the Elves and their xenophobia) the Confederation welcomed anyone who was willing to pull their own weight. When the Elves tried to force their way northward into the Western mainland during the next spring, they were repulsed by the allied armies of the Confederation. The humans use of wartime technology (including the then newly invented gunpowder) proved to be an unexpectedly potent counter to the elves fierce magic, and the armies came together in a bloody back-and-forth wherein neither side could gain the advantage.  After six days of constant battle, the elves were forced to retreat to the southern islands. 

     By early fall of that year, several of the Westernmost troll islands were liberated by a Trollish underground resistance (secretly aided by the Dwarves with their quality weapon smiths and the Confederation and its technology) and declared themselves to be an independent nation state allied with the Confederation. Troll refugees and escapees flocked to these islands in droves and they would become a major player in the fighting force that would keep the Elvish armies at bay.

     This Stalemate lasted throughout the next winter and into spring, with now Emperor Val'Narj seemingly content to consolidate his holdings. Both the Imperium and the Confederation sent messengers to the Dwarves and the Dragons, trying to bring them into one side or another of the growing war. The Dwarves proved difficult, considering they were not unified under one flag but a loosely allied network of family owned mines, some of which sided with the Elves and others with the Humans, but most of the individual mine owners chose to remain neutral. This was a net positive for the confederation because the neutral Dwarves would still sell and trade weapons to the confederation Army, but the elves rejected anything that came from outside. After some time this balanced out, with the Imperium having a major advantage in natural resources while the Confederation was able to trade for what they needed with the Dwarves.

     The Dragons, on the other hand, were much more eager to listen. Though the Dragon Wyrs were no more unified than the Dwarvish mines, they decided to hold a council of the elders to decide what to do. It was at this meeting (now called the Dragon Highlord Council) that the schism took place. Many dragons (as magical beings) were inclined to fight for the Elves and many more (who foresaw the potential for ruin) for the Humans. The High Council was split almost evenly between the Confederates and the Imperials.  It wasn't long before age-old grudges between Wyrs popped up. Soon the Dragons were at each others throats and the Great Schism began.

     With Dragon Wyrs now taking sides, what had once been a stalemate became a bloody back and forth as entire wings of fighting Dragons fell on settlements and armies of both the Imperium and the Confederation. It soon became apparent, however, that the dragons were more interested in fighting each other than raiding settlements and their involvement in the war became a game of 'deny the other side their Dragons'. By the end of that year, both sides in the war knew they could not count on the Dragon Wyrs (ostensibly allied with them) to take orders.

     It took the better part of nine more years for the fighting to slow down, but by then most of the Trollish islands had been the scene of at least one major offensive from both sides, not to mention that all of the Dragon Wyrs in the south had been routed. No formal agreement was signed but both sides seemed to pull back and consolidate their holdings.  Aside from the Dragon raids, which no one was even pretending had anything to do with the overall war effort, most of the actual fighting had been done on the islands.  So the trolls took the brunt of the casualties, leaving them an endangered species.

     By now the Imperium had solidified its power in the east and in the eastern half of the Troll Islands, and the Emperor was seldom seen in public. Many speculated that he had finally gone mad. Meanwhile, the confederation had become a bloated bureaucracy, held together with mountains of red tape. The senate had been taken over by political opportunists who used the wartime economies to line their pockets until they became the wealthiest and most influential people in the west.

     After the last decade of outright warfare, the Dragons held another Highlord council meeting. As a result of all the fighting, the once mighty Wyrs in the south had been obliterated, along with most of the Dragon population across the world. It was decided that if things kept going as they were, the Dragons would soon become extinct. Having bled out the most aggressive Wyrs, the remaining Dragons were able to come to a consensus, and all of them, both sides, fled north into the frozen wastes, there to live in solitude until the world was peaceful again. Overnight, the Dragon Forces of both the Confederation and the Imperium abandoned their posts and flew northwards, never to be seen again.

     The commanders of both armies (by now disconnected with the policymakers back home) used this as an excuse to call a general ceasefire to rest their weary and depleted troops. Both sides retreated from an unofficial neutral zone near the center of the Troll Islands (where the concentration of Islands was thinnest) and dug in, rebuilding or restocking the now permanent forts and keeps that kept watch along the border zones. Once again, the status quo had been restored. Neither side of the conflict had won, but both had lost plenty.

     All of this was nearly two-hundred years ago, the Dragon Wars (as the conflict has become known) are a distant memory or a history lesson for most of the populace. The Confederation and the Imperium have continued to exist in a state of cold war for all of this time, but for most people the war is something over there, down south, not interfering with their daily lives. Coastal settlements in the northern regions have once again begun to spring up, and, by dint of their proximity to the other continent, it is not uncommon to see Elves among the Human cities and vice-verse. These neutral cities are home to hardy ice water fishermen, as well as outcasts and refugees from both sides. These Cities, while nominally allied with one side or the other, prefer not to take part in the political power games of their inland brothers. So (while they still provide supplies to their respective governments) they are considered a no-conflict zone by both sides in the ongoing war.

 - - - - -

     I'm pretty proud of that setting, and of the world that grew around it during the year long campaign that my group played.  I'm providing the history and basic setting here for anyone who wants to use it to construct a D&D adventure of their own.  Just be sure to give me credit if you do!

     Enjoy!

Good Goddamn Ideas!

     I spent some time today with my sister and her family for my nieces birthday (Happy Birthday Emelia!) and I got into an interesting conversation with my brother-in-law. We were talking about ways to make money, market niches that hadn't been filled yet, and we came up with an awesome business idea that, frankly, I think is worth a million dollars. If any of you want to try and put this scheme into motion feel free, but I expect at least a 20% cut of the profits.

Rapture Insurance

     How many people do you know who are waiting eagerly for the second coming of Jesus Christ? Who believe that the Rapture™ and the End Times™ are just around the corner? And how many of those people have a friend or relative they are worried about? Well, let's promise them that their unbelieving family will be taken care of via Rapture Insurance! C'mon, if you truly believe the Rapture is coming wouldn't it make sense to make sure your non-believing friends and relatives are taken care of after you are whisked off to heaven?  Here's the pitch.

- - - - -

     Are you a devout Christian? Do you believe in the imminent return of your lord and savior, Jesus Christ? Are you prepared for the Rapture, when you will be taken to heaven in a glorious, heavenly, beam of light? Don't you feel secure, knowing that you are avoiding the seven years of chaos known as The Tribulations? Of course you do. You are a believer, a devout man (or woman) of God and this will be your reward for a life of pious devotion!

But.

     Do you have a family member or close friend whom you're worried WON'T be going with you? Who might be Left Behind? We all know someone like that. Someone who, no matter how many times we offer to witness to them, no matter how much we pray for them, just refuses to let Jesus Christ into their heart. Its a shame, but the sad truth is some people will need to experience being Left Behind to the Tribulations before they will become true believers. And there's nothing we can do for them, right? After all, we wont be here to protect them anymore.

     But what if there WAS something you could do for your non-believing friend? What if there was a way you could make sure they had the best possible chance to stay safe and well during the Tribulations? Wouldn't you jump at that chance? Well, I have the answer for you! Rapture Insurance! Don't you have health insurance on the CHANCE you get sick? Or car insurance on the CHANCE that you get into a wreck? Or even homeowners insurance on the off CHANCE that something happens to your home? Well, isn't the Rapture much more of a certainty than any of those? It only makes sense that you would make sure your whole family is taken care of!

     Here's how it works. You sign up for one of our flexible policies, and pay an affordable monthly premium. Then, in the event of Rapture and the chaos that will undoubtedly cause, we make sure you loved one safely receives the full amount, in whatever currency you choose, even Specie (gold or silver) so they have a cash buffer to put themselves in the best possible position to survive the seven years of Tribulations that you safely avoided by being devout. Also, won't knowing that you didn't abandon them, even for heaven, make your loved one all that more likely to accept Jesus and join you in paradise when Armageddon comes?

     Now, I can hear some questions bubbling to the top of your astute mind.  (I can hear your thoughts, remember?)  Don't worry, I'm here to lay all your fears to rest.

- Won't taking care of someone for seven years be expensive? -

     Not as much as you think. We have a flexible policy plan just right for your budget! Maybe you want a basic $5,000 policy as a buffer to make sure someone can get out of a stricken area. Or maybe you want the Deluxe $1,000,000 policy to make absolutely sure your loved one is in the best possible position to survive. And we have policies at every stop in between. You tell us how much you can afford to set aside for your loved one, and we can find a policy that fits in with your wishes.

- How will you make sure your policies pay out?  Aren't YOU being Raptured? -

     No, you see, while I do have the utmost respect for your beliefs, I am CHOOSING not to get saved. I CHOOSE to be left behind and face the Tribulations in order to care for your loved ones. I believe that somebody has to be willing to sacrifice their place in heaven to save as many other people as they can, and, I believe it is the least I can do to repay the kindness that the church has shown my family. 

- Just you?  How are you going to handle the FLOOD of payouts when the Rapture comes? - 

     Not just me!  That would be silly!  I also have a staff of employees who are non-Christians. You would be surprised how many people of other faiths (or no faith at all) are willing to work in an industry with the primary goal of caring for people. My dedicated staff is ready and waiting to do whatever is necessary to prepare your loved ones in the event of Rapture.

     So, won't you sign up with us and make sure your non-believer family member will be taken care of even after you have ascended into paradise?

- - - - -

     Rapture Insurance! Its like a bet that you can't lose! Insurance companies all gamble that they won't have to pay off their policies, that's how they can give you a $10,000 policy for $50 a month. Well, this is the only gamble that both sides can be SURE they're going to win! Think about it:

     If you aren't a christian, and you think the entire idea of The Rapture is laughable, then join me and sell Rapture Insurance and get paid monthly premiums on a policy you NEVER have to pay out!

     If you are a believer, and you know you will be rising into heaven fairly soon, then buy our insurance and pay at most a few years of premiums on policy that gives an exponentially higher payout than you paid in!  Your heathen loved one will surely thank you for your foresight!

     If you aren't sure, and you want to see how things shake out, but don't trust the corrupt banks to protect your savings, why not take out a policy on yourself? If the Rapture comes and you are left behind then you have a nest egg (worth exponentially more than you paid) to keep you going, if you ARE Raptured then you wont have any use for the money anyway and your policy can go to help someone else. Heck you can even name a secondary beneficiary in case you catch the rising tide, as it were!

     Logically speaking, YOU CAN'T SAY NO!

     If you are interested in purchasing one of my flexible Rapture Insurance policies for one of YOUR loved ones: Shoot me an email! magicpokey@gmail.com

     I look forward to caring for your families!

The Shinobi Case Files: Part 1

     I love to write, and I like to think I'm pretty good at it. Some of the best feedback I ever received was for my submissions to an erotic literature website. I want to keep this as a family friendly blog, so I wont be posting any of my full content from that site here, but I am proud of some of that work. So I have rewritten one of my stories from that site. This is part one of a story that I never got around to continuing, but if the PG rated version gets some good feedback here, maybe I'll continue the series. Who knows? Anyway, enjoy!

-Magicpokey


- - - - -


     Most people don't know that the Japanese government still employs shinobi. This is because most people who discover the existence of modern day shinobi only do so at the closing moments of their lives, usually just before a sharpened implement pierces the brain and blackness takes them forever. Besides, who would believe them? Ninjas for hire that work as specially trained covert operatives are the stuff of Hollywood legends, not everyday geopolitical espionage.

     Mei Lynn Kanzashi always found the dichotomy of being shinobi in an internet society laughable. A person trained to use their entire body as a stealth weapon shouldn't exist in a world of unmanned flying drones and infrared security satellites. Yet exist she did, and she was very good at her job. Her job which currently had her hanging upside down from a thin but strong nylon rope on the side of a skyscraper, regulating her breathing, and sliding the business end of a very thin metal rod through an equally thin hole she had just cut in the glass window she was facing.

     Mei checked her watch (which she was wearing backwards so the face was against the inside of her right wrist) again, Eighteen seconds. She forced herself to relax, using her left hand to bring the other end of the rod close to her mouth, she stopped and concentrated on her breathing. Mei retreated into the safe room in her mind, the small white room with nothing but a metronome, tick-ticking away. She timed her breathing as she had been trained, two beats in, hold for two more, then two beats out. Her body loosened and she became almost motionless, her lips not quite touching the miniature blowgun (no sense in getting moisture into the barrel and fouling up her aim). She had to be perfect or she would miss, and Mei Lynn Kanzashi never missed.

     As she hung there, the cool salty air blowing gently across her shoulder blades, her black shrouded form almost invisible in the waning moonlight, she listened for footsteps. Exactly Fourteen seconds after she checked her watch, the small, noise-canceling ear-bud in her left ear alerted her to the sound of footsteps. Three men, walking close enough to chat but far enough to provide cover in a fight, were approaching the kill zone. She watched a sliver of lighted hallway through the window of the dark, empty break room as she inhaled for two beats. At Sixteen seconds a large man with an imposing looking rifle on a strap around his shoulder walked into view, without breaking stride he quickly scanned the break room for movement but didn't catch the motionless form of Mei at the dark window. At Seventeen seconds, a small, nervous looking man with a leather briefcase stepped into view and Mei moved the blowgun to her lips. At Eighteen seconds, just as the third man (almost a carbon copy of the first man, with an equally imposing gun) stepped into view, Mei forcefully exhaled her held breath through the blowgun.

     The first inkling of danger the nervous man felt was a tiny prick on the side of his neck, he slapped instinctively at it but came away with nothing. The tiny curare dart was less than a millimeter long and designed to dissolve on contact with its target, and the dart was fast. By the time his brain had registered the prick and sent the signal to his arm for the slap, the dart had already pumped the deadly poison into his muscle fiber, where it quickly went to work. By the time his hand made contact with his neck, there was nothing left of the dart but a sticky residue, and the poison had found its way into his bloodstream. The man was as good as dead, but he didn't know it yet.

     Mei knew she had fired true as soon as the shot was off, she didn't need to see the target react to confirm it, but she waited for the reaction anyway, no reason to get sloppy. She clicked her heels together, depressing the button on the small winch strapped to her left ankle. The winch began reeling the thin, nylon cord back in, pulling Mei up the side of the building with it. When she reached the window she had started this from, two floors above the by now convulsing nervous man, she clicked her heels again and came to a stop. She deftly climbed into the building and stretched to get her circulation in rhythm again. Pressing the button on her other heel with one outstretched finger sent a signal that made the anchor point for her nylon cord decouple itself from the wall several feet above the window. She caught the falling anchor with her other hand and let the winch pull the rest of the line in, silently.

     Mei finished stowing her gear in the small black backpack she had left near her exit window. Then she donned the backpack and stepped into a crouch on the open windowsill. She let herself fall forward into a dive towards the dark street below, flashing past the window she had been so close to several moments ago, smiling with satisfaction at the downed man and the panicked scene that she briefly glimpsed. Once she was out of sight below the window she pulled the small ripcord and the specially designed parachute unfolded from her back. She expertly guided herself away from the skyscraper and towards the water, several hundred feet below.

     Three minutes later, when the on site nurse arrived at the scene of the convulsing man, Mei Lynn Kanzashi was already coming in for a silent landing on the rooftop of her hotel, three blocks west of the skyscraper. Five minutes after that, she was walking down the hallway in her hotel, wearing nothing but a hotel bathrobe and carrying a gym bag with her gear in it over her right shoulder. Nobody paid her a second glance as she walked calmly to her room and stepped inside.


- - - - -


     So there you have it. Let me know in the comments what you thought!

Now is the morning of my discontent.

     Just FYI, I have been getting up before the sun every day for the last few months.  Those of you who know me will understand how uncharacteristic this is for me.  I'm normally a night owl, more likely to stay up until 5:30 than set my alarm that early, but being a grown up has it's fair share of responsibilities.  You see, I am responsible for getting my five-year-old daughter, Piper, ready for school in the morning.  I have to make sure she is awake, dressed, fed, medicated, packed, and presentable for school all before her bus comes.  At 7:00 am.

     That's right.  Piper's school bus, a bus for children aged 5-9, arrives at my driveway at 7:00 am.  In The Morning.  I don't mind telling you that it's hell.

     Now, don't get me wrong, I LOVE spending alone time with Piper in the mornings!  It has become our special time together, especially since I'm not usually home from school myself until she is getting ready for bed.  But I can't deny that I HATE HATE HATE having to get up that early.  I've had a headache for the last six weeks that won't go away no matter what I do.

     So, with that in mind, let me present an idea I've had bouncing around my head for the last few weeks:

Let's Outlaw Mornings!

     Now, hear me out. I understand that there are 'morning people' out there, who function better when they get up early.  These people are wrong.   And should be punished for setting a bad example.  You see, the human body wasn't meant to rise before the sun.  It was meant to rise when the warmth of the day was sufficient to energize the body, making hunting for breakfast easier because the animals would just be settling down for a midday nap when a hungry Homo-Sleepinicus comes around looking for whatever the cave man equivalent of the Breakfast Sampler is.

    Now, you may be wondering about all those early morning activities that must be done.  You know, delivering newspapers, staffing hospitals, making coffee at gas stations around the world, the important stuff. Well fear not, dear reader!  My plan has you covered!  Let's just shift the workday forward by three hours! Making the lazy sods who man the night shift have to take over the sunrise activities before they knock off for a good days rest!  It's perfect!

     Schools would also be improved!  If we sent kids to school from 11-6 (instead of 8-3) they would come home just in time for dinner!  This would limit their outdoor (meaning unsupervised) activity and therefore limit illicit activity.  According to a study published by the I-Just-Made-This-Up Research Center, Hair Care, and Tire Emporium:  Most of the delinquent activity engaged in by American children takes place between the hours of 3:30 and 5:30.  After school but before settling in at home for the night.  If we push the workday back by a mere three hours, we can eliminate this "Crime Window" entirely!

     So Join Me, fellow citizens of the Internet!  Together we can end the scourge of early mornings once and for all!  And maybe then, I can get a decent night's sleep!

I'm Back*, Bitches** !

     As both of my former readers can no doubt attest, I have been woefully derelict in my duties as a weekly web series host.  I refer of course to The Bargain Basement Brewery, my Mt:G web series about budget constructed decks.  Considering my last video was in the middle of August and it is now December, I think we can call this one a failure on my part.  I have no excuse.

     Well, I have plenty of excuses, but none of them are any good and neither of you probably care.  I failed at making a weekly series of videos.  My bad.  But I've come to a realization of late.  I don't care.  You see, when I made this blog and began my video series, I was trying to find a creative outlet because I had been cooped up in my house for several years due to illness.  I won't go into the details now (I'm saving that story for later, you'll see why) but suffice it to say I credit the awesome people at www.loadingreadyrun.com with saving me from a slow decline into oblivion.

     'But Pokey', I hear you thinking (that's right, I can hear your thoughts, and you should be ashamed) 'don't you still need a creative outlet, both to become famous, and to stave off the ever-present threat of self-induced madness?'  Well, dear reader, first of all:  That's an oddly specific question the delves pretty deeply into my current state of mind, showing a true understanding of me as a person and of my intentions...  Well played...  And Second:  Yes!  I DO still need a creative outlet.  I was just talking to my friend Albatross (you know, the one eyed, bearded, 12 inch midget gnome who flies around my house on a jetpack powered by old Spaghetti Westerns) about that.  Al totally agreed that I needed a way to let the crazy drain out of my head every once in a while, before things started to get weird.

     So I thought about things for a bit, and then it hit me!  I just so happen to have this blog I'm not using, and this recording software that I spent WAY too much money on, and this new-ish laptop that Financial Aid paid for...  I think you can see where this is going...

     That's right, loyal reader, I'm going to be producing a one man off broadway show about the life and adventures of an alternate history version of Jesus Christ!  I'm calling it Butt Christ & The Anal Apostles!  Starring me, with music by Albatross Gnomingtonson.  I'm not gonna lie, I'm SUPER excited about the opening musical number There's A Back Door Into Paradise it's gonna be a real showstopper!

     I kid, of course.  I'm not producing a stage show.  Though you may see a script for that one in the near future, that's an idea that I literally spent an entire day laughing to myself over.  You see, I'm a storyteller.  I always have been.  I would like to consider myself a modern day Bard for the internet age, and a storyteller needs a place to be heard.  So I'm going to be focusing on this blog.  I'm issuing a challenge to myself:  If I can post something creative, funny or even just observational here, on this blog, EVERY SINGLE DAY for the next year (and a bit, I'm stopping December 31, 2014) then I believe I will have accomplished something awesome, and maybe I'll deserve the self confidence that I seem to have found.

     So, starting today, with this very post, I am beginning this challenge.  For the next 365+ days, you can come back to this very blog and read something created by me.  It could be a script for an off broadway show, or an essay about my observations of a corner of life, or a rant about an issue I feel strongly about, or a short story, or a long story, or an amateur computer game (if I can find my old copy of Games Factory)or some really bad angsty poetry, or an essay on my future plans for this blog (see what I did there?) or maybe a lets play of an old video game, or maybe another episode of The Bargain Basement Brewery, it could be ANYTHING!  As long as it's creative, I think I'll be OK...

     Besides, if I post something creative every day, eventually odds are something will catch the eye of people, and then I'll be internet famous.  Which is like real famous, but without the wealth.  Wish me luck!

*Back, in this case meaning I will be reinventing this blog into a daily journal for my creative side.
**Not that any of you are bitches.  I sincerely doubt that female dogs can even read, much less possess the mental capacity necessary to operate a computer or smart phone.