Things That Go Bump 2013, Issue #2

Welcome back, gentle readers, for another edition of Things That Go Bump.

For tonight's entry, I visited three local cemeteries in an attempt to record another EVP voice.

I used my Zoom H1 recorder, along with a couple of new toys -- a magnetic pickup mic and my germanium microphone, all shown below.

EVP SESSION: OXFORD CEMETERY

I began my tour of cemeteries with a visit to Oxford's largest, which is also the final resting place of William Faulkner. I parked my truck at the caretaker's shop and made my way to the nearest shade.

Graveyards don't look particularly sinister in daylight, do they? I realize I'd get much more dramatic photos if I did this at night. Of course, I'd also probably get to have fascinating conversations with the local police.

And out in the county, I might also meet up with tweakers and vandals. I'd rather avoid the company of both.

Three old above-ground vaults. I noticed the top was shattered on one.

Yep. Broken, and the contents exposed...

What, you were expecting skulls and femurs? Sorry to disappoint.

Here's the complete EVP session, if anyone cares to listen to 15 minutes of my babbling.

I caught two odd sounds. The first is a single short bell-like noise, which I didn't hear during the recording. It occurs about a minute and a half in, and it sounds like this:

BELL EVP

Right after I say '...have anything to say,' you'll hear it. I then looped it to repeat 6 times, and amplified the heck out of the 7th iteration.

Interesting, at least to me.

My second possible EVP occurred during the failure of my Ramsey Tri-Field meter batteries. They were fresh, but after about nine minutes of use they failed.

I was about to hook up my new magnetic mic when I looked down and saw the Ramsey was lit to full deflection, indicating a powerful magnetic field. But the K2 wasn't lit. I then realized the Ramsey was simply going nuts because its batteries were dead (that's how it acts when they go poof).

Listen to the clip. You'll hear a voice say OH really loud, before I say the same thing.

OH EVP

This would be a great clip if it wasn't already debunked. Karen listened to it and said 'that's you, no doubt about it.' And she should know, so I guess I said 'oh' twice without realizing it.

That's why you should never go ghost-hunting alone, kids. If I'd had a partner, or at least a video camera, I'd have realized that was me without getting all excited, thinking I'd caught a Class A. Bummer.

The magnetic mic caught nothing but silence during its two-minute test.

You can hear all that below, in the full Oxford EVP session:

OXFORD EVP

EVP SESSION: TULA CEMETERY

My next stop was a small graveyard just outside Tula, Mississippi. I've visited here before and caught a couple of interesting sounds.

Tula is very quiet. The wind had died down a bit, which my mic appreciated.

I tried the magnetic and the germanium mics, but caught mainly silence. The germanium mic did record some bursts of static and clicks, but I couldn't make anything out of the noise.

That's it, on the grave above.

Here's the complete Tula session, including the mag and germanium portions. I didn't hear anything out of the ordinary.

TULA EVP

EVP SESSION: MIDWAY CEMETERY

My final stop was the tiny, remote graveyard called Midway.

I have a number of family members buried there. Here is one W.D. Gardner, for example, a great-grandsomething who was quite dapper, for his day:

I wandered among the headstones, talking and hoping for a faint reply.

If I got any answers to my questions, I couldn't hear them. The complete session is below. Maybe you can hear something I can't!

MIDWAY EVP

And that wraps things up for my Saturday ghost hunt. One possible ringing bell, one case of mistaken identity.

Oh, and editing video ITC sessions?

At this point, the ghosts of Edison and Tesla would have to promise to show up to get me to wade through another eighty gazillion frames of random splotches of color.

I'll do more EVP work for next week's entry.

OTHER GHOST STORIES FOR YOU TO ENJOY

I'd like to present you with a few photos and stories of paranormal incidents you may not have heard of before. These are obscure, but I think they're fascinating!

AN UNFINISHED RACE

Maybe you've heard the story of James Worson, who many paranormal sites and researchers will claim vanished into thin air during a drunken footrace in September of 1873.

If you haven't heard the story, I'll retell it briefly here. James Worson and two pals, Hammerson Burns and Barnham Wise, entered into an ale-fueled bet one night, after Worson boasted he could run all the way from Leamington to Coventry without stopping.

With Burns and Wise following along in a horse-drawn carriage, Worson set out, laughing and joking. According to the legend, he was about 3 miles into his twnety mile run when he stumbled, screamed, and fell.

Fell, but never struck the ground. He vanished, quite literally, into thin air.

So what happened? Did an inter-dimensional portal open long enough to gobble up the hapless Worson? Was he spirited away by, um, spirits?

I'm going to vote for 'none of the above,' because what many so-called paranormal sites and researchers fail to mention is that these events were first recounted in a short story by Ambrose Bierce.

I totally rock this 'stache.

The story is entitled, perhaps not surprisingly, 'An Unfinished Race.' It was published in 1873. There are people who still assert Bierce was merely reporting actual events. I refer these people to the latest issue of Weekly World News, which features Bat-Boy on holiday with Nessie in Atlantis.

It is perhaps worth mentioning that author Ambrose Bierce himself vanished without a trace in 1913, though Mexican bandits are a far more likely culprit than wandering interdimensional portals.


GEF, THE TALKING MONGOOSE

I've read a lot of strange stories over the years. Most of them share many of the same characters and events -- shadows in the night, ghostly voices, tragedy, misty shapes at the windows.

The story of Gef, who may or may not have been a talking mongoose who appeared on the tiny Isle of Man in the 1930s, features none of these things. Instead, you have a smallish furry animal which at first bedevils and then befriends the inhabitants of a lonely farmhouse.

Only one person claimed to have ever gotten a good look at Gef. Several heard him describe himself thusly:

“I am a freak. I have hands and I have feet, and if you saw me you’d faint, you’d be petrified, mummified, turned into stone or a pillar of salt!”

Legendary ghost hunter Harry Price himself was involved in the investigation. Some aspects of Gef's activities are classic poltergeist antics, while others are strange. Very, very strange.

Look, go read the story for yourself. Do I believe it's true?

Probably not. but it's so far removed from the usual gamut of ghosts and goblins I thought it worthy of inclusion this October.


THE SOLWAY FIRTH SPACEMAN

Taken in 1964, the famous 'spaceman' photo:

The photo was taken by Jim Templeton. The subject is his daughter, Elizabeth. Mr. Templeton took 3 photos of Elizabeth while on an outing at Burgh Marsh and saw nothing amiss until his film was developed (1964, remember?).

The middle photo contained the image of the 'spaceman.'

Kodak examined the negatives, and claimed they hadn't been tampered with.

Mr. Templeton claimed he was visited by Men in Black about the photo.

Skeptics claim the 'spaceman' is nothing but Templeton's wife, seen from behind.

I don't see that, but who knows?

FAMOUS LAST WORDS

Did I mention I am in a movie?

Well. I am.

Click here for details. The movie goes live Halloween, with a sneak preview at the Powerhouse here in Oxford on October 30!

Well, that's it for tonight. I admit I'm tired and more than a little frustrated -- I cannot wheedle, beg, coerce, or threaten Corel Video Studio Six to cough up an MP4 movie of last week's ITC sessions in any kind of usable format. Oh, I can see the video well enough while I'm editing -- but when I convert it to a playable video file from the Corel native editing format, I get nothing but a green screen with audio. I spent a good five hours trying to figure out why, and I simply have no idea.

Maybe I'll the clips ready for next week. Wish me luck!

Things That Go Bump, 2013: Issue #1

Welcome to another edition of Things That Go Bump!

Every year in October I celebrate all things spooky and macabre with a series of supernaturally-themed blog entries, in which I poke Things Man Was Not Meant to Know with sticks and generally make light of the dark.

Tonight, I'll post a few interesting images from a video ITC session I conducted last night. I'll also ruminate on the nature of the universe, and slip in a few quick adds for my books, because it's one thing to ponder the underlying quantum construction of reality and it's quite another to pay bills.

Let's start by sashaying right where angels fear to tread, and see if we can catch a glimpse of the Great Beyond using common household items and a bit of computer magic!

SATURDAY NIGHT ITC SESSION

ITC. The letters stand for 'Instrumental Trans Communication,' which generally involves putting a video camera in front of a TV and recording the images formed when the camera's output is connected to the TV's input, resulting in a video feedback loop.

The Scole Group claims they captured the image above using the standard camera-and-TV method. The man's face is clearly visible, and my first thought upon seeing the image was how much it resembled a cut-out of a photo affixed to the TV screen for a frame or two. Because I'm a suspicious lad by nature, you know.

But the people involved with the Scole Group were reputable, respectable people who seem to be above the clandestine use of scissors and rubber cement. So, thought I, why not try and recreate some of their results?

My ITC setup.

I did this before, back in July, and got a few odd examples of video noise. Nothing like the face above.

A frame-by-frame analysis (which is still incomplete) of last night's video left me with a few images I'll share below.

First of all, my very own face amid the static!

Look center, then left, then down a bit. See the patch of green amid the white and the blue?

Let me blow that up for you.

Weird, huh? I see a rather stern man's face, neck, and shoulders. As well as his eyes, nose, and unsmiling mouth.

I shall call him Mr. Pareidolia, after the tendency of our brains to find faces in random patterns.

But it does look like a man. Not as much like the Scole Group's image, sure, but it's closer than anything I expected to catch.

Next up is a figure we'll call the Dark Angel, because that sounds spooky, and it kept popping up in the video:

Look at the image just above. If you've seen the movie The Ring, then you'll understand why I half-expected the figure to climb out of the TV. Too, can you pick out a vague face shape to the right of the dark figure?

There were lots of other images too. The one below went to blues and greens, like a watercolor done by a particularly inept painter:

So far I haven't found any other faces. But the process of going frame-by-frame is excruciatingly slow, and I do have books to write.

Books such as:

Brown River Queen

I did warn you I'd be hawking books.

I got nothing on the audio as far as anomalous voices go. I was planning to visit a couple of cemeteries today to try out my new germanium microphone in the wild, but the weather had other ideas. 

STORY FODDER: COSMOLOGY GLITCHES

A school of thought concerning the nature of the universe claims that we may all be simply bits of a gargantuan simulation, created by beings for purposes unknown and by means so far advanced beyond us we lack the capacity to understand them.

This isn't kook fringe science. There are even efforts underway to search for evidence that our universe is in fact a vast Sim.  

Which started me thinking. These physicists are looking for the cosmological equivalent of 'glitches' in the Matrix. 

I've seen much the same phenomena, on a much smaller scale, when it occurs as what PC gamers call glitches.

Most of the time, glitches are the hilarious but unforeseen effect of some obscure part of the game's code. It's not a program failure, as such -- no, it's doing precisely what it was designed to do, but with results the game's creators never anticipated.

Funny Glitches Video

Stay with me for a moment. Let's assume, for the sake of argument, that our universe and more importantly me are merely the product of a cosmos-wide simulation.

Then let's assume that nothing, no matter how advanced, is this large without a few teensy-weensy flaws here and there.

Glitches, if you will.

My assertion is that Fortean phenomena are our universe's version of video game glitches.

Let that sink in. 

Never heard of Fortean phenomena? There have been, for example, numerous well-documented instances of frogs raining down from clear blue skies. Of spark plugs found encased in million-year-old quartz. Of objects appearing in places and times they should not, could not be found.

Most Fortean phenomena are simply ignored, because science has given us a clear, consistent model for how the world works and no one wants to jettison all that and start over because it rained live frogs in Paraguay.  It's easier to simply assert such things never happen, because doing otherwise gives you that queasy, unsettling sensation that maybe we don't have things figured out quite so neatly after all.

So maybe it does rain frogs, at times. Maybe people do simply vanish into thin air, at times. Maybe voices do ring out from empty air, now and then. 

Maybe those glitches in the universe.

You heard it here first.

LOCAL GHOSTS, SERVED FRESH DAILY

As the IRS and many of you know, I live just outside Oxford, Mississippi, home of the University of Mississippi, a number of fine eating establishments, and of course a history of hauntings.

In honor of October, and as a lazy way to snag some ghost stories for this very blog, I have created a Facebook page called HAUNTED OXFORD. I hope people will use the page to share their own spooky tales of the supernatural, and maybe give me some spots to visit.  

So, locals, please head on over to Haunted Oxford and share with us your ghost stories!

Okay, that's it for tonight. Take care, all, and remember -- those scratches and knocks in the night might be just branches in the wind. Or they might be....

....something else....

A Night in the Lonesome October

SOMETHING IN THE AIR

First of all, welcome to autumn!

Fall is my favorite season. I like everything about it -- the scrunch-scrunch of fallen leaves, the chill in the air, the fat harvest moons, the cessation of lawn mowing.

And of course with fall comes Halloween, which is also my favorite holiday. Christmas comes with too much emotional baggage. Thanksgiving is just an excuse to eat turkey. New Year's Eve is what happens to young people while we're at home snoring.

No, give me October and Halloween. Spooks and haunts and scary movies. Costume parties. Kids out engaging in mild forms of delinquency. Pumpkin carving and pumpkin pie.

Oh yeah, bring on October!

There's a book I like to read every October, because it sets the perfect mood. Sadly, you can't get it for your Kindle, but it's worth chasing down in hardback.

A Night in the Lonesome October, by Roger Zelazny, with illustrations by the late great Gahan Wilson.

The illustrations are, of course, amazing. Heck, the whole book is amazing. There aren't many authors aside from Ray Bradbury who can capture the essence of a season so well you can feel the chill coming off the pages, but Zelazny does it here.

I got my copy many years ago from the Science Fiction Book Club. There are still some copies about, but they aren't exactly cheap -- click here for Amazon's list of available editions. There's also an audiobook version for less than 25 bucks, and that might be the best way to experience the book (although without Gahan's illustrations).

Anyway, that's my pick for a great October read. 31 chapters for 31 days. It's like carving your brain into the shape of a grinning jack o'lantern!

LISTEN LIVE!

Tomorrow (Monday the 23rd) I'll be appearing as a guest on Steve Bradshaw's Refocus Memphis radio program. If you're in or near Memphis, you can listen in on AM 990. Or you can click this link to listen and watch via the studio's webcam, at 4:30 CST tomorrow!

LINK TO AM 990 RADIO SHOW 

Host Steve Bradshaw is an entrepreneur and the author of Bluff City Butcher and The Skies Roared. We'll be talking about whatever idiotic thing pops into my head, and believe me folks, nobody does idiotic like I do when I'm nervous.

To make things even more interesting, right after confirming my Monday appearance on the show, I got sick. Sick with a chest cold that rendered my voice perfect for use as a horror-movie villain. Think Darth Vader with a mouthful of warm butter and a freshly-stapled tongue.

I'm much better today. Hopefully no trace of the rasp or rattles will be left by tomorrow.

So tune in and join me, if you can!

That's all for tonight. Expect the usual ghostly October material to start next week, as I once again take to the road in search of EVPs and photographic anomalies!

Until then, stay safe, and....

Click me for a surprise!

Boo!

The Five Deadly Questions

The Magic Rock. Batteries not included.

As soon as people find out I'm a writer, they look up from the police booking photo monitor and start asking the kind of questions that led to my charges for simple assault and destruction of ornamental waterfowl in the first place.

I used to tell people I had a magic rock that provided me insights into the mystical world of publishing, because they didn't seem to believe me when I said the secret to getting published is to A) write and submit, and B) keep doing A. I suppose it's human nature to wish for a short-cut past all the drudgery, even if that means believing in magic rocks. Which, by the way, used to sell for 20 bucks a throw.

I still get questions, all the time. Most are genuine questions asked by intelligent people with a keen interest in the subject. Nobody, not even me, minds those kind of sincere questions.

Today, though,  I'm talking about the other sort of queries. The spiteful questions, usually asked by people who are actually intent on issuing a veiled insult. Maybe they once fancied themselves writers, but quit. Maybe they don't like my genre. Maybe they're just nasty by nature, and they enjoy the odd bit of passive-aggressive insult. For some reason, I've gotten several of these lately, so I thought I'd collect them all here, while I wait on the bail bondsman to show up.

FIVE QUESTIONS NEVER TO ASK A WRITER

Q: How much do you spend publishing your books?

A: I'll demonstrate by smashing this elegant plaster reproduction of a goose over your pointy head. Seriously. Publishers pay writers, not the other way around. If money goes anywhere but to the author, then you're doing it wrong. I'm not doing it wrong.

Q: If your book is any good, why don't you send your book to Hollywood and have it made into a movie?
A: Gosh, yes, why don't I? Because that how movies get made, isn't it, you just shove a book in a bloody envelope and mail it off to Warner Brothers and three weeks later a new Harry Potter movie hits the theaters! Why didn't I think of that before thank you so very much now let me apply this cement flamingo directly to your forehead.

Q: I've got a great idea for a book but I'm way too busy to write it why don't I let you write it instead and we can split the profits?
A: That's so generous of you, Mister I Don't Know Fiction From Formica! I was just standing here wishing I could spend the next six months sweating blood over some idiot's half-baked mumblings, let's get started right after I introduce you to my little friend Mr. Heavy Iron Owl Reproduction!

Q: Writing is easy, aren't you just making things up and typing?
A: Having a concussion looks easy, aren't you just lying on the floor and twitching?

Q: My cousin's old room-mate's fiancee's plumber's mechanic told me that getting published is all about who you know, so who do you know?
A: Yeah, that's how the industry works, because rural north Mississippi is a freaking hotbed of literary powerhouse figures who secretly control New York publishing houses from inside Cooter's Creekside Bait-N-BBQ. You deduced my secret, Sherlock. Have a whack of golden eagle statuary and a swift kick in the groin as a reward.

Thanks. I feel better now. Let's post bail.

MARKHAT NEWS

The new book is under consideration. Will post special blog entry when there is news!

NEW MERALDA AND MUG NEWS

Made some progress this week. Hope to continue the momentum and get this book banged out as soon as possible. If there are any wealthy philanthropists reading this while looking for a worthy cause, please consider sponsoring me so I can write full-time without having to crawl out here exhausted and try to write like a man who isn't chewing raw coffee grounds just to stay awake. Thanks.

RANDOM PHOTOGRAPH NEWS

The author astride his mighty Honda Rebel. Photo courtesy Karen Tuttle

Went bike riding for a bit this afternoon. To take this photo, I had to set the timer on my camera, throw it ahead of me, and then catch it as it fell after taking the pic. What the photo doesn't show is the shark-tank I was jumping over at the time, or the hoops of flaming napalm I flew through during my landing.

Wow, it turns out making stuff up and then typing it down isn't so hard after all.

VARIOUS SAILORS

Arrrr.

VIDEO BLOG OF THE WEEK

Hey, you can uncover your eyes, it's not me in the video. I promised not to do that again without posting a warning.

Instead, have a look at this week's blog by Elyse Salpeter, a fellow (former) Cool Well Press author who has a great blog and some cool books. She did a video blog this week I think you'll enjoy, check it out!

Publishing is Like Growing Pumpkins


FRIENDS DOING WELL

Another friend of mine, the inimitable Fanny Valentine Darling (which is one of the coolest names ever), just landed a spot in WHEN THE HERO COMES HOME 2, an anthology of short stories featuring works by the likes of Mercedes Lackey and Jillian Boehme. Fanny's story is entitled The Last Perfect Heart, and it alone is worth the price of admission.

That wraps things up for me, this week. Time to get back to work!

Frank Turtle, Otter at Large: Fun With Google Voice Search

I'm a fan of all things Google.

Google is my go-to search engine. I use Chrome as my default browser. I want a Chromebook so bad I'm nearly ready to start mugging little old ladies in parking lots. I have a Chrome account, which lets me add apps from the Chrome store (most are free) and run them from any machine I happen to be using at the moment.

So, when I decided to play with Google's new voice search feature, I expected great things.

After all, this is Google. I've heard about their voice search software -- it's said to be even more conversational than Apple's Siri. Ask Google for the population of Chicago, for instance, and it will tell you. Then ask 'Who is the mayor?' and Google will tell you that too -- it assumes that you mean the mayor of Chicago, since that's what you asked immediately before asking 'Who is the mayor?'

That's pretty impressive. Even Siri can't do that.

So I pointed my browser at Google, clicked the little microphone icon, and spoke clearly into my very nice (studio quality) Blue microphone.

I like to start testing some newfangled technical thingamabob by confirming what everyone already knows, i.e., that I am a self-aggrandizing hog for attention. So I started out by searching on my own name, followed by the word author.

Google quickly interpreted my backwoods accent as asking for a search for 'Frank turtle otter.'

Ha ha, quoth I. I cleared my throat and tried again.

Frank huddle bother?

Frank hurt a bottle?

Frank turned art tour?

By now, I began to suspect one of two events was taking place. Either my Mississippi accent is simply alien to Google's voice recognition software, or --

GOOGLE IS PART OF A VAST GLOBAL CONSPIRACY DESIGNED TO KEEP PEOPLE FROM BUYING MY BOOKS.

Think about it. If Frank Tuttle can't be searched on Google, then people can't find my books. If people can't find my books, people can't buy my books, which is why I'm lurking in dark parking lots hoping to nab a stray coin purse so I can buy a Chromebook that won't search on my name anyway.

Crime truly doesn't pay.

Not one to let a technical glitch go undocumented, I decided to run a few Google voice searches on my name and capture screen shots for your reading pleasure.

I quickly realized that clicking the mic icon to initiate the search and stabbing madly at the screen capture key and holding the mic at the same time required two more tentacles than I'm allowed to display here on Earth. Instead, I put my camera on a tripod in front of the screen and captured the results of my attempts to do a voice search on my name, because yes, my life really is just that boring.

The dismal results are below.

Google never had a problem with my first name. Frank is fine, sayeth Google. But Tuttle?

Forget it...

Okay, we got author! And tunnel is close to Tuttle, but alas, as they say, no cigar (or, according to Google, 'nose boxcar').

Well, I never! Even Siri is never so forward.

Now Google is just being mean.

By now, I was convinced my accent was to blame. Surely the average Google user, who of course speaks in a flat American Midwestern dialect devoid of any unique pronunciations or inflections, can easily find my webpage or works?

I grabbed the first person I saw, which, um, let's just say grabbing a stranger wasn't my best decision. After a brief explanation to the court, it occurred to me that Google should best be able to understand another computer generated voice, because after all the same methods are used to synthesize speech as they are to interpret speech, are they not?

I have two computers. Both have sound systems.

And thus, my Computer to Computer Voice Search Test Rig was born. See below.

The speaking PC used a free Chrome Text-to Speech app called Chrome Speak from Dante.

It's really simple. You enter the text to be spoken and click speak.

My listening PC has a good soundcard and an excellent, studio-quality microphone. So I aimed the speaking PC's speakers at my listening PC's Blue Snowball mic. I clicked the mic icon on Google Search. Then I clicked speak on Chrome Speak. The text I entered was Frank Tuttle, author.

And how did Google hear this?

I won't bore you with more screen-shots of Frank title upper or the ever-popular Frank timer otters. Although I do like the mental picture conjured up by 'timer otters,' who I see as bespectacled otters in suits inspecting pocket-watches through monocles. 

Not a single test returned a proper search for Frank Tuttle or Frank Tuttle author.

But Peter Piper can pick a peck of pickled peppers, oh yes he did!

Google, Google, why doth thou despise me?

I own an iPhone, and Siri has never had any trouble understanding me. I just did a quick voice search for Frank Tuttle, author, and Siri instantly came back with my webpage, this blog, Amazon reviews, etc.

If you've got a machine with a mic, please try Google voice search in your own name, and let me know if it works!

OTHER NEWS WHICH I ASSUME WILL BE QUICKLY SUPPRESSED BY THE GOOGLE ANTI-TUTTLE CONSPIRACY

All the Paths of Shadow will be free in Kindle format for a few more hours! It reached #127 on Amazon, which is pretty cool. If anyone out there is interested, hitting #127 overall meant I gave away nearly 3000 books in the last 48 hours. Emphasis on 'gave away,' because I don't get royalties on freebies.

The trade-off, of course, is that you might pick up a goodly number of new fans, who will go on to buy your other titles.

Hey, it's a business, and it's a tough one at that.

MORE HI-TECH GIMMICKRY USED BY WRITERS

Marvel upon my latest writing aid! Yes, I've got computers, word processors, spreadsheets, etc. But what I really needed was an old-fashioned corkboard I could pin notes to, like this:

I've got all the scenes for the book in a Word file.

But as a day-to-day workspace to quickly add (and just as quickly remove) scribbled notes and reminders, this corkboard works pretty well. Too, it serves a second purpose, that of providing frequent mild head injuries because, like Google Voice, I sometimes have trouble recognizing things in my environment.

FINAL THOUGHTS

Not final final, just the last ones for tonight. Unless you know something I don't. And if you do, I don't want to know.

I'm just starting the second of ten scenes in the new Meralda and Mug book. Which makes me around 12% complete, he said, yanking random numbers out of the air.

You know, I haven't tried Google voice search for "Meralda and Mug." Let's see what I get!

Google voice search folks?

You've still got some work to do!

BioShock Infinite, and Other Necessities

Oops. Guess I should have warned some of you I'd be opening with a close-up of a spider. Sorry about that!

This is Emily, the big yellow spider who took up residence in our flowerbed. She keeps a tidy web and never plays her stereo too loud. Okay, sure, she dines by liquifying the internal organs of her prey and sucking out the resulting goo, but don't we all have one neighbor like that?

Here's another view of Emily, because I think she's pretty.

I took these images with my trusty Fuji Finepix, which I held about 4 inches from Emily before snapping the picture and then running away screaming like a leetle gurl. 

I'd never heard a spider snicker before.

WRITING NEWS

Markhat's fate, like that of Schrodinger's Cat, awaits the collapse of the quantum probability waveform. In one world, the new Markhat book sells and I indulge in jubilant celebration. In another, the publisher says no, and I bury myself in wet leaves and sulk until late November.

Never idle, though, I am hard at work on the new Meralda and Mug book, which is the sequel to All the Paths of Shadow.

I'm taking a slightly different approach to the writing of this book. I've often decried the use of outlines, because as soon as I outline a book I begin to lose interest in it, because I already know what happens and I have the attention span of a crack-crazed crow.

But this book needs structure. I can't just wing it and expect this one to work -- so I've stumbled upon a compromise.

This new book will consist of ten scenes. Not chapters -- a scene can easily encompass two or more chapters. No, a scene is a distinct piece of the story arc, designed to move the tale from here to there while accomplishing this, that, and the other thing along the way.

The great thing about working with scenes is that each scene can be summed up in a few sentences of very broad narrative brushstrokes. I don't go into much detail in the scene descriptions. It's very much a bare-bones affair, just hitting the high points and hinting at the rest.

The advantage to this method, at least for me, is that I don't get bored with it.

Here's an example (I'm not using any real ones from the book because I don't want to spoil any surprises).

SCENE 1:
Here: Tirlin
There: Halfway across the Great Sea

Meralda promises Mug she will not be aboard the airship Intrepid when it sets out for Hang across the vast Great Sea. Two months later, she is indeed aboard the Intrepid, a fuming Mug at her side. The Intrepid leaves the Realms behind, only to be beset by mishaps that look like sabotage. The crippled airship encounters a storm and falls, out of control, toward the storm-wracked sea far below.

This: Meralda resolves to resign her position as Mage as soon as the voyage is done, convinced she will never be allowed to complete any of what she considers her real work while matters of Court intrude.
That: Meralda's relationship with Donchen is strained, as he is not part of the voyage.
The Other Thing: Separated from the Royal Laboratory and its contents, show Meralda improvising with what few magical items she has on the Intrepid.

The loose structure lets me fill in the details as I write, which by the way is the only way I can write.

Why ten scenes? Why not twelve, or eight, or twenty-two?

Okay, you've got me there. And it might wind up being nine scenes, or eleven. Ten is just a nice round number, probably influenced by the books I've loved.

Did I mention I make all this stuff up as I go along?

Well, I do. If anyone out there has other ideas I would love to hear them.

CLICK ME: Blatant Plug O' The Day.

AND NOW, FOR SOMETHING COMPLETELY DIFFERENT.

I feel compelled to share this with you, my treasured readers (both of you guys, c'mere, here's a hug).

You know how a good book draws you in, makes you a part of its world, tricks you into cheering for the good guys and getting mad at the villains?

That's a unique experience. Up until now I'd probably have put music and movies and a very few TV shows in the same category of emotional experience sources, and my list pretty much stopped there.

But now I've found a game that plays just like a good book reads. Hard to believe?

Believe it.

I give you <drumroll please> Bioshock Infinite.

Set in a 1912 that never happened, the game puts you in the role of Booker DeWitt, a disgraced Pinkerton detective with a gambling problem, a tortured conscience, and a deft hand with a shotgun. As Booker, you are told your debts will be erased once you do a job for your nameless employers.

You are given a box containing a pistol and a photograph. The serious and unforgiving nature of your employers in punctuated by the dead man seated before you, who bears a sign reading DO NOT DISAPPOINT US around his bloody neck.

You are then whisked away to Columbia, a city held aloft my massive dirigibles.

Yes. A flying city, in 1912. Columbia, you see, was built for the World's Fair, as an example of American scientific and industrial prowess. And Columbia is a wonder -- buildings move, docking at certain places at certain times. Neighborhoods are connected by skylines, which look like the fever-dream of a roller-coaster designer brought to life up in the clouds. Airships great and small sail past, fans glittering in the high-altitude sun.

Even so, Columbia looks and feels like small-town America circa 1920. The kids wear knee-britches and chase rolling steel hoops. Brass bands tootle and hoot from red, white, and blue bandstands. You can buy popcorn and cotton candy from street-cart vendors while carnival barkers exhort you to sample their wares.

Despite all the wholesome Americana, Columbia is rotten to its technologically-advanced heart. The place is now run by a bearded religious fanatic who preaches a mixture of hellfire-and-brimstone rabid nationalism that rings eerily familiar today. It's as if Michele Bachmann and Rush Limbaugh sat down with Glenn Beck to design the ideal culture while slugging back Mason jars filled with whisky, mescaline, and LSD. Columbia split ties with the US soon after going airborne, and its whereabouts have been a mystery -- until you find yourself wandering its tidy brick streets.

I'll stop providing details now. But I will say this -- every other game I've played, no matter how much fun they were, were basically mere exercises in blowing off steam. I never really cared about my character in Oblivion, for instance. I just enjoyed sneaking up behind bad guys and putting arrows between their shoulder blades, because obviously I have a myriad of unresolved personal issues.

But BioShock Infinite is different. Like a good book, it punches you in the gut now and then. That's a first, at least for me, in the genre.

It shocked me.

Then it troubled me.

Now I'm angry, and ready to pour undiluted 100% pure weapons-grade murder over Columbia's smiling citizenry if that's what it takes to protect the object of my job.

I have no idea what I'm going to do next, but it appears I'll be disappointing the kind of people who don't endure disappointment in calmly-measured stride. But that's fine, because if Booker DeWitt is anything, he's a guy accustomed to dealing with disappointment, quite possibly with a shotgun blast.

The visuals are stunning. I've spent as much time as I could between gunfights just wandering around, soaking up the sights. And my companion's AI is pretty impressive. She doesn't just stand there, waiting for me to do something. No, she's off poking into things or wandering off or even wandering into view of the Columbia police, which adds a level of realism to the game I haven't seen before.

Is BioShock Infinite expensive? Yes. The retail version is around fifty bucks. I got my copy from Steam for $39.99. But be warned -- the Steam download is nearly 20 GB in size. Yes, twenty gigabytes, that's not a typo. And check the system requirements carefully too. This isn't going to run on a tablet or an old machine.

But man, is it worth the trouble.

If nothing else, watch this...

BioShock Infinite Trailer

Oh, and the song in the trailer? I looked it up -- it's  'Beast,' by Nico Vega. And yeah, I've got it now...

LAST WORDS

My home-made X-ray machine is coming along nicely! My hair should grow back any day now...