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Fiction: The Least Unicorn, A Freelance Hunters Adventure

August 7, 2013

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The Freelance Hunters came to the village of Corn Hall looking for a unicorn. Rumors of the beast had flooded every tavern in Elanterra, it seemed, and all three of them were hunting the beast for a different reason.

“I’ve heard unicorns have razor-sharp hooves, and their horns can rend the strongest armor!” Joachim said, brandishing his fearsome spear Incisor. “they will battle anyone unworthy of them to the death!”

“Just don’t go busting its forehead lance too much. It’s worth mad loot on the slack,” said Bingo, their tracker.

“You two are not going to kill that noble and beautiful creature!” said Glory the magician. “Unicorns are one of the rarest cryptids on the island. If I can study one, or better yet, capture it alive, I’ll be the toast of the Academy!”

“I’ve heard only a fair maiden can capture one. What are our chances, Glory?” Joachim asked. She thumped him on the back of the leg with her staff in reply. When they finally reached the town, they found a festival atmosphere, complete with pantomime unicorns, booths selling every kind of food with corn in it imaginable, and all manner of charms and tokens for sale, each one ‘guaranteed’ to help catch the beast. Joachim gleefully consumed a prodigious amount of the local corn whiskey, and the other two hired a local fellow by the name of Finnegan to act as guide. They left the fair well alone, and headed out into the fields the next morning.

At first, signs of the beast were slim. Finnegan knew the area well, but he was a corn farmer, not a tracker, and it was difficult for Bingo to pick up much of anything, until they found the track. It was deep, and not more than two hours old. The hunt was on.

They went two more days, always frustratingly close to the creature, but it was tireless, and seemed to slip away every time they got close. They caught a glimpse of it when they stopped to rest on the second night, just a shadow against the stars. It had to have been the largest equine any of them had ever seen, and the horn poked straight from the top of its head. They renewed their efforts. Bingo set some traps and breaks in the forest. The unicorn could avoid them, but before long, they had it cornered in a little glade in the woods, sheltered by rises on all sides.

The Freelance Hunters descended into the valley. The beast was there, drinking from a brook that trickled between two boulders. Late afternoon sunlight drifted through the high branches, filling the glade with majesty and awe. And then the creature looked up and stared at them. The hunters stared back. Neither moved for a long time.

“Glory,” Joachim said at last. “There isn’t any magic here, right? This isn’t an illusion or anything?”

“Nope.”

“And you all see it too, it’s not just me?”

“Nope.”

“So it’s really…” He trailed off.

“A huge white horse,” Glory began

“With an ear of corn fixed to his head,” Bingo finished. All three of them turned to look at their guide. He grinned sheepishly.

“The village had a bumper crop, last year,” He said, as though this explained everything.

“So? Joachim asked, adjusting the grip on his spear.

“So we sold so much corn, the price went through the floor! Corn’s just about the only thing we grow out here, and with corn being almost worthless, the village needed money. The town elder came up with a plan, though. When he was a boy, the Corn Hall was threatened by a manticore that came down from the mountains. Monster slayers came from all over to slay it. So…”

“So you invented another monster.” Glory said.

“The elder thought the whole thing up! Bronco down there is the fastest horse for miles around. We didn’t think anyone would be able to catch him.” The Freelance Hunters returned to the village of Corn Hall that evening. They did not stop at the fair or playhouse. They made a brief visit to the Elder’s house, so that they could show him a few more uses for an ear of corn. The story of that visit is occasionally recounted by a few of the more risque troubadours in the area. After that, there were no more monster sightings in Corn Hall for many, many years.

Why is Hugh skipping “Ender’s Game?” The reasons may surprise you.

July 15, 2013

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Last week there was renewed talk of the upcoming “Ender’s Game” film. Specifically, there was a renewed call to boycott the film by Queer SF fans and their allies. This is because the author of the original novel, Mr. Orson Scott Card, is most decidedly NOT a friend to the LGBT community. Mr. Card, using his religion as reasoning, has often made absolutely horrific statements, both in interviews and on his blog, concerning LGBT people. He has advocated for their arrest, and advocated for armed insurrection against any governments that sanction marriage equality. He wrote a novella based on ‘Hamlet’ smearing gay people and equating homosexuality with incest and pederasty. He sits on the board of NOM, a group with lobbies against marriage equality and spreads misinformation about LGBT people.

But of course Card has the right to say what he wishes. He made his bed, and well and good for him. The problem is, he doesn’t much feel like sleeping in it. Last week, Card gave an interview with Entertainment Weekly. Therein, he hoped that supporters of marriage equality would ‘show tolerance’ and go and see his movie.

Tolerance. You keep using that word. I don’t think it means what you think it means.

This petty little swipe, maybe meant to bolster his reactionary religious base into getting the word out, maybe an accurate portrayal of his thoughts on not boycotting his film vs. being thrown in jail for being with the person you love, certainly had an effect, just maybe not the one he wanted.

Card’s comments had the effect of pouring gasoline on a pile of embers. When trailers for the film first came out, SF fans had a generally quiet and civil discussion about the movie. On the one hand, it looked cool, and was the work of a whole team of people, many of whom were strong allies of the LGBT community. In any case, the novel is much beloved, and was it possible to separate the work from the creator? This had all simmered down when Card threw his dunce cap into the ring with his comment. Some people weren’t going to see it, other people were. Some people were going to see it but assuage their guilt by donating the ticket price to a charitable organization, because darn it, the trailer did look cool. Most people behaved like adults. They considered the options, and they decided on the one that was best for them. All was well.

Card’s comments set off a new round of anger in his adversaries. New calls, much louder this time, came for a boycott, with the clear evidence of his snide little remarks to back them up. Lionsgate, the film’s distributor, went into crisis mode, demonstrating their solidarity with the LGBT community with PR statements, celebrity supporters, and even promising a special LGBT-friendly premier of the film.

I’m still not going to see it, and my reasons have more to do with Card’s foolish interview comments than his politics. He is entitled to his opinions, but an author should know better. Card acted in an abominably unprofessional manner. Here is what he did wrong:

1. Never, never, EVER feed the troll. Even if you think you’re right. Even if you are right. Even if your opponents are godless commie mutant traitors, ALL HAIL FRIEND COMPUTER! Don’t do it. Don’t get that last word in. A troll pokes the bear. A professional cuts their losses and moves on. Don’t get that last punch in. Because it won’t be the last punch.

2. Accept that you have haters and you have fans. Engage the fans and ignore the haters. Dude is a New York Times best-selling author. He has been for decades. The SF community has seen example after example of authors trying to directly challenge their critics. In some cases, literal critics writing bad reviews. SF has never been the darling of the publishing industry anyway. We’ve long been considered literary fiction’s dorky little brother, hanging around where he isn’t wanted, swinging toy swords and making lightsabre noises with his mouth. You get the audience you get, and you cherish it, feed and water it, make it grow like a money tree. Don’t shout at the brambles. They aren’t going to do anything for you.

3. To quote another recent SF flick, “It’s not about obedience, it’s about respect.” Audiences go to your film, or buy your latest book in hard cover because… drumroll please… they want to be entertained. They see what you have to offer, and decide that it’s worth their money. Maybe they go because they’re fans, and they like you. But they don’t owe you a thing. This is the great secret I’ve learned about being a writer, slinging words out into the dark aether and hoping they land on the desk of someone who wants to read them. Nobody owes you shit. Not the industry, not your fans, and certainly not your detractors. It is the height of arrogance to expect otherwise.

Tolerance means accepting your film exists. The boycott isn’t about picketing the theaters or shutting down the studio. It’s about not paying twenty dollars to watch an earnest white boy kill buggers. And that’s fine. The film might have needed to reach a wider audience to be profitable. The negative attention might convince potential theater goers to wait for the blue ray. But that money wasn’t promised the film, and it certainly isn’t owed. Any shred of attention, anything cent spent on merchandise, or any tiny fraction of a ticket price, is the goodwill and respect of your audience. To imply that people outside your audience are being intolerant by withholding their dollars is not merely unprofessional, it’s disrespectful to them, and to your fans.

We Can Be Heroes….

June 29, 2013

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This is a difficult post for me to write, but I have to write something. I’ve been starting and stopping it all morning. Some friends of mine have been talking lately about writing outside your comfort zone, and now I’m taking a deep breath and stepping out of mine. But this isn’t about me. This is about something else.

I have never been comfortable talking about my sexuality. And I’ve been even less comfortable writing about it. Which is to say that I don’t. I mean, I’ve always had ideas for stories with gay themes or characters, and my notes are filled with the sort of secret histories that I never expected to share until after the last book in a best-selling series was released. I chose to write differently. I chose to write to the market. I didn’t want to muck up. I kept my head down.

“Gay Fiction” is an odd sort of genre because it is about being gay. About being different. About all the ways the world has to hurt you. And sometimes the protagonists rise above, and sometimes, they don’t. Of course, there is also gay romantic fiction, but there isn’t a lot of data that gay men read romance novels, and straight women do. So, good luck finding a story for YOU, gay male reader. This is the principle of yaoi, two beautiful men for women to objectify. And if you’re a man and that’s what you’re into? Bonus. This is the kind of deep and real same-sex relationship you find after midnight between two female prison inmates on Cinemax. These are the sorts of covers featuring a nude 120 lb blond model, his frame coquettishly twisted at a three quarters view, holding a football helmet and looking whistful. But romance is not a genre I’m interested. I like fantasy. I like science fiction. I kept quiet. I kept my head down.

And in my genre of choice, there are some GLBT characters. Sometimes they even have romances. Sometimes they even live to see the end of the book. But what conflicts do these characters wrestle with? Discrimination in the magical kingdom. Don’t Ask Don’t Tell in Star Fleet. Coming out to their father the King. Space-AIDS. Their struggles are the same struggles. That is, assuming they’re the good guys. Want to steam up your villain? Give him a sexy lesbian dominatrix for a minion. Want to show how virile and masculine your hero is? Why not have the super-villain make a pass at him while they’re duking it out. Bonus points if he says he ‘likes it rough.’ Slow bit in the plot? Maybe the scheming queen could be bicurious for a couple chapters. But publishers are risk averse, and getting more so all the time. I don’t even have a novel out yet. Don’t make waves, I thought. Don’t get known as a ‘gay’ writer, I thought. I kept my head down.

I’ve always kept my head down. It has been my survival strategy for as long as I can remember. I didn’t come out until college, and even that was a long and difficult process, helped immensely by the love and support of my boyfriend, now my husband. I was quiet and shy in high school. I kept my head down.

In 2011, Jamey Rodemeyer killed himself. He was a student at Williamsville North High School, just like I was. And he died because he was bullied, because he was gay. And no one stopped it from happening. It was the kind of thing that I never expected to happen in a place like North. Some distant school in the bible belt somewhere, sure. But those were the same halls I walked through. Where I kept my head down.

I realized that we don’t change the world by observing it. We change the world by getting up and fucking changing it. It is an easy thing to say, ‘hey, it get’s better.’ And then turn our attention back to our real lives and the real problems we face as adults. The mortgage, the job, this short story that just isn’t working, the podcast deadline. It’s easy to forget that you’re still keeping your head down.

But you can’t whisper ‘yes’ when the world shouts ‘no.’ You can’t hope a You-tube video will carry the same weight as the bully, or the teacher that doesn’t see the problem. You can’t hope a 30 second story on the news will be heard over a 2.5 hour movie that says you’re better off staying in the closet.

I recently spoke with a colleague about her ‘New Adult’ novel. And I’m taking the opportunity of the next month to write one of my own. Because I feel like I can address my sexuality without framing it as a problem. I can have a main character be gay and have it not be the overriding focus of his life, to say nothing of the book. He can be the hero of his own story. He can fight off monsters and save the (other) guy. He can save the ship and not lose everything else.  The YES has to be louder than then no. I can’t wait for the world to be ready for a three-dimensional gay male lead in speculative fiction. I can’t keep my head down anymore.

Fiction: The Decision

June 20, 2013

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This story was written for NPR’s Three Minute Fiction Contest round nine.  The prompt was to write a story about a real or fictional US President.  I didn’t place, but I hope you enjoy it.

I looked up. “How sure are we?” My eyes swept the room. The whole cabinet was exhausted. Everyone here already knew the answer. I wouldn’t have woken them up at 2AM for a hoax, nor would I have them sleep through history. But the question had to be asked. The director of NASA cleared his throat.

“Well, 95% certain, Mr. President. We confirmed as well as we could, but would have had to contact teams in other nations.” A 5% chance that these images were fakes, that the data was not what it indicated. A wide enough margin to make me a laughing-stock if I choose wrong.

“I see. And you’re certain the data is contained?”

“It is for now, Mr. President. No one else in the hemisphere has the tech to find it, but we have a rapidly closing window before the sun sets in Asia and Europe. We have maybe a six hour head start on China.”

“Alright. What are your opinions?” I looked around the room again. The Secretary of Defense, in her prim blue uniformed skirt spoke first.

“If this is genuine, we cannot be assured of peaceful contact,” she said. The Secretary of State scowled under his bushy mustache.

“But we cannot assume they are hostile. We may only provoke a war,” he said. “We may also insult our allies if we aren’t careful.” He was right of course. We had front row seats to this show, and every other world power would complain they weren’t consulted. I would, if the situation were reversed. Now all the Secretaries were talking at once. The Secretary of the Interior was concerned about possible resource contamination, and the Homeland Security Chief was insisting that there would be riots, at least across the Bible Belt and most major cities. He was probably right, too. I thought of a thousand dominoes. Each one a problem, potentially a catastrophe. And each of them would fall based on what happened in this room in the next five minutes. This was the defining moment of my administration, and everyone in the room knew it.

“It’s a hoax,” said the Vice President. “You move forward with this, and you are going to make Carter look like Lincoln. Let it go, John. Let some other world leader make an ass of themselves on the morning news.” I could, of course. I could step back, and by doing nothing, let the cup pass from my lips. I could let history happen somewhere else, and say, ‘I wasn’t sure.’ And history would forgive me for it.

But I already knew that I couldn’t. This was America. Americans were the first men on the Moon, the first people on Mars. We were explorers. It was our duty, my duty, to lead. I shook my head.

“How soon can you get an Orion prepped?” I asked the NASA chief.

“Uh, it’s incredibly complicated, Mr. President. Setting the safety systems alone…”

“You have five hours. Pick a team of your three best people. Vince, I want your pick of a diplomat to go with them, just in case. Georgette, name a military advisor, too. Have their names on my desk in an hour, and get them to Houston by 10AM. I don’t think this is a fake, and I don’t think it’s hostile, but I’m not going to take chances. Press conference at 6AM. The rest of you, get reports to me on the potential fallout. None of us expected this, but we’ll be making first contact with that ship, wherever it came from.”

Final Fantasy IV, Part two: The Fifth Man

June 14, 2013

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Being the first Final Fantasy game for the Super Nintendo, Final Fantasy IV featured several technical advancements over the previous incarnations.  The graphical tile set shares some similarity with FF III, but 16-bit graphics and an expanded color palate give the objects more depth.  Everything feels a bit more real.  The added power of the hardware also allowed for two key graphical improvements.  The first is layering, which created better visual effects, filling the screen with fog or smoke, and lending atmosphere to the dungeons and other locations.  The second is Mode 7 graphics.  Mode 7 was an ability that the Super Nintendo had which allowed the background plane to be rotated against another object in a variety of ways.  This was used by the Super Nintendo to create the illusion of a 3D environment with 2D backgrounds.  FF IV uses the effect for airship sequences in the game.  As the airship takes off, the ground literally tilts and shrinks away, creating an appearance of altitude.  Square continued to refine and experiment with these effects in later games for the Super Nintendo.
The real thing that makes FF IV stand out in the series, however, is the battle system.  Final Fantasy IV is the origin of the Active Time Battle System.  In previous games, your characters would line up on one side of the screen, the monsters would take the other side, and you’d take turns hitting each other with swords and magic.  IV introduced a system where the speed at which your characters acted was actually based on their speed stats.  So faster characters wouldn’t just land more blows on their opponents, they acted more often.  This was another break-out moment for the series, and was a key part of the game for years, although players could still set the controls so that monsters would politely wait if you were called away during a fight.
The other unique feature was a five-person party over the previous games’ four.  This is the largest they ever got, and challenged the player with a difficult choice. Like in II and III, players could set characters in the front row to do more physical damage, or the back to boost defense.  But in IV, some slots were reserved for the front, and others for the back, letting the players choose, but preventing them from putting everyone up front or in back.  Again, the player had to familiarize themselves with the characters, and learn their strengths and weaknesses.  Usually this wasn’t particularly difficult with knights up front and wizards in the back.  However, some sections of the game gave you a party that favored one style over the the other, and left you with more vulnerable characters, or with choosing who to stick in the back for a while.
Final Fantasy IV is a game that focused on delivering one story, and challenging players to master it with very little of the customization offered by previous and later installments.  Still, it delivers it so well, and the mechanics are so deep, that it still remains one of my favorites in the series.

Final Fantasy IV: Part One: Marrying the Personal and the Epic

June 13, 2013

hughjodonnell Gaming, Uncategorized , , 1 Comment

Picking back up in my look at the Final Fantasy series, let’s take a look at the first entry into the Super Nintendo era, Final Fantasy IV.  Leaving aside the technical and nerdy depths of the game’s various versions and releases, today I want to talk about the game’s plot, and the huge step forward it represented for the series.

Final Fantasy IV is the story of Cecil, a Dark Knight of Baron, and the commander of the kingdom’s dreaded airship corps, the Red Wings.  The game opens with a lengthy cut scene of Cecil flying to the country of Mysidia, attacking, and stealing their crystal.  This is a unique opening for the series, as there is almost no game-play as the player is introduced to Cecil, his friends and subordinates, and his inner turmoil.  Cecil is caught between his loyalty to the king and his desire to do what is right.

When he questions why the kingdom is committing such horrible crimes, the king strips him of his rank and demands he deliver a message to a nearby village, alone and on foot.  Cecil’s best friend and Dragoon Kain stands with him.  This is where the adventure, and the game, really begin.  The first few hours of the game chronicle Cecil’s journey as he gains and loses allies, and fights to make sense of the world and his place in it.  Finally, he washes up alone and broken on the shores of Mysidia, coming face to face with the horror of what he did at the start of the narrative.

The only way for Cecil to atone for his crime is to climb Mt. Ordeals and become a Paladin, shedding the darkness of his past.  And in doing so, the greater motion of the plot is revealed, as he is opposed by fiends serving Golbez, a powerful, shadowy figure gathering crystals to himself for some purpose.  And in becoming a Paladin, he transcends his quest to save himself, and takes on a mission to save the world.

Final Fantasy IV marked a turning point for the series.  The quartet of tabula rasas with blank spaces for names were replaced by more fully formed characters that had a place and stake in the world.  They had their own drive and agency, and drew the story forward as they wove in and out of the adventure tale’s intricate story.  IV didn’t give the player any choice as to who was in the party at any given time.  It was dictated by the story and the actions of the characters rather than the player.  And all the characters had a reason to be there, be it a sense of obligation, a desire for revenge, or just a desire to keep the other characters safe.  Square eased up on the narrative drive in later games, giving the player a bit more control, but this is the game when the party really became characters.  It was a remarkable step forward, and it had a lasting impression on the series.

Next time:  The technical innovations of the 16 bit era, and the five person party.

Boldly Going Nowhere (Spoilers, also Language.)

June 10, 2013

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So yeah, Star Trek into Darkness.

Spoilers ahead, Kids!

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And we’re back.

There’s a lot to like in the new “Star Trek” film.  The acting is top-notch.  The visual effects are outstanding, and the set pieces and dialog all have the same clever, pop-corn selling flair they had in the last movie.  But they all add up to a film that is less than the sum of its parts.

Let me put it to you this way:  if you hired a Philharmonic Orchestra to make a Ramones tribute album, and recorded it in high-definition surround sound, it would sound better.  The music would be clearer.  The musicians would have more craft.  But it would miss the point entirely.  “Star Trek Into Darkness” is the Boston Pops playing “I Want to be Sedated.”

Most of the films problems lie with the overall plot structure of the film, which sets up conflict and complete forgets about them rather than using it to further any character growth.  Case in point:  The opening scene of the movie is the crew engaging in a dangerous heist to stop a volcano from blowing up a planet.  Which is maybe a thing that could happen, I guess.  For reasons that aren’t really well explained The Enterprise is submerged in the planet’s oceans rather than in orbit.  Something bad happens, and Kirk is forced to choose between saving Spock’s life, and breaking the Prime Directive.  If you aren’t a big Star Trek fan, the Prime Directive is the rule that says you don’t fuck with a developing culture.  Cut to being back on Earth, and we see Kirk being woken by his alarm after a night with a full on PAIR of ACTUAL CAT-GIRLS!  He’s excited, because he assumes that he did SUCH A GOOD JOB, that Star Fleet is going to give him a big promotion.  It turns out he lied about breaking the Prime Directive, and he’s being fired and sent back to the academy.  Now, all this would be reasonable, and a good set up if the movie were in any way, shape or form about Kirk growing up and learning to lead rather than just kicking the shit out of your problems.

But this is about where Space-terrorist Benedict Cumberbatch shows up, and Kirk is called back up to help deal with one guy on the other side of the planet, because there are twelve people in Starfleet, apparently.  Inside of ten minutes, Kirk’s mentor is dead, he’s got a burning thirst for revenge, and he’s back in the captain’s chair having learned nothing.  The Prime Directive, or the fact that Kirk RUINED A CIVILIZATION is not discussed for the rest of the film.

This is a mistake that is repeated throughout the movie.  A problem is brought up, not really confronted, and forgotten about to make room for another contrived reference and action sequence.  And while the action sequences are all pretty good, nostalgia is not nearly so good at holding a movie together as a logical plot structure.  The fixation on references is so blatant, it has nostalgia for the 2009 Star Trek movie!  There is literally a scene in which two characters are talking in a bar, and one of them says ‘Remember that awesome bar fight from the last movie?’

Most of the references are to Khan, of course.  If you haven’t already heard, Cumberbatch is really Khan.  This has the affect of not only being problematic from the standpoint of, well, racism, but completely derailing the movie.  The last glimmer of hope that J. J. Abrams is making a serious film that questions Starfleet’s role as a military force in a Utopian society is swallowed up by Wrath of Khan II:  Lens Flare Remix.

The movie goes so far as to do the tragic death of Spock from the original movie, but in THIS TIMELINE, it’s KIRK that dies!  Cue dramatic sound effect here.  And of course, since it is Kirk fixing the warp core, the solution to the problem is for him to, wait for it, kick the living shit out of it.  That’s right.  Kirk beats up the warp core until it comes back online.  And then he dies, sending Spock into a screaming rage where he runs Khan down and beats him up on a flying car or something.  That’s right.  This wasn’t a movie about Kirk learning to step back and lead.  It’s a movie about SPOCK LEARNING TO KICK THE SHIT OUT OF STUFF!

The lights dim, the orchestra prepares, and the first strands of “Blitzkrieg Bop” drift over the audience.

Balticon 2013 schedule

May 15, 2013

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Hey folks!

Balticon, also known as “Podcaster New Year” is a week and a half away!  This year I’m going to be a panelist, and boy, do I have a full schedule!  Keeping in mind that this is all subject to change, here’s where you’ll be able to find me this year:

Saturday

11 am NM-3 New media Artists Take On Film with James Durham, Justin Timpane, and Zan Rosin
1 pm NM-54 Promoting Your Podcast with A Kovacs, Alicia Goranson, Jay Smith, and Allison Gamblin
5 pm NM-49 Kickstarter with John Mierau, Betsy Riley, and Mur Lafferty

8 pm NM-51 Podcast Editing with Chris Snelgrove, Chris ester, PG Holyfield, and PC Haring

Sunday

1 pm NM-25 Talk to Me: How To Conduct Podcast Interviews with Stephen Granade, Tim Dodge, John Mierau, Chris Lester, and Alex White
2 pm Nanowrimo with Starla Huchton, Doc Coleman, Pamela Gay, PG Holyfield, and Allison Gamblin
5 pm Metamor City Live Show with Nobilis Reed, Veronica Giguere, Renee Chambliss, Patrick Scaffido, Doc Coleman, Chris Lester, and Mildred Cady
6 pm Reading with Danielle Ackley-McPhail and Lauren Harris

10 pm Podcasters Against Humanity-Come see voices from around the podosphere playing “Cards against Humanity,” and join in the fun!  This is going to be a 18+ panel, and we won’t mean anything we say.  Honest.

Monday
10 am NM-31 Introvert’s Guide To Social Media
11 am NM-35 Dueling Drabbles-I’ll provide some topics, keywords and maybe even some fabulous prizes!  Who can write the best story in 100 words and just a few minutes?

“Attack of the Airship Mutants”

April 24, 2013

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Orson Fractus is a travel writer, advance man, and airship pirate.  He is, of course, the entirely fictional character I am portraying in an ongoing game of Abney Park’s Airship Pirates.  As a globe-trotting journalist, imagine my surprise when he began turning in articles based on his adventures.  In an effort to put more of my writing online for free, I am posting it here.  Will we see more of Orson’s writing as the game goes on?  Only time will tell.
  Special thanks to Chris for serving as GM, and putting up with my shenanigans.

ATTACK OF THE AIRSHIP MUTANTS!

As seen by Orson Fractus

What ho, faithful readers, It is I, your humble narrator Orson Fractus, here with another dispatch from the wild places of the world! And what adventuresome times it has been! The Crimson Lady, having just played a command performance for the Prince of Mount Rain, had left port and were sailing the winds for our next exotic port of call. Our noble captain had retired to his cabin, the hot and damp climate of the city having disagreed with him most severely. The lovely ladies of the ship were likewise disengaged, having earned themselves a rest.

Thus it was that the ship lay in the command of sharp-eyed Percival Flynn, and the helm under the steady automata hand of Mr. Borealis. We were not a day out when we spied a vessel, much like our own (adjective) Tiger-fish, in dire need of our assistance! Gentle readers, I will go on to say that this ship was bearing Imperial markings, but the sailors aboard wore the uniforms of the Merchant Marine, not the air navy, and all good Skyfolk know that mercy trumps borders when it comes to vessels in distress, and we did our duty, and the law of the skies, in coming to the ship’s aid.

But it was, of course a devious Imperial trap! No sooner had approached the hobbled vessel than a dozen grapnels fired from the ship’s interior, and a hive of soldiers swarmed the decks! Oh, what shock and horror we felt when we saw the depths to which those wretched servants of red-handed Vick would stoop to!

But it gets worse, dear friends, for these were no ordinary rank and file air navy grunts, no! Our eagle eyed sniper and bard, Theo spotted that they were none other than the Emperor’s misbegotten slave troops, the Chuno Ggun! Who can say how the black-hearted ruler came to create these monstrous men? Were they born of the foul poison that passes for food and drink in the Change-Cage Cities? Or were they bred by the mad science of the cages themselves? Braver explorers than I, who have braved those high walls and shadowed streets, may know for certain, but I confess, gentle reader, that I do not.

What I can tell you is that an army of the most frightening monster-men I have ever had the misfortune to lay eyes on began to climb the cables out to our ship. Clever readers may remember I have written a bit about the folk that call themselves ‘Misbegotten’ before. They may recall soft-furred Mink, or our thick-skinned Engineer, Zom. But never have I seen such horrors as this. There were men who scuttled across the lines on crab claws. There were men that had the paws of monkeys for feet and hands. There were even misbegotten who clung to the ropes by means of prehensile tails. Each and every one of them was uglier, meaner, and nastier than the one before, and they were being driven, like animals with a lash, onto our decks to bring carnage and death.

Our noble commander quickly acted to repel boarders, while our pilot took the Lady up to try and shake them loose. Our sniper picked his targets, and the rest of us readied our rifles and mammoth guns to keep them away from our fair ladies. Many of them fell, but even we could not stem their cruel numbers as they poured over the gunwales. We were all soon caught up in hand to hand fighting, Flynn with his cutlass, I with my mighty fists, and even Doctor Chesapeake was attacked by a swarthy little gentlemen whose toxic breath left her gasping for several minutes.

I found myself fighting a giant of a man, nine feet tall if he was an inch, with a second head on his shoulders! Although the brute was prodigiously strong, in this case the old adage proved false, and two heads were not better than one. With a crack on the jaw from my trusty knuckles to each of them, I laid the giant out on the deck, and tossed him over the side. Although the monstrous Imperial Ggun had numbers, and eerie abilities, they were no match for our skill, and we soon had them scuttling back down their lines, more afraid of us than their cruel handlers.

The poorly provisioned and armed Imperials, no longer in control of their beastly troops did not last long, and soon the enemy ship was awash in blood. Soon, they had even dragged their cruel captain out, and rather than face justice at the hands of the mob, he took his one life using a handy supply of grenades.

I shall spare sensitive readers the result of that grisly scene, and the horrors we found below decks, but suffice to say that by the time we secured our own lines and got a team of aboard, there was little our Doctor and her sisters could do. We did manage to find one survivor, a pale, nearly starved boy that the Imperials had kept chained up like an animal. He couldn’t even tell us his own name. Perhaps they had never given him one. We’ve brought him over to the Crimson Lady, and our Rose has seen to fattening him up, maybe for the first time in his life. But what strange stories will our newest crew member be able to tell? Keep reading, dear friends, and maybe we’ll find out together!

Cover reveal: “The Shadow Over Ironwood”

March 30, 2013

hughjodonnell Uncategorized , , , , Leave a comment

FINAL_freelance-hunters_MEDIUM

What secrets does the Ironwood hold?

Freelance Hunters Gloriana Bywater and Joachim Verne are on the job when a desperate Elf girl offers them a king’s ransom to liberate her forest from a mysterious threat.  But no outsider has ever left the Ironwood alive.  And what has befallen their companion Bingo Proudfoot?

Coming Spring 2013 to all major eBook retailers!

I’m pleased to reveal the cover of the first Freelance Hunters fantasy adventure novel!  The cover was drawn by the talented artist Peter Tarkulich.  Go check out his excellent webcomic Bardsworth!  The Freelance Hunters logo was designed by Alex White, creator of The Gearheart.  Much thanks to both gentlemen for all of their hard work.

if you’d like to get a look at this beautiful illustration in person, I’ll be appearing at the Buffalo Small Press Book Fair on April 6th and 7th!  I’ll be giving away promotional post cards for “The Freelance Hunters” and “The Dark Wife,” and selling audio compilations of the best stories featured on The Way of the Buffalo podcast.  Come down and say ‘hi’ if you’re in the area!

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