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