Month: April 2013 (page 3 of 5)

Flash Fiction: Genevive’s

This week, Chuck admonished us to choose our opening line, so I did.


It’s always midnight somewhere.

When you got one of the black business cards with these words embossed upon it, it was an invitation. It meant one of Madame Genevive’s girls thought you were really something special. Lots of girls in town had pimps; those that worked for Madame Genevive were a cut above as it was. Finding one of them “walking the beat” as they called it could be a rarity; getting an invitation to the center of Genevive’s operation was another matter entirely.

James looked again at the address on the back of the card. The storefront was an antique book store, stuffed wall to wall with tomes new and old. Baskets out front were available for browsing, signs saying there were discounted and even available for lending or those without books to take if they so desired as long as a note was left. Walking in, he found a beautiful girl behind the desk, her hair restrained by a pair of chopsticks, green eyes behind dark-rimmed glasses focused on a novel in her hands. He showed her the card. A small smile touched her ruby-red lips, and she cast her eyes to an antiquated grandfather clock in a corner of the store, within sight of the desk but hidden from the front door.

He walked to it, studying it for a long moment. The hands of the clock were unprotected by glass. He reached up, gently, and turned the hands until the clock struck midnight. It chimed, rumbled, slid back from the shelves, and swung aside. Stepping past the shelves, James found a spiral staircase leading down, low lights pulsing beneath him, the smell of incense and, faintly, sweat. Swallowing, he took the steps one at a time. The clock returned to its position behind him.

The lights in the underground room were kept dimmed, and the pulsing came from the dance floor, where a few couples gyrated together to the thumping beat. Some girls occupied poles, others laps, as men on the couches and recliners watched them move. A girl by the stairs smiled, told him the rates, and took his hand to place a small stamp on his knuckle. James examined it with a small smile – getting here had taken no small amount of effort.

The elaborate security meant officers of the law almost never made it down here unless it was personal business. He could see two city council members and a judge among the denizens in the shadows, drinking in the undulating curves before them. He tried to keep himself focused on the task at hand. It took a few minutes of wandering the floor and gently refusing the attentions of some very lovely girls before he found who he was looking for.

The man was well-built, his physique the mix of plastic surgery and body building that indicated the level of both his income and his vanity, and he was pulling the hips of a girl to him, slapping her ass on every downbeat. She continued to grind him, but her eyes betrayed an annoyance that James caught easily even in the low lights. She saw him watching, and the annoyance faded, replaced by curiosity. Does he like to watch? seemed to be the thought crossing her mind. James placed a finger to his lips, and flicked his eyes to the rooms towards the back.

The girl turned to straddle her eager companion. She whispered in his ear, and then took him by the hand to lead him towards an available room. James fell into step behind them, reaching under his jacket. When she opened the door to allow her john to enter, James slipped the thimble carefully into her hand, wrapped in a few large bills. He caught a glimpse of her look, then stood back from the door and found a place to sit.

Presently, the girl screamed. The woman from upstairs came running down. James ordered a drink from a shaken waitress, not even bothering to turn as the unfortunate man was carried out of the room. The conversation was hushed, uncertain, excited: Did they know who this man was? Wasn’t he the son of the local Don? Would there be retribution?

James smiled. The toxin was subtle. A little elevated heart rate was all it took to activate it, and as the poison stimulated the adrenal glands and other parts of the body, the heart just kept speeding up until it simply burned out. Anybody using plastic surgery to achieve that look was not above using a little blue bill for potency, and everybody knew those things had side effects…

The girl returned, wearing a short, frilly robe over her naked body. James met her gaze over the rim of his glass.

“He’s been coming here for months,” she whispered. “And every time it’s been…”

“Rough?”

She shook her head. “Rough, I can handle. He was just so… He was a dick about it.”

“Not surprising.”

“Did you know him?”

“Only from his reputation.”

She licked her lips, nervously. “Will the Don’s men be coming here?”

James set aside his glass, leaned towards the girl, and took her hand. “Who do you think hired me?”

Her painted lips, finally, began to smile. “I knew someone would come for him eventually. But I’m glad it was someone so handsome.”

“I have a few hours here before my next assignment. How would you like to fill that time?”

Her smile brightened. Her eyelids fluttered. And her robe hit the floor without a sound.

Writer Report: Can’t Talk. Working.

Courtesy floating robes
Courtesy Floating Robes

This has been a week of, frankly, getting back in the goddamn saddle. My workouts are up, my dayjob is going well, and I’m back to writing in Cold Streets at the average rate of 350 words per weekday.

Not much else to report, if I’m honest. And I’m a bit busy at the moment with everything else that’s going on.

I really need to carve out more time to prep these posts beforehand.

Game Review: BioShock Infinite

It’s worth noting that BioShock was one of the very first video games I reviewed. It’s clear that in those days I was still learning the ropes and refining opinions, however, as my review of BioShock 2 ended up being overly generous. If I had the inclination, I would go back to the entry and edit in a couple more things that I’ve realized I didn’t like, but that’s old ground that’s been tread several times. Let’s just leave it at this: until now, BioShock did not have a worthy sequel. It had a map pack and some skins and a multiplayer mode, bundled and sold as a game. BioShock Infinite is the actual sequel to the first BioShock game, and it has a lot to live up to. It’s not every day that a gaming franchise gets a saving throw.

Courtesy Irrational Games

The year is 1912, and we find ourselves portraying hard-bitten private detective Booker DeWitt. A veteran of the infamous 7th cavalry and a former Pinkerton agent, Booker’s a little down on his luck, having racked up some debts from gambling. He is given a mysterious offer: “Bring us the girl, and wipe away the debt.” The girl, according to the box on his lap as he is taken to the lighthouse, is Elizabeth, a tower-bound prisoner in the airborne city-state of Columbia. At first, the city seems peaceful and prosperous, even if the citizens worshiping the founding fathers of the United States is a bit off-putting. Soon, however, DeWitt is on the run from the constabulary, who are admonished by their leader and patron saint, Z.H. Comstock or “the Prophet”, to destroy the “False Shepherd” DeWitt before he can lead “the Lamb,” Elizabeth, astray.

The games of Ken Levine have always had evocative environments, and BioShock Infinite is no exception. Columbia joins the underwater metropolis of Rapture and the corridors of the Von Braun in creating a living, breathing place with its own unique atmosphere. However, instead of the harrowing sci-fi horror of the first game or the objectivist utopia gone wrong of the second, BioShock Infinite turns a glass on history rather than literature or a genre. Specifically, Columbia invokes the so-called American exceptionalism of the turn of the 20th century. Much like the pundits of FOX News and other conservatives, the people of this time believed that they were the rightful heirs of a nation of immigrants and disparate peoples, which of course meant it was unfit for immigrants and disparate peoples. To the game’s credit, things like jingoism, racism, and sexism are handled in a largely subtle fashion, simply presented as they were or would have been in 1912 rather than dwelling on our modern views on the matter, and does not allow any pontification get in the way of the story of Booker and Elizabeth.

Courtesy Irrational Games
“Um… Miss? I really hope that book isn’t loaded…”

Perhaps the strongest part of the game is that story, which I will not spoil here. There was some controversy before the game’s release concerning the decision to put Booker front and center instead of Elizabeth, and now that I’ve played it, I can say that I agree with those who think Elizabeth deserves her place on the front cover. She’s a well-rounded, interesting, strong, and engaging character. It was conjectured by some that the bulk of the game consisting of a glorified escort quest would make the game dull or uninteresting. As much as there are some flaws in the gameplay, Elizabeth’s role is not one of them. Not only is her ability to open rifts between parallel universes crucial to the plot, she can assist in combat by pulling in cover, turrets, and items when you find the right rift. In addition, she will occasionally find money, health, ammunition, or Salt (which powers your Plasmids Vigors) in the middle of a firefight. Finally, she will point out if some enemies have specific weapons so you can prioritize. Outside of combat, as you explore Columbia, Elizabeth and Booker will converse, banter, and even argue. Their conversations feel natural and spontaneous for the most part, which is a credit to the writers and voice actors. I often found myself frustrated with a shooting section because I wanted to spend more time with these two rather than shooting at dudes.

BioShock Infinite is not perfect, and its biggest flaw may be the shooting at the core of the game. While the guns function well, there’s very little skill involved in it. Much like its previous games, this BioShock focuses less on the building of your character’s abilities and more on what the character does between combat sequences. One of the things that really bothered me is that Booker is limited to two guns, while all eight Vigors are always available once discovered. There aren’t that many tactical decisions to make, and between the pushover human enemies to the Handyman encounters that make the Big Daddies look like rather friendly folks, not a great deal of variety. It doesn’t completely derail things, and the Skyhook’s ability to zip you around the gallery rather than confining you to cover helps quite a bit, but it does keep BioShock Infinite from reaching its full potential as a gaming experience. As good as the story is, the player’s interaction with it is somewhat minimal. No significant decisions are made, and the outcome of the game cannot be changed. As worthy as the destination is of the journey, I feel like an opportunity was missed in favor of rendering the Automated Patriots, which are probably the most fun enemies to fight. But I digress.

Courtesy Irrational Games
Gives new meaning to the term “rail shooter”.

Stuff I Liked: The weapons had a good, turn-of-the-century look and feel about them. I like that audio logs, environmental messages on the walls, and open non-linear level design remain a part of this gaming series. The presentation of the Vigors is very good. The combat can be satisfying at times, especially when the Skyhook gets involved, but…
Stuff I Didn’t Like: I felt hamstrung because I was limited to two weapons. There are portions later in the game where it felt like an incredible liability. As good as the story was, more could have been done to make the player feel included in the experience, rather than simply being an observer. That said…
Stuff I Loved: The story IS well-presented, paced decently, and ends in a very satisfactory manner. The character of Elizabeth is fantastic. Booker adds a great deal of personality by not being a silent protagonist. I adore the British twins. The music is great, the graphics are beautiful, and the city of Columbia invokes curiosity and fascination as you explore.

Bottom Line: Despite its flaws, BioShock Infinite is an extremely good game. Few games present their stories with this much humanity, pathos, and personality. The world is very well-realized and encourages you to spend time there. While the combat isn’t great, it does have some interesting bits to offer, and it provides the promise of a universe where BioShock 2 never existed.

One Of Those Hiccups

Deadline Clock by monkeyc

Sometimes things just don’t go right.

Things at home have been a bit in flux of late, and a mishap & slip of my own mind had me forget to enable my alarm this morning. As a result, I ended up running behind. I opted for hitting the gym over completing any writing, and ended up stuck in a snarl of traffic that left me in a foul mood. I’m better, now, but still staring down the barrel of a pretty full work day.

The review is bumped until tomorrow, but the good news is that I’m back to writing every night. I’m going to try and keep this up, and finish the first draft of Cold Streets by mid-May. I’ll be looking for test readers! Sign up in the comments below or contact me via any of my stalking methods.

Dissecting the Chosen One

Courtesy Warner Bros

I’ll go on record as being a fan of the Harry Potter series. There’s something that bothers me about it, though. A lot of people in the Wizarding world refer to Harry as ‘the Chosen One’, ‘the Boy Who Lived’, and so on. It’s a phrase that’s been used quite a bit, and not just in the arenas of young adult or fantasy fiction. It’s an old chestnut, going all the way back to the earliest myths, and it’s about time someone cut this geezer open to pull out what works and discards the rest. Our stories still need their heroes, that’s not in question, but as things stand, “the Chosen One” is definitely showing its age.

There are a lot of traditional views of heroism in fiction. Many times, the hero is “chosen”, set aside by some greater power or the magic of destiny or something like that. This simplistic explanation allows the focus to remain on the hero’s journey, and in these cases the Campbellian archetype applies more often than not. Throughout their growth, doubts, victories, failures, and apotheosis, the hero is a very present figure, unmired by a past that usually has little or nothing to do with the task at hand. They’ve been chosen to be the hero, and that is that.

In case it isn’t obvious, there are more than a couple problems with The Chosen One. Firstly, it robs the hero of a great deal of their agency. Being ‘chosen’, their decision-making happens on a very micro level, simply overcoming challenges as they are presented, rather than working towards a larger, self-defined go. ‘Fulfill your destiny’ is, somewhat ironically, not all that fulfilling as a motivation. On top of that, the Chosen One often does little to earn their power and influence. Their abilities are tested, to be sure, but much like the hero’s decision-making, these successes more often than not fail to grow the hero in any meaningful way, and even the loss of magical weapons or fond companions are only temporary difficulties, since ‘the power was inside all along’. This brings me to a third (and, for the moment, final) flaw in The Chosen One as a hero: other characters around the hero suffer as a result of the hero’s ‘chosen’ nature. They are often reduced to cannon fodder or, usually worse, comic relief, rather than forcing the hero to work harder, do better, grow and change. Because the hero has no agency, neither does anybody around them.

It’s possible to make the story of The Chosen One charming, and flesh out the characters to a degree that these flaws are minimized, but they’re not going away. Even tales I love have these flaws, at times glaringly. And one of your jobs as a writer is to work on doing better at telling stories than your favorite author can or would do. While we can’t all be JK Rowling or George RR Martin or Terry Pratchett or JRR Tolkien or Isaac Asimov or Chuck Wendig, we still can and should do a better job with the central figures of our stories than we’ve seen or read or heard about in the past.

Back to Harry. How JK avoids the pitfalls above is that Harry remains a very human character, in every measure a boy growing into a man. After the initial rush of breaking free of his mundane and abusive life, he doesn’t much care for the hoopla and labels that surround him. His ‘destiny’, if we want to call it that, was not gifted to him, but rather the side-effect of one of the most horrific events of his life. Rather than things coming easily to him, he struggles in his studies and in his interactions, often coming close to failing if not completely screwing the pooch. He wouldn’t have gotten as far as he does without his friends, who like him are realistic and well-rounded characters in their own right, never feeling disposable unless a film director isn’t sure what to do with Ron Weasley (but that’s hardly Ron’s fault, or Ms Rowling’s). And his refusal of his destiny’s call never feels like a token moment meant to check off a box on the Campbellian list.

So how does one make a hero work? What makes for a good hero? If there’s bad points for the Chosen One, what are the good ones for a hero?

Tune in next week, and find out.

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