eclectika

This is a continuation of a previous post. If you'd like to read it first, click here . Danny managed to sit in his seat just as the last bell in the school chimed. He barely avoided another tardy by bolting down the hall while ducking under the little windows in every classroom door. His dad had dropped his mother and sister off first before driving like a crazy person to get him to school. Like a scene straight out of an action film, the van had rocked back and forth it dodged cars, swung around corners and squealed tires. When his father skidded up to the school, he yelled, “GO! GO! GO!” "Danny run!" shouted Molly from the school's main door. Molly was Danny's best friend and the one always helping to keep him out of trouble. "You'll be late again if you don't hurry!" Danny turned to say goodbye to his dad but the van was already screeching around the corner and headed out of sight. Quickly he started running toward Molly. She waved hi...

This is another installment of my "Untitled Story." The preceding portion can be found here . Gregory Santo sighed at the stack of parchment glaring at him from his desk. This latest batch of border reports would seem less daunting if it represented more than a single day. Looking around his cramped workspace revealed similar piles stacked on chairs, overflowing shelves and collecting dust in the darkened corners of his time room. The Council had assigned him the honor of serving as interim security coordinator but any comfort taken from the position being temporary faded little over five years ago. Pushing his chair away from the desk, the young acolyte stood and picked his way across the room to a leaded window. Throwing the latch, Gregory swung open the small porthole hopeful that the stacks of paper behind him would suddenly rush through it to freedom. Barely a rustle could be heard as the night air was heavy and unmoving. Father Santo sighed deeply and watched t...

Prologue The Ingrams He remained frozen in place. The small form at his feet was barely moving but he knew nothing would be the same no matter what he chose to do next. Whether it was primal instinct or basic fear that motivated the man, Frank bent down and scooped the young child up in his arms. Holding the fragile form close to his chest, he slowly and steadily picked his way across the field toward a small shed where his wife was absorbed in mending a saddle. The old farmer could feel heat radiating off the small boy pressed against his shoulder. Fevers like this rarely ended well. He picked up his pace and finished crossing the field. Frank Ingram was a simple man. Life had always been governed by the steady rhythm of routine and he liked it that way. When some of the younger men in the town would begin to wax philosophical and debate the meaning of life or ponder the true origins of the relics strewn around the countryside, Frank would usually shrug his shoulders and ...

Ever since PONG, I've been fascinated and sometimes obsessed with video games. At one point, I remember long summer nights in front of my IBM monochrome monitor exploring the mysteries of Colossal Cave . These days, games have become so much more sophisticated that entire worlds are fleshed out for our curious alter egos to explore. Games such as Guild Wars (pictured here) offer up a long and engaging story to work through while other titles simply present a vast world for you to discover at your own pace. No matter how cinematic or sophisticated the gameplay becomes, however, the thrills, immersion and wonder of that old Cave still haunt me. What has been lost since the days of the old text adventure? Is it that we've allowed our creative minds to become lazy and therefore require game designers to fill in the blanks with more polygons or do we simply lack the patience to fully adopt each new world's mythology? Perhaps the problem it is the abundance of these games wh...