Writing for Interactive Media (transmedia stuff)
Fortune Hunter Development Blog (previous game project)
Physical Computing (electronics and arduino)
Thursday, November 10, 2011
My other blogs
This started as a design/art blog, but it's come to my attention that many of my other blogs share those same threads. Here are the links to my other blogs.
Fingers Crossed
I just applied to Bethesda Game Studios for three positions: Level Design, Quest Design, and Game Programmer. Due to my work over the past two year, I think I'm qualified for all of them, although I still need to write a 2-5 page piece dealing with mostly dialogue for the Quest Design position. I submitted the document for the Island level in Compendium of Memories, due for release at the end of the month, although the client still needs to work our marketing and such.
Hopefully, I'll at least get an interview. If not, I'll just have to make Skyrim Mods on my own.
Creative Writing: Take 2
I scrapped the whole story. I didn't want to try and salvage a character from that, so I started from scratch. I think this character is a lot better, but we'll see how the professor reacts.
The beast’s awakening
By Eric Kenvin
I was always interested in conspiracy theories, but I never thought I would be at the center of one. If Jessica told me when I got this job that at the end of the project, I would be hacking into the Americorp mainframe, and trying to delete the database that I had spent the past two years creating, I would’ve thought she was crazy. Well, more crazy than I already thought she was anyway. That was before I became involved with the American Restoration movement.
I had started to hear about them about a month ago on the news. Of course, they were portrayed the group as a bunch of jobless hippies, but I stopped trusting the news when they started getting government subsidies. Besides, most people told me that I looked like a paranoid hippie anyway, and they were probably right. My black hair was long and greasy, I had a beard that I could never get quite right, acne that wouldn’t go away and glasses that were too small for my face. The only thing that didn’t scream dirty hippie was my name, Jason Black. Most people probably imagined some tall dark and handsome character when they first heard my name. I was never sorry to disappoint. I didn’t spend much time looking in the mirror though, I’d rather spend time on more important things than how I look.
I didn’t care whether they were hippies or not, at least the protesters were starting to take action, and even if I didn’t know what they were about or exactly what they were doing, I did know that something was wrong. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, and I suspect neither could they, but everyone seemed to be living distracted, blunted lives without any real sense of purpose. I wanted to know why, and I had been searching for an answer all my life. If anyone was going to figure it out, it was them. I did some research online and found out they were holding a rally in Love Park, a few blocks from Americorp during the time I usually took my lunch break, so I decided to head down there.
A crowd of roughly sixty people were gathered in front of the sculpture reading “LOVE” in red capital letters. Two people were holding white banner was draped across the top that read “Restore America,” and a man in a raggedy suit was speaking into a megaphone. Although it was odd for them in this day and age to hold an information session outside instead of on the net, it was refreshing to me that some people still preferred meeting face to face as I did. Something intangible and irreplaceable was lost in purely digital communications.
The man in the suit seemed to be giving some kind of speech. “There seems to be some confusion about where we stand and what we stand for. The media is calling us a simple mob of malcontents. America was once the land of freedom, of opportunity, but that age has long been at an end. We have been faced with an insidious and invisible prison for decades, and the cage is getting smaller. It is not a prison of the body or the mind, but a prison for the spirit. What spirit can hope to flourish when it has no future. What soul can be free when it cannot grow? They are stealing our hopes. They are stealing our futures.”
The crowd seemed enthralled, and I admit I was curious. This man spoke as if he was from the past. None of the common memetics, buzzwords, or three letter acronyms were used. It took longer for him to say what he wanted, but it had a certain elegance to it that leant credibility to his speech, at least more credibility than most of the shows I watched on the History channel.
“We just barely scrape by in the dregs. Given enough to survive, but never live. It’s not just a few of us, it’s all of us. We ask the question: why? Why are so many afflicted with this same way of life? It is because you are under control. Sure, you are free to do and think as you please so long as you have the means. But, ever since our currency became digital, Americorp has been able to manipulate the flow of money, and therefore how much the numbers in your paycheck can buy. We are wage slaves. We are fooled into doing meaningless tasks day after day with the illusion that our lives may one day get better. That our big break is just around the corner. I tell you now, that is a lie. There is no knight in shining armor. This is a disaster, and we are the rescue workers.”
My alarm went off, telling me that my lunch break was over. I knew that what he was accusing Americorp of was impossible, I was working on the systems that he was saying were manipulating the economy. The wealthy have been controlling politics for as long as I’ve been alive through ravenous lobbyism, but I hadn’t considered the possibility that they were keeping the majority of the people from reaching that level of wealth through economic manipulation. The man in the suit was still speaking, so I decided to stay until he was finished.
“Some may be content with survival, indeed those in control would be kept at ease if you were content with your home that is really owned by the bank, with your television that keeps you happy with lies, with your education that you’ll be paying for until you die, with your car that you spend your paycheck on to keep running, with your food that leads you buy blood pressure medication, and your computer that keeps you distracted from your purpose! Life is more than simply living! Life is progress! Life is change! The question remains, how do we change this system? How can we free ourselves from this slavery? We must strike back against those in control, against Americorp, and take back this country for the people!”
I could probably get fired for this. It was hard enough getting my job in the first place, and I didn’t want to think about how many other college graduates applied for the same position and were now unemployed. Something in the speech raised a question though, was a job really worth it? Especially this job, at the company supposedly keeping the country from thriving. If our lives can never get any better, if we’re doomed to live week by week without any change, if I have to work overtime, watch what I say, watch what I wear, watch who I talk to, and hide who I am just to keep my job, is the paycheck really worth it? That doesn’t sound like freedom. Maybe they were right, but I had to do some digging to make sure about Americorp.
They started walking out of the park, and I was in the middle of the crowd. Then, the man in the suit shouted “City of love, city of greed,” and the crowd replied “We’ve got hungry mouths to feed.” Oh god, they weren’t walking away from the park, they were marching. They were marching to Americorp, and I was marching with them. After about 10 minutes, we came to the Americorp headquarters where I worked. There was a small courtyard in front of the entrance, but the protesters were standing on the sidewalk. They were still doing various chants while I tried to edge my way through the crowd. When I started walking across the plaza, someone at the front of the crowd tried to stop me and said “Hey, you can’t go past the sidewalk, it’s private property so you could get arrested.” I turned around and said to him, “It’s ok, I work here.”
I expected him to get angry, but he just smiled and said “Yeah man, we all work for Americorp.”
My office was on the fifth floor. It was about the size of the living room in a small apartment, and there were tables stacked with papers lining two adjacent walls. Jessica was back from her break as well. We had started working on this project two years ago, but we still didn’t quite see eye to eye. She always wore a sleek suit to work even though the dress code was technically business casual. Her red hair was always perfectly straight, and she always wore a thick mask of makeup. She would have been an attractive woman, but her obvious narcissism was repulsive. Not to mention she was way out of my league. I could still hear the chanting of the crowd as I sat down at my desk though their words were muddled.
Jessica turned around halfway in her chair and asked, “Hey, did you hear about the new iJect 2.0? The screen size is 3 inches bigger than the 1.0, and at double the resolution.” Most of our discussions started by debating about some new technology that I thought was too gimmicky to be useful and too expensive to be practical. She, of course, had to have one, even if the current version was just about the same. I could’ve gone into the politics of why companies churn out this junk, and how terrible the working conditions are in their factories, but I know by now she couldn’t grasp the idea of caring about anyone but herself.
“Yeah, I don’t think I’ll get one though. Three inches isn’t worth two thousand dollars to me, although I guess some people might be a little more desperate.”
She either didn’t get my joke, or she decided to ignore it. “Anyway, we got a present today from upper management, new project specs. Check your email.”
I did, but I couldn’t believe what I was reading. They were right. The email read, 1.) Controls on relative value of currency. 2.) Dynamic currency total. 3.) Refine upper limit algorithms. The list went on and on. Now that the system was stable, they wanted more control over the variables. They wanted to manipulate the currency, just like the man said at the rally. This must be where conspiracy theories start, I just never thought I’d be at the center of one.
I turned to Jessica and asked, “Did you see these new requirements? They seem a little sketchy to me.”
She shrugged and replied, “Hey, they don’t pay us to ask questions. You knew what this company was about when you signed up.”
I guess I did know, but I wasn’t exactly thinking about that when I was fresh out of college. I just wanted a job, any job that would justify the ridiculous price I paid to work for those four years. At that time, I would’ve worked for the devil, but things had changed since then. After two years of working here, it just felt empty. There was no purpose in it anymore. I always thought I had clear goals, get a good job, get a decent apartment, get a car, get a hobby, but now that I had all of those things, I felt trapped by them. I used to think that having these things would somehow allow me to do what I really wanted with my life, that freedom was just around the corner. Now I realized that freedom today was impossible, and the chains would only get tighter.
“We can’t do this Jessica. These requirements… they’re talking about total economic control. It’s not right. Things are already bad enough…”
She looked unamused. “Fine, quit if you like. They’ll just find someone to replace you. In fact, I might even get a raise.”
“I’m being serious here Jess, this could destroy our economy. Do you understand what it could mean to just change the value of the dollar on a whim? How many people would be affected by this?”
“First, don’t call me Jess. Second, I don’t care what happens to Ping Chang in ‘chukabuka-stan’ as long as we’ve still got Versace and Lou Vuitton. So if you’re not going to work on this, go ahead and quit.”
I went home early. I had to get ready for that night. I already had access to the database and keyloggers on most of the computers at Americorp. You can never be too careful. There wasn’t any question about it anymore, I had to do this. I had to delete the database. I had to take down Americorp, because I was the only one who could[V1] .
I sat down at my desk and loaded up my stealth program before launching Kompass. It allowed me to mask my net connection by constantly bouncing between different service providers, so my identity could stay hidden. The Kompass operating system was released while I was in high school, and it revolutionized the way the world looked at computers. Instead of just staring at a boring screen, it turned the net into a fully 3d world. The idea of individual computers was replaced with avatars, and HD monitors were replaced with head mounted displays and kinesthetic simulators. Some chose to see the net as an expansive city, each building representing some sort of data cluster like a web page. Others saw it like outer space, travelling to different planet sites faster than the speed of light. I saw it as a sea, with schools of data fish and corporate whales gliding just below the surface, waiting to be caught. Now, however, the game was not only to catch, but to kill. Everything was a game these days.
My avatar was a pirate ship, the Time Keeper. I booted up the system, and set it down just outside of Americorp waters. I chose the look of my ship, as all hackers did. I carefully crafted it in my spare time to be a digital extension of myself. However, as I looked around at my ship, I thought maybe I had just been born in the wrong age. The horizontal sails on the Time Keeper were reminiscent of a DaVinci flying machine. The engines below resounded in a constant rhythm, like that of an old steam powered locomotive. Even the wooden decks were an antiquity, everything in the year 2025 was made of cold, hard, steel.
There was flaming oil around the barrier of the Americorp sea to keep intruders out, a firewall, but I already had a trojan planted on my work computer. You never know when those things are going to come in handy. I pulled up the holographic keyboard and typed “C:
Now that I was past the firewall, I could see hundreds of schools of data fish through the crystal clear waters. There was one specific and particularly elusive one I was looking for. His name was SUDO, and if I caught him in time, he would let me do anything I wanted with the system. I could delete everything: all of the data, all of my mistakes, all of the corruption, and everything that threatened the freedom of this country. In this system, SUDO looked like a golden dolphin, jumping momentarily out of the data clouds only to disappear in the next instant. As a part of security protocols, he would seem to jump randomly from one school of data fish to another, but I knew the algorithm. I started typing to launch the sonar program, but before I could I received a message. The communicator on my wrist read, “BLK_WDW: ur here late.” Shit, what was Jessica still doing here. Maybe I could try to play it off, like I’m still working.
I typed back, “TME_KPR: just doing some late debugging. You?” and waited for a few seconds in anticipation. No way this was going to work, if she sees I’m logged in as my home user, I’m done. Not only is it against company regulations, it’s against the law to mask your identity on the net. I walked from the captain’s wheel, across the deck and looked over the wooden railing toward my opponent’s ship, the Black Widow. While the Time Keeper was reminiscent of an 18th century pirate ship, the Black Widow was more like a stealth ship, all sharp angles and cold, black metal, not that it affected its abilities or speed here. The ship was just graphical avatar. Here, it was all about the skill of the captain.
A message finally bleeped back, “BLK_WDW: not buying it jason, u xd the line work today, and i want that raise.” Just after she sent it, the sky turned black and the surface of the water started to segment, dividing into a grid of oscillating blocks. Schools of data fish began to glow blue. The game had begun.
It was a hacking defense program that basically froze all users at their current locations while the system started searching for intruders. If either one moved, it would detect them automatically, but most computer savvy people knew there was an exploit. Searching took time, thirty seconds to be exact, and at the end of each cycle there was a small window of opportunity where all users were invisible and could jump to a new data node. This turned hacking into a strategy game, like a kind of high stakes chess. The infiltrator would take the offense, and would usually be trying to capture a certain data node. The administrator would be on defense, trying to stop the hacker, either destroying their avatar to eject them from the system, or attaching an alert beacon to warn the network security systems and the police. Each system was laid out differently, which usually gave the administrator the advantage, but that wasn’t the case here.
The clock was already ticking, and I had about twenty seconds to decide my first move. I’m in the user directory of my work machine, but I don’t have admin rights so I wouldn’t be able to see SUDO if I was right on top of it. 15 seconds. I need to get admin rights, Jess has them now, so I could log in as her if I could get to her computer, maybe find her password. Where can I go from here? Programs? 10 seconds. To obvious, that’s definitely where she’ll try to catch me, but I’m not that stupid. Downloads. I can launch an outside connection from there and jump to her user directory. 5 seconds. That should work. Type. I typed fast on the holo keyboard “cd ./downloads telnet 129.68.21.1/user/blkwdw”
The system lagged for an instant while the search was refreshing and I hit enter. My ship teleported to the downloads node, and I heard a splash in the programs directory. I had an instant to glance over and see Jessica’s ship in firing range just before mine launched the net off the port side. It sunk down and as it harnessed the school of data fish I could see Jessica readying her port scan cannons. The fish pulled the net with surprising force, taking my ship with them under the surface of the water and towards Jessica’s user directory.
I resurfaced in Jessica’s user directory, and by now the timer was reset. 30 seconds. Check the keylogger, find her password, get admin powers. “vi log.txt” 25 seconds. Really? C0uture? Ok. “su Blk_Wdw: C0uture” Alright that’s done, I’ve got admin powers, where is SUDO? I looked around and at first I couldn’t see it. 15 seconds. Then I saw it, just off to the center of the system. It would be at the center in two turns, but I couldn’t get caught until then. I got a message “BLK_WDW: i know what ur trying to do, u cant win.” I ignored it, I knew what I was doing. 5 seconds. There was a node close by that was already searched, so I would be safe there. I typed “cd ../” and the system lagged again as the search reset.
I teleported to the safe node, and typed in “cd home/” to go to the center node next turn. Jess was in the center node, she must’ve known SUDO would be there soon, but she was a turn early. She would have to move again when the search reset or she would be booted from the system. The communicator on my wrist read “BLK_WDW: ur move jason. try not to xplode lol.” Jessica… she’s taunting me again, like she has something up her sleeve. I’m going to take you down you selfish bitch. The holographic keyboard hung mid-air at my fingertips, awaiting a response, but I still gripped the large wooden steering wheel. Even though I knew it was digital, I was still comforted by the feel of something tangible, controllable, in my hands. Either way, I won this round and all I had to do was wait to press enter.
I teleported to the center node, but something was wrong. The waves here were too chaotic, like there was something affecting the water. The fish beneath my ship were glowing red instead of blue, and the water was starting to evaporate into steam. It was a logic bomb. The school of data fish detonated beneath my ship, destroying the sector and immobilizing my ship. “BLK_WDW: nice move jason.” She thought she had won, but I could see it just under the surface. SUDO, but it was a darker gold than usual, like it was also being affected by the logic bomb. I launched a scan on it. The console read back “Security Systems Loaded. Notification Armed. Scanning for Intruders…” SUDO was protected. If anyone got control of him, it would know that an intruder was present, and it would send my login data to the security system, then the police. It would only be a matter of minutes before they showed up at my door. I’d get a half an hour if I was lucky. I would end up jobless, homeless, in jail, or worse. If I could just disconnect. Unplug, cut my losses, and pass this off as a test run. I couldn’t turn back now though. I had already made my decision. I was finishing this.
I walked to the bow of the ship, took hold of the harpoon cannon with both hands, and brought up the targeting overlay. I breathed in, aiming steadily at SUDO. I slowly pulled the trigger. In slow motion, the harpoon glided through the air, struck the surface of the water, and just before hitting its mark, melted into a white hot liquid which engulfed SUDO. When it cooled down, there was no longer a harpoon, but a golden dolphin. The sky turned red as it sent out a message to the security system. The police would be at my door in half an hour, but I didn’t need that much time to do what I needed to.
Still standing on the bow, I brought up the keyboard and typed “exit_all,” and the hacking defense system shut down. The sky turned blue, the firewall dissipated, the water began to flow naturally, and my ship floated once again on the surface. I looked back down at the keyboard and hesitated for an instant. I finally got to type it, the command that nobody should ever have to type. “rm -rf *.*, delete_all.” Data fish started fading and disappearing. The water began to tear like a flaming piece of paper, leaving only blackness. Soon it was just the Black Widow and the Astalica. They were both stored on the same system, and they too started to dissolve into tiny blocks of data, rising into the air and fading away. The chat program had probably been deleted by now. A welcome change from her scathing comments. As my ship dissolved, and I was pulled out of the system, I only had one thought. I won.
In the end, I was caught. The police showed up about 15 minutes after I exited the system, enough time for me to have a drink and savor my victory. As I sit now behind these bars, I feel no regret for my actions. All I ever really wanted was freedom, and though by body is confined I feel more free than ever before. For the first time in my life, I felt as if my actions were driven with purpose that I had chosen, not one that had been forced upon me. I deleted the system, but it was only a matter of time before they rebuild or recover it. There was hope however, I was only one of many, and the silent were not sitting by idly any longer. The insurgency against this corporate corruption was alive and well. We, the people, are awake, and the masters will know our voices.
[V1]Should I describe what his apartment is like here? I could show the kinds of things that are in his house, newspaper clippings to show his obsession with conspiracies, and his antique collection to show his love of the past if these things are not apparent by now… It’s a little long as it is, but it might develop his character a bitmore.
Creative Writing: Take 1
It's been a while since I've taken up creative writing... too long. Here's my first attempt at a short story for my creative writing:prose fiction class.
SHADES
By Eric Kenvin
A pain burned through my mind like a fire. I could almost smell the expenditure of electricity as my neurons re-wired themselves back to their proper configuration. I thought I’d be used to this by now, but you can never get used to the feeling of a shade hangover . I could barely move in my bed until my sense of motion started recalibrating and the room started spinning. The only thing I could think was, “Not on the floor” over and over as I fell out of bed and stumbled toward the bathroom. It felt like there was a swarm of fire ants in my stomach trying to make their way up my esophagus. I finally made it to the toilet and grasped the porcelain bowl with one hand as I felt the sting of bile in the back of my throat. After hurling a few drops of viscous yellow liquid into the bowl, I went to the sink to brush my teeth and wash the acidic tinge from my mouth. My head felt like it was under water, everything felt distant and muted like I was only half there, half awake, and half alive. Even after all the times I’ve woken up like this, I couldn’t help but think “Why do I keep doing this to myself?” Then I looked up, and caught sight of a man in his early 30’s with unkempt black hair, and sharp, angled features. There was a drop of blood dripping from his left nostril and his dead blue eyes were staring directly into mine. I remembered why. After recognizing my face in the mirror I looked at it with contempt and said “Shit, I’m me again.”
I could feel that caffeine itch coming on, so I went downstairs and grabbed a frappuchino from the fridge. I kept trying to remember last night, but every time I got close to something, a sharp pain struck my frontal lobe. I assumed that my brain was still coping with the shock from the re-arrangement process, and decided to forget about it until later. “It’s is now 2PM. You’re late for work again Jason,” chimed Catherine, the apartment’s AGI. Her voice was supposed to be soothing, but right now it felt like it was grating against the inside of my skull. “Shut up Catherine, I lost my job on Monday remember?” I replied, rubbing the bridge of my nose and trying to ignore my headache. “I’m sorry Jason, but you haven’t been home for several days. Is everything ok?” she asked. “Days? What’s today’s date?” I asked looking up suspiciously at the black semi-spherical dome on the ceiling, as if that was really Catherine’s face. “Wednesday, February 21st, 2065,” her voice sounded back, more mechanical this time as if reading from a list of words that didn’t really fit together. “3 days this time… that must’ve been some dosage. What the hell was I doing?” I thought.
I went back upstairs and was getting dressed when my cell rang. The contact info said it was Raz from the security office. We had gone out drinking before, and I know he used shade occasionally. I wasn’t really in the mood to chat, but I picked it up anyway; he might have a clue as to where I’d been for the past three days. “Hey Raz, what’s up?” my voice still sounded a little gravelly. His voice was hushed and hurried “This ain’t Raz, but you gotta trust me. Get outta there now, they’re coming.” My head was still pretty fuzzy, so I didn’t pay too much attention to his warning. “Well who the hell is this then? Who’s coming? Why should I trus—“ before I could finish my sentence there was a loud bang at my door. I looked over the railing and saw a small silver canister for an instant before everything flashed white. I tried to head for the fire escape, but lost my balance and ended up crashing into the wall. Looking back towards the staircase, I just caught a glimpse of a police officer before the tazer went off and I slipped into blackness.
I must’ve only been out for a few seconds, because when I came to I was being cuffed. I wanted to yell, “Wait you’ve got the wrong guy! What the hell did I even do?” but I was too disoriented and it just came out as indistinguishable, garbled sounds. The police officer standing in front of me was already reciting “Jason Wagner, you are under arrest for unlawful infiltration into government databases, destruction of public property, conspiracy, and terrorism against the state.” Before I knew it, I was being dragged out of my door and down the stairs.
Outside I looked up at the steely grey sky and felt a few drops of cold rain trickle on my face. “Terrorism?” I thought to myself. “Yeah, I’m pissed off about the way things are right now, but who isn’t? I was happy with my distracted, blunted life until last Monday. Still, I don’t think losing my job would make me resort to terrorism… unless it was the shade.” They threw me into the back of one of the squad cars and the female officer who tazed me in my apartment looked to the others and said “Don’t worry, I’ve got it under control.” “Are you sure? You still look a little… shady,” said another of the officers eyeing her suspiciously. “Get off my case Baxter, now’s not the time. You know I kicked that habit months ago anyway. Test me if you want.” She replied, as she got into the car and slammed the door. There were three squad cars in total, but the one I was in left the apartment building last. We were driving more slowly than I would’ve expected.
The officer looked at me in the rearview mirror and said “We’re in some deep shit here my friend.” “Um, friend? You just tazed and arrested me,” I replied, confused. “Yeah, well if you didn’t fuck up your job we wouldn’t be in this mess,” she said, making eye contact. “What’s this we business? It’s pretty clear that I’m the one going to a holding cell here.” I said back. “Things are never clear at first glance. From where I’m sitting, we’ve got the same face, and it’s my job to make sure I don’t go to jail.” She must’ve been taking shade, but why would I have a shade? The usual configs were celebrities or supermodels, not some jobless software engineer[ER2] . “The rest of the shades did their part, but it almost seemed like you wanted to get caught. You were so sloppy you made the script kiddies look like elites. Lit up the warning grid like fucking Christmas.” “Whoa slow down, I can’t even remember where I was for the last three days. What the hell is going on, and why are there shades of me running around doing god knows what?“ My mind was racing faster than my mouth could move. “Shit, you really have no clue do you?” She paused for a second and looked at my face. “Alright, I don’t know the whole story, we each had a specific job wired into our shade’s config . My role was to make sure none of us got caught. Guess what,” she paused, “you got caught.” “Caught doing what?” I asked in desperation. She replied nonchalantly, “The only thing I know is that the target was the digital currency database. I don’t know why or how, I guess my role didn’t require those details.” Still frustrated, I said, “And I guess my role didn’t require any details? My shade ended this morning right before you found me. If what you’re saying is true that can’t be a coincidence. I was either set up, or there was something wrong with the dosage I took.” “Either way, there’s not much I can do for you except let you off soon before the other blue boys figure out what’s going on,” she said as she pulled into an alley.
She opened the door for me and unlocked my cuffs. She was about to drive away she looked out her window and said “Let’s hope for both our sakes it’s not something wrong with the dosage, ‘cause if that’s the case we’re all screwed. If I were you, I’d go back to your dealer, see what he knows about it,” she said. “You read my mind,” I said as she closed the window and drove away. I started walking towards the opposite end of the alley. It was time to figure out what the hell was going on.
I stuck to the alleyways to avoid the intersection cameras. Facial recognition software was implemented when I was a freshman in college; found in my first week after a night of underage drinking. That was my first time waking up in a cell, and wouldn’t be my last. It only took about 30 minutes to get to my dealer’s place. Most AGIs were programmed to contact the police at the first sign of illegal activity, so we always conducted business on the roof in a homemade greenhouse. Fresh food was so hard to come by these days, she must’ve made nearly as much from that greenhouse as she did selling shades. I thought that just walking in the front door and taking the elevator might be a little risky, so I climbed up the rusty fire escape. The door to the greenhouse was unlocked, and it was as safe a place as any to lay low while I waited for Kristen, my dealer.
Shade, known as charatrope in the medical community, was first developed about 15 years ago as a quick fix for mental disorders and “troublemakers”. When it first came out, it seemed like a miracle and was hailed as the biggest medical breakthrough since penicillin. Everything from autism to schizophrenia, even multiple personality disorder could be cured overnight. It was even used as an alternative to a prison sentence for habitual criminals. What a lot of people didn’t realize was that once it was used, the user’s brain was literally re-wired. They would immediately begin to think and act exactly like a different person. There were only a few configurations at first, modeled after ideal members of society, but it quickly evolved. It wasn’t long before it was being used recreationally. The idea of literally becoming someone else was attractive to a lot of people, and most street configs were even wired to see physical appearances differently. Medical configs were designed to take additional doses before the first wore out, but street shades could vary anywhere between half an hour to half a day, or as I learned recently, up to 3 days.
It was about two hours before I saw Kristen come out onto the roof. She must’ve just been tending to the garden because she was alone. I didn’t know how old she was, but Kristen looked like a haggard old woman. Her blonde hair was dirty and tangled, and it seemed as if she always wore the same moth eaten, yellowish-white t-shirt. She had the mannerisms of a fortune teller, looking down at others through her black framed spectacles, and always observant enough to say the right things at the right time.
I didn’t want to surprise her so I stood up and walked toward the door to greet her. “Jason? What are you doing here?” she asked. I tried to make my hurried voice sound unthreatening as I said, “I’ve got some questions about the last dosage I bought. I was apparently out for three days, I can’t remember anything, and this morning--” “Woah! Slow down, I ain’t even had my coffee yet,” she said as she looked at me like a disappointed grandmother. She shook her head and looked at me over her black rimmed glasses as she said “You know I don’t make the stuff. I just sell it, so what do you want from me?” I tried to calm myself down as I said “I just want some information. That dose apparently made me do some spooky shit, and now I’m wanted for terrorism and some other serious felonies. Anything you can do to help…” “Hmm, that was you on the news then… They said some ‘American restoration’ group tried to mess up the digital currency databases. Said they exploited shades, that there might be some still runnin’ around…” She looked me up and down, then walked over to a bird bath in the center of the greenhouse and said “Come ‘ere a second. Take a look in here and tell me what you see.” The water in the concrete basin was still and reflected my face like a mirror. “I just see me. Black hair, bloodshot blue eyes, same thing I see every day in the mirror.” Kristen sighed and said “Yeah, except you’ve got blonde hair. That explains the memory loss too, you’re not hung over. You’re a shade.”
I looked again. It was the same. I was still Jason. “That can’t be right, I’m Jason. You said it yourself when you walked in and saw me,” I said, trying to make sense of everything. “Same name maybe, but a different face, different memories.” She seemed so calm, and I felt like I was going crazy. How could I still be Jason, but have a different face? Why would I have the same name, but have different memories? What part did I play in this terrorist plot, and why can’t I remember any of it? I didn’t need this, I needed answers and I wasn’t going to get them here. “Who’s your supplier?” I asked, trying to focus. “You said you just sell the stuff, but where do you get it from? They might know more.” She cracked a bit of a smirk and said “Aah, finally thinking. Unfortunately, I don’t get it from someone, I get it from somewhere. There’s a clinic downtown with a low bridge nearby. A friend of mine worked out a deal with one of the doctors there a while back. I leave some cash on top of the arch of the bridge there, and the next day he leaves some doses for me to pick up.” “Where is this clinic?” I asked. I was getting impatient. I didn’t know when the dosage would wear off and I wanted to get answers by then. “24th and Chestnut. Just be careful, the blue boys have been on edge lately.” “Yeah,” I said as I was about to turn she said “Wait a second, you’d better take this.” She reached under one of the tables, pulled out a small revolver and handed it to me. “Great, now the cops have a reason to shoot me if they find me,” I said with a hint of sarcasm. “Trust me on this kid, if you’re going to get into that clinic without getting noticed, you’ll need it,” she said, walking out of the greenhouse, and leaving me standing there with the revolver. I think I knew what she meant. I didn’t like it, but it was time to get some answers.
The clinic was close to my apartment, so it wasn’t too hard to retrace my steps. As I walked toward the building on Chestnut street, I could see a sign reading “Harmony Health Clinic” on the side of the thirty story white building. I could see a switchback staircase leading down to 24th street past a side entrance to the clinic, so I took it and found the bridge. This was definitely the place, but I still hadn’t figured out a good way to get inside, or how to find Kristen’s supplier. I could guess what security was like inside, and there were only two ways I was getting in without arousing suspicion: as a doctor, or as a patient. I felt the revolver tucked into the back of my pants, and cringed at the thought that passed through my mind. The sun was just beginning to set and it was reflecting off of a window right into my eyes, so I went under the bridge and leaned against the side wall. With my back against the side of the bridge I took out the revolver and aimed at my left foot. I pulled back the hammer slowly and tried to point the barrel at the center of my foot as to avoid hitting my toes or ankle. I was about to pull the trigger when I thought I heard someone coming down the stairs, so I slowly released the hammer.
“Yeah, I’ll be home in an hour or so. I got out a little early today, so I’m gonna stop at the bar for happy hour while it still lasts. Work was hell today, we had at least 4 ODs…” It must’ve been shift change. I came up with a new plan fast. I knew the sun would be blinding when he came out of the tunnel, and he would be distracted by his cell, so I waited, crouched just around the corner. My grip got tighter around the barrel of the revolver as his footsteps got closer. My heart was racing, and I heard him hang up his cell. Finally he emerged from the tunnel, blocking the sun from his eyes with his left arm. Two steps later he didn’t see me. I exploded toward him and brought down the handle of the revolver, connecting with the base of his skull. He collapsed without a sound and I looked around for witnesses, but there wasn’t anyone in sight.
The doctor was still in his scrubs, and there were no noticeable evidence that he had been attacked. I dragged him into the tunnel and took his clothes. There was an ID badge attached to the lapel, reading “Stephen Smith”. As I changed into the scrubs, I realized I had no idea who this was. I didn’t know where in the clinic he worked, what kind of person he was, or why he would go back in after leaving early. It was too late to change my plan now, I would just have to improvise. I finished changing and tucked the revolver into the back of my pants again. I went back up the staircase, this time stopping at the side door. As I approached, the door made a clicking noise and unlocked, probably the ID card. The door opened in on a hallway lined with white doors. To the right was the security desk, but luckily for me the clerk on duty had her eyes away from me on the waiting room. I walked forward to see if I recognized the names on any of the offices. No luck in the first hall, so I took a left at the end. There was another doctor coming down the hallway towards me, so I tried to avoid eye contact and pretend to be deep in thought. As he came closer he stopped and said “Jason?” He put his hand on my shoulder so I looked up at him and I thought I recognized his face. The feeling was like seeing a familiar actor in a movie, but not being able to recall where you had seen them before. “What the hell are you doing here?” he whispered. “Come on, in here quick.” I was at a loss for words, the only thing I could do was walk through the door. “Sit down, I’ll be right back,” he said, turning around and leaving.
I sat on the sterile green examination table, waiting for him to come back. This man recognized me, the real me, and he probably had the answers I sought. As I surveyed the room, I caught sight of a mirror reflecting a strange fuzzy figure. I stood up to take a closer look, the fuzzy figure also stood up. It was me reflected in the mirror, but trying to recognize it was like a color blind man trying to distinguish between green and brown. The shade was almost done its course, I needed to get answers fast. The door opened and the doctor walked in. “How do you know me?” I asked, grabbing his lab coat. “You’ve been coming here for over a month,” he gasped for air. “Helping you plan-- for the attack.” His fat spectacled face was flushed, but I could tell he was trying to stay calm. “Jesus Jason, let me go!” I released him. “Sorry, I just want some answers. I can’t remember the past three days and my shade is wearing off. What--” he interrupted me in mid sentence. “I know the shade is wearing off Jason, I made it. There’s no use in lying to you,” he was speaking quickly. “You came to me two months ago with a plan to use shades to hack the digital currency databases, and destroy all of the digital currency. You kept trying to convince me that the banks were manipulating the economy, trying to turn us into wage slaves or some nonsense. I tried to ignore you at first, but you wouldn’t leave me alone, threatened my life, my family. I was the only doctor here with the knowhow to actually manufacture shade, so I decided to put an end to it.” Finally things started to make sense. “You set me up!“ I grabbed the gun in the back of my pants and pointed it at the doctor. “I had no choice Jason. If I cooperated, I would lose everything I had! Everyone would! I had to engineer your shade to get caught, take the fall. If I didn’t you would just try it again. Your idealism blinded you.” I was trying to aim at him, but things were starting to get blurry, I ended up collapsing on the examination table. “I’m sorry Jason, the police are on their way. You shouldn’t have come back here.” It felt like my head was sinking under water, everything was in a haze, and the last thing I remembered before blacking out was the sound of sirens.
A pain burned through my mind like a fire. I could almost smell the expenditure of electricity as my neurons re-wired themselves back to their proper configuration. I thought I’d be used to this by now, but you can never get used to the feeling of a shade hangover. I stared at the ceiling of my holding cell and the only thing I could think was, “Why am I in a holding cell?” I heard my name and tilted my head towards the source. There was a computer monitor visible through the bars, and it was tuned in to the news. “Jason Wagner, age 32, was arrested yesterday evening in relation to Tuesday’s attack on the currency database. He is believed to be the mastermind behind the attack, although police are skeptical, saying quote ‘It was too easy, it was almost like he wanted to be caught.’ A date for the trial has not yet been set, but all evidence points to Wagner. Although the outcome is not clear, the swift resolution to this terrorist act is sure to bolster confidence in the department of homeland security. Even through Wagner seems like the obvious culprit, police are still pursuing other leads.” I felt like I was going to be sick. Where did I go wrong? The plan was perfect, but I was betrayed. If I had only just done it myself, I might not be in jail now. That wasn’t it though, I was myself. Shade was a part of my life. Even if I thought I was someone else, it was still me. I was the one who failed. I had no more excuses, no way to keep running from myself. I stared at the bars, and realized that I finally had to face the consequences of my own actions.
Edit: My professor said the plot was decent, but that the character didn't have any depth so the story fell flat. After looking back at it, he was right. Time to try again.
Thursday, July 28, 2011
Making dialog fun.
"To chatter is easy. To talk resultfully with the hostile, suspicious, indifferent or even friendly is an art."
--Milton Wright
So, if games are to progress as a medium, we need to take storytelling, more specifically the act of communicating, and make it our own. We need to discard books, and take a close look at what REALLY happens during a conversation. After we do that, we can break that down into mechanics build a prototype, and find out what's fun.
So, what really happens in a conversation?
I don't think it's necessarily important what words are used, but is important how they are used, why they are used, and in what context these two things change. So right there in one sentence, we have a game. Can you figure it out? Let me explain before cutting to the chase. Whenever one is engaged in a conversation, there is always a purpose to it. Whether it's seeking companionship, exchanging ideas, persuasion, argument, or maybe just because you want to talk to occupy time. This reason is our Goal for starting a conversation in the first place. If we didn't have a reason for talking, we wouldn't be talking.
Even with a limited vocabulary, one can convince someone of an idea, make a friend, or maybe make someone furious and storm off. It's not necessarily the specific word choice, but how we use these words. The tone of the sentence of important for sure, whether it's accusatory, interesting, sincere, boastful, etc can have a large influence on the other party. Of course there are also good practices like not interrupting, not changing the subject, correcting the other party's grammar etc. These techniques are how we use words, they are what we are actually thinking of doing while conversing. If a person is fluent in a language, they very rarely are picking every word in a conversation, but they are deciding how to put those words together. These techniques, and knowing when to use which technique, are the Mechanics of communication. But these things change depending on context. We converse differently if we're in a bar, or discussing politics, or even whether or not we're on the internet to some extent. In other words, the context of the conversation determines the Rules that govern what techniques are effective, and which ones will make the other person walk away disgusted.
So, here we have it: How: mechanics. Why: goal. Context: rules
Let's make a prototype!
RPG System (Da Magicks!)
I've played a lot of good RPGs. I've also played a lot of bad ones. What I want to do, is to create a battle system that takes the aspects from what I think are the most appealing, and put them into a coherent system. Here's a list of games I've played, what I'm using from them, and why.
Handling Initiative:
There are a lot of common elements in RPG systems. Most have HP, some form of MP or consumable skill points, stats such as speed, strength, charisma, etc. to determine how proficient a character is in battle or how likely they will succeed in performing skill X. Where most RPG systems wildly diverge, is determining the simple problem of who goes first. Turn-based RPGs handle this before a battle by looking at speed or other stats to determine turn order, and it doesn't change much during battle. Others like FF7 have a timeline that progresses steadily as a character or enemy idles. In most RPG systems, there isn't much a player or enemy can do apart from casting a slowing spell to affect a character's initiative. This is where Grandia wins.
Game: Grandia series
Gameplay element: Timeline
Grandia handles initiative by using a timeline. All player characters and enemies can be seen on this timeline, and they are all progressing along it based on their init stat. The timeline is divided into "wait" "com" and "act." When a character is on "wait" they are idle, when they get to com, either the player enters a command, or the enemy does some AI to determine their action. Then, based on this action, they progress at a different rate towards "act," which is when the character performs their action. More powerful moves take longer to execute. There's a twist though, if a character is attacked between com and act, it can delay or cancel (depending on the strength of the attack) their current action. This means you have to plan ahead, anticipate, and react to enemy attacks as well as take a gamble on attacks that you perform as well.
How I can make it better:
In Grandia, the positions of wait, com, and act were static. They didn't take into account that in different situations, perhaps characters were more susceptible to counter-attacks, or perhaps they could be invulnerable. By making the positions of wait, com, and act dynamic it can add another layer of depth to the system.
Combo Attacks
A really interesting mechanic that I've seen work in some games is cooperative combo attacks. Chrono Trigger used this pretty well. If two characters had compatible skills, and they were going at the same time, you could execute a more powerful combo attack. They implemented this to some extent in Grandia 3 with the aerial attack, which could only be executed if an enemy was attacked while in the air. This is also more recently seen in Magicka, but it's more of a primary mechanic in that game than in the other examples.
Game: Chrono Trigger
Gameplay Element: Combo Attacks
How I can make it better:
Combo attacks in Chrono Trigger only worked with special attacks in very specific situations.
By associating every single attack with an attack type, or a combination of attack types, every attack, special move, defense, and magic spell can potentially be combined with any other. Moreover, it's possible to have more than two characters cooperate to unleash an attack with more types. To combine this with the timeline, each character can be set into "combo" mode, which means they will wait to execute their move at "act" when they get there. When a character not in combo mode reaches act, the attack types are combined and a more powerful and snazzy-looking combo attack is unleashed. For example, mage casts fire (type fire) on warrior in combo mode, warrior performs uppercut (type elevate) on combo mode, and fighter performs slam (type slam) in normal mode. When fighter reaches act, an attack which sets the enemy on fire (or the warrior's weapon on fire, adding fire damage), sends the enemy into the air, then slams them back to the ground is executed. The advantage to doing a combo attack over doing these separately is timing. If fire only lasts so long, same with an aerial enemy, so executing these in combo mode ensures the maximum damage and maximum hit count. There is still a risk of these character's moves being cancelled while they are waiting, but the payoff is worth it.
Shared SP
A pretty unique take on SP (any resource that a character can use to perform special attacks or skills) comes from Skies of Arcadia. In SoA, SP is shared between all party members in battle, and is determined by the summation of all characters' spirit stat. If a character doesn't take an action, and just focuses on raising the morale of the party, the SP meter goes up more than usual, enabling their teammates to perform more powerful skills. This means if you're in a party with low spirit, you won't be able to execute special moves as well and vice versa if you're in a party with high spirit. I really like this because it gives a more cooperative feel to the combat, like every member is important, every member of the party is fighting together and cheering each other on.
Game: Skies of Arcadia
Gameplay element: Shared SP
How I can make it better:
This system is pretty simple, and it's hard to improve upon it, but that doesn't mean I can't try. One way to make this better is to use it to enforce the previously mentioned mechanics. When the party executes a really sweet combo move, SP goes up. If the combo doesn't work because the types aren't compatible, SP goes down. If an enemy's move is countered between com and act on the timeline, SP goes up. If one of your moves gets cancelled, SP goes down. This adds to the momentum of either side, which is kind of what morale does anyway. You see this in sports all the time. If one team is doing really well, they continue to do so. On the other hand, if they're getting beaten to a pulp, they tend to give up unless the game is really important. Creating this momentum and making it affected by combo attacks and timeline cancels adds to the gambling stakes of either action. High risk, high reward, and lots of satisfaction when you win.
Design Changes
I've decided to put the creation of the full level on hold. This is partly due to the way Unity is currently rendering parts of it so I can't get the lighting right unless I split up meshes, and that's just something I don't want to deal with now. Instead, I'm going to have all portfolio works viewable in the initial "zen garden" type area. I think that by drastically reducing the overall size of the area, I can put forward a more direct experience for the portfolio viewe
I say that the lighting is only partly responsible because I've become interested in a few other projects. The first of which being an RPG battle system, the other being a prototype of a conversation mechanic... but more on that as it develops.
Entrance to the hedge-maze (1st pass)
Looking back at the entrance
The Zen Garden area, works will be displayed on the pedestals here.
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
Portfolio design
So, I came to the decision that I didn't want to do a simple webpage for my portfolio. Instead I want to show potential employers that I am confident enough in my talents to take them into my own interactive world, where I showcase examples of my skills as well as my past works. Basically, the way it'll work when the get to the webpage, it'll show the options in very simple buttons "Interactive Portfolio" and "Boring Portfolio". Of course, unless they're really in a hurry, they'll click on the interactive one. If they don't have unity installed, they'll have to install the web player and I'll probably put something up like "HTML is so 1990."
Anyways, for the level design I decided to mash together Alice In Wonderland and Shivering Isles. Half of the level will be based on the cartoony alice (or Mania), while the other will be based on the return to wonderland comics and american mcgee (or Maniacal). It starts out after falling down the rabbit hole into a small area with a sign, so the viewer can go to either side. Each side is symmetrical to the other with a hub layout. The garden area of each will be the skills showcase, the tea party will be professional works, and the grotto will be personal works (or school stuff). The grand court will contain a themed self-portrait (cheshire cat for maniacal, alice for mania). Here's the map with theoretical light placements and event/scripting triggers.
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