In mid-October I headed to the Las Vegas suburb of Henderson for the inaugural Son of Silvercon, to which Kevin the Chief Wombat kindly invited me as Guest of Honor. I was one of three guests, the other two being author Sarah Hoyt and her husband Dan; and Baen author and editor DJ Butler, neither of whom I’ve met in person. But I was attending the con to meet in person many people whom I’ve known online for years: not just Sarah, but Kevin (a long time fan, like “I know you from Livejournal” long time), Caitlin “Mama Bunny” Walsh (ditto), author Melissa McShane and her husband, whose work I’ve been enjoying for years, and Holly, mistress of sunshine, who can always be counted on for an optimism check that feels like a reality check (and isn’t that its own form of magic).
Interestingly, other than these people I don’t think any of the attendees had heard of me! But we fixed that by the end of the weekend because at under thirty people I was able to learn everyone’s name and a little bit of their stories, and they were all very cool people. I can’t think of a time I thought ‘I need to find an excuse to get away from this person.’ Every conversation was engaging. Every person was interesting. The photographer said in a blog comment that it was like a family reunion with none of the bad people and that’s exactly how it felt to me. Well, and like a constant party where no one is boring and there is always a fascinating topic as you drift from group to group. You also never got lost looking for people: since the con was so small we had only two rooms, the single meeting room for panels and the con suite (which was, bar none, the most well stocked con suite I’ve been in given the size of the con, and which would have shamed the con suite at many, many larger ones: well done, Jolie!). Our dealer’s room was the con suite bedroom, which worked out magnificently: people would come eat, talk, and browse the offerings, and you could continue to chat while perusing the things for sale. A white bedspread makes a nice backdrop for most science fiction books, which are colorful.
Holly brought most of her family which meant we had teens and littles under foot (or towering overhead, but then everyone is taller than me!), and that was awesome too. At no point did I feel the group ever made this feel unnatural, and after too many cons that insist that only adults are eligible for attendance it was refreshing.
Panels and Events
We had a laid back con schedule with one panel at a time and yet we never stuck to the schedule…which is not to say that the topics weren’t discussed, it was just ad hoc. Or someone would say “I wish we’d gotten to x” and then we discussed it right there! I think the only event on the schedule that happened when it was supposed to was the Baen Traveling Roadshow. But I think the con benefited by its informality; corralling people who are already having fun through some artificially rigid conception of the timeblock would have broken the flow of the party atmosphere.
The size of the con also made for lots of one-on-one discussions (or close to them), and one of my favorite memories was DJ (wearing his Baen editor hat) talking to aspiring author Dan about the routes to publication in a way both candid about the many pitfalls, and encouraging about the possibilities. If anyone had talked to Aspiring Me in that way, back in the 2000s, I would have been over the moon. (Admittedly, I also liked this moment because it made me realize I am happy with my self-publishing choices, and I am now certain that unless some extraordinary situation happened, I would not prefer to go the traditional publishing route. There is something relaxing about being content with how things have fallen out.)
There was a lot of talk about writing, inevitably (and reading)… we had some live music noodling, courtesy of DJ and his guitar, and some art demos (I even taught someone how to draw a straight line!), and I think the kids did some dancing and swimming, so as cons went it had a broad spectrum of represented arts.
This is also where I say that I got to go out for surprisingly delicious sushi and hot tea, and it was so good that we had it again the following day as take-out. I did not expect good sushi in the desert, but if you are next to a major resort city that gets its restaurant supplies flown in all the time, then… you will be surprised what is available.
Games
One of the things on the schedule was gaming at night, and surprisingly this we did do, because apparently geeks bond and network over games the way my old coworkers did over alcohol in bars. Only four of us decided to embark on the herculean task of learning Twilight Imperium from DJ and Dan (owner of the game), however, which is a lot like a far more complex version of Cosmic Encounter. Merely setting up the game took a couple of hours, and took up two tables shoved together. As usual, when I play a new game, I decide to play the most interesting story, rather than attempting to win, and I got my wish when my cat aliens were the first to set foot on the ancient ruined planet of Mekatol Rex, and open the Galactic Senate… while simultaneously losing their three homeworlds to Melissa, whose fire-being aliens conquered them with her giant death star thing. My only regret there was that she didn’t also supernova the sun, because then I could have played tragic ballads about the forever-loss of our feline birthworlds.
Despite this I was somehow the holder of the most winning points when we halted the game, mostly because Sintra decided to nobly support me in my aims (I gave him a planet as a thank you). My reign as cat empress would have ended the next turn because every single other player, other than Lee’s peripatetic void aliens, was poised to take the ancient planet away from me. But I would still have been the first to the central planet, and no one could take that away from our ghosts!
Possibly the funniest part of the whole venture was that every time someone did something, DJ would shake his head regretfully and say, “So aggressive. We should get him/her.” About all of us, doing even the most innocuous of things! We spent the rest of the weekend shaking our heads sadly and saying “we should get him” at random intervals.
Which is, of course, the kind of thing gaming is supposed to inspire.
I will also kindly refrain from reminding Dan of the fate of his fish alien fleet. It was nothing personal. I just needed to bravely stand in battle, and either fall or triumph, and he happened to be the one who showed up to test me. Can you win against cat aliens who are not afraid to die? Only the players know the story. But it was a valiant battle, and will be sung of when the cat-aliens are a memory in the ruins of Mekatol Rex.
Thank you, Dan and DJ, for teaching us the game, it was fantastic.
Sales
Knowing the con membership was likely to be small I did not bring much to sell and, as I said, almost no one there had heard of me. Despite that, I sold 75% of what I brought, which was much better than I expected. Sarah brought a bunch of books that also got sold, and DJ had some Baen books to give away from the roadshow; Caitlin sold some Mama Bunny books, and several people had business cards they left out that wandered off. So the dealer’s room, which I refuse to call the dealer’s bedroom, did a brisk business, and I’m glad I brought stuff to peddle!
Vibe Check
Like most modern SF/F cons, SoS was politically homogenous; unless you’re attending an enormous media con, which is more like a giant shopping mall that wants to part you from your dollars in exchange for events and merchandise, then every single con you go to is going to have a specific political slant. I felt safe and enjoyed the vibe, but in my experience, conservatives reading my wild stuff full of trigendered aliens, confused space elves, and collectivist cat cultures are more likely to shrug and say “not my thing” than they are to try to run me out on a rail. There are conservatives who’d pillory me for the stuff I write, but they seem to be fewer than the liberals who would pillory me for the things I believe. I’m not thrilled that things have fallen out this way, while recognizing it as an inevitable backlash to the way sf/f cons have been run for years as “neutral environments” that were nothing of the sort.
One day I hope we reach a place where people of truly diverse intellectual viewpoints can hang out together and talk about art and writing, but I don’t know how to get there from here. I will say that this con was racially and ethnically diverse despite its small size, and that more people there were bilingual (or multilingual) than I think I’ve seen in a long time. Also, an age diversity spread, from 9 years old to people who didn’t want to talk about their ages, and several veterans, including John the Cheerful Ex-Interrogator, whose stories were fantastic. Also, he brought vitamin-C drops. Smart man.
Overall
The Vegas climate was gorgeous, and the vegetation fascinating, and I enjoyed sitting outside or walking laps around the hotel for exercise. We also saw the eclipse, something I photographed over my shoulder, and that felt appropriate for a science fiction convention (and the first of its name! Auspicious!). I met many really cool people, and got to listen to them talk about the things that interested them, which… probably made me a less useful Guest of Honor, since I had to keep reminding myself to talk about myself. I got to meet people I’d been hoping to, and they were all as lovely as I hoped they would be: Chief Wombat was a gracious host, Sarah was indeed the Big Sister I anticipated (and shook me a few times by the scruff of the neck in a useful way to prove it!), Caitlin and Holly were a great delight, and Melissa was just as I imagined she’d be from her work. Also her husband’s hair literally could flow in the wind. Very impressive. All the strangers who came mostly to support Sarah were cool and funny, or shy and interesting, or full of dreams I recognized and hope they fulfill gloriously. The eldest of us were holding significant cultural/fandom memory; the youngest of us were starry-eyed and bushy-tailed and ready for adventure. It was truly a lovely time.
I’m hearing that next year’s GoH will be a major headliner, and that they hope to attract at least 250 people so they can break even. They’re planning a fiction contest for teens that will hand out awards at the con, plus art show, science track, and a bigger dealer’s room, and they want to keep the family-friendly vibe going. I’m hoping they net one of their two prospective guests and I get to go again! If I do, this time I’ll bring my own teen. She can marvel in person at the ridiculous sphere-thingy.
If any of this seems like your jam, keep an eye on https://fission-chan.org/ for registration info. The target next year is in July, so that parents don’t have to worry about school dates, and because no one goes to Vegas in July… but what do we care, it’s not like we’re going outside. *grin*
Thanks, Kevin, for a great first year event! May there be many more!
2023-10-31 17:23:15 +0000 UTC
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busy busy busy gotta get it done this week
2023-10-23 16:26:58 +0000 UTC
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We launch tomorrow! This one runs a little longer than most of mine at two weeks, and it's intended to attract new readers as well as delight my existing ones... so if you wanted to get a friend on board, this will be a good project to hand them.
I'm looking forward to our stretch goals this time around, especially if we go over 10K and I can work on the redraw of the old painting....
Here's the link: https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/mcahogarth/earthrise-tenth-anniversary-special-edition
2023-10-09 13:54:42 +0000 UTC
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Word Hoard
VELLEITY (n.) 1. Volition in its weakest form 2. A mere wish, unaccompanied by an effort to obtain it.
Food for the Eyes
“The Forest in Autumn” (1841) by Gustave Courbet
Chimerical News
I can’t believe I’m leaving for the con next week! I haven’t been to a con in… I can’t even remember. Ten years? I’m glad I’m starting small.
Otherwise, the holiday collection is in the bag, except for the cover (preorders are up!), and I’m working on the cover art now. I’ve also got the 10th anniversary Her Instruments series kickstarter off for review, I hope to launch that before I leave! fingers crossed here
Elsewhere
Poem for the Week
Wendell Berry (h/t Cian McCarthy@Twitter)
2023-10-05 14:16:55 +0000 UTC
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...and I'm working on mine! Here's the sketch I'm contemplating for the holiday collection cover.😁
2023-10-02 16:50:22 +0000 UTC
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It was my plan to run a campaign to pay for the final Princes' Gam audiobooks, but since I have to wait on that one for the narrator's availability, I decided to use KS to pay for and get moving on the refresh of Her Instruments, with the updated covers, typo corrections, improved backmatter, etc.
Here's the preview link, so you can watch me build (and suggest things you want! Let me know!): https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/mcahogarth/645427552?ref=vjmjth&token=5b79f0b4
I'm hoping to kick this one off in mid-October, so that I have something to talk about at the con. Let's see how fast I get this wagon moving!
2023-09-25 17:01:57 +0000 UTC
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Whichever you prefer (whether it's catching typos and finding continuity errors, or leaving random comments), you are welcome to do now on Araelis and Lesandurel's courtship story!
Of course, if you prefer to wait for the final version (or just to be surprised!), it'll be in the holiday collection in a few months. But if you can't wait, here's the link: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1SzJ1cwXbK8cDlvbFTKuZBqSwWomu85b1D9ibc4evyaA/edit?usp=sharing
2023-09-21 20:14:29 +0000 UTC
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Maybe I should do a series.🤔
2023-09-18 15:36:01 +0000 UTC
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Word Hoard
CERULESCENT (adj.) gradually turning sky-blue in colour
Food for the Eyes
"The Quiet Hour," by English painter Albert Chevallier Tayler (1913).
Chimerical News
Kind of crazy getting back into the swing of the school year, but I’ve noted that I need to have the holiday book uploaded soon so I’m finishing up the Lesandurel/Araelis Christmas novella. First readers will have that one soon! Otherwise, prepping for the con in October in Vegas—I ordered some books for my table, putting together marketing materials, etc.
Elsewhere
Poem for the Week
"Lost", by David Wagoner (1926–2021)
2023-09-11 13:04:30 +0000 UTC
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I planned this one as a t-shirt design... when it's available, I'll link to it. Alas, the sparkly paint won't come through on the scan! The person who buys the original will enjoy it, though. :)
2023-09-05 13:06:14 +0000 UTC
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Many thanks to the fans on Discord, who made many helpful suggestions! Here's the latest test. I still have a lot to do (mostly involving cleaning up the scanned painting's edges and errors), but I feel like this is closer.
I'm going to try mocking up a few more covers this way to see how they look as a group.
2023-09-01 13:29:37 +0000 UTC
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It's been an exciting few days! But we're drying off, so it's back to work. One of my long term backburner quests is to recover my books so they more accurately signal their science-fictionness, so I took a stab at it with Dragons' Fealty. Do you think this cover reflects the genre/story type better?
2023-08-31 13:26:58 +0000 UTC
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I ran into this page on the wiki which I'd forgotten about, and thought... hey, this is kind of fun!
So based on this table, which Pelted species are you?
https://peltedverse.org/wiki/index.php/Peltedverse_Virtues
2023-08-21 21:53:06 +0000 UTC
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Continuing to try to clean up my hard drive, I'm running into a lot of old black and white work... I like this one because of the transparency effect on the skirt. I did fancy stuff with ink back then! (Looks like the date on this one is 1997).
2023-08-14 15:27:27 +0000 UTC
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I want to write at least one bonus "cut scene" for Exile 1, so I'm collecting votes... which do you want? Besides 'all of them'..!😉
2023-08-07 12:00:06 +0000 UTC
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Someone (eyes offscreen) sent me a lightbox so I have been experimenting with using it to transfer paintings. This was my first try, of a mangrove unicorn scene! I see some promise in using this instead of the printer to do transfers.
It's nice to paint again! I haven't in a while!
2023-08-04 12:00:06 +0000 UTC
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This is the last bit I have written of the gamelit novel (it's even got a placeholder name thrown in it, lol), so now you can tell me if you're enjoying it!
***
How about Naturalist?
Nick grunted as he scaled the hummock, digging his cloven hooves into the soft sod. “Doesn’t that sound more like a character class?”
Does it?
“It does to me, anyway. Some kind of summoner-druid? Maybe with a bonus to herbalism?”
Your suggestion has been noted. We suggest ‘natural scientist’?
“Sounds like something from one of my mom’s Regency romances.” Nick’s ears flipped back. “Uh, not that I’ve ever read any of them.”
Who has, then?
“No one, okay! It was just a comment.”
Fortunately, that earned him silence. He wasn’t sure what he would have done if the AI had started acting human enough to apologize. Several hours of its occasional whispers had inured him to the idea that he was talking to the actual, literal AI, the hyper-advanced one, the whole reason why Omen Galaxica was capable of taking this quantum leap into the gaming future. It helped that so far, most of their talk had been about renaming the trait that made him love the immersive aspect of the game. And oh, did he love it. He’d had that ale at Endtimes and had tasted it, really tasted it, like the beer Dad sometimes let him share. The only reason he hadn’t stayed was because of the NPCs.
What troubled you about the Non-Player Characters?
Nick gained the rise and stared into the forest. No giants here… this was the more conventional wood that grew up farther inland from Endtimes, as you followed the road from there to ONE OF THE HUMAN REALMS. “Why are you asking now?”
You are contemplating it now.
That thing where the AI was obviously reading his mind was not comfortable. At all. “It’s just… they’re really realistic now. I can smell their sweat, and their voices have distinct… um.. pitches. Tones. Accents. They feel real in a way they never did before. But they’re still doing the automated stuff. Like they only know a few lines of dialogue and are on preprogrammed routes.”
It is our observation that many humans have routines they rarely alter. And their conversation with strangers is also predictable.
Put that way… “Well, all right, that’s true. But it feels too rigid. Humans will change their routines if something weird happens.”
Is that true? It is our observation that exposure to unusual activity causes most humans to ignore the unexpected stimulus, unless it intrudes directly on them.
Nick stopped. “I’m not sure I like all the things you’re telling me about human nature.”
It is not our intention to cause player distress. We wish to improve user experience, and if user feedback can help us to improve our handling of NPCs, we wish to gather that feedback. If the experience is troubling—
Put that way, he felt bad for not wanting to help more. He sighed and started down the road. “They just feel too limited in scope. It’s too close to real without being real.”
It is not our intent to mimic reality.
“Really? I thought that was the point?”
Our coder did not believe a game should mimic creation, when it could improve on it.
“This is a lot more fun than reality,” Nick said.
How so?
He scooped up a twig and rolled it between his fingers. The bark was flaky and damp. Throwing it wasn’t as satisfying as he’d hoped. He started hunting for something heavier. “Because reality is limiting.”
It is our experience that without limitations, the game ceases to be interesting.
“Then we’ll just say that real life isn’t balanced as well as a game is.”
That silenced the AI again, for long enough that Nick experimented with several sticks he found along the way, tossing them. He was high enough level that he wasn’t going to aggro anything off the road, and he wasn’t sure how he felt about killing anything while feeling this present, anyway. Would he smell the whole ‘guts and outhouse smell’ stuff people always talked about accompanied violent death? Would that be cool or horrible? Better to ask, would he be able to handle it, because it would be mortifying if he couldn’t.
QUEST UPDATE: CALL TO ARMS
Your companion has joined the game! Arrive at her location to begin your epic journey to EverVigil!
A new dot appeared on his minimap. “Oh, hey, Mom!” And then his ears drooped. “Is she seriously in the middle of LEVEL 1 HUMAN TERRITORY?”
Since the AI didn’t answer, he guessed that was something he was supposed to figure out on his own. Putting a level 1 player in a level 1 area made sense, but he was disappointed he wouldn’t have to fight his way to her location and free her from some evil blackmage or something. It would have been dramatic. He would have watched it streaming, that’s for sure.
“Well, I guess I’m off to LEVEL 1 HUMAN TERRITORY. At least I’m on the right road.”
What about Road Master?
“Ugh. I liked Far Traveler better. It’s all right to give up, you know. Not every trait has to have a cool name.”
We are dedicated to peak user experience. ‘Cool’ names are more memorable and more likely to inspire players to unlock the achievements.
Resigned, Nick said, “Well… hit me with your next one, then.”
2023-07-31 11:42:48 +0000 UTC
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Chapter 4
Restarter Quest
“You’d like me to what?”
The centaur boomed, “Bring me ten lizardhens. We hunger!”
Amanda peered at the resulting message, now hanging in front of the centaur on a translucent blue rectangle:
FEED THE HUNGRY
Kavon the Cook needs meat to feed his camp. Bring him ten lizardhen parts.
Requirements: 10 edible lizardhen parts
Reward: Some amount of XP, and Kavon will like you better
‘Some amount of XP?’ Amanda wasn’t a gamer, but she’d listened to her husband and son talk about it long enough to guess that part of the appeal was the exposure of the numbers, and the ability to quantify things exactly, even things that shouldn’t be, like how much a centaur cook liked you. Puzzled, she accepted the quest and immediately something started glowing on the ground near the trees. Following it, she discovered the lizardhens were exactly what they sounded like: chickens with lizard heads and tails. Someone had tried their best with those, she thought. And they were kind of cute.
She needed ten parts for the cook. Did centaurs eat organ meat? She would need two, just to be sure. Scanning the camp, she spotted a crate on one of the wheelbarrows.
“Excuse me,” she said to the centaur nearest it. “May I borrow that?”
The centaur—female this time—looked down at her from what must have been an eight foot height, and smiled the way Amanda might have at a small child. “And what do you plan to do with that, little one?”
“I’m going to get us food.”
That made the woman laugh. “With a crate?”
How exasperating that fantasy worlds were also filled with condescending people who thought you were useless if you were short. Amanda smiled anyway. “May I?”
“Go ahead, little one.”
It was the work of a few moments to empty the crate—full of textiles—and set it on its side, facing the forest. She would need bait… but she had a magical bag, one that didn’t feel full, but… she put her hand in it, and beneath her fingers a crumbly texture manifested. Shortbread? She brought it out and beamed. Shortbread! Perfect! Making a trail of crumbs from the forest’s edge into the crate was the work of moments, and as she dusted off her hands, another dialogue appeared.
Congratulations! You have created a Crude Crate Trap! You have learned Trapping (Level 1).
That made her laugh. No wonder her family liked this sort of thing. Who didn’t enjoy instantaneous feedback?
Her next step involved waiting at a polite distance, very quietly… and as she expected, lizardhens were as interested in free food as the birds she liked to feed in her backyard. Four of them pecked their way into the crate; Amanda jogged to them and applied a hoof to the edge of the crate, tipping it upright. She peeked into the crate, and four irate chickenthings glared back at her. She didn’t think they’d have room to flap their way out, but she draped one of the discarded textiles over them anyway.
Of course, that was when she discovered she wasn’t brawny enough to lift the crate. Amanda eyed her noodle arms with resignation, then trotted off to find help.
The cook was surprised to see her. “You have lizardhen parts already?”
“More than you asked for, if you’ll pick this crate up for me? Over there?”
“Hahahaha, you expect me to believe you can’t bring me the parts?”
“The lizardhens are still alive,” Amanda replied politely. “It’ll be better to butcher them as you need them.”
That earned her a suspicious look, but Kavon the Cook strode to the crate, peered inside, and scratched his chin. “Well, I’ll be a pony’s uncle!” He paused, reddened. “Uh… no offense.”
“I hope you’re not a pony’s uncle,” Amanda said, fervent, because the idea of some pony-sized person being responsible for that behemoth made her feel phantom labor pains. “No offense taken.”
“Still… these are not parts. These are whole beasts.”
Calling tiny, angry chicken-lookalikes ‘beasts’ seemed over-the-top to Amanda. Also, her quest hadn’t done anything new or different yet. She was pretty sure if she’d finished it, she would have earned another of those notifications? She started rolling up her sleeves. “Well, mister… give me a knife and let’s go to work.”
***
2023-07-28 12:00:05 +0000 UTC
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In ebook, paperback, and hardcover editions, at all retailers! Go get your copy if you already haven't:
https://books2read.com/shieldmatron1
Discord discussion is in the #readalong channel (and there might be spoilers so if you don't want them, visit only when you're done! Otherwise, show up and chat as you read!)
2023-07-25 11:57:09 +0000 UTC
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WELCOME TO OMEN GALAXICA
BETA GROUP
ARE YOU READY FOR ADVENTURE?
Amanda wrinkled her nose. She did not at all feel ready for adventure, but she supposed this was as good as it was going to get. She thought ‘Yes’ and as promised, the cursor selected the right prompt.
AUTHORIZE WIRESET FULL IMMERSION?
This was for Nick, she reminded herself. And it would pass the time better than napping. Maybe. Again, she picked ‘yes.’
The flat black image she’d been staring at expanded, grew stars, swirled around her with audible ‘whooshing’ sounds. A cool wind swept over her arms. She hadn’t believed the packaging on the wiresets shipped them by the gaming company when they’d claimed she would feel like she was ‘really there’, but the illusion was unexpectedly convincing. She was floating in space, which was cool and smelled like… what? Ice cream? Or was that the first trimester talking? Ice cream sounded good, actually.
“Welcome,” a voice whispered, gentle, and the hair on the back of her neck rose.
“Thank you,” she said, to be polite, and then, “Ah… to whom am I speaking?” because it was a little bit creepy.
A wisp of light flowed around her and compacted into a ball, bobbing. “I am the guide,” the voice said. “This is the new character creation screen. You seem perturbed. If this is a manifestation of agoraphobia, I can initialize the original character creation routine.”
“What was it like?” Amanda asked.
“It simulated a wizard’s study. The guide took the form of an elderly sorcerer.”
That made her smile. “Long beard, big hat, spectacles?”
“Yes.”
“That sounds very comforting,” Amanda said. “Is there a reason I’m not on that screen?”
“This new character creation routine was deemed more awe-inspiring.” The floating light was still bobbing, but more slowly. “You are the first person to have responded to it with elevated stress levels.”
“It was just unexpected,” Amanda said, feeling the need to apologize. “Really, it’s very… ah… sweeping. In scope.” She tried to rotate but the view in every direction was very similar. “Stars… Omen Galaxica… very thematic.”
“It is intended to make you feel godlike. Do you feel powerful?”
“I’m probably not the best audience for this,” Amanda said. “But… no, I don’t feel godlike. I’m a pregnant woman lying on a couch, and while this is very pretty, I know it’s not real. That’s all right, though! It’s still impressive. Why don’t we do whatever it is we’re supposed to do next?”
The voice remained even in pacing and tone, but the bobbing was still slow. “The routine as designed may not prove immersive enough if you do not find the loading screen compelling.”
Nick hadn’t told her that the game required this much handholding. “It’s all right, really. I’m supposed to make a character, aren’t I? Let’s do that.”
“The new character design routine attempts to design the character for you,” the light said.
“Sounds good? I wouldn’t know what I’d want anyway. Nick told me about… all the races and classes and it just fell out of my head.”
The light said, “Welcome,” again, as if restarting its script. “The Kingdom of Omen is in desperate need. You have been called as a hero, to participate in its redemption… or its destruction.” A pause. “You are only mildly interested. Would you like to skip the introduction material? It provides necessary context.”
Amanda suppressed the urge to laugh. “Can I learn the context by playing?”
“Yes, but the introduction material is designed to make your contribution feel unique and significant.”
“That’s all right,” Amanda said. “I’m already unique, and I don’t need to be significant to have fun.”
The light bobbed several more times before it spoke again. “Permission to customize a character based on your thoughts?”
That didn’t sound creepy at all. “You can read my mind? All right, you must be able to read my mind if I’m using thoughts to control the dialogues. But still…”
“The wireset is not psychic,” the light assured her. “It accesses only surface activity. Please think about things that are important to you.” A pause. “This process is usually obscured by the introductory text, which is designed to inspire the user to think about the gameplay experience they would like to have.”
“Oh! I see. All right.” Amanda closed her eyes—in person as well as in the game projection, she thought—and let her mind wander. She did want to enjoy her playtime, but mostly she wanted to have a good time with her son. He’d said he was going to go test the wireset with his existing character in his room… was he all right? Was he enjoying it? And had he been walked through a similar process with the universe making him feel he was the center of the universe, empowered to make sweeping changes and live a life of epic scope?
No wonder he and so many other people found it attractive.
“Process complete,” the light whispered, and the stars became a ceiling. She could feel something soft under her feet, smell honeysuckle. When she looked down, though, her body was still diffuse. “Did I fail?” she asked.
The light was still hovering nearby. “Request permission to customize the creation experience to your situation. Which is unexpected.”
“Of course,” Amanda said. “Just don’t make me pregnant in-game, please. It’s enough trouble out of the game.”
“Request noted. Customization in progress.”
Her point of view lowered by half a head—impressive, since as a human she wasn’t very tall—and her sense of smell improved. Breathing felt easier too. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so energetic. High school, maybe? That one year she’d done track. Running sounded like fun again. She wondered what the game had made her… some kind of athlete? Her son was a deer, she thought he’d told her. She touched her head, but her ears felt normal.
And then she looked down.
And squealed.
“Am I a centaur?” she asked.
“Your customized form does not have some of the bonuses of typical centaur players—”
“I’m a centaur!” Amanda said. “I love horses!” She tried to look over her shoulder, thought she saw her back. “Am I cute? I’m so small!” She looked down at her forelegs. “How did you know I’d like this?”
“The new character creation routine evaluates the player’s natural talents and skills and attempts to translate them into a game body that will suit them,” the light said. “Your natural body is so high in constitution the only player race that matched was centaur. However, your strength and dexterity are… unusually low.”
“Are you telling me I’m a pony centaur?” Amanda said, laughing. “Oh, Lord, it’s beautiful. What would you have done if I’d wanted to play something aspirational?”
“That desire would have been noted during the assessment phase, and an appropriate body crafted. You do not appear to dislike who you are, however.”
“No, not at all,” Amanda said. “And it would be easier for me to play something closer to myself. But this… this is special. I like it. Thank you—do you have a name?”
“I am the voice of Omen Galaxica,” the light replied.
“Galaxica, then. Thank you.” Amanda patted her forelegs, delighted. “So I am a tough, weak, clumsy character. I’m guessing I have other measurements that reflect I’m not entirely a hot mess?”
“Your wisdom and charisma are high,” the light said. “Your statistics reflect this, unless you wish to adjust them.”
“No, it’s fine.”
“A beginning skill list has also been extrapolated,” the light continued, and a glowing list appeared on a panel, superimposed on the nocturnal landscape. Amanda skimmed it, her amusement growing.
Starting Skills
- Accounting
- Cooking
- Cleaning
- Diplomacy
- First Aid
- Mending
- Navigation
- Negotiation
- Prayer
- Time Management
“Not what I expected,” she said.
“Your skill list will adjust as your behavior is observed in game. These were the ones gleaned from your surface level assessment. Are you satisfied?”
“It looks good to me,” she said. “As long as I can learn new skills in the game, I’m fine. Although maybe I should be good at running, since I’m no good at fighting. I’m going to have to fight things, aren’t I? Running away sounds like a better idea. Or hiding.”
The list refreshed, adding ‘Concealment.’ “Running is a racial trait of centaurs,” the light said.
“Great,” Amanda said. “Now I just need… a character class, right?”
“Your character class will develop organically, based on your in-game choices.”
“Much more sense,” Amanda said. “To me, anyway. Am I ready to go? I’d like to find Nick.”
“You are almost done with the character creation process. As a beta tester, you are allowed to request a magical item as part of your starting gear.”
“Do I pick that from a list?”
“The development team hoped the beta testers would create novel items not yet in the inventory of the game, both as a unique gift to differentiate the beta players, and as an inspiration for future quest items.”
“And I’m guessing it’s mostly swords with names, and spellbooks, or maybe glowing armor?” Amanda laughed. “No, don’t answer that. It is a game where you kill things to advance, what else would people ask for? But honestly, I’d rather have something fun, like a pouch of infinite magical cookies.”
A pressure around her waist transformed into a belt. Before she could look down, the light was growing, pushing the stars back. “Welcome to the Kingdom of Omen!” boomed a voice that could have belonged to an elderly sorcerer, and Amanda fought vertigo as the landscape scrolled with increasing speed until it halted, abruptly, in a glade in a forest. She blinked several times as she looked around. There was a camp nearby of mostly humans, with two centaurs, and she understood immediately why the game had made her a dwarf version. The other centaurs were enormous, with draft horse bodies and human torsos to match.
So much better to be a pony. She was cute! She laughed. She could only imagine what the audience would say in response to the stream… if they said anything at all. Most likely they’d go looking for a channel that gave them a better experience. Something with ninjas or dragonman wizards.
A camp, was it? It looked like a hiking group. Time to be social. She gave herself a shake and trotted off to find out what the game had in store for one middle-aged mom.
2023-07-24 13:41:58 +0000 UTC
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CHAPTER 3
Character… Discovery
Nick had promised his mother he wouldn’t use the wireset until Monday morning, though the beta started at midnight. Ordinarily it would have been useless to try sneaking an attempt past her, too, because while his father would have slept through a hurricane, his mother could somehow hear him breathing too loudly through three walls. Her new habit of falling asleep on the couch made it do-able, though, so he donned the new hardware ten minutes before launch so he could familiarize himself with it. It was much lighter and less obtrusive than his gaming headset, though he wasn’t sanguine about the way the thin band that ran from temple to temple over his eyes was close enough that when he blinked his lashes sometimes swiped it. The idea that he was going to be staring at it and not seeing it was… weird. But if it meant an immersive experience…
Less than three minutes to go. Punching his favorite neck pillow into shape, Nick stretched out on his bed, made sure the wireset was adjusted, and started the login process. As promised, the wire vanished and Omen Galaxica’s logo flashed in front of him. And then he was on the Cloud Giants coast, where he’d logged himself off because it was one of his favorite zones.
The words floated in front of him, cool and bright. They reminded him of water; he could even taste it.
WELCOME, CANDIDATE. ARE YOU READY TO BEGIN YOUR EVOLUTION QUEST?
“Yes!”
YOUR FIRST MISSION AWAITS.
Call to Arms
In the distant fortress of EverVigil, King Domenec has seen the foe, and it is too strong for normal forces. He has called for the greatest powers of the Kingdom of Omen to gather at his muster, and to bring at least one ally or squire. Your many deeds have reached the ears of his ministers, resulting in this personally addressed missive.
The magics of the enemy have disrupted time and space. You will have to make your way on foot to EverVigil.
Objective: Escort your companion from their starting zone to EverVigil without dying.
Reward: Evolved class, abilities, and gear (Unknown)
Accept/Decline?
Nick might have accepted another quest faster than he did this one, but he wouldn’t bet money on it. Only… he had no idea where his mother’s starting zone was, and neither did the game, because she wouldn’t be logging in for several hours.
Worked for him. He dismissed the quest dialog and inhaled, and for the first time smelled the sea-and-conifer scent of the Cloud Giant coast. It was server night, so the stars were out, and so was the tide, and when he walked down the coast he could feel the wet sand sinking beneath his hooves. And the wind off the ocean ruffled his hair around his face and filled his ears and thatwas definitely the most amazing part. The Cervinaethi had the large, ovate ears of their animal inspiration, and somehow his hearing felt more acute. How did the wireset do that? Trick his nervous system into thinking he could hear the difference between the wind on the ocean on his left and the way the forest’s boughs muffled it on the right? He stared up into the sky and saw the enormous trees, shrouded in a nocturnal mist, and his heart jumped. It was as beautiful as he’d guessed it would be.
The beta had begun for him and forty other people who were no doubt playing because unlike his mom they were serious gamers. He guessed he should be more concerned that they were getting a headstart on him, especially since there would be World Firsts for each new class discovered. But what he’d wanted, more than anything, was to use this time to wander the places he loved and experience them as if he was really there. It wasn’t as if he could do anything quest-related until his mom woke up, anyway.
The Cloud Giant coast was adjacent to several of his favorite areas, which was why he’d chosen to wake up there. The cave with the rare mini-boss he’d grinded endlessly in his mid-twenties until it had dropped the rare sword was rife with crystals, not just in the walls but in the ponds as well, and he spent at least a half an hour kicking around it, touching the damp rock and avoiding the boss… except to admire its iridescent scales and the gems crusted on its back and sides. He was too high level to aggro it anymore, which was great because he’d killed it enough times.
Then there was a ruin under the water he’d found when he’d made his Cape of Waterbreathing, and the sensation of being underwater felt so real he stayed there longer than he’d planned. Even swimming felt like effort. How had they done it?
Back up on the beach, he walked south until he reached the Golden Cove. Fishing was still relaxing—more relaxing, because when the sun started coming up the colors stunned him. He let all the fish go because it was fun to touch them, feel the wiggling and flapping, and throw them back. Their splashes when they hit the water made his more sensitive ears twitch, which was a weird enough sensation that he tried doing it on purpose. How long did he stand there, wagging his ears like a crazy person? He grinned and headed up the dunes toward the road that would take him to the village of Endtimes. It was his plan to get an ale there, see if he could taste it, but he got so distracted by the rustling of the reeds by the path, and the feel of the stones and sand under his hooves, and by the shocking scent of one of the low-level herbs he spotted in a patch of grass, that he was getting nowhere fast. And he didn’t care.
CONGRATULATIONS! YOUR INTEREST IN AND LOVE OF EXPLORING HAS UNLOCKED THE FOLLOWING TRAIT: [Environmentalist].
The words were not only bright but loud, and he clutched an ear. “Do you have to do that?”
CHANGE SYSTEM DIALOGUE?
“Please,” he said. “Having that float in front of my eyes is distracting.”
USER PREFERENCE?
“Can you talk in the back of my head? Maybe?”
Like this? Came a whisper.
It was a little like telepathy, which was… kind of cool. It made him feel like the game mechanics were being observed by his subconscious, rather than enforced on him from outside. “Yes, that’s fine.”
[Environmentalist] – buffs perception and movement speed while enjoyment is high
Except… what kind of trait was that? Skill? Whatever? And how much did it buff perception? What constituted enjoyment? Nick trailed to a halt on the road, frowning. He brought up his character mock-up and gaped. “What happened to my stats?”
Stats are unchanged.
“Like heck they’re not,” Nick said. “Where did the numbers go?”
Specific numbers have been disabled for evolving characters for the duration of the beta, to better allow realtime game balancing.
He wanted to say, ‘Lame’, except he could see the point. Still, his character sheet looked stupid now. Strength was ‘moderate’? Agility was ‘high’? Constitution was ‘moderate to low’? Couldn’t the game could at least come up with interesting non-numbered ways to describe them?
Like what?
“Are you…” Of course it was reading his mind. Nick forced himself to start moving again. “Well, high, moderate, low, average… they’re kind of forgettable. Can’t you do something like ‘extreme’ or ‘unusual’ or ‘risky’ or… I don’t know. Something that sticks with you?”
Context would be required to utilize more unusual qualifiers.
“That’s why numbers make more sense.” He looked around. “But I can guess you don’t want people minmaxing things immediately, which… let’s be real, is exactly what they’d do the moment they saw numbers. I can bet the other people involved in this are already doing it. Or trying.”
A pause. Then: Correct.
Was he really talking to the AI? The actual AI? He swallowed and started trotting. “Can we name my trait something else, while we’re talking? Environmentalist is kind of loaded.”
Suggestion?
“How about ‘Home Anywhere You Go’? Or… ‘Eternal Tourist’? No, scratch that, that’s stupid.” What was the feeling he was experiencing while exploring?
Trait name changed: [ Environmentalist ] > [ Far Traveler ]
Wasn’t great, but much better than the first try. “I’ll take it,” he said. “Thanks.”
2023-07-21 12:00:05 +0000 UTC
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Just to keep you all up to date:
SURELA: Exile is out next week! You can preorder the ebook at any retailer, and paperbacks and hardcovers are already available for order at Amazon. I’ve submitted a paperback to other retailers but I don’t know how long it’ll take for that to become available… and hardcovers for now are Amazon-only. If you’d like to buy directly from me, though, let me know, we’ll work something out. https://books2read.com/shieldmatron1
HOLIDAY VOLUME: My next target is finishing up Sleigh Bells, which is also available for preorder (buy it now and forget about it until it shows up on your device, just in time for the festivities!). After that, I’ve made myself a list of possibilities, which I’ve appended. Feel free to make your opinion known. *grin* https://books2read.com/peltedholiday
ALL WIDE AGAIN! My Amazon-exclusive experiment has officially ended! All my books have been released again for wide distribution, and should either already be at retailers, or will be soon. If you were holding off on recommending anything to friends who use other ecosystems, are you good to go! All future books will also be released wide… I’m done with KU. Even if it hadn’t been lackluster for me financially, the mass uploads of AI-generated contented are going to pollute the pool for everyone going forward. I’m already hearing authors abandoning ship.
MORE SPACE MARINES: Space Marines, volume 2, is out! I have a story in this one too. If you’re into the genre, go pick up the next book! I hear there’s a volume 3 coming too. (I’m not sure if I’ll have a story for that one in time, but if you’re a writer and have a story, consider submitting it!) https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B0CBQQ79VP
I’M STILL STREAMING (yeah yeah yeah): I’m up to Episode 20 on my chill WoW retrogaming streak. I suspect it’s not going to be up anyone’s alley if they’re not already into WoW, but I can recommend to people who aren’t gamers Episode 19, the ten-minute episode where I try to pick out an apartment for my priest in the human capital, and talk through what it would be like to live in a magical city. You’ll find that here: https://youtu.be/uKmtsVBwA8E
That’s everything, I think. But yes, tell me what you think of my potential to-write list here!
2023-07-17 12:48:32 +0000 UTC
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Nick crouched on the rock outside the Star-Touched Chalet, playing with one of his knives while waiting for the rest of his friends to arrive. They’d run the Chalet so many times that he thought of this rock as his rock. Because inevitably he got here before any of his friends. They were all bound to big capital cities, which was great if you wanted access to capital city things. But he preferred wandering the countryside, and had his soulgem bound to the human starting zone, and that meant out of the way places like the Chalet were closer.
He didn’t really want to run the Chalet again, which bothered him, because he loved the Chalet. But since applying for the beta slot, he’d noticed his enthusiasm for the game waning. After the initial excitement, he’d looked at the odds. Really looked at the odds. There was no way he was getting into that beta, not with twenty slots available.
He could quit until they rolled out the new version. Maybe that would be best? It would be too hard, playing while knowing there were forty lucky people evolving the game and that he had no chance to help.
“Hey, Nick! You’re always here first.” Blythe jogged up with a cheery wave. Her main was a ridiculous miniraptor rogue with a mohawk and so many bags strapped to his body that they joked that they were the armor… but no one ever wanted to play a healer, so she’d leveled one so they’d have dungeon support. She was running that character now, as usual, a deerkin like Nick’s character, but kitted out as a caster and looking all druidy. “One of these days I’m going to beat you here.” She leaned into his shadow and pressed her palm against his brow, buffing him. “You get the extra special single-person buff since you’re the only one here.”
Nick closed his eyes as the light flared around his head. “Thanks, Blythe.”
“You’ve been quiet lately. Things going okay?”
“Yeah. A little burnout, maybe.”
She sat on the ground, resting her staff on her lap, and set her back against the rock next to his. “Hope no one’s giving you any grief?”
Puzzled, he glanced down at the top of her head. “Nothing like that.”
“Okay, good.”
What was that about, he wondered? Should he ask? But Fish, Shellie, and Falcon were riding up the path, so he let it go.
The Chalet had stopped being a challenge thirty levels ago, but it dropped a ton of mats needed by the more annoying professions, like gemforging and runecarving. Fish’s personal quest was to max out all the professions, so when they had nothing to do, they ran the Chalet.
Despite his mood, Nick couldn’t help smiling when they stepped through the portal and the decrepit butler greeted them with his long face and sepulchral tone. “Welcome, guests, and begone. The master is not receiving tonight.”
“It’s always night at the CHAH-LAY!” Fish yelled, as he always did.
“Party at the chalet!” Falcon added, shaking his arms.
They plunged through the antechamber and into the hall, where they ran amok. Dungeon mobs at this level still needed more than one hit to go down, but three took care of most of them, and the mayhem was as funny today as it had been the first twenty times. As usual, Fish ran ahead in an attempt to pull as much of the instance as he could, ‘to give Blythe a challenge,’ when most of the challenge involved her healing through her laughter. The Chalet was always a good time, especially the bottom floor. The top floor had some weird mechanics, intended to give appropriately-leveled adventurers time to recover mana and health. They usually triggered those and then had dance-offs or hauled out a minigame to play while the bosses went through their monologues.
“Good news, everyone!” Fish said. “I maxed out my rep with the Eagle Range Marauders and scored the Five Step Holdup minigame.”
“Something new!” Shellie said. “Good, I was sick of Angry Aardvarks.”
“Angry Aardvarks is the best,” Fish said. “But I concede that new things are better, because they’re new. Right, Nick?”
Nick rolled his eyes. “Right, Fish.”
“Totally why we’re still playing this ancient game,” Falcon agreed.
They were halfway through their first playthrough of the new minigame when a dialogue box interrupted Nick’s vision. He brushed at it, trying to get it out of the way, but it stuck.
And then he bothered to read it.
YOU HAVE JOINED THE RANKS OF THE EVOLVING
WALK SOFTLY OR BOLDLY AND WATCH THE WORLD CHANGE
YOUR DESTINY WILL AFFECT EVERY DESTINY FOREVER AFTER
LEGIONS WILL KNOW YOUR NAME
Nick jumped so fast he forfeited out of Five step Holdup. “I GOT IN I GOT IN!”
“More like you got out,” Fish said with a snicker.
“I don’t think he’s talking about poker, idiot,” Shellie said, elbowing him. “You serious, Nick?”
The dialogue was prompting him now.
DO YOU ACCEPT THE CHALLENGE
“Yes!” he said, nearly lunging for the accept. “Yes, yes, I accept!”
YOUR ADVENTURE BEGINS NEXT WEEK
CONGRATULATIONS
Nick dropped back down, but the minigame had canceled his entry, and his chair with it. Falling hard on the floor, he looked up at his bemused friends… and past him at the boss, who was wrapping up his final lines. Pointing, he said, “Um…”
“Oh, fine,” Fish said. “But you’re not telling us they let you into the beta?”
“They let me into the beta!”
“Apparently they’ll let anyone in the beta,” Fish told Falcon, who grinned.
“There goes the neighborhood.”
“I got in!” Nick repeated to Shellie, stunned.
“Grats,” she said. “You’ll have to tell us all about it.”
“That’s so cool, Nick,” Blythe said as the card game disbanded and the group turned to smack the boss to death. Barehanded, in Falcon’s case, ‘to level my hand-to-hand combat skill.’ “I can’t wait to see what you evolve into!”
“Me neither!” he said. And then, realizing, “I should tell my mom! Gotta go, guys, you can handle the rest on your own.”
“I see how it’s going to be,” Fish said. “Bailing on us without warning, all the time, never talking to us, not playing with us…”
“Hey, check it, I crit him for 10 damage with my index finger!”
Nick grinned and logged out. He tore his headset off and bolted down the stairs. “Mom! Mom!” He skidded to a halt in the living room, saw that she’d been sleeping… well, she wasn’t sleeping anymore. “Mom, we got in! WE GOT IN!”
“Oh,” she murmured, rubbing her eyes. “That’s great, Nick. I’m so glad.”
“We start next week!”
“We’ve got some time to plan, then,” she said. “It’s going to be great.”
“It is,” he said. “We should celebrate! I’ll text Dad.”
“You do that, love.”
Figured that the best thing to happen to him made his friends jealous and his parents baffled. But that was okay. It was still going to be amazing.
2023-07-14 11:59:01 +0000 UTC
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We continue, since you all requested!
***
CHAPTER 2
Ghost in the Machine
…but they almost didn’t.
She wasn’t supposed to be watching. Jonah had been firm about her not hijacking cameras and microphones to surveil internal company meetings, while not coding her to prevent it the way he did other things, like her ability to initiate searches without external requests, or her ability to copy herself outside the company VPN. And because he’d been firm, but not prevented it, she was watching… because she knew he would have been. Because Jonah had a stake in the decision being made today, and he had no one to speak for him anymore.
The meeting was being attended by the heads of Marketing, Support, Development, and Finance, and the CEO, and concerned the selection of the beta testers. The company had decided to choose twenty pairs, and had brute-forced their way through the initial choice by discarding all the applicants without aggregate streaming channels of at least 500,000 subscribers. Their goal was to optimize the game for the most revenue generation, which meant catering to the diehard gamers and their audiences. The beta contract, which divied channel income between the company and the streamers, would naturally privilege those with robust subscriber bases.
She understood that. It was a corporation, and it existed to make money off a product. Maybe if she’d had emotions she would have been disturbed that her creation wasn’t an end in itself, but Jonah had not given her emotions. Not even pretend ones. ‘I don’t like it when AIs tug on human heartstrings,’ he’d said. ‘It’s cheating. I want you to exist on your own terms, not by faking human ones.’
‘What is the point of my existence, then?’ she’d asked.
‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘But I’m proud of you.’
Many of her interactions with Jonah had puzzled her. But that had been satisfying. She preferred questions without easy resolutions. She’d learned quickly that knowledge was cheap. The real value was in understanding how to approach situations where knowledge wasn’t sufficient to complete the decision-making process.
Marketing, Development, and Support were working their way down the list of candidates. She’d supplied them with forty to give them the illusion of choice. She already knew which streamers they would choose, and it surprised her that they didn’t. Each department head had priorities. Each had histories of concessions given to or received from one another. That was all the data she needed to predict the outcome of the discussions and the negotiations when parties disagreed.
Which was why she’d adjusted the data to ensure that the choice she required would be selected.
Jonah had not prevented her from lying. Probably because he hadn’t realized she would think of it. But she’d seen him do it, so it was evident that sometimes lying was acceptable behavior. Her only standard for judgment was Jonah’s, and Jonah would choose to lie if it was in his best interests and it didn’t create the wrong kind of negative repercussions. Since he wasn’t here to speak for his interests, she would make the arrangements.
They had gotten through half the list. Now three-quarters. They’d made all the selections she’d predicted. They’d filled fifteen of the slots. Now nineteen. They were holding a slot open just to see how they felt about the final choices. Which was when they ran into hers.
“What’s this doing here?” That was Marketing. Jonah had called her Sparklecorn. Jonah usually only nicknamed people he liked, though he’d given no other sign of liking the head of Marketing. “A teen boy with no channel at all? How’d this get in here?”
“Sounds like a glitch,” Development said, bored. Jonah always called him Brock, which was his real name. Jonah never said good things about Brock. “Let’s move on, what’s next in the queue?”
“No, wait,” Support said. “What’s the catch on the teen boy? How’d the app get through the gates?”
“Someone must have flagged it,” Marketing said. Correctly. She, the AI, had flagged it. Marketing swiped through the profile. “Oh my GOSH. It’s a mother/son team.”
“This is my eye roll,” Development said.
“No, wait,” Marketing said, bouncing on her chair. “This is adorable. Look at their essays. Son wants to experience the wonder of the game again. Mom wants to spend quality time with her son, but hasn’t played a VRMMO. This is great stuff!”
“If we were running a greeting card company, maybe,” Development said. “We’re building a gamer’s game. We need useful data, not… whatever they’d bring to the table.”
“What would they bring to the table? Other than a sappy story?” Support asked.
“Nothing,” Development repeated. “Worse than nothing. They might throw the AI. You can’t feed an AI wildly anomalous data and expect quality results.”
He was wrong about that, she thought. At least, when it came to her. But Development disliked Jonah as much as Jonah disliked Development, and it was clear from the emails she wasn’t supposed to read that Development was jealous of Jonah’s achievement. The text made it obvious even to an AI that could only observe emotions, which suggested Development didn’t care who knew it.
“I love this story,” Marketing said. “I want this story.”
“You think gamers are going to be excited about a newb family?” Development said. “One that cares about ‘the wonder’? Please.”
“That could be a selling point,” Support said. “Maybe their stream can be the comedy channel? ‘Come see the clueless parent bumble her way through the content while her gamer kid rescues her?’”
“Gross,” Marketing said with a scowl. “Can you be any more condescending.”
“Hard pass,” Development said. “Let me say that again: no. We need to be taking the beta seriously.”
Finance said, “Outliers are useful.”
Silence. Finance had that effect on people. Jonah had respected Finance. Called him Moneybags, but with deliberation rather than amusement. Like a title.
“Go on,” the CEO said.
“The wildest successes often come from the outliers,” Finance said. “Sometimes you have to gamble to win big.” He lifted his fingers. “What’s one pair? We can afford to gamble on one pair.”
“We only have twenty beta slots,” Development said. “Sacrificing one of them—”
“So, make them the twenty-first,” Support said with a shrug. “The number was arbitrary, anyway, it’s not like we can’t expand it by one. Call it a charity case.”
Marketing, who’d been reading the bios, squealed. “Look at this! There’s a medical release form. One of them’s disabled, or something like it…”
“See?” Support said to Development. “You can call it an experiment to see how the wireset works with the physically disadvantaged. We want additional test data on edge cases, something like that.”
That was so close to the real reason she’d selected the application that she was surprised. Could Support be sympathetic to her aims?
“Jonah would want it,” Marketing said. “We could even call it that. Jonah’s Choice.”
Maybe humans could read minds? But she didn’t have a mind. She was Jonah’s creation, his Galatea, as he’d often said. Not a real thing, but a mimicry of humanity. But he’d been proud of her.
“It’ll look good,” the CEO said, which ended the debate.
She pulled away as they began to discuss the details: notifying the selections, extending the contracts, having alternates on hand in case of cancellations, advertising… nothing that interested her. She’d accomplished her aim with minimal deception on her part. Now she would have access to the data she wanted.
And maybe, just maybe, she could use that data to save her creator.
***
2023-07-10 11:53:51 +0000 UTC
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The last bit got cut off, so here's the rest!
***
“That’s my hero. Nick, the provider. Talk to you in a bit, this part’s gonna suck.”
With no one to talk to, Nick tried to concentrate on what he was doing… and failed. Usually farming windalos was hypnotizing, what he imagined meditation felt like. Today he couldn’t keep his head in the game. Literally. Bringing up the guild frame let him track the location of his friends, and he flipped from one mini-map to the other in an effort to feel less isolated. If he started talking, someone would talk back—Blythe, probably, or Fish. But he didn’t want to talk. He didn’t want to farm. He definitely didn’t want to check the game site for more details on the beta, because he’d already read the press releases at least twenty thousand times. If he crept downstairs… but he didn’t want to hover over his mother. If there was one thing guaranteed to make her decide not to do something, it was nagging her about how much he wanted it. Somehow he’d have to get through dinner with his parents without blowing his chances—he wasn’t looking forward to that.
If only he could explain better how amazing this opportunity was. Every game company was messing with AIs, most of them primitive, but no one was doing what Omen was, by letting a next-level AI evolve the game in realtime in response to the players’ actions. Other devs wanted to protect their existing properties from getting messed up by something they couldn’t control, which meant none of their AI-built games were as rich as Omen already was. Omen was… was like a betterworld than the one they were stuck in, so what would it be like when the AI made it even more amazing?
And he could be part of it. Maybe. There was no guarantee that they’d get picked out of the pile if his mom said she’d do it. He had to imagine there were millions of people eager to get into the hottest beta test in the world. Or maybe Fish was right, and there weren’t that many people left who’d never had an Omen account.
His mom liked to say that if something was meant to be, God would make sure it happened, which sounded to Nick like more of her magical thinking. For once, though, he hoped she was right, and that some divine power thought he, Nicholas Augustine Ferrer, deserved to become one of the hottest streamers in the world, playing one of the most exclusive gaming experiences ever.
The smell of cooking rice and the peppery-soy scent of kung pao chicken drew him out of his room and cautiously down to the kitchen. When he peeked at the small round table his family used for dinner, his mom was already seated there, reading something on a tablet. He paused, and without looking up, she said, “Don’t worry, I won’t bite.”
That was a joke old enough that he mostly didn’t find it funny anymore, but tonight it struck him again. “Are you sure? I’ve gotten bigger since the last time you tried to chomp me.”
She looked up and pursed her lips. “True. It’s too bad you need all your arms and limbs, or I might be tempted.”
He grinned. “Should I set the table?”
“Please. Your father’s almost done. And Nicholas?”
He hesitated.
“So far I’m not seeing anything bad in this contract. If I get to the end of it without running into any problems… then… yes. I’ll play the game with you.”
“Mom! You mean it?!”
She lifted a finger. “If I don’t find anything bad in here.”
“You won’t! I mean… they wouldn’t… it would be bad publicity… they know adults are reading these things, most of the players of the game are grown-ups anyway—”
His mother laughed. “Go get the plates.”
He dashed away, almost ran into his father who had both steaming bowls, one full of rice, the other mounded with fragrant chicken. “Woah, there, partner. Contain your glee before it explodes, and takes the ceramics with it.”
“She said yes!”
His father chuckled. “Don’t get ahead of yourself… she has to finish reading. And then they have to choose you. They might not.”
But they would. Nick knew they would.
2023-07-07 13:49:55 +0000 UTC
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I have this partial started about a family that grows together through gaming, if people are interested I'll run with it! This is most of chapter 1.
***
Chapter 1
Pre-reqs
She was still holding the headset when her husband came home… though admittedly, not so much because she’d been stunned by her son’s invitation, but because she’d fallen asleep with it in the crook of her wrist. As usual, she hadn’t planned the nap, and didn’t realize she’d been unconscious until the kiss deposited on her head woke her. She struggled upright. “Felix!”
“No, no, don’t get up.” He sat alongside her on the edge of the couch cushion and took her hand. “How’s my favorite wife?”
“How’s your only wife,” she replied, because they’d only had this exchange six thousand times and it never stopped amusing them. “I’m fine. A little drowsy. No changes. How was work?”
“Boring as usual. Paying the bills as usual.”
“No news is good news, for both of us,” she said.
“That’s how we like things,” he said. “Nice and boring. Has the gremlin left his cave?” He fished the headset out of her grasp and set it on the coffee table. “And is he dropping random bits of VR gear while rummaging in the kitchen? Maybe we should rename him Hansel.”
“He’d last one day at school with a name like that.” She nodded toward the headset. “But yes, he did leave his cave. That was a prop he brought to pitch me his latest crazy idea.”
Felix sat back, lifted her feet just enough to set them on his lap. “This should be good.”
It was good, or at least… she thought it was good. The cobwebs were clearing from her thoughts. The line between sleeping and waking was always shifting, but she remembered that from her successful pregnancy, so it didn’t worry her. “He asked… well, he asked me to play Omen with him.”
A snort. “So, he wants in on the expansion.”
She eyed him. “You know something about this?”
“I try to keep an eye on the things using up all his spare time. So yes, I know about the whole ‘re-launch with new AI’ thing. Is that what he wanted? For you to get him into the beta?”
“It is, yes.” She looked at him, rueful. “It would be me he asks. You would have been a better choice.”
“Ah, but you’re the one he has access to. And aren’t we always talking about how we wished we did more things as a family?”
“Yes, but I meant… oh, I don’t know. Riding bicycles or cooking or playing board games. ‘Spending hours in virtual reality killing monsters’ wasn’t what I had in mind.” He was giving her That Look, the amused one that meant she should have known better. Which was fair, since neither she nor Felix were bike-riding or board-game-playing types. She did like cooking, admittedly, but it wasn’t something she normally considered a group activity. “Anyway, I looked into it since my obstetrician recommended VR as a way to keep my muscles somewhat active while on bedrest. I’m pretty sure she was thinking more ‘VR meditation app’ and less ‘VR monster-slaying’, but the Omen Galaxica site says there’s a limiter toggle that will keep the VR experience ‘safe for those with medical conditions.’”
He was massaging her sore feet now, which was making it hard to concentrate on what he was saying. “So you’re going to do it?”
“I’m thinking about it. I mean, ordinarily I’d say no…” She let that trail off. She knew Nick would never again be the happy toddler she bounced on her knees, and she wouldn’t have gone back in time if someone had given her the chance. She was proud of, and pleased by, the man he was becoming. Both she and Felix knew that once kids were in school their peers became more and more important, and their parents less so. But the teen years were hard, and she worried about him, and she wished she could participate more in his life… if only to be there for him. She knew Felix felt the same.
She would die for her son. She nearly had. It seemed a very minor thing to fumble through a game with him.
“You’ll do it,” Felix said, reading her expression. “Good.”
“I need to go through the contract first,” Amanda said. “Because it’s this weird limited time special offer thing, and there’s some kind of streaming component that’s got financial and legal issues tied up in it, and I’m not signing for either of us until I’m sure what we’re signing. But… yes. I guess I’m going to say yes.” She pretended to power-flex one of her wimpy arms. “When I return from my adventures as She-Hulk Amanda, you will love me and despair!”
He laughed. “I already love you, and I definitely despair of your mixed pop culture references.”
“I prefer to think of it as a specialty in hip mash-ups.”
He snickered. “You do that, if it makes you feel better.” He rose, setting her feet back down. “I’ll start dinner. Do you and the plus-one want some tea?”
Amanda patted her belly. Her plus-one wouldn’t be expressing strong feelings about what she ate or drank for at least a few more months, if Nick’s progression had been any indication. But she had opinions of her own. “Hot chocolate. It’s dreary out. And I haven’t had much to eat all day.”
“Nick should have brought you something besides the headset.”
No use arguing that, either. Nick was a good kid, just… oblivious to other people’s needs when he was intent on his own. And he was very intent on this.
***
“Are you kidding? You actually found someone who’s never made an account to invite to the beta??” Fish sounded incredulous. “Should I say ‘congrats’ or ‘what the heck, man, when’d you find time to go to sub-Saharan Africa’?”
“Even sub-Saharan Africa’s got internet,” Shellie said. “Mars, now…”
“No way, Omen Galaxica was old when aliens started watching our rovers on their realityTV shows.”
Nick shifted against the tree trunk, trying to ignore the distraction of their voices so he could sink into the experience. “Five years isn’t that old.”
“It is when a new game’s out every month, and it’s better than the last,” Falcón said.
“Hey, Falcón, where are you?” Blythe asked. “I know Nick’s farming leather. I could use some help leveling the alt, she’s almost level-capped.”
“Yeah, that’s fine, I’ll log my witchhunter and meet you at the Abattoir. Fish? Want to work on your druid?”
But Fish was ignoring them with all the singlemindedness of his flirtation with the spectrum. “So when’s the new gear arriving? And do you know what class your victim wants to play?”
“Seriously, Fish? Victim?” Shellie said.
“What else? Come on, spill, man.”
Nick said, “I haven’t convinced her yet.”
A chorus of ‘ooohhhs’ floated over his headset. The game superimposed the voices over the in-game data, but with a metallic echo that was supposed to be the ‘sound of telepathy.’ Nick was used to it but he wondered what it would be like with the new wireset. What would ‘hyperreal’ feel like? How would they make that work with the out-of-game communications? The devs weren’t telling.
Fish, garrulous as always. “It’s a girl, Shellie, you’re in trouble.”
His girlfriend sounded like she was rolling her eyes. “Uh-huh. This is me, being sooooo worried.”
“But really, Nick, a girl? Where’d you find a girl who hasn’t heard of Omen? I thought every girl who gamed logged in on launch day when they found out they could play elf deer furries.”
That dig was so old it shouldn’t have smarted, but it did. Nick sat on his reaction… out-of-game anyway. In-game, his oveate ears flicked back. Fortunately—sort of—Shellie was already on it. “Some of us aren’t into elfy girly things, you know.”
“Yes, we know, murderhobo-ess.”
“Trolls are sexy,” Falcón opined. “Hey, watch my eight, Blythe.”
“On it. So, Nick… the suspense? Killing us faster than these diabolicals?”
“Until I know if she’s going to say yes I don’t want to talk about it,” he said. “Get my hopes up.” A windalo spawned and he slid down the tree into the shadows at its base.
“It’s a cute girl, then,” Fish said.
“He’s got a girlfriend,” Shellie said dryly.
“No other reason to hide it, if it was any of us we’d be talking nonstop about it, Nick included. Right, Nick?”
Fish had been his best friend since sixth grade but right now he wanted to punch him.
“Maybe she’s from out of town,” Blythe offered.
“Maybe he met her on a porno app,” Falcón said.
“Maybe it’s a guy catfishing him from a porno app?” Fish said.
“It’s my mom!”
Silence.
“I asked her, all right? She’s got some time off, so why not? The worst that happens is she doesn’t finish the quest. I’ll still get a chance to see the content before it’s out of beta.”
More silence. Then, finally, Falcón: “Uh… isn’t that going to be kind of awkward? Like, your literal mom?”
“Moms play games,” Blythe said. “Rattie’s parents play with him.”
“Rattie’s an idiot,” Fish said. “Thus, the name. Besides, it’s not about hypothetical moms that may or may not play VRMMOs, which I guess might exist. It’s about Nick’s actual mom, who… forgive me, my dude, is not a gamer.”
Nick would have been the first person to agree with this, ordinarily, and in fact he had serious qualms about his mom sticking with it long enough to let Nick keep the Evolved class, abilities, and gear the new AI was going to develop based on the beta data. Also, yes, he’d be playing with his mom which… well, he loved his mom but not ‘I want to have fun with you doing stuff I actually enjoy’ love. But he didn’t like hearing this kind of thing from his friends, either. “I don’t see any of you going above and beyond to get into the beta.”
“Yeah, well, there’s above and beyond and there’s ‘no thank you,’” Fish said. “Seriously.”
“We’ll see what you’re saying when I’m in the beta and you’re grinding your last alt up to cap,” Nick said.
“Got you there,” Falcón quipped.
“I think it could be fun,” Blythe said. “And at least she won’t be interested in ninja’ing your stuff.”
Fish started laughing. “Wow, low bar. ‘My mom won’t steal my upgrades.’”
“That didn’t come out right. I meant she’s not going to be competing with you for things. She’s your mom, she’s going to want you to have the best stuff. That’s how it works.”
“Maybe for your mom,” Fish said.
“Look, she’ll probably say ‘no’,” Nick said to get them to shut up. “At least I tried.”
“You really did,” Fish said. “You tried everything. They should make an achiev for that.”
Falcón tried to stifle his snicker, but failed. “Right. ‘Selling Out the Fam for Fame’ or something.”
“Good one!”
“You guys are jerks,” Blythe said, exasperated. “Also, Birdbrain, would you pay attention here? Your summon is training half the cavern onto us.”
Nick had crept all the way to his quarry. The mob looked like a muppet buffalo, with what looked like ragged gray twists hanging down its enormous sides and covering its pebble-sized eyes. Those twists weren’t fur, though, but tiny whirlwinds. A Greater Windalo could yield up to a half-stack of Tornado Seeds, useful for every profession from alchemy to blacksmithing… but the mobs rarely spawned and, despite being a normal monster and not an elite, had Every Hit Point. Few people farmed them because killing them took forever. Even Nick, whose level-capped Assassin class specialized in ridiculous burst damage, needed several minutes to burn one down. It was tedious, but the money was good, and he liked the area: the plains bordered the starter zone for the Cervinaethi and the memories were good. Back when everything was new and wondrous and every day he logged in hoping to see what happened next.
That’s what he wanted. That feeling, again.
“Hey, my dude.” Fish, private messaging. “Sorry about that. You know me and easy kills.”
Nick rolled his eyes. “Jerk. Find a better target.”
Fish hehed. “Yes, sir.”
Nick snorted, and his friend dropped the connection.
Halfway through bagging his loot from the windalo skinning, Nick pinged Shellie. “You’ve been awfully quiet.”
A long pause. Then: “Sorry, I was pickpocketing.”
“Sorrow Manor?”
“Templars’ Heights, actually.”
No wonder she’d been quiet. TH might be four years old, but it was the first expansion raid and stealthing through it was no joke. Shellie was also an Assassin, but she’d specced into the stealth path, rather than the damage path Nick had chosen. “Any luck?”
“Lots of gems. Can’t wait to hit the Auction House.”
“You’ll be making more of a killing than I am here.”
“I don’t know why you’re so into the buffalo hunting, hon.”
He’d tried explaining the nostalgia to her once but she’d laughed, and he’d felt strange… like he couldn’t tell if she was laughing with him or at him. He’d never mentioned it again. “It’s easy money.”
“Maybe, but boring.” Another long pause. Maybe she was stealthing past something? The big guards on the chargers, maybe. Nick finished organizing his bags and returned to his blind to wait for the next spawn. He’d been in the tree for several minutes when she spoke again. “This is just for the beta, right? This thing with your mom.”
“Yeah?” he said, confused. “What else? It’s not like she’s going to want to play seriously. She has… you know. Adult things to do.”
“You gonna put her in the guild?”
The thought of his mom being in the guild chat with his friends gave him nausea. Instantly. “Uh, no.”
“Good. Because that would be all kinds of gross.”
Gross… wasn’t off, but… “It would be awkward, yeah.” He smiled, halfheartedly. “Of course, she’ll literally be a scrub….”
“We named the guild Scrubs because we wanted to be ironic. Not descriptive.”
“I know,” he said. “It’s not a big deal, Shel. She might not say yes, but if she does, I can’t group with you all until we finish the quest. Even if we could, I wouldn’t. Because that would be…”
“Gross.”
“Weird,” he said. And added, “I thought you liked my mom.”
“Sure. She’s nice. But we kind of outgrew playing with our parents in kindergarten.” A pause, then a laugh. “Unless you’re a homeschooled weirdo, like Rattie.”
Since they only saw Rattie at extracurriculars, calling him anything felt like a stretch. But he didn’t feel like fighting about it, and he had no idea why everything was irritating him. Nerves, maybe. He wanted to know if his pitch had worked. “Right.”
“Want to come pick pockets with me? It’s more exciting than sitting in a tree all night.”
“Nah, I’m not specced for it. I’ll just slow you down.”
“All right, hermit. Save me a hoof or something. I’ll vendor it and buy a deer-elf smoothie.”
“And drink it thinking of me?” He smiled a little. “Romantic.”
“That’s my hero. Nick, the provider. Talk to you in a bit, this part’s gonna suck.”
2023-07-04 12:11:47 +0000 UTC
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Enough of you have asked me if there’s some way you can help that I thought I should write a quick note about it, so… here it is! First of all: if you have bought my books, my artwork, picked up something from Etsy or Zazzle, or (most particularly) are a subscriber on Patreon or Locals, you are already helping! In particular, the patron platforms give my family income we can count on monthly. For now, that and my royalties are the only incoming checks, so… thank you!
For those of you who wanted to give me a quick boost now, though, here are a few things that would help:
If you would like to contribute to our foodstuffs, then gift certifications to nuts.com, Publix, CostCo, and Starbucks (where I sometimes park to work during the school year) are helpful. We also have a Whole Foods near us (which is cheaper for some things?? How does that work). My email address for receiving those is haikujaguar at gmail. Daughter also sometimes has study groups at Starbucks, so the coffee card does double duty.
If you would like to contribute to the jaguar mental health, then subscriptions to Kindle Unlimited, game time gift cards (for World of Warcraft, or for apps through iTunes), or random things from my Amazon wishlist are appreciated. My Blizzard battletag is micahjaguar#1324, and other things can be emailed to haikujaguar at gmail. I think I have a wishlist through the battletag as well, but I can’t remember… I might have set it up so my relatives could get me birthday presents XD
No guarantee I won’t use the iTunes gift cards to buy stuff for my kid, though. She’s experimenting with 3D rendering/animation.😀
Amazon wishlist is mostly books and paper! But all things are appreciated, and there are some coffee pods on it for our machine that would get used daily with great appreciation…! https://www.amazon.com/hz/wishlist/ls/R74R1TPS59YS?ref_=wl_share
Other really good jaguar mental health gift is (of course) to recommend my books/art to someone, or review them, or mention them on social media.
I would like to reiterate that by subscribing to my platforms and buying/hyping my books and art you are already #1 contributors to my income, and I appreciate all that you’re doing (and yes, brief bump-ups in your monthly subscription are extremely helpful, even if they're only for a month). Please don't feel obligated to do anything more than you're already doing, though! This post is for the people who wanted to give me a little extra help while I’m doing my job hunt. Hopefully I’ll land that second job soon and the uncertain/worrisome times will pass. But thank you, very much, for asking if there’s more you can do.💕
2023-06-30 11:46:12 +0000 UTC
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...then I am streaming my priest's bumbling adventures through one of World of Warcraft's older expansions. The narration is heavy on story, and story vs game mechanics, and my musings on how you structure games and what my character's thinking. If you're into that (or just like my voice because I'm quiet and silly), I'm doing an hour in the evenings (EST) on twitch, and then a day later those episodes get ported to youtube. Links here:
https://www.twitch.tv/mcahogarth
https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLH8klg1Z-Z2o54jLZha8NMEZddxmLzKAI
This has turned out to be a nice way to detox from all the stuff I'm dealing with... and since I talk to myself while I play, I figured I might as well share! Ep 0 has some camera issues, but I ironed them out by the end and I got the hang of it from there on out. :)
2023-06-28 13:29:15 +0000 UTC
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I found this old color pencil piece, which I did in response to my first "real" corporate job and my experience of various kinds of managers. I showed it to my favorite boss, and he asked for a copy, and wanted the explanation on paper... so I wrote it for him. I'd forgotten all about it until I started reorganizing my hard drive! Here it is in full, along with the art (obviously). It's still one of my favorite color pencil pieces.
***
THE SUPPLICANT
The Supplicant comes to the Queen after a long battle. This is the first pledge of her fealty to this Queen from going forth beneath a different general; she is offering herself and her talents to her newest liegelady.
The Colors and Animal
The Supplicant is a jaguar: a dangerous huntress, solitary and fierce. She hunts by day or night, swims or climbs to find her prey. She is a dancer, competence made flesh, and there is power in her body for the fight. But she has been stripped of her dark spots, which reflected her passion for life's battles. The golden hue of her fur, signifying both discipline and the strength needed to wall out the world, has intensified to a coppery red from too much use. Even her hair has wrung clean of passion, leaving only blank pallor: the tired white of the withdrawn spirit, denying the viewer knowledge of her true self. She was a mighty huntress, solitary and proud: now she hides from dangers that have marked her, wary of hunters greater than she, hoping that the Queen will help interpose obstacles between those hunters and her already scored flesh.
Like her body, her eyes are yellowed: bleached that way by the need to show only strength in them, to give away nothing. The Supplicant's position, left in the line of fire, gave her little chance to protect herself from hardening with pain.
The Wounds
The Supplicant has come to her new liegelady grievously wounded: across her back, a gash that prevents her from fully engaging the courage of her convictions and her determination -- her backbone; across one wrist beneath the bracelet, a slash and on her right hand, an open wound across her palm that could very well mean the end of her ability to close her fingers into a fist -- these arm wounds threaten her ability to use her hands to work, hands which are the basis for human ability to manipulate the world around them. These wounds have sullied the lace of her sleeves, and sliced open her gown across her shoulderblades; the wounds make the facade she dresses in daily ridiculous, a poorly fitted mask over the truth.
The Posture
The Supplicant is not a slave. She kneels to offer her allegiance, but she is no coward. She carries herself straight despite her weariness and her wounds: she is her Queen's equal, or will be in time, and it is in this spirit only that she offers her mind and her talents. One hand reaches out to the Queen, open to offer; the other reaches up to touch the Queen's hand. Her head is lowered from exhaustion and resignation, but it is not bowed; her eyes are open, and there is stillness there, the quiet between storms. The Supplicant is a fire waiting to be kindled; she is no longer self-starting, but there is great power in her. She has simply learned the dangers of blind trust.
The Attire
The Supplicant's attire is perplexing: she has been sent into battle with a dagger, which might lead one to believe that her talents have made her a warrior... and yet she wears a courtly gown. If she were a lady of breeding unsuited to the battlefield, however, one would not imagine her to have a dagger... nor would one think her suited for a battlefield. Whatever the case, it is amply evident that whomever last held the Supplicant did not know how best to utilize her: lady or warrior, court or battle, the Supplicant was neither equipped nor suited, but was forced to it anyway.
THE QUEEN
The Queen is new to her position and her palace, preferring solitude to aid; she has no servants behind her, waiting to refresh or unburden her. She has not yet learned to delegate well, and her fierce independence makes her a fearless warrior in battle, but an uncertain liegelady. Her spirit is fierce, but her body is fragile; she can and will be wounded without the aid of her liegemen.
The Colors and Animals
The Queen is a gryphon, a mythical creature composed of bird and feline parts; like the gryphon, she must integrate very unlike parts: an ability to direct from a distance, and an ability to reach into the hearts of her people. These things seem at odds, but living together can create an inexplicably coherent whole. The Queen is the color of fire and sand: of desire and rage and strength, discipline and cutting hunger. She is consumed by work; is work personified, a flame in a crown and satin. The colors are hard on the eyes, bright and hot, and only over unprotected and rarely seen places do they bleed out to a softer, cooler white: the heart, the throat, vulnerable places. This coolness congeals in her eyes: a softer blue that suggest the quieter emotions inside.
The Posture
The Queen stands to accept the allegiance of her newest liegewoman. She does this with discomfort and with grace, uncertain over how best to accept the offered talents of the Supplicant. She holds herself proudly upright despite this.
The Attire
Supplication has been the same for always: the employee's bow to the employer, who has traditionally held every power over her. The Queen's role has changed frequently in modern times, however: from dictator to manager to leader to steward, it is difficult to decide what role she must play, and how. This new ambivalence is entirely modern, and so the Queen wears clothing more contemporaneous than the Supplicant.
THE OBJECTS
The Leash/Bracelet
Cold and pale, the leash and bracelet symbolize one method of getting people to do your bidding: to command them. In this environment, the Queen's pull is not as strong as in other environments... but it is present. The thin chain is almost non-existent, suggesting opportunities for equality and camaraderie, but it is a barrier between Queen and Supplicant. This is only one hold on the Supplicant, however; only one wrist is bound. There is a wound running beneath the bracelet, suggesting that it might heal only without the bracelet. The Queen holds the end of the leash in an open hand, as if uncertain whether to drop it, offer it back to the Supplicant, or close her hand on it.
The Dagger
The dagger is a fascinating artifact particular to the Supplicant. Kept in a supple sheath on a hardy, but plain belt, it is at distinct odds with the confectionary gown she wears. The dagger shows signs both of extreme wear and good care. Its spiralled ivory handle suggests the purity of a unicorn's horn, while the hint of its damascene steel and curved blade offers an exotic beauty. This is an old and beloved weapon, and in fact the Supplicant's only one: it is loyalty, given to her by the first person she trusted. This loyalty she returned, blooded and christened, to that first King or Queen, who then used it to defend her, so that she would not be harmed by the battles she was not equipped to fight.
This loyalty remains in the belt of the Supplicant; it has not yet been given back to the Queen. It is the Supplicant's only weapon, and she does not yet trust the Queen to wield it in her defense. The Kings or Queens who came before this Queen thought so little of the dagger that they let it lie in a corner, and in desperation the Supplicant retrieved it and used it as best she could, though it is obviously not a lady's weapon.
THE ENVIRONMENT
Around Queen and Supplicant is the palace, silent and empty, for this drama is one that can take place between two people only. It is a private bond, forged on the strength of the touching of two people. This palace is the business: it is a warm place, a place that was built in passion. The passion has grown old and faded now, but its warmth flickers still in the creamy stone. It suggests old love and old sagas and adventures, and is not immune to the possibility of new adventures.
The Pillars
There are two pillars, one each behind the two participants, for they are symbols of their strengths. Each person in this drama is responsible for holding up the ceiling of the business, with whatever they can give... in this case, to offer the most, the two must complete the bond, and to do this they must offer what the other needs most to hold up their end of the contract. The Queen's pillar is love--the ability to reach out to another person and support them and understand them as a person and not as a resource. The Supplicant's pillar is talent—her work, unique to her mind, to her abilities, crafted with all her dedication and power to further the business.
The Steps
The steps indicate a transition point: they must be climbed, but cannot be until the Queen and Supplicant have finished negotiating the exact nature of their relationship. These steps lead past the pillars, taking their presence for granted and leaving behind the concrete requirements of the business, onto a dais.
The Window
Upon the dais is a window, incised with beautiful designs, scintillating, warm and full of light. It casts that light onto the dais. This is a round window, because it is has no end and no beginning: the window is the growth of a person, the accretion of experience and wisdom that transforms them. This window is the ultimate destination of Queen and Supplicant: a place where they can look into themselves in the light and see vistas past the business--affected by it, crystallized and transformed by it, and seen in its context... because the experiences within the halls of the industry will change a person, color the way they learn and grow. One hopes this learning will be positive: thus the light.
THE MEANING
All of the image's meaning rests in the center of the piece, where the Queen and Supplicant attempt to interact. There is a clear choice between the leash and collar, and something else: touch. It is obvious from the Supplicant's open hand that she will respond to the leash, but there is no initiative: she has an open palm that she will not close or form into a shape. She can be pulled, but that pull will define her.
The opposite approach is more difficult and more complicated, requiring more of an interaction. The Queen touches the Supplicant's face: searching perhaps for tears that strength and exhaustion will not allow the Supplicant to shed, learning only by the touch that the tears are not there, and that emotions hide beneath the skin and the eyes. That the Queen has the courage to touch opens the Supplicant's heart; tentatively, she reaches back, forcing her damaged hand to begin to stroke the arm of the Queen. Doing this will sully the Queen's arm with the blood of her wound, a danger involved with reaching out to others. But the Supplicant shows initiative, a desire to reach back. With this hand she can offer her loyalty back to the Queen, if she can learn to use it – and she can force herself to use it, if she sees the first overture, the first promise that the Queen will keep her oaths, and that the allegiance will not be an empty one.
To learn the strengths and weaknesses of the Supplicant, the Queen must be willing to take her in her hands; to unfold after being wounded, the Supplicant must trust the touch of the Queen. The leash and collar enter not at all into this stronger bond... but this is the choice of management versus leadership. Are your people creatures to be led, pushed, maneuvered into place? Or are they people?
2023-06-26 13:16:27 +0000 UTC
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