Value Creator
-Contribute in some small way to the sum of Irish Literature
-Leave the world a slightly better place People Developer
-Learn from my mistakes and teach others same
-Meet someone who enjoys blazing rows as much as I do Business Operator
-Make companies lots of money with my code then embezzle, or get paid for it, either's good
-Parkour like a boss
Surprisingly not a complaint about writing. I don't play as many games as I used to but one that has gotten the odd hour recently is Avernum: Escape from the Pit. It's quite a game. You play a band of misfits tossed into the lightless caves below the earth. There you must carve out a life amongst the other exiles and prevail against the countless monsters that wait in the dark. Avernum is very much an old-school dungeon-crawler with your party battling lizards, aranea and demons for their precious experience. It also comes with a fleshed out world and solid if impersonal story.
The British Government has come up with another plan for collecting people's data online. Labour tried the same thing a few years ago. Now, I'm no fan of facebook and most people tend to leave their profile public anyway. People have the right to be anonymous though. Using facebook to to spy on you seems a bit much, eavesdropping on your calls and texts without so much as a warrant? Ah, but those spies are clever people aren't they? They'll only spy on criminals surely! You and me we're not criminals. So why should we worry about these types of laws? If you've nothing to hide you've nothing to fear, right?
Let's engage in a little exercise. I want you to post in the comments:
Date of Birth
Phone Number
Home Address
Sexual Orientation
Criminal Record
Full medical history, including those genital warts
That time you broke into the abandoned house on a dare because you were 14
That time you went into the back field, had a few cans and then got into a fight and had to be picked up by your mom with a bloody nose
The bestiality porn you downloaded, just to see what it was like
A receipt for every mp3 on your computer right now
The amount of illegal or controlled substances in your house, including your schizophrenia medication
That time you got too much change at the supermarket but couldn't be bothered going back with it
Your Credit Card Number
Not that lulzsec are relevant anymore. While the FBI have done a lot of wonderful detective work they're a hundred internet years too late. lulzsec shut down mid 2011. Why? Because their identities were outed by another hacker group. Now hackers quarrelling with each other is nothing new. The internet is full of big egos. lulzsec were well known for their bragging. Which is exactly why they were targeted by other hackers and exactly why they were going to be targeted by the authorities. Illegal hacking, as with any criminal enterprise, is nothing to brag about. This isn't a moral viewpoint. Most hackers are caught because they bragged. Once someone knows that message passes on and on the internet until it lands into some detective's inbox.
Putting aside that word of warning let's take a moment to remember the fallen.
When it comes to programming I’ve always been an advocate of control over security. So it’s surprising that I’m an advocate of XNA. XNA is essentially a wrapper for DirectX. It hides all those big scary graphics interfaces and gives you a safe, non-toxic crayon to have fun with. And fun I have. Sure I don’t have the sharp objects OpenGL gives you or the raw hot power DirectX libraries have but I’m not about to build another Skyrim here.
Anyway this is all just a subtle lead-up to the fact that I’ve gotten back into the games design groove. After the disaster that sank my last project I’m determined to make this work. So this time I’ve taken three backups!
Oblivion roiled. Its spiralling power whipped and twisted, propelled by winds unknown. Coils reached out and brushed the edge. The amphitheatre groaned, tilting slightly. The shadows had long since fled, even they could not stand its gnawing on their souls. Yet toward the heart of nothing something moved. The crow soared from the tunnel, lunging toward the stage. It landed beside a shattered door and pecked at the wood. A tiny glimmer of light fell from a crack. The crow snapped it up immediately. One beady eye lifted to a towering figure who had not been there a moment ago.
“Thought you'd be down here,” it croaked.
The figure gathered its robe about it. Sequins shined in Oblivion's black light like stars of rust. Its angular mask bowed, the curved beak extending almost to its waist.
“I find myself in need of a favour. But one simple request,” parroted the crow.
The birdman spoke “To absorb without losing. To portray but not overshadow. To play and then to fade,”
The crow ruffled its feathers. “Yeah, yeah. It was pretty good, if you like not making sense,”
One jewelled eye looked down. “I find myself in need of a favour. But one simple request,”
The crow's beak opened then shut.
The birdman turned away. “Perhaps you are busy,” It glided away, toward the tunnel entrance.
The crow hopped after, wings aflutter. “Hey now, I didn't say that. I'm already in to me neck with the bosses. They're gonna throw a fit when they hear you let a live one down here,”
“No more alive than they themselves,”
The crow caught up the birdman, careful never to touch the robe. “Yes well, that's a point of view. Now what ya need?”
It stopped, jerking to a strange halt. The head twisted until the mask faced behind, looking right at the stumbling crow. “You are a carrion crow,”
“Can we fast forward to the job?” the crow interjected.
The mask tilted to one side, perhaps put out. “I have need of an eye,”
The crow leapt into the air, flapping the few feet to land on a step before the birdman. Its mask turned to follow. “My speciality. What you want it for?” the crow asked. It did not expect a straight answer. It was not disappointed.
“What is the difference between comedy and tragedy?”
The crow pondered a moment. “Like, funny haha?”
The birdman spoke only to itself. “Something to do with the ending,”
It rained. It poured. Red rivulets ran down twisted sculptures of steel. The ground was riven with craters, in which the waters congregated. The rain blotted out out the sky, the world, everything but the next few meters of tortured ground. Angela stumbled over a jutting of black tarmac and jerked to a halt. Unbidden, visions of tumbling into the stained waters rushed through her mind. She wiped the wet from her face and looked for something to wash such shadows away. He loomed out of the rain behind her. Even beaten by the rain Orpheus glowed. He walked right into her, zombie-like. Angela grabbed at him but her footing was lost. She went over the side, reaching for him to no avail. The waters reached out to swallow her.
Splash!
Angela sat up. Rust lapped around her ankles. She looked up at sodden Orpheus. He seemingly awoke and slid down the side of the crater. She refused his arm.
Hyperbole can be good for getting attention. While minister Sherlock's plans do not extend to the reach that the SOPA/PIPA bills had for America they are still a hot issue. Recently Stop SOPA Ireland has cropped up http://stopsopaireland.com. I would encourage everyone to browse their website and listen to what they have to say. Google the issue and learn more about the court case that led to this. Get involved, or who knows what may happen to [CENSORED]
Angela's head jerked. The darkness faded, taking the dream with it.
"Visiting hours are over soon miss," The nurse smiled down at her sweetly. Behind her the ward lights flickered, their sterile light illuminating a row of beds. The nurse had such strange eyes. Heterochromia she supposed. The nurse moved onto the next bed. A monitor beeped. One of those strange machines they kept in hospitals, it had pinged every moment she had been here. How long had she been here? Angela wondered if the machine would keep going even unplugged. Blearily she followed its wires. They led into the patient seated before her.
The patient's thin voice jolted her fully awake. “Overdoing it again,”
“Mom?” Angela said.
“You dozed off on me. Have you been sleeping properly?” She was a thin woman, though perhaps that was what hospital food did to you.
“Mom I...” Angela puzzled over how to complete that sentence. Then her mouth gave up on her brain. “I'm fine mom,”
“Fine people do not nod off while visiting their parents in hospital. It'll be that Isley girl keeping you up all night,”
“I haven't seen Natalie in weeks, mom,” Not since Natalie had got a job, thought Angela privately.
“Hmm,” Lips were pursed and Angela was treated to a disapproving look. She always tried not to look guilty. She always failed.
Then her mother Rachael smiled. “It was good to see you dear,”
Angela bit her lip. “I'm glad you're doing well,”
Rachael sighed and the moment was gone. “Though I wish you'd talk to Uncle Vinny about that placement,”
“I'm planning to next week,” Angela lied. She rose from the chair. The ward was quiet. There were no other visitors and the patients were settling in for the night. One of them noticed her staring. He waved, his lined face lighting up in a grin. Angela gave a surreptitious wave back, feeling awkward.
“I should get going mom,” she said, returning to her mother's disapproving glare.
Rachael nodded. “I suppose,”
Angela embraced her in a hug. Her mother felt frail but also cold. She leaned back with concern.
“Are you alright?”
“I'll be fine, dear,” Rachael touched her daughter's cheek. Her hand was like ice.
“Holy- you're freezing,”
“I'm fine,” Rachael insisted
“Let me ask for another blanket,” without waiting for another stubborn reply Angela moved away in search of the nurse.
The old man winked at her as she passed. “Lass,” he called out but she merely smiled back, walking on.
The other patients did not look up. One was deep in conversation with a doctor who, for reasons beyond Angela's understanding, wore sunglasses. Some people. Angela passed blacked out windows, fighting an odd pang to see outside. The nurse busied herself at the final bed in the ward. It was set a little apart from the others though the curtains were not drawn. The final patient was not like the others. He was laid out like a cadaver, shrouded utterly in a body cast. Signatures were scrawled on one of the arms. There was a window left in the plaster, so he could look out. Angela peeked but his eyes were squeezed shut. A faint murmuring could be heard.
“Excuse me,” Angela said.
The nurse left down the chart, hanging from the end of the bed “Yes?”
Angela could only make out the number on it. Patient #667. “It's my mother. Could she get an extra blanket?”
“Why of course,” the nurse moved toward a cabinet. “It can get chilly these winter nights,”
Angela followed, lowering her voice. “What happened to him?”
When the nurse looked nonplussed she indicated the plastered patient. The nurse sighed.
“Oh,” she pulled out a blanket, turning it over as checked it. Then she led the way back down the ward. Angela chased after her.
“You don't want to know,” said the nurse suddenly. The doctor looked up as they passed. He gave the nurse a nod. She returned it.
“You know when you say that it makes me want to know even more,” Angela said.
The nurse smiled “Nothing wrong with asking questions, I suppose,” Then she let Angela draw closer “He played with fire,” She whispered conspiratorially.
