Pandemic Food Blog 1

Spent more time cooking. Can’t get take-out and have to use the goods I get. Gives something to work on. Might as well share. Don’t expect some amazing insta food blogger picture quality. Here goes.

Tried my hand at homemade Hoisin sauce. Pretty happy with my first attempt.

Hoisin sauce:
⅔ soy
⅓ Mirin
about a dl soy so scale up or down from there.

1 Chili chopped
1tbs red flakes
1tbs brown sugar
1tbs honey
1tbs peanut butter
1tps peppercorns
1tps cayennes
Cloves

put in a pot and reduce by a third, until sticky and like a glaze.


Hoisin Roasted Chicken & Potatoes

Used the sauce to roast a chicken.

Salt on chicken, Brush with Hoisin.
Half a whole garlic, one half in the chicken half in pan.
Peel potatoes.
Toss potatoes in Hoisin. Put in pan.
Pan in oven. 40 min at 230 degrees.

Chicken and Rice bowl

Plain rice however you normally do that.
Leftover roasted chicken.
Refried potatoes, I used duckfat why not.
Quick pickle of cucumber. Just mirin and salt, over de-cored and sliced cucumber.
Fermented pickled cabbage. Look up a sauerkraut recipe.
Fried egg, crispy.
Hot sauce to taste.

The Apocalypse

I’m gonna use this place more. Something to do, to keep sane during the goddamn apocalypse. For context it is April 2020 at the moment. So I’ll just post stuff.
I can’t write songs or music and I feel like an pompous ass when trying write poetry so. Same stuff I write but might see some out of left field posts. Some more personal stuff or just snippets or writings or musings.
Might be terrible but so what the world just ended.   

(Lack of) Control

One of my first posts I made on here was in anger. Or frustration, I guess that is a more accurate word. The post was titled “F#!% you BioWare!” was out of frustration for the game Dragon Age Inquisition (DA:I). Bioware the company behind the Dragon age games also made the Mass Effect games, Mass Effect 2 remains one my favorite games of all time. The Dragon Age franchise of games had also been some of my favorites, even the not so great DA:2 was really enjoyable and I played through it maybe a few to many times. That is high praise indeed I know, so what prompted this change, my love for Bioware suddenly turning to anger. I know being angry with Bioware is pretty much the norm now For me it was a bit different, I.couldn’t play DA:I. I could not move the player character. A small change in the control scheme made it impossible for me to play. Those controls were locked on PC and I can’t play on console. Here’s the thing I’m disabled, basically I can (mostly) only play using the mouse. Bioware had for some reason chosen to lock the actions of the mouse button. I was mad, not that I couldn’t play the game, I’m used to that. I now realize I was mad because I thought I could play and I couldn’t. My expectations were shattered. I knew I could play Dragon Age and was looking forward to play My game when other games are a gamble or just plain impossible for me. In the end I played through DA:I with some annoying phenagiling and workarounds but my experience was tainted and I never truly enjoyed my time in Thedas. Something good came out of it though. I wrote my final thesis for my university degree about accessibility in video games. Fast forward to today. Video Games have the same problems for me. Seems like things are changing, slowly but surely. I see colorblind settings in most AAA titles and pretty extensive ones at that. Subtitles are getting better as well. Seems like accessibility options are getting more mainstream. Doesn't’ help me personally. Then a big development happened (fairly recently). Microsoft came out with the Xbox Adaptive Controller. Announced back in 2018. The controller lets you connect any 3rd party device to one the many usb ports. Letting you customize this xbox controller in any way you need. This still confines you to a pc or xbox for your gaming. Compared to no choices at all that is huge. So I bought the thing as soon as I was able, I must confess the hype got to me. The controller got a lot of buzz on the back of its Superbowl ad. Now I have the thing but then the question becomes what to do with it. The controller is nothing on its own, it is very simple and barebones. It is meant to be customized, to be adapted to my needs. With a little research on Microsoft website and some help from google, I found the Quadstick controller. A joystick designed for Quadrapeligecs. Makes it possible to play most anything only by using your mouth and face. Combined with the Adaptive Controller it would give me access to pretty much every Xbox and PC game. If I can set it up right. So I bought one. That is only the start of a journey. Now comes the hard part. Setting everything up and getting the software up and running. Then learning and mastering the Quadstick. I set a lofty goal, I want to beat a From Software game, From games have a reputation for being some of the most difficult games. If I can beat a Dark Souls game or even Sekiro, I should be able to play almost anything. I probably won’t be playing a new Dragon Age game anytime soon though.

Tears in Rain, A Summer Rain mystery - Chapter 11

11 - Veneer

Not very it turned out.

The veneer of sophistication and class was as thin as the week old chipped polish

on my nails.        

Tears in Rain, A Summer Rain mystery - Chapter 10

10 - The Menagerie 

When I left the Neon Diner It had gotten late and I still had a job to do even if I’d just been roped into another mystery, I couldn’t abandon Nora. She was actually paying me.
I had agreed to meet Stark at the morgue the next morning to look at the body. I had asked to borrow a black light from the precinct in return, the request had surprised Stark but he agreed to it without hesitation. That’s what friends a for, I guess.
To think that just this morning I had been bored out of my mind with no jobs and nothing to do other than daydrinking the day away. Now it felt like there weren’t enough hours in the day. I guess when it rains it pours.     
Speaking of. It had begun to rain in earnest. Not as bad as expected. Not that I mind either way, I like the rains. It was a constant light fall obscuring the city’s uglier parts making it a sleek neon and water soaked beauty. I still had time so I walked through the city heading to Nora’s place of employment, hoping that her shift wasn’t over.

I found my way to the address she had given me, it was on the westside in the Boiling Pot.
It wasn’t quite mainstreet but Nora’s club was not far from the hustle of downtown.
The neighborhood had gotten its name after a showdown between the Firebreather and the Superior Seven, the fight had turned the water in all the water towers to steam. After the fight the locals nicknamed their home the Boiling Pot. The name stuck and now the investors doing all the gentrification use it. Sounds neat I guess and it helps with appeasing the less inclined of the locals.
The Boiling Pot was one of those former rundown neighborhoods that would have been scary just a few years ago. Now the gentrification had made it a home to coffee shop chains and hipsters. Well, it wasn’t quite there yet, the makeover had been quick and some of the old was still visible under the surface. The new really just a thin veneer.   
The club was the same thing, part of the old school trying to fit into the new, and failing.
A big neon sign.read The Menagerie in purple letters next to a picture of bird in a cage also in neon. It probably hadn’t changed since neon signs were invented.
The signs boasted live music, drinks and beautiful woman. A couple of goons in ill-fitting suits were hanging out in front. Old school.
Looked like a nice place at first glance. Well it tried very hard to look classy. It worked at least on the outside. I went inside to find out exactly how deep the surface level of class really went.

Tears in Rain, A Summer Rain mystery - Chapter 9

9 - History

“Let’s not go there” I gave him a small smile that I didn’t really mean or put effort into. Ancient history, Ha, doesn’t feel that ancient. Call it what it really is, trauma, that’s what he meant. Hell, I was past it but somethings you never get over. My ‘history’ with metas and masks, almost killed me. It broke my heart and a lot of bones. Stark knew my rules and where they came from. I don’t work meta cases. And I don’t talk about her, about Julia. But I couldn’t get mad at him. Stark really/truly cared but he didn’t know the whole story, I couldn’t tell him. tell anyone for that matter, And when I say that. I mean I’m not allowed to. That story is burrowed deep in some D.O.D vault guarded by a forest of red tape, top secret beyond black. Stark had read my service record, the non-redacted one. He knew I lost someone and that I blamed myself. Classic survivors guilt I’m told. Call it whatever you want.But this wasn’t it. This case was not about me. I could help with this. Couldn’t hurt, right? “If you ever want to talk. About her. About anything. I’m alway here. You know that right?”“Yeah. yeah” I remembered Julia. “Thanks”. I said and gave him a honest smile and meant it. 

“About the case” I said, wanting to change to the subject  “Can’t tell you anything you don’t already know, not really. But we can solve this we’re not half bad you know” I took a sip of my coffee, realizing it had gone cold.“Yeah I know, I just hoped you knew more about him, thought you knew who he was” He said rubbing his forehead,“Is that what this is? You thought that I knew who he was and that I’d tell? Give up his identity. You know how dangerous that is. Illegal too” I responded, surprised.“I know the rules” he replied “You aren’t above breaking a few”“Bending” I corrected.  “Well I don’t know. So there, but we can do without” I said honestly.

The rules Stark was talking about was the Masked Hero Act. You see the rules in our state, our city, is a bit different than in the rest of country. The masked heroes patrolling our city are important. Not for security, not really. Don’t get me wrong, they do good and make people feel safe. No if you ask me the good they do is probably matched by the bad they attract. The freaks that hound our city looking for a challenge. But that is not it, Millenium City IS the city of heroes. People come from all over to watch the metas in bright colors fly through the skyline. We need them, we can’t be Millenium City without them. So the city passed the Masked Hero Act back in the 80ties. It makes life a bit harder for people like Stark and myself. The law, in the words of our illustrious politicians, is there to “protect the privacy of the individual that choose to wear a mask and protect our great city”.

Basically it means powered vigilantism was legalised and has been legal for over 20 years. It means that all criminal cases involving masks and metas goes to the Major Crimes taskforce. It also made it illegal to run fingerprints or blood from masked heroes, only F.A.T.E agents can do that. Meaning that it is illegal to reveal the identity of superheroes. Makes cases like this very delicate. Stark didn’t want to lose his job, get sued or worse. He was a cop, a good one. Real police. above all he wanted to solve this thing. I knew the mystery gnawed at him as much as it did me. I could help, screw my self imposed rules and pity. A man was dead.“How can I help? Anything. Just don’t make me do something super illegal” I said    

Tears in Rain, A Summer Rain mystery - Chapter 8

8 - Legends

“He could fly right, we don’t have a list of his powers. We don’t know much about him actually. You pulled his file way back when, you’ve read it”I eyed him suspiciously “How do you know about that?”“I know people too” he smiled“Sure, don’t tell me” I said “Those files are not worth the paper it is printed on. It is redacted as hell and it won’t tell you anything useful anyway. It is just his legend” I said with old resentment.“His legend?” Stark asked“Sorry, craft talk old habit.” I said
“His cover, his persona. It is the identity the company gives you, makes up. Just a story you tell. It’s what they call the lie you tell. Makes it sound more noble I guess… It is to protect you, the lies. It is what you tell your family, your friends” I looked at him forlorned. “Or the thing you hide behind, to infiltrate, to turn or to get what you want.” I still sounded bitter.
“I’ve had a few legends, you don’t even know all the things I did over there” Not about you, Rain. Focus..
“I digress. With metas the term applies I think. We make them legends, it makes them more than humans. Makes us normal boots on the ground feel safe. Makes the enemy more scared of us. It is a good piece of counter intelligence really. If any outside forces gets their paws/hands on the intel all they get is a scary story, a myth, a legend” I said.“So our files are as good as theirs” Stark grumbled. “Better even” I smiled “sorry not helping”"Listen" I said “All I’m saying is, if it says he’s bulletproof you have to take it for what it is, a story. Not the facts. Trust the evidence. He sure as hell can bleed we know that.” “Yeah, tell me about it” He said. “I’m sure there is a file out there with all the dirty secrets but that was way above my paygrade. I don’t think the really big guns even have to tell the government anything if they don’t want to, I mean what's gonna happen? they’ll get arrested I don’t think so” I said“Hmm, I’ll go on what we then, which isn’t much. This one is good at keeping his secrets, Rain” He said.“They all are” I said “I’ll help if I can”“I appreciate it, but I can manage you don’t have to drench up ancient history, I know how hard that can be” He said

Tears in Rain, A Summer Rain mystery - Chapter 7

7 - Torch

 Stark took a sip of his coffee. Then he revealed a case file from his coat.
“You have a strong stomach if I recall?” he said
“Mmm hm” I nodded at him, while I stuffed my face. In an adorable way, I thought. 
“Alright, it is your lunch” he pushed the file to my side of the table.
Crime scene photos, a body, blood and death. I breathed in deeper. So much blood.

I Wiped my hands and looked through the file. “What am I looking at?” I said
“You knew him right?” Stark said
I knew him, sure. Anyone would. I was looking at the Torch, one of the greatest heroes in Millenium City. Ok he wasn’t Captain Tomorrow but still he was well known and well liked. And now he was dead it seemed. Died bad too. Hell, who doesn’t.
.
I knew The Torch in the war, he was a guardian angel to us. Saved my life once.
I saw him take an RPG to the chest in the sand box without getting a scratch. But no one survives war without a scratch, without scars no matter how powerful or special you are. Even if they say time heals all wounds. I’ve found that time is not the best of nurses. You’ll always keep your scars, as a silent reminder, invisible just under your skin.
The Torch must’ve had them too. It seems time didn’t heal his wounds, it just caught up to him. The Torch had been in one fight too many. Now he lay dead in gutter.
A shame but that is where most heroes journeys usually ends. Forgotten in a back alley whoever you were washed away only the mask rememaining. 
“Damn” I drawled

I realised that I had been rubbing the back of my right shoulder for a while. Massaging old scar tissue left from when I got my tattoo removed. A reminder of my service that I’d rather forget. Disguising it as scratching my arm. I quickly took my hand away. Embarrassed. Stark was looking at me. Concerned.

“Yeah I knew him. Doesn’t everybody? I’m not sure what you from me here.” I said
“Maybe you stayed in touch” He asked
“You know I didn’t” I said
“Well you are a detective and your history makes you an expert on powers, metas. Whether you like it or not” he knew I didn’t like it.
“Well I’m not the cop here, you are, but I mean you don’t really need an expert to solve this.” I made giant air quotes at the word expert.
“It is just meta on meta violence right? It is not some sort of big mystery is it. Some meta criminal or powered punk got the better of him. What am I not getting here?” I asked. 
“It was murder.” Stark said. His voice somber, serious, honest. I listened. “No sign of a struggle, no big fight. No villain. No one knows he’s dead yet”  He said.
I pointed at the crime scene photo, all that blood.. “No struggle, huh?” I said, mostly to myself.
Must have hit an artery, didn’t even know he could be cut like that . He fell from the sky, apparently. A lot of high rise apartment buildings in that neighborhood. He was right not much crime there. Why were he there? Who or what could get the drop on him like that?     
“Check the rooftops around the crime scene, I think he fell from there. You might find something there”. I said.
“We did. Rain the amount of blood reads like anger or revenge to me. Crime of passion or affect at least.” He said.
I nodded, he continued.
“But the method indicates planning, premeditated. Murder. It must have been someone he knew. I don’t think a meta did it, Rain. I don’t know who, why or even how. I don’t his powers are and what could do that to him” He pointed at all the blood. “Need your help Rain, if  I knew who he really was my life would be so much easier”
“Alright you got me, I’ll help. Too curious not to at this  point” I said
Dammit Rain remember what killed the cat. Remember your rules.

Tears in Rain, A Summer Rain mystery - Chapter 6

6 - Neon

The theme from the Pink Panther apparated from my back pocket. I scooped out my phone. How did I not put it on vibrate, getting rusty are we Rain. The screen read “Stark”. Damn. What did he want.
I picked up the phone and wedged it between my chin and shoulder.
“Rain” I said a tad too curtly “ I’m busy. What do you want?”
“And a good day to you too” came the gruff voice of detective Murphy Stark of Millenium City Major Crimes division. “I got something, I could use your help on”
I started stuffing the file into the bag on my hip.
“I’m on a job, and last I checked the MCPD doesn’t pay consultants” I responded. In truth it was nice to hear his voice. But I was not kidding about the money. I had to pay my rent after all. 
“A favor then? It’s a delicate case and I could really need a woman’s delicate touch on this”
“flattery won’t get you anywhere with me Stark. You know I’m strictly a material girl.” 
“I’ll buy you lunch then how about that? Well dinner I guess. I promise you, you’ll want to see this. It is one for the history books” He said.
He was teasing but I could tell how serious he was about whatever this was.
“Is that right?” I said coyly, “Tell you what I’ll give you 5 minutes. Neon Diner in 20? your treat” 
“Already on my way” He said. “Knew you couldn’t resist my charms”
“Bye Stark” I said with exaggerated chipper joy.
“Rain” he respond and the line clicked off.
What harm could there be in giving the police 5 minutes of my time. He wouldn’t rope me into anything. He was  a friend and I’m never one to pass up a free meal.

The street was obscured by mist. Rain was in the air but the rainfall hadn’t started in earnest yet. The red neon sign emerged from the mist like some …..
I pulled my coat closer, I liked the rains. The neon sign spells “Neon Diner” in bold stylized 80’s letters. The 24 hour diner was located in a second floor concrete overhang overlooking a monorail
I didn’t care much for the theme but the food wasn’t half bad and it was close to the 5th precinct station house.

I walked up the old iron stairs. I could hear the hum of electricity from the old transformers and the rattle of wheels on rail. The  monorail and public transportation was a proud tradition in Millenium City. Old, neglected. proud.
I entered the Diner through the frosted glass door accompanied by the chirp of the attached bell.
Inside was the thick delightful smell of coffee and grease. The low rattle of kitchen bustle and 80s classics. And they were playing Toto. I couldn't help but smile. 

The waitress was a plucky middle aged tired woman, crows feet and wrinkles at the corners of her mouth from smiling. A pair of reading glasses in a string around her neck. Dirty apron with a notepad and a couple of pencils in the pocket.
“What will it be?” she asked, pencil in hand.
“Coffee, black” said Stark in a practiced monotone.
She turned to me “What about you sweety?” 
I eyed Stark. Then smiled at the waitress and put down the dingy menu.
“Steak & Eggs, fries of course. A chocolate shake. Coffee, milk, foam and lots of cinnamon. oh and give me some of that hot sauce on the if you don’t mind. Thanks” I said smiling gleefully.
Stark looked at me like he was trying to conjure dormant laser vision to fry me. I just give him a knowing look. He did say this was his treat. What can I say.
“I’ll have a piece of the cherry pie then” Stark added as the waitress was about to leave.
“Coming right up” she said, walking to the kitchen. 

I turned back to Stark.
“So what's up” I asked “not a social call you said”
“It's been a long time” he said “how are you doing?” 
“You know. Keeping on, keeping on” I narrowed my eyes suspiciously “You are stalling” I said “why?”
The gruff old man looked at me earnestly. “All business huh, Rain. Can’t two old friends just catch up?” Stark said “He worries about you you know”
An old anger began to rear its ugly head. “Dad sent you!? Really” I all but yelled.
Calm down Rain, that squeaky tone doesn’t suit you. “And you use work as an excuse” I shock my head at him. “I could just go, you know,  I don’t need this”
“You won’t and you do” he simply said and we both knew how right he was.

The waitress appeared to have impeccable timing as she swooped in to save us from old resentments. My dad managed to fuck things up without even being present. That just great.
The waitress gave Stark his pie and coffee and I got my drinks. “I’ll be right back with your food in a second. Is everything else fine?” She asked
“Just peachy” I said  “Thanks”
I took a long sip of my shake, closing my eyes as the cold chocolatey liquid of joy filled my chest. A sigh of content escaped me. I looked up at a smiling Stark. I quickly put down my drink, embarrassed. I must have looked like a little kid.
Well I felt like a petulant child for snapping at him like that.
“Sorry about that” I said and meant it, “It’s just… Well he could talk to me directly instead of getting his friends to bribe me with chocolate” I pushed the straw around my in shake. “not that I’m complaining about the chocolate, mind you”
“He wants to give you your space.” Stark said
“Space, Yeah, he’s good at space” I grumbled. You’re doing it again Rain. “Sorry”
“Ha” He said. “Something funny?” I said
“You are your father’s daughter all right, that is for sure. there is only one person I know more stubborn than Jonathan Lake” he stabbed a finger at me. I made a face. He laughed again and I couldn’t help but smile.

The rest of my food arrived and I got stuck in.

Tears in Rain, A Summer Rain mystery - Chapter 5

5 - Blacklight

The file on the desk was an audit of Russalka Ltd, a holding company that included some small shipping and import/export businesses. It was full of boring accountant stuff, in neat precise columns. Math and numbers was never my thing but as far as I could see there was nothing out of the ordinary here. If Russalka was one of Sergey Tarasov’s companies and by extension the mob’s then there had to be more to it. Russalka had to be a shell.
Why hide it in a locked drawer. What were you up to Clay?. Without thinking  I had been fiddling with the marker I found, I decided to check if it worked and scribbled a bit on the paper. Nothing happened. Well no scribbles on paper at least. Why keep a pen that doesn’t work in your desk. I looked at it closely, turned the pen over in my fingers. On the side of it in big bold letters, UV - 2, RED.
I knew it.
Of course. Sometimes I think I might be too dumb to be in the detective business. The pen was a UV pen, it UV ink in red apparently. Only visible under blacklight.
I looked at the seemingly empty whiteboard with new understanding. Invisible ink. That was some real spy shit. All the clues I needed right there hidden in plain sight. Something was definitely going on here.
Like I said curiouser and curiouser, and just like Alice I tumbled down the rabbit hole.   
Damn, how was I going to get my hands on a blacklight

Tears in Rain, A Summer Rain mystery - Chapter 4

4 - Rusalka

It turned out Clay was an accountant, a good one with a nice office, probably with good health benefits including dental I would imagine. Other than that his office didn’t give me much to go on. I mean why would anyone want to hurt a boring accountant. Definitely not for money or notoriety but if Nora was to believed his disappearance had sinister motives and other than my own cynicism I didn’t have any reason to doubt her. On the other hand accountants follow the money for living maybe he had found something he wasn’t supposed to. The people that hide their money usually isn’t the nicest people.
I still thought this case was pretty much an open and shut. Boyfriend with cold feet or a cheating bastard either way common, easy. I wasn’t looking forward to telling Nora whenever I would find my suspicion to be truth/fact. I don’t enjoy getting paid in misery but honestly it is better to know, however devastating the truth might be.
Thing is I learned a long ago, that you have to set aside your own pre drawn conclusions and feelings to find the truth, the real truth, not just your own idea of the truth.
Data is a detective’s best friend, but I didn’t have much evidence to tell me anything about Clay Brand. I had to get to know this man if I wanted to get anywhere fast.

His office was neat and sparse, practical. A nice wooden desk, not unlike my own, facing the door. A comfortable office chair on wheels behind the desk-
To the side were file cabinets and behind the desk on the wall was a whiteboard complete with coloured markers. On the desk was a couple of flat and sleek computer monitors. 
Not much here. I rummaged through what I could. His laptop was not anywhere to be found. There was nothing on the desk really other than neatly stacked office supplies. No nic nacs or personal memorabilia, pictures or anything. Nothing of the man who works here other than a name plaque. I thought it was customary to have a picture of your loved ones on your desk or at least your dog or something. Even I have a picture of my mom on my desk.   

His desk drawers was locked and so was the file cabinet. The whiteboard was wiped clean.
I took out my phone from my pocket, turned on the flashlight option and went over the whiteboard. Nothing, and I mean nothing. Not even a smudge of wiped off colored writing. Like it was never used. Why have a whiteboard in your office if you never use it. And yes I checked the markers, they all worked. Alright maybe the office came with the thing and Clay just wasn’t a whiteboard guy or the cleaners cleaned it and did a really thorough job. It was odd but it could be just that odd. Well then, Clay, let’s check out that locked desk of yours.

The drawers on the desk was nice thick wood with locks on each one. I could try to pick the locks, it would be a shame to break such a nice desk. In the end, after a second of deliberation with myself my impatient side won out. I admit it is not one of my best qualities. So yeah, I broke open the desk, sue me. If Clay really was in trouble I’m sure he wouldn’t mind the damage and I could always pay him back.   
I found a couple of files in manilla folders, I put them on top of the desk in a neat pile. Physical papers in physical folders, old cool. I was starting to see why Nora liked this guy. Another felt marker pen was tucked into the back of the bottom drawer. I put it with the papers on the desk. Next was the file cabinet. The lock broke easily. It was full of neatly packed papers in alphabetical order. That was great if I had any idea of what I was looking for. I closed the cabinet and went to the desk. Something on floor caught my eye. A photograph, it must have falling out from behind one the drawers in the desk.
On it was two men shaking hands looking all buddy buddy. Someone had been nice enough to write their names on the back of the photograph, Clay I imagine. The man to the left was Trent Sterling of Sterling Accounts I gathered.
The other I knew before I read his name. Sure enough that was Sergey Tarasov. the man was basically the Russian mob. Friends with all the right people. The police didn’t dare to touch him. He was careful to never be directly involved in anything illegal. He was a dirtbag but basically human teflon nothing ever stuck. Okay so maybe Nora was right to be worried if Clay was looking into the russian mob and his boss was part of said mob. Ugh, Clay might be in over his head.
There was another note on the photograph. Clay had scribbled the word Russalka under the two names. I was becoming more and more curios. That was a mistake, one in a long line of mistakes. Story of my life.

Millenium city stories - Frozen

I've been writing a lot more lately. Trying to get better disciplined about it and write everyday. So here is another post.

Millenium city stories is stuff from my own super hero world. It started as a setting for my tabletop RPG group and sorta developed from there.
Millenium city is darker than Superman's Metropolis but nicer than Batman's Gotham.
More akin to modern day L.A or the New York of Marvel Comics.


Here goes.

Frozen

I stand at my mirror again, it's been 10 minutes this time, I’m just staring at my reflection. What looks back does not feel like me, That perfect girl is gone. I’m numb. I either empty or angry. I don’t seem capable of any other emotions. Feels like I’m packed in layers of wool or something. Like I’m under water or buried in ice and I can’t find the surface.
I forego the extensive makeup and religious brushing of my hair that used to be part of my morning routine.I’m a pale imitation of what I once was.
It's useless. Stupid, why even bother. It doesn’t matter, it wont change how I feel.
I take a deep breath and push out of the bathroom.

…....

A minute later I’m frozen again. At the foot of my bed, staring at my costume.
I try to recall the feeling the brightly coloured outfit used to give me. Seems like so long ago, like a totally different life. Someone else’s. 
I thought I was a hero. It was all so exciting hanging out with powerful, even god-like people. I felt like a rockstar. It got real so fast and I didn’t even realise how serious it was before it was to late. I lost my dad and it is all my fault. 
I’m not fit to be a hero. I don’t deserve to be. I failed. Failed to protect those close to me.
I cannot bear to look at that childish stupid costume anymore. I grab it off my bed.

…….

I’m in front of garbage the disposal. I’m not trembling, I’m not scared. I’m not even angry. I am resigned to this. I have to let go of childish things like costumed heroes and secret identities.
A literal god told me to let go of the anger. To forgive but I can’t forgive something unforgivable. I can’t let go. If I do it is like I lose him all over again. I won’t forgive because I don’t want to forget. I’m alone in a kingdom of isolation. I can find my rage deep inside, a swirling storm.
I hold my costume out into the open garbage chute and I let it go.

Tears in Rain - a Summer Rain mystery chapter 3

A third short chapter for Summer Rain. It is going to be a long while before chapter 4. 

Tears in Rain Chapter 3 - Occupational hazards

The offices on the 3rd floor was almost empty and I waltzed straight past the receptionist like I belonged there and she didn’t bat an eye at me.
It was one of them open office floor design types, without those classic stuffy cubicles. The few partitions in the room was low walls covered with different green flora there was still a water cooler though. I guess some things in office life doesn’t change. The water receptacle known for its ability to make people wanna gossip was stuffed out of the way in a little nook next to what looked like a small kitchen. Besides the water cooler was a high-tech coffee dispenser with endless combinations of coffee, milks, foams and syrups with every flavour under the sun. I wonder what ever happened to coffee as tar black fuel where the only option was creamer or a lump of sugar.


I skulket through the office space looking for Clay Brand’s desk.
The few people left in Sterling Accounts were either in the process of leaving or staying for a long while working for that overtime check or that big promotion. They either didn’t notice me or simply didn’t care to.


All around the main office space was slightly nicer offices for the big shots that didn’t feel like slumming it in the main area with the common office folk.
The fancy offices was all frosted glass with glass doors to give the illusion of solidarity but they ended up looking more like some weird aquariums. Meant to hold some exotic predators, I guess that might not be that far from the truth if my experience was anything to go on.
I never really cared for office life, mom always said that I wasn’t cut out for it. I tried my hand at temp work to once, my career lasted for about 5 minutes. It definitely wasn’t for me. My told boss told me in no uncertain terms.


I passed a couple of coworkers on their way back to the elevators. They were giggling and whispering excitingly to each other. My detective ears couldn’t help but eavesdrop, I guess it’s a occupational hazard.
They were whispering sweet nothings to each other. But they were talking more of lust than love. One or both was definately cheating on a spouse. I’ve followed dozens of people like that in my professional life. That is most of detective work, seeing lust taint love and break marriages, turn best friends into the worst of enemies. Staring at the decrepitude of man, of men, sometimes seems to be all I do. And you know what they say when you stare into the abyss long enough it tends to look back at you.   
As the couple passed me I heard a delighted yelp,
I looked back and saw the man's possessive hand retreat from the innermost part of the giggling woman’s thigh. I saw his wedding ring. The young woman didn’t have one.
Damn, couldn’t anyone in this city have a nice innocent romance. I’d like to be proven wrong for once..
I can’t help but be cynical but it is hard to remain a romantic in this job.. I thought about Nora. I really hope that woman wasn’t just some disillusioned girlfriend chasing a man that wasn’t what she thought. Maybe this case was different. I thought about the young me and that mess of a girl’s love life.
About Ricky, my first and Rosie, the real one. And all the ones between then and now. So maybe it’s me that isn’t good at romance and I shouldn’t blame my career choices. 
My job though that I’m good at.

It didn’t take me long to find what I was looking. Clay Brandt had a nice corner office. Good for you mr. Brandt, good for you.

Frost mourned

Then:
The news were quick to call the tragedy a victory for justice. The villain had been apprehended by a trio of heroes only moments after throwing Alan Winthrop to his death from a rooftop.
The motives of the crime quickly forgotten by all but those the dead left behind.
Even heroes tend to forget their deeds.
But in this case one of the heroes was also a victim because death does not discriminate and the heroic life El wanted was not the dream she thought it would be.. 

Eliza was a superhero now she might be something else.


Now:
As Eliza Winthrop walks through the halls of her college campus she seems as a ghost, still alive but her old life as dead as her father.
El, was always one of the cool kids, the center of attention. Now she garners another kind of attention. Hushed whispers and stolen glances. Everyone talking about her, but not daring to speak to her. Treating her as some fragile doll. Afraid to say the wrong thing or anything at all. A few people try with a “I’m sorry for your loss” or “It will get better” and they get a monotone “thank you” in return. They shake their heads and walk away.
Some friends stuck around but most didn’t even bother. Eliza used to be carefree and giving to all around her. Throwing money and smiles around to be the center of affection.
Now she is a shell-shocked shadow of herself. Her emotions buried in ice.

She tries not to make eye contact as she walks down the dormitory’s hallway. El holds tight her little sister, she is in turn clutching a teddy bear.  El knocks on Evas door. Her college roomate and superhero partner.
El used to be the local trendsetter, the IT girl. That is gone too. Now you only see her in comfortable clothes and sneakers. Her eyes are puffy from lack of sleep and tears.
“hi, can we talk?” El says eyes downcast as the door opens.
“uhm. moving out dorm. Just came for my things, my laptop and..” she trails off.
“I think I’m taking a sabbatical next term… there is nothing for me here.”
El squeezes her sister a bit tighter. “Anna say hi to my friend Eva”
El ruffles her sister’s hair lovingly but with a quiet desperation in her blue eyes. As she moves part Anna and Eva to enter the dorm room.
Anna takes a step forward, struggling with the stuffed bear. Her arms can barely reach to Eva’s hips. Eva crouch to eye level with the fuzzy toy animal and scratches it behind an ear.
“I like your bear” Anna gives a small smile and Eva gives her a tight hug.in return and whispers “I’m so sorry” 

Eliza awkwardly shuffles on her feet. Her laptop safely back in her bag and a modest necklace with a silver heart locket wrapped around her hand. Her fingers traces the links in the necklace like prayer beads.
“I just kinda wanted to say thanks… I don’t blame you. I’m not mad anymore. I’m just……… I don’t know, empty I guess” she looks Eva in the eyes for the first time.“Thank you for being my friend”
She takes the hand of her sister and turns to leave. She stops in her tracks and extends a hand to Eva in it a blue metal badge..
“I should give you this” El says as she hands Eva her IForce badge. “I’m done; I can’t do this anymore, I’m not hero. Maybe I never was”There is an electronic hum as the badge begins to pulse, then it begins to beep.
El begins to walks away. “you should probably take that”
IForce, we have a situation. Dragonborn do you copy? I have a code Indigo

Tears in Rain - Chapter 2

 

2 - The Tiniest King

The man’s name was Clay Brand, a clean cut, working stiff. An accountant at Sterling Accounts. Boring as plain white toast as far as I could tell..
Nora said she would leave me a key to her and Clay’s apartment under the mat. So I could check out the place when she went to work. She worked late as a waitress in a club called, the Menagerie.
I was going to check out Sterling Accounts before it got too late.

As I walked up town, I could feel the change in air pressure that heralded the coming rains. It wasn’t that cold yet but I usually run cold anyway so I nestled further into my thick brown trench coat. It had been a gift from my dad, he gave it to me when he finally acknowledged that I was serious about the whole P.I thing. It was him finally letting go of the notion of the woman he wanted me to be.  He always wanted to control everything that gesture was him given up a bit of control. But I don’t accepted my choice of profession.
“You should atleasts look the part” Was all the acceptance he could muster. A small victory and one of the few happy memories I have of the man. He is proud and arrogant, A real piece of work, like me. we don’t talk much still but dammit if it isn’t a really nice coat.
I had stopped for a bite to eat on the way so it was later than I had hoped when I finally arrived at the office building where Sterling Accounts was located. But I still had at least an hour or two to scope out the place. The first people were already leaving for home, spilling out of the building in front of me.  Sterling Accounts was on the third floor, a restricted floor.

 I scarfed down the rest of the pretzel I bought with part of my upfront retainer. As I wiped off my sticky fingers in my coat I walked into the foyer of the building and straight into the ladies room. I took of my coat and stuffed it in my messenger bag I carried over my shoulder. I took out a generic grey cap and clipboard that I carried for situations just like this. I put my unwieldy curly shoulder length brown hair into a tight ponytail and pulled it through as I put on the cap. I was wearing my “profesional” nice IE expensive black jeans and a little too nice dress shirt. I opened a few buttons on the shirt to show the white tank-top underneath. I looked myself over in the mirror. Yeah that will work, you can do this. Alright Becca you’re up, I walked out and straight towards the bank of elevators just past the security desk.
“Hey, where do you think you’re going? You can’t use those!” came the yell from the desk. The man behind the desk was about my age. He lorded over the lobby he had his eyes possessively on his little kingdom. He was a rent-a-cop but not one of those donut munching mall cop. His brown beard well trimmed and well kept. Clearly meant to make him macho along with buzzcut. His uniform clinged to his muscled physique in a quite flattering way actually. He worked out and clearly took his job very seriously. He didn’t look like a vet or someone with formal training. More like someone who like the idea not the effort.
Someone had giving him a plastic badge and small modicum of power and he had promptly proceeded to get drunk on it. This was his building. I thoroughly dislike people like that.
I let out an exasperated sigh, really playing up my annoyance and spun around to face the jerk. “Relax buddy I’m just the delivery girl” I said as I approached the desk.
“deliveries and couriers are in the back, you’re not allowed in the lobby. This is classy place, and well you” Watch it buddy “you young lady you clash with the decor” I’m your age and damn right I clash with corporate class.
 “Just doing my job here could you just let me up? I have a delivery for Sterling Accounts.”
 I interrupted him before he could say anything else. He wasn’t about to miss an opportunity to assert his power on some silly delivery girl, but I couldn’t just leave I needed access to the upper floor. His silly plastic lanyards gave him complete control over me. I hate feeling powerless. I had the power here he just didn’t know it.
I gave him a wicked smile and I raised my voice slightly.
“If you help, I’ll be out of here in a blink I won’t have time to sully this classy atmosphere. 
Or we could make it a whole thing” I gestured around his precious lobby. And gave the lone cleaner a wave.
His face soured. “Please I, we, don’t do deliveries to this place. I have no way of getting in without your help and I can’t go back to me boss unsuccessful, again. I am completely in your hands.” Give them control, make them think it is their idea.
“Where was it you were going again”. Got’ya.
“Sterling Accounts, third floor” I looked at my empty clipboard. “A Clay Brand, his fiancé is the sender”
He harumphed at that. Not a romantic I guess. “He needs to sign for it” 
He buckled. He gave up an infinitesimal piece of his diminutive power.
“fine” he said “But you owe me. Sign in here and I’ll make you a guest pass. This once”
Thank you my liage how generous of you. “of course anything. And thanks, I’m Becca by the way.”
I signed with two obnoxiously curly big C’s.
“Great” he said tiredly. “now buzz off and be quick about it I want you out of here as soon as possible” he handed me the keys the office kingdom. A square plastic lanyard.
“Scouts Honor” I said as I took the access card.
as the elevator doors dinged open I looked back at desk and gave him a small salute.
What a small sad man. A tiny king stuck in his little kingdom of revolving doors and potted plants.

Summer Rain. I wrote a thing

I wrote a thing or I'm trying to write something.

So this is the first chapter of my Noir Detective story.

Tears in Rain, a Summer Rain mystery

1 - The Damsel

My name is Summer Rain and I’m a product of my environment. I am from Millennium City, the greatest city in the world, born and raised.

Millennium City has many names. The crime capital of the world, the powers capital of America, New Manhatten or home of Captain Tomorrow & Miss Century.

Most often called the city of heroes, but the name I like best, what the sons and daughters of Millennium City call our home is the City of Masks.

It is true we have heroes flying through the skyline, like so many brightly colored exotic birds. Most are just people, most of us live down on the street in the smoke and smell of urine and all the people in the sky are wearing masks anyway. No, we can’t all be heroes.



When you grow up in Millennium City, when you’re raised in the piss stains and smoke of it. Something happens to you, you grow up different. It is not that you grow to like the bad things, I mean piss still smells like piss.

But It becomes part of you. It’s been through a lot and survived. So you can too.

The city has been spoiled, abused, bent and broken, just like you will.

You learn that you have to live with the bad, like you have to live with yourself.

Nowadays I appreciate the city for what it is. Don’t get me wrong the smell still gets to me sometimes. Sometimes I feel like retching when I get the worst of it. But growing up with it, I know something others don’t, I understand that it’s in me too. And instead of retching I breathe it in deeper and it makes me stronger, some days it even makes me smile.

After the war I could not wait to get back state side and I had to move back to Millennium City,  a city of mighty heroes and broken dreams. My home...



The end of summer was approaching. The trees were slowly beginning to shed their leaves and the stifling heat was being replaced by cooler air. You could smell the change on the air.

My days were long and boring, I hadn’t had a job in a while. It was early September and I quietly getting desperate for something to do.

On another of those too long day's something finally happened.

On that particular day trouble walked through my door. That was not unusual, trouble is how I pay the bills. But her brand of trouble turned out to be very unusual,

I was sitting at the desk in my office, feet up, bored out of my mind and day drinking. I know that drinking to pass the time isn't conducive to healthy living, but I didn't have anything else to do and the bottle of smooth and expansive alcohol was a thank you gift from my last satisfied client. Actually, that had been my latest case, a long bit ago and my coffers were getting dangerously low. So, day drinking it was, don’t judge me. Most of my day was spent sprawled in my chair, listening to the crackle of the radio, trying to catch the bit of sun peeking through the blinds of my windows. I had almost emptied the bottle and was about to close-up when there was a shy knock on the door, I froze. Damn my place looked like shit, you would think I would be better at this business thing by now. The knock became more persistent.

“One moment please”

I quickly dumped the bottle in a drawer in the desk, the glass followed after I gulped down the rest of its content. I turned off the radio and sat down. I arranged my notebook and pencils on the desk and tried to look professional.

“Please come in” I said as I tucked a stray strand of hair behind my ear

That is when she walked in. My next paycheck and couldn't have asked for prettier package.

She was blonde as hell and wearing a lot of black. This girl could get any man she wanted or a woman. Get a hold of yourself Rain. I scanned her with my professional detective vision, so I told myself at least.

Her slightly curled blonde hair fell just past her shoulders, in that way that makes it seem natural but takes hours of maintaining each morning. She had clear and very blue eyes. Though she didn’t show much skin, her leather pants and clingy shirt showed of her curves. God, I wish I had a chest like that. Don’t stare, don’t stare. Looking professional had gone straight out the window. The booze had definitely been a bad move.

“My name Nora Bloom” She said clasping her hands at her belly, clearly uncomfortable. “You’re The Detective? mrs Rain then right?”

“It’s miss Rain and yes I’m the detective” I answered

“oh sorry, actually thought you were a man. I mean I thought detective Rain was a man”

she was getting flustered now. Crap, I couldn’t lose another client because of my gender.

She scanned the room. I couldn’t really read her but she was definitely nervous. Trying to make her more comfortable.

“But I try so hard to look pretty” I said in my best starlet voice, tossing my hair in a gesture of mock femininity. I got a tiny closed lipped smile in return. Good enough for me.

 I stood, walked out from around the desk and offered her my hand.

“I’m Summer Rain, private investigator. Missing jewelry, cheating husbands, insurance claims, I even rescued a kitten out of a tree once, think his name was Mittens or something. How can I be of service?”

She shook my hand and gave me another timid smile, with her close I could smell her perfume it gave off a faint scent of lilacs.

“You do missing persons?”

“yes of course. Only thing I don’t do is powers.”

not anymore, not ever again,

“Who is missing?” I grabbed my notepad and a pencil from the desk. My professionalism gear finally kicked in.

“My boyfriend.” She was fidgeting with her perfect nails “Uhm my fiancé actually. we just got engaged” she showed me her engagement ring, modest but gold. “see”

“okay how long has he been missing?”

I couldn’t help but think that this was just another case of an adulterating husband escaping with his mistress or just some man who was too damn chickenshit to actually break it off in person. Poor girl.

Behind her thin facade was just an innocent and scared young woman. God, I felt old, I couldn’t even remember when I was that naive. This city will eat up and spit out people like that. I see it all the time.

“He’s been gone since yesterday. he left for work in the morning and I haven’t seen him since. I work late but when I came home he wasn’t there… He’s always there when I come home, he makes sure of it.”

Tears began to spill from her eyes threatening to ruin her makeup. I put my hand on her shoulder in a comforting gesture.

“Don’t worry I’m on the case” I said giving her a small smile. “did you contact the authorities?”

“uhm, the police won’t do anything before he’s been gone for 48 hours”

She was staring at me with those blue dewy-eyes. So blue those eyes and innocent, but in that moment, they were filled with a pleading desperation.

“so, you are really going to help me?” She asked.

“of course,” why not.

Her fiancé was missing and she was desperate so I took the case why not be the hero I’ve always had a soft spot for a damsel in distress. To be honest I was kind of curious. What kind of man could make a girl like that, settle down? and besides I didn’t really have a choice, I had to pay the bills. a girl gotta eat you know.

“One more question, where did you hear about me?”

“well you’re in phonebook, miss Rain.”

I, Jaen

I first wrote this during what was gamer-gate or itisallaboutethicsinvideogamejournalsm-gate. if you don't know what that is, don't make an effort. It is a deep and depressing rabbit hole.

This isn't really about feminism or equality or whatever.

But it has both videogames and identity kind of. Well it’s mostly about me. Here goes.

All that follows is based on my experience with the Mass Effect and Dragon Age series from BioWare and the great Elder Scrolls games from Bethesda.

And of course Diablo, D&D, KOTOR, Shadowrun and a bunch of MMOs and other RPGs.

As you might have guessed I like RPGs both the digital and non-digital variety. The ones with action and high adventure. I like to kill orks, slay dragons. Blast aliens, stormtroopers, robots and faceless corporate goons.

I’m the one saving the world or maybe just my own ass.

But I have found something that might be a bit peculiar.

When I play any rpg from Bioware I play the same character, Jaen. It should be Jean but I spelled it wrong by mistake and stuck with it.

I’ve been Jaen Shepard through the Mass Effect trilogy. Jaen Hawke and simply Jaen in Dragon age 2 and origins respectively. and Inqusiton.

The character creation in Bioware rpgs is pretty much the same. It has of course been improved over the years but not much has changed. I always pick the same options.

Female. Red hair. Green eyes. In space some kind of scar. In fantasy settings some mystic tattoo. The hair is the shortest ponytail option you can choose. (That must be preferable when fighting darkspawn or Reapers, I guess)

This might seem weird, silly or unimportant to tell you.

So why am I writing this? Well, I don’t know. But I found two interesting things.

1: I don’t know why I always do this.

And 2: I don’t always do it.

So why and when. Well in all Bioware action RPGs. I create the same character.

Those games are 3^rd person and single player. So maybe that’s is part of the reason.

But a bit about my second point before I move forward. When do I play what character? Depends on gameplay and narrative.

Just Perspective

In pen & paper RPGs I always play different characters and classes. When I GM I steal from everywhere. Even myself. My regular RPG group will not get to read this but if they did they might start to recognize some NPC.

In all the MMOs I have tried I never once made that same character. I’ve never been really into MMOs but I’ve tried a lot them. Played WoW, DCU Online and SW: Old Republic. The last one is definitely the one I’ve played the most. I is even from Bioware and it is even fantasy in space.

But no I made a different character. Not Jaen.

There is no reason to play the same character in all RPGs of course. But it is kind of interesting to see when and why you play what character.

In an MMO there is a lot of other players playing. So the avatar is my representation in the game to the other players. It is more a game piece than a character in a story. The avatar is my body in the game, so I choose something closer to my real body. Can seem silly maybe, I am not a Jedi in real life either I know.

I think it is more about how I’m perceived than how I see myself. I don’t want scam anyone or whatever. I’m a guy in the analog world so I’m a guy in the matrix. That’s how it works, right?

In all the Elder Scrolls game I am men too. Not even snakemen or elves. No, plain old humans. Boring me.

Those games are 1^st person so it might just be that I play myself. I don’t know. I play a Norse in Skyrim because that is what makes most sense and is in a way expected. It’s on the cover of the disc.

Back to the first point, Why?.

Perspective. The above example mentions Skyrim being played in a first person perspective. So you don’t really see the character you’re playing. Not even in conversations. Only when you equip different armor and weapons.

In the 3^rd perspective on the other hand you see the character all the time. I play RPG to be something other than my ordinary self. I want to immerse myself in lore and of course kill monsters. If I’m going look at something for 40 hours it is definitely not going to be me and I’d rather have it be woman than a man.

I play a protagonist in a story in 3^rd person in 1^st I play “me”

Just narrative

The race you play give you some kind of bonus, usually. The class of course has a huge impact on the game you play.

But the option to play male or female doesn’t have any impact on game mechanics.

So Jaen, here is my justifications for why I choose the options I do.

In Skyrims narrative you are The hero. Everything revolves around you. Your choices. And you can do anything in the giant sandboxes of Skyrim and Oblivion.

It is a gamespace, game and narrative centered around one word/person: YOU.

In Mass Effect and Dragon Age the narrative is centers on Shepard, The Warden or Hawke. It is a different way focusing the narrative and playing the game.

You control someone else. The protagonist in Biowares epic.

So I create the character that fits and creates the most compelling story for me.

Here we talk about stereotypes. Might be more suited to say archetypes. Stereotypes have a bad rep. The Hero, The One, The Savior  is stereotypes as well. That’s the ones you play in these games.

The Hero is defined by opposition. By whatever (s)he has to overcome. Destroy the Ring. Don’t give in to temptation and overcome your physicality. If we look at Frodo in LOtR.

In Dragon Age Origins I was a female city elves warrior. I’m The Underdog. The Unlikely Hero. The lowest of the lowest.

Of all the peoples in Feralden the city elves are the most oppressed. The women are servants or whores. And a warrior seemed as the most unlikely class for such a person to be. (but honestly I just prefer playing a warrior).

In stories like this the Hero is the unlikely one, weak or whatever. Frodo, Luke and so on.

I pick the Archetype that fits the story for me. (In Shadowrun Returns I’m a human female street samurai called Molly because I love the book Neuromancer¹)

And I think there is a difference in how Skyrim and Dragon Age frames gameplay and story.

Just Me

Maybe it’s just me. Maybe I think too much. Put too much into the choices. I can spend a long time in character creation just pondering a name. Maybe it is just personal preference. I prefer the FemShep actor to the male counterpart. I prefer the story where a female city elf saves all of Feralden by sacrificing herself to kill a Demon. I do it’s true.

But it is more than that. I chose in stereo types but not in any bad way. My Barbarian and Monk in Diablo are big muscled men while my Mage and Demon Hunter are women. That makes most sense to my brain. When I play pen&paper RPGs I wanna see a cool story unfold. The character I play reflect that. I identify with stereotypes or archetypes from movies and books. I try to re-create those stories, I think.

When I chose it has little to with identity or gender. It is more to do with narrative and gameplay.

In Biowares RPGs or others framed in a similar way, I control, to an extent, a protagonist in a story unfolding before me. In Skyrim I want to explore and kill dragons or maybe just run around eating things. But maybe that’s just me.

Notes:

1: The book that started the genre we know call cyberpunk. And greatly inspired the original Shadowrun pen and paper RPG. One of the protagonist is called Molly Millions.

Also the book where the words cyberspace and the matrix first appeared.

Bibliography:

Ace, Gibson, William, Neuromancer. 1984.

Ludography:

BioWare. Mass Effect. 2007

BioWare. Mass Effect 2. 2010

BioWare. Mass Effect 3. 2012

BioWare. Dragon Age: Origins. 2009

BioWare. Dragon Age II. 2011

Blizzard North. Diablo II. 2000

Blizzard Entertainment. Diablo III. 2012.

BioWare. Star Wars: Knights of the Old republic. 2003

Blizzard Entertainment. World of Warcraft. 2004.

Harebrained Schemes. Shadowrun Returns. 2013.

Bethesda Game Studios. Elder Scrolls: Oblivion. 2006

Bethesda Game Studios. Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim. 2011

Gary Gygax and Dave Arneson. Dungeons & Dragons. 1974

Stuck in Time

Life is good, A mushy look at an emotional game.

I just finished Life is Strange this weekend and holy shit, what a game. Definately my game of 2015 but I’m behind on all those games, haven't even touched Witcher yet. I just had to share my experience with someone, anyone.
Might spoil some things in this so be warned but I will try not to spoil Life is Strange (I don’t think I did).

I'm still kind of emotional and I'm writing this with the Life is Strange Soundtrack on youtube open in another tab, to keep the mood.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0gzU8dGFG9s&index=3&list=FLjep4ePXTpKrrqKA9JRtbJw

I wasn't sure I would like Life is Strange and of a coincident I stumbled onto it, glad I did. This is why I love films and why I play games, sometimes you find something that makes feel something you didn't expect. the best fiction, you take with you... 

I can count on one hand the games that have kept me thinking about them after I stopped playing and/or made me feel something during. I know nearly all games makes us feel something, otherwise why play? The hunt for points, or not dying, beating up friends etc. is exciting and makes your heart pound. But that is not the feelings I mean. Emotion like being content or happy, even sad. 
That is what I like and look for in books and movies, fuck it let’s call it art. If the thing, whatever it is, won’t let go after it is over. Fake (fictional) things that makes feel real emotion.
Off the top off my head here is the rest of the games that made me feel non-gamey things, for context.
Bioshock infinite (Might lose some people here, I got reasons but that is a whole other conversation). Gone home. Last of Us. And Life is Strange of course. 
Must be more I forgot.

Maybe that sounded kind of Emo or cheesy, saying I want to be depressed watching movies or playing games, I don’t, but I like when it happens. A game about high school teenagers wanting to be artist will unavoidable include teenage angst, just saying. 
The game handled it great, even though the writing isn’t always the greatest and there are technical flaws but after the first episode I forgot or didn’t care, I was invested. And by the way teenagers can be over dramatic especially when trying to be poetic. oh boy, I remember. Oh well.

In almost every regard the teenage experience of Max is far and wide removed from my own. Other than being a teenager and not fitting in. I was a nerd before it was cool in the least nerdy school. 
But now I have Max Caulfield’s experience too, hers involving decidedly more super powers than mine.

If you don't know in Life is Strange you are Max Caufield you attend Blackwell Academy back in your old hometown. You reconnect with your childhood best friend, Chloe. Oh and find out you can rewind time. You can rewind to solve puzzles and get more information out off people. After a conversation you can go back and get an outcome you are more comfortable with. Very different than in other new adventure games.

I like these new adventure games, seems like telltale started a trend or resurgence, I don’t know. I didn’t play monkey and those games back in the day. Played all the new Telltale games though.

But the choices in Life is Strange feel like they matter way more than in Telltale games. 

Even though you could argue the choices matter less because you can rewind can and choice something else. That you can see the consequences of your actions and the chose something else makes them more not less. 

That you can change the outcome makes you, at least made me, think “how do I feel about this?”, “is this really the outcome I want?”, “should I rewind?”. 
And some of the choices are gut-wrenching and made me think about what I would do in real life… The biggest choices I actually spend the least time on. I knew exactly what I would/should do or what my Max could never do… 
On the other hand I must have used like 20 rewinds to make sure Frank didn’t get hurt, I couldn’t do that to his dog, Pompidou.

The game is so modest and unassuming in its presentation that when the big twists or bold moves come along the impact is so much more real… 
Every episode stunned me at some point and made me go “holy shit” or “what the fuck”. Through episode 1 I thought I knew what game I was playing and where the story was going. Wrong on both accounts, way wrong on the second.
And the really have big moments and twists. I never saw coming. 

And always guess the murderer in the crime shows on tv.
The mystery jumps back and forth between a Donnie Darko or Groundhog Day vibe and all the way to a Fincher or Twin Peaks vibe. 

But all the episodes also have pleasant relaxing moments. Almost boring but really nice. Not really any other way to explain it, just nice.

One of the greatest moments for me was a sequence like that. 
In episode 3, Max & Chloe is just lying down on a bed listening to a song. Nothing happens and it made me think “should I do something?”, “press something?” I didn’t and I still don’t know if I was supposed to do something. But moments like those are rare in video games, unless you seek them. In a way that’s a bold move. 

lets stay in that moment for a bit. here is why a moment like that can be so strong if you are invested, as I were. (Or skip it, you can always rewind)

In a scene with little or no narrative frame, where nothing really happens we turn from objectivity to subjectivity in our mind. 

Let me explain.

When you watch Die Hard and John McClane runs over shattered glass we feel for him, you might even cringe and curl your toes. We go through a mental excise, a simulation of that event. When shooting nazis or zombies, or zombie nazis, in a Call of Duty the sensation is greater because you actually interact.

That is why action and horror movies and games so exciting. You know it is not real but it still gets you adrenaline going.

In film you constantly come up with proposition from clues in the movie. "The butler did it", "it's aliens", "he's ghost", "she's gonna leave him" etc. You invent a thesis that is either confirmed or rejected. Then you repeat that until the movie end. That is an exciting mental activity.

When nothing happens, it wont invoke the feeling of dealing with a real objective phenomena. so what is left is subjective associations. In a movie scene with the protagonist looking at a nature scene for a extended period of time, there is no action to excite your motor skills or few to no narrative clues to form propositions from. So you associate freely.

In my example Chloe & Max just talks and relaxes, you hear music and the sounds of suburban america and warm autumn light pours in through the window. With nothing to clearly look for or do your brain goes to unconscious associative processes. 

You feel or think whatever you might. If it hits you right then it can be work amazingly.

there a some things the scene clearly wants you to feel. but you bring your baggage to it for better or worse. 

If you want the scene can end as soon as Max & Chloe stops talking if you press something. 

Life is Strange coaxed into not realizing and made me feel... well... content, in that moment. 

And feel for every virtual soul in Arcadia Bay...

Well done.

Another great moment for me, kind of emotional actually, was a text Max (from my game) got from Kate's dad. If you got that text you know what I’m talking about. I hope most of you didn’t get that text though.
The characters also change as you get to know them. I changed my mind about a couple of them.

Even the gamey parts are good, not just annoying QTE’s. of course there is a couple of bad things and stupid puzzles. Especially in the end. But that PT style repeating hallway was pretty cool.
And you actually have to some proper detective stuff at some point. 
Exploring and finding the small details can help you in the social puzzles, so you don’t have to rewind 20 times for a dog. I missed some small clues that ended up have dire consequences.

It might not work for you, you might hate the music, the writing, the setting. You might feel the emotion is forced. But I implore you give it try. If it works it's amazing.

Max & Chloe as weird as it sounds, became real people. And I miss them.
And Pompidou of course … I miss a fictional dog, I don’t even like dogs, life is strange indeed.

(https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6GJO_RpBnEg&index=1&list=FLjep4ePXTpKrrqKA9JRtbJw). Still gets me. 
And now I’m done.

Ludography:

Life is Strange, 2015. Dontnod 

Bibliography:

Grodal, Torben. Filmoplevelse - en indføring i audiovisuel teori og analyse. Forlaget Samfundslitteratur 2007

Grodal, Torben. Embodied Visions: Evolution, Emotion, Culture, and Film. Oxford University Press 2009

Filmography:

John McTiernan. Die Hard. 1988