The Druid

The tavern smelled of old wood, fresh sawdust, stale sweat, sour beer, ambition, and disappointment. That was the first thing Merkan noticed. The bored minstrel strummed and sang in the corner, and the only other noise was a secretive murmur of conversation from the tavern's many tiny tables. "Sit," Aniba said, and sat at one such table. So did Merkan.

He looked around the crowded room and asked, "What are we—"

A thunderous "Oh yeah?" rolled across the room from behind Merkan, followed by the meaty sound of two slabs of beef encountering each other at high speed. Merkan turned to see a boulder of a dwarf standing over a giant of a man. The dwarf spat on him and turned to go, but then a table smashed to flinders on her back.

Moments later, the entire tavern was brawling. Even the minstrel was hammering on a wizard with his lute. Fighting defensively, Merkan noticed someone sitting at the bar, ivy twisted through his clothes and beard, a small rodent watching from his nest-like hair.

"Who's that?" He shouted as he backed up against Aniba, who was fending off a clan of halflings.

"Oh, that's the druid. The druid abides."

At the Hair Pond

Jeremy felt the sun warm his skin as he walked down the dusty lane. The entire day had a stillness to it: the sun in the sky, the embrace of warm, breezeless air, the green fields and tired, leaning trees over the gravel lane. Only Jeremy moved through it, creating life as he walked: puffs of dust floating into the air behind him, the sound of his lazy whistle, the spring of his homemade fishing pole on his shoulder. Turning off the lane, he followed a trickle of a creek that dripped out of a culvert and into a small jungle of green. Letting the bushes swish closed behind him, Jeremy stood by the pond. The low rumble of a semi on a distant highway whispered through the air, and then Jeremy was alone. He dipped his hook into the hair pond and let it sink away through the slow-swaying hairs until he couldn't see it. Leaning back, he closed his eyes and waited for a tug, if such a thing was to come.

With the stillness of the place, Jeremy didn't know if it had been minutes, or if he had fallen asleep and hours had passed, or maybe years, when something moved. It called his wandering mind back to himself, and he cracked an eye open. Ripples in the hair pond, motion in the trees, a spot of breeze all caught his attention.

She rose from the rippling hair, her back to Jeremy, as easily as climbing a stair. Jeremy watched, still as the tree he leaned against. Now she was the only moving thing in the world, wringing out her hair with the natural grace one only exhibits when free to be graceless.

Jeremy traced her curves with his eyes, the slope of the shoulder, the swell and sway of the breast and she twisted, the broadening of the waist and the place he didn't dare look. The heat he felt on his cheeks was not all from the sun, now. As she bent to pull on clothes that clung to her damp skin, Jeremy thought it impossible that his sisters could ever grow into such a person as this.

She walked into the wood, and to Jeremy she carried the warmth with her, like a campfire dying out on a cold night in the mountains.

Her socks still hung over a branch by the pond. Jeremy saw them there, forsaken, and knew he should run before she returned, before she came back and saw him staring at her with red in his face. He couldn't.

Reemerging from the trees, she pulled the socks off the branch and looked across the hair pond at Jeremy. He felt sure she stared into his eyes. Her eyes, for all that they were the full length of the pond away, looked as deep and rich as brown as the pond itself, and her smile was for him. Heart pounding, he looked outward from her eyes, from her inviting mouth, and saw the a face he couldn't recognize away from the rows of books and the chalkboards. Then she had turned and was gone.

A cloud covered the face of the sun, and Jeremy felt cold. Reeling in his fishing line, he walked along the trickled creek back to the lane, and walked slowly along the lane back home. Halfway along, beneath the tired, leaning trees and surrounded by open, green fields, with white clouds looming, he stopped and stared back at where he had left the lane. He stood there for some time.

Keep Right: One Way Heroics

You know that dream where you're running, and everything behind you is disappearing into darkness and you just know that it's crumbling away into nothing and somewhere out there is a platypus? No? Just me, then? Okay. Well, One Way Heroics is the RPG-style version of that dream, minus the platypus. The darkness encroaches from the left, so you head forever to the right, fighting monsters, gaining levels, and finding better gear so that you can eventually best the demon lord and save the world.

While it looks like a lo-fi JRPG, it's really a puzzle game. Keep going right, manage your energy and hit points, and improve your gear through loot drops or buying from merchants. The hardest part is managing your inventory. You can only carry around 20 weight-units, and armor and weapons can weigh anywhere from 2 to 8. Fighting monsters consults the random number generator for hitting and damage, and most of the strategy is making sure the monsters come to you and knowing when to run.

And running to the right. Always go right, because if you tarry the darkness catches up with you and devours you.

As with a lot of games lately, One Way Heroics makes death a stepping stone. You earn points depending on how well you did, and you can spend them to keep items for your next life and unlock new classes and abilities. It also gives you the opportunity to express something about your death: Was that enemy too tough? Was your armor just not good enough? The game gives you a selection of last words. My favorite: "I curse youuuu!"

Those come more into play on the public games. I don't know exactly how it works, but you can join new-generated worlds (or return to old ones), or join existing worlds where others are playing. You can see when they get to new regions or when they die (and how they feel about that death).

So far, it's a fun puzzle. My deaths feel earned. When I don't run from the Phantom Knight, or when I get stuck in a maze and the darkness catches up, or when I forget to use one of my powers and die, it's my fault, not the whim of the game. And I like that. It makes me feel like I can learn from it, and makes me want to play again to demonstrate that.

If anything annoys me, it's that gear isn't identified when you first find it. It always makes me uncertain about whether I should use it, and since pack space is in such short supply, I usually don't. I'm not sure what game purpose it serves, requiring me to ID weapons before I know what type they are or how much durability they have left. But I need to swap eventually, as all gear eventually falls apart.

In summary, playing One Way Heroics is better than that nightmare with the platypus. It's available for $1.99 at Playsim and $3.49 on Steam, and apparently there's a Plus version available.

A Meeting of Concerned Citizens

"I'd like to open the floor to comments and questions at this time. Please be respectful, as there are members of our city council in attendance," said Tad Hubert. He gestured, "Jan?" Jan stood up. "I'd like to start by thanking Tad for organizing this community meeting. This rash of attacks by life-draining shadow monsters affects all of us." The crowd applauded politely. "My question is, what evidence do we have that installing UV lamps around town will have an effect? We know the shades don't attack during the day, but are we sure they'll help?"

"Thanks, Jan," Tad said. "The truth is, this isn't something anyone has a lot of data on. We aren't positive this will help, but there's some anecdotal evidence from a town in Iceland that sounds like it was dealing with something similar, and we need to start somewhere. Yes, you there."

"Orrell Mastson, hi. I'd like to hear more about the, um, Garret kid's encounter with the shades? It seemed like there was something we could learn from that."

"Well, Orrel, Isaac Garret's encounter after the school play last month was unique. Who can say whether any of it—biking home, dressed as a Roman, carrying a book of Shakespeare that he read from before the shade could touch him with its chill claws—had anything to do with the creature standing and watching instead of sucking out his life-sustaining warmth. But I think it is safe to say that no one wants to be part of the testing to see what it is that made the difference!" Tad looked around. "Ah, Caroline."

She stood. "I'm Caroline Turner, I live over on Purch Hill, the old Malborne place? Well, I've seen the shades gather there most nights, at the old playground at the top of the hill. There are more of them some nights and less others, I think it might have something to do with the phase of the moon. Um, I just wanted to share, in case that was useful. Thanks."

"Thank you, Caroline, every little bit helps. Oh, sure, Nathan, go ahead."

"Thanks, Tad. And I want to thank everyone who came here tonight, and especially the city council members who made the time to attend our little community meeting, and especially Tad for setting this all up." Applause followed. "So, I want to start by saying that I have a lot of respect for our city council. They work hard and take on a lot of responsibility here in Gerhart's Hollow. But the council is not necessarily on your side. You simply can't assume that. I sit in on every city council meeting, have for seventeen years, and they don't act like it's our interests they're supposed to be protecting. When the shadow things first appeared, they weren't talking about how to make them go away, they were talking about how to stop the series of complaints they were getting. You have to go to these meetings and keep them in line, people. I know they're boring, but if we don't go, who will? And they're boring on purpose. The city council makes them boring, talking about stuff that no one in their right mind wants to listen to—I don't want to listen to it—and putting off the interesting bits until the last few minutes. So you can't just sit back and let them do the work, assuming they're looking out for you. You have to participate. Thanks."

"That's a wonderful reminder, thank you Nathan. Um, you then."

"Right, so I'm wondering—oh, I'm Alan Philbren—I'm wondering if the city council is finally going to do something about the school bus routes. They're really inefficient as it is. It wastes gas, which we pay for in taxes, and it wastes time, so we have to pay more wages to the drivers—no offense to the drivers—and we have to get our kids up earlier. I've sent in suggestions, but—"

"Thank you, Alan, but this isn't the best time to talk about the bus routes. I will mention it next time I meet with the council, though."

"Can we talk about some sort of protection program? Some of us are being hounded by these shadow monsters. I haven't gotten a good night's sleep in a month!"

"Well, Aileen, we have recommended that anyone who feels uncomfortable go stay with relatives, but I haven't heard of anyone being singled out and hunted by the shades. Are you being singularly persecuted?"

"Yes! Everywhere I go, they're following me. I see them in mirrors, in reflections all over the place. I couldn't say for sure why they haven't drained me like the others, but I think it's on account of my body."

"Your body?"

"I think they want a little of what I got to give, you know?"

"Yes," Tad said, "I see. I'll bring up the idea of a protection program with the council. Now, we have Councilwoman Hamilton with us here today." Polite applause. "Would you like to add anything to the discussion?"

"Sure, Tad. First, thank you for gathering so many concerned citizens of our community together to discuss the issue before us. That makes it easier for us to corral you and keep you for when our shadowy masters grow hungry again." She looked around the silent room. "Ha ha, a joke. Just a little joke." No one laughed. "Okay, it wasn't a joke. Please line up in an orderly fashion, so no one has to die before the appointed time."

A Circus in Every Pot

"When you joined the circus, I didn't think you'd bring the circus home with you!" He looked frantically around the living room, festooned with tentpoles and colorful banners. "Well, honey," she said, "I didn't expect it either. But the circus lost its lease all of a sudden, and it needs someplace to stay. I was serious about the commitment I made to the circus, so I'm not about to turn it away."

"Is... is it going to be for long?" He stared into the kitchen where a monkey was frying some bananas.

"Just until the circus can get back on its feet. I wish I had a better idea than that, but, you know—"

"Yeah, you're not about to turn it away," he said. "I'm going to bed. I think I could use a good night's sleep."

"Oh, um," she said, "wait. I think Jerome's still in there."

"Who's Jerome?"

"Lead elephant."

He stared at him blankly. "How did an elephant fit into my room?"

She shrugged. "No one's sure. But don't worry, the clowns are working on getting him out. They're pretty sure that if they can get their car in there, they can squeeze Jerome in and drive him out."

"Great," he said, sounding hollow. "Honey! Where am I going to sleep?"

"I'm sure there's a spare hammock around here. Or you could join the sleep pile on the safety net. We're going to string it across the living room once we finish watching Crocodile Dundee. The trained crocodiles think it's hilarious."

He stared at her. "I'm getting a hotel room. You tell me when this is over, and then you can have your husband back."

Her cries followed him out among the wagons and half-built tents, and all the way to his car, where he drove away.

Burn, Don't Slash: Wildfire

I often have the secret, secret urge to use fire to punish my enemies and destroy the unworthy. Please don't tell anyone. Happily, I've backed a game on Kickstarter that lets me indulge my urges without becoming inventory in one of America's many corporate prisons. Wildfire is a stealth platformer where you have the power to grab fire from existing sources and throw it. Unlike most games where you hurl fire through the air, you can't set people alight and watch them slowly cook and crackle to death. You can only light the environment, such as the tall brush and bridges. Using this as distraction, visual cover, and a source of terror for those poor souls who didn't sign up for the fire-controlling electives at school (foolish, really, but art's an easy A), you navigate levels full of enemies looking to murder you for some reason.

The game's in a playable alpha state right now, which you can get off the site. Backers will get monthly alpha updates, and the game's estimated full release is March '16, which my experience suggests translates to June '17.

It's fun, simply fun, to evade soldiers by hiding in the grass, to terrorize them with fire, and to douse their lights with water (which you can also control) to sneak past them in the dark. The decision of when to use fire and when to use pure stealth is also interesting: you can hide in the grasses, or you can set them on fire for cover from smoke or to scare off some soldiers. When there's snow on the ground, if you bring fire too close, you'll melt all your cover. It's a good balancing act so far, even if it reigns in my instinct to burn them, burn them all.

I played through using a controller, and then again using keyboard and mouse. The second worked much more easily for me, mostly because the button-press combination for calling and throwing fire was unintuitive on the gamepad. The mouse was smooth. The entire thing felt a little like Gunpoint, another 2D platform puzzler that used very similar mechanics. I'm looking forward to the final product.

You too can fulfill your urge to burn things. Check out the Wildfire Kickstarter page, and it's also been greenlit on Steam.

Office Dread

He was scared and he didn't know why. Something was waiting for him at the office, lurking invisibly until he made himself vulnerable. It hadn't always been there. He had noticed a sense of foreboding, a growing sense of dread, but this past Friday it had changed. The feeling had mounted all week, until as he packed to go at the end of the week, he sensed a promise: When he returned, it would happen.

He had no idea what it was. Would he lose his job? Was there a humiliation waiting for him Or, as he felt deep in his gut, was something waiting there to kill him?

His sick days had only lasted so long, and he couldn't get away with any further excuses. He had to return to face this mystery or face a doom of his own making and lose his job.

That made him think. Lose his job at a place where he felt this phantom dread, or return and surely experience whatever fate awaited him at the office?

When they received his resignation, they didn't ask any questions. But he sensed they were just as relieved, and he wondered if they'd felt it too.