Writing the Wrongs

How We Review Fighting Games: Soulcalibur V

artisin@artisincity.com (Artisin) — Sat, 18 Feb 2012 21:59:05 GMT

Note: This article was originally published on Second Quest.

The videogame culture has become so obsessed with the storytelling elements of games that what it seeks out to analyze no longer falls under the expansive umbrella that is videogames. This longing for story to drive the gameplay has trickled over into one genre where videogame stories are traditionally irrelevant and cursory elements â€" the fighting genre. As videogame journalists and critics, we should strive to review videogames based on the expectations of the genre. We wouldnâ€™t, for instance, review a puzzle game with the same criticisms we would levy against an MMORPG. So why then do we review games in the fighting genre as if they are anything other than fighting games? Thereâ€™s a fragmentation at play and a flawed genre-bending mentality that affects the way fighting games are reviewed.

As far as storytelling in its traditional narrative function is concerned, developers of fighting games do the player an injustice by minimizing the core focus of the fighting genre with any narrative focused too outwardly from the ludic aspects of the game. Itâ€™s not necessarily the developers fault, but rather the diverse group of videogame players that make up the market today. Though, when we market to everyone, we market to no one. Itâ€™s an adage that seems to be lost on all sides of the fighting genre.

This isnâ€™t to say that the story of any genre where combat is at the core should be dismissed as unnecessary. First-person shooters, for instance, require a reason to care about the characters enough to see the single player mode all the way through to the goal of saving the Earth or whatever the hero needs to accomplish. A fighting game such as the recently-released Soulcalibur V does not. The playerâ€™s only intrinsic goal is to simply win the match. Their motivations are their own and not those of the character as dictated by the developerâ€™s story. This is not to say that single player modes shouldnâ€™t be addressed at all in Soulcalibur V reviews, but that we should be asking deeper questions about what could be done to improve the core experience of the game.

GamesTMâ€™s review of Soul Calibur V compares it to the Virtua Fighter series in order to highlight Soulcaliburâ€˜s style over substance approach. â€œYes, many may see it as a fighting game, but the truth is that Soulcalibur has never really been a fighting game,â€ reads the review. Given the benefit of the doubt, Iâ€™ll conclude the reviewer means that Soulcalibur has never really been a simulation type of fighting game. While Soulcalibur, when played at a high level, is an amazing display of combat, the flair admittedly overshadows the technique. But many martial arts styles, too, exude flair over practicality. That doesnâ€™t make them any less of a type of fighting style, just as it doesnâ€™t make Soulcalibur any less of a fighting game.. It wasnâ€™t until Bruce Lee rejuvenated the martial arts with his more practical approach to fighting that we came to have the mixed martial arts scene where basic techniques are more vital than flashy techniques. Rather than lambasting a fighting game for having a shallow story modeâ€"which is really just a flashy extraâ€"the reviewer should look to these core concepts as his baseline for reviewing the game.

Stephen Lambrechtâ€™s review for IGN called the fighting â€œgreatâ€ and the graphics â€œbeautiful.â€ But the meat of his review focused on the â€œdisappointingâ€ lack of modes, even while conceding there is â€œplenty of depth in its combat.â€ Itâ€™s a review filled with empty adjectives, one which does nothing to address the true nature of the game. When we think of fighting games we must think in terms of the way a martial artist approaches combat. In this sense, Soulcalibur, and all other fighting games like it, requires an â€œemotional contentâ€ to enhance the narrative as it may be. From a ludic standpoint, the player approaches fighting games the same way a martial artist approaches his opponent. Fighting is a matter of balance â€" there is an action followed by a reaction, an expansion preceding a contraction. The Dead or Alive series raised the bar when it introduced an engine where characters seemed to actually fight with each other rather than perform static moves, but the emotional content wasnâ€™t quite there. Paste Magazineâ€™s Stu Horvath, a dedicated if not wearied fan of Soulcalibur, was one of the few reviewers to come close to capturing the core essentials of Soulcalibur into a succinct review. But even he neglected the one thing that is important, perhaps most so, to the fighting genre for improving the combat narrative â€" sound design. The sound design of a fighter is vital toward subsidizing emotional content. And sound, an area Soulcalibur in particular does exceptionally well, happens to be neglected in every major review of Soulcalibur V. Instead weâ€™re left with reviews that discuss wanting a more expansive story mode more than they discuss the actual fighting mechanics and the modes and design aspects that compliment or detract from it.

Tom Chickâ€™s review for Quarter To Three, â€œThe Capcoming of Soulcalibur Vâ€œ, claims that Soulcalibur V tries too hard to be like Street Fighter. He even admits to failing to master the fighting well enough to even block correctly. â€œAfter no small amount of frustration in the training room, Iâ€™ve just accepted that blocking in Soulcalibur V is beyond my ken,â€ he says. Chick makes no attempt to explain why blocking is difficult other than comparisons to Street Fighterâ€™s method of blocking. â€œNothing makes you quite so lazy as Capcomâ€™s move-backwards-to-block system,â€ Chick said.. â€œI had a hard enough time forcing myself to press a guard button in Soulcalibur IV.â€ He uses the rest of the review to criticize Soulcalibur V for being too much like a Capcom fighter and complains about the emphasis on online play, chastising Namco for leaving casual players behind: â€œThis stuff might be grand for anyone who wants his Soulcalibur to be more an online esport. But for us casual fighting fans who felt like Namco was one of the few companies still making games for us, Soulcalibur V is a disappointing Dear John letter.â€ His review misinterprets the core of what fighting games are, and even more so what Soulcalibur V is, and berates it for basically being too competitive and both not enough and too much like Street Fighter. The reality is that the online and versus modes offer more narrative than single player modes. The true story in the fighting genre is in the fighting itself and the competitive modes and audio design are the most important factors to discuss in respect to the combat. If you donâ€™t want to fight or learn how to, then why the hell are you playing a fighting game anyway?

The fighting genre is not and has never been a genre where story is the driving force behind the game. When we look at a game to review, we must look at the core: What is it? How do its overlaying functions compliment it? I may lose a few people at this grand conclusion Iâ€™m about to come to, but my research shows that the core of the fighting genre is, gasp, combat. Who wouldâ€™ve guessed? A player squares off against his foe and the story unfolds with a beautiful brutality that is never twice the same. The player doesnâ€™t necessarily need to know a characterâ€™s motivation, we only need to know ours, which is to conquer the foe who stands before us. We smash his flesh and let him smash ours. His bones break, our bones shatter. A victor is declared. At the center of combat is competition. If the player thinks heâ€™s the best then he will never improve, so he should at all times know there is someone out there waiting to kick his ass. Competition is a direct current flowing from the primitivism of combat, so it is more important to dissect online and versus modes than single player modes, which players should simply see as training modes for their next big encounter with their rival.

2012 Artisin

Broke Gamer Pt. I: Stealing Videogames

artisin@artisincity.com (Artisin) — Mon, 30 Jan 2012 09:36:26 GMT

Note: This article was originally posted on Examiner.

In the words of Herbert Huncke, "I'm beat." There's two ways to explain my situation. One is: "dead broke." The other is: transition period. I prefer the later.

In the past two weeks, I've managed to spread out my last $360. Who knew a few pizzas here, some Chinese food there, a couple of taxi rides and a few boxes of formula would cost so much? I could've bought six games for the same, and god knows there's a lot of must-buys that have dropped or will drop this month. Batman: Arkham City, Battlefield 3, Sonic Generations, Uncharted 3, Modern Warfare 3, Metal Gear HD and Halo: Combat Evolved Anniversary top my list.

But until I get where I want to get in my career and personal life, I'm just another games journalist who can't afford games. But some people aren't going to let a little thing like money deter them.

I'm not the only one in dire straights, it seems. Just last week, Timothy Joseph Mandes applied for a job at a Best Buy in Bethlehem Township. Presumably so he can get discounts to cheapen an expensive gaming habit. Smart man.

Okay, so maybe shoving game systems down your pants isn't ideal, even for the broke gamer. This next broke gamer, however, wasn't so much broke as he was impatient.What wasn't so smart, however, was when he found out he didn't get the job, he decided to shove an Xbox 360 console down his pants. He didn't leave and do this the next day, but literally walked to the games section right after being turned down for the position. The store's security cameras picked this up, and being that he had applied to the store, giving them all his personal info, the police were able to arrest him right at his home (presumably playing an Xbox 360 that reeked of unemployed ball sweat). Though, not before he would attempt to flee and scuffle with law enforcement, who effectively tasered him.

David Morales wanted Modern Warfare 3. Like anyone who wants something from a retailer, he decided to drive to a store, stand in line and purchase it. But when he saw the length of the line at GameStop, he decided waiting was for suckers. So instead of going an hour without the game, David devised a plan to stalk and rob someone in front of the line. That someone was Adam Freeman.

Morales followed Mr. Freeman to his apartment, blocking him in with his Ford Explorer, and jumped out on Adam with a gun.

"Give me the game," David said, pushing a round into the chamber.

“Fuck You,” replied Freeman.

As David pushed another round into the chamber, it knocked his first one out, giving Adam a moment to grab the barrel of the gun and scare off his attacker. Adam promptly reported the attempted robbery.

After leaving the scene of the crime, David didn't go home, but instead went back to GameStop. After all, he still didn't haveModern Warfare 3. When the police came to review security cameras, they saw a person who matched the description Adam gave them, standing in line waiting to buy the game at that very moment. He was immediately arrested.

Lesson learned for David: don't go to buy games on launch day from places where most gamers pre-order. Go to Blockbuster instead.

If you're going to do something, do it right. That saying must've originated in France, cause a group of French criminals recently succeeded in stealing not one, but 6,000 copies ofModern Warfare 3. Costing a whopping €400,000, or about $545,000 USD.

The morning of November 6th, just south of Paris, two masked assailants armed with knives collided with a Micromania delivery van, causing the drivers to stop and get out of the van. The assailants then used tear gas to disorient the drivers and the two criminals sped off with the delivery van and 6,000 copies of MW3.

Unfortunately, criminal-grade black masks -- which would presumably need a matching black outfit to boot -- a tear gas grenade launcher and a couple of rounds of tear gas, all sound pretty steep to a writer who can't afford one game. Not to mention a car, let alone one to wreck. Guess I'm going to have to find other ways to get my gaming fix.

2012 Artisin

Alter Ego Review

artisin@artisincity.com (Artisin) — Mon, 30 Jan 2012 09:31:59 GMT

One part Portal, one part Super Mario; Alter Ego is a simplistic little game with curiously big implications. On the surface, you control a sprite of a young fellow (or old fellow, depending on your interpretation) intent on collecting bouncing purple blocks and dodging skulls that fly up and down and run side to side. This character is very much capable of dying, either from skull or by fall. But then there's his alter ego. A less detailed glowing blue outline of a fellow; the direct opposite of the hero in everyway. The alter ego cannot die, unless the character himself dies. When the hero moves in one direction, his alter ego goes another. Where he collects purple blocks, the alter ego plunders the blue.

The team responsible, RetroSouls, is actually just one man named Denis Grachev. Located in Russia, Grachev creates games with a distinctly retro feel but in decidedly forward ways. Playing Alter Ego, I can almost see Grachev all alone in a bitter cold Russian studio, slaving over line after line of code. I'd like to think that it was from such a bitter cold and desolate environment that Alter Ego started life, as it has all the implications of such a conception.

Being part of the Generation Y wave of gamers, I felt a warm nostalgia wash over me while playing Alter Ego. I felt old, young, melancholy, and elated separately and simultaneously. I owe these feelings to the graphics and music and simple game design. The visuals are the simplest thing about this game. Its screenshots alone are nothing to write home about, but playing Alter Ego is different. For all it's visual simplicity, Alter Ego's aestheticism astounded me. The alien plants glow with a blue aura, and the stars in the background fly past with a clear, clean frame rate. It's purple backdrop and ominously glowing mountains are akin to the Limbo style. The chip tune soundtrack, though stretched thin through 40 levels, impresses upon Alter Ego's distinct feel. Like any well-designed game, no one part of it serves a selfish function. Combined with the music, the visuals impart a feeling of urgency on the player, particularly when the screen fills with orbs, skulls, stars, rain, and glow plants. It's really a sight to experience.

The genius of Alter Ego, however, is its impressive ability to relay the human condition with such simplicity. What the character (you) fails to achieve, his (your) alter ego does. This alternative version is invincible, barely visible, and works opposite the character's intentions. In our personal lives we often put on masks to do things we ourselves couldn't, or wouldn't, do. The alter ego is a fabrication of who we are, and is used to further our progress in life. What Superman couldn't do, Clark Kent could, and vice versa. He couldn't very well lead a normal life as a caped superhero, could he? In Alter Ego it's used to progress through the game, without it our hero stands no chance. Grachev uses this to the game's advantage, crafting a ingenious game that requires delicate coordination and balance between two egos. One is not controllable without the other, and at times I forgot which ego I was really in control of.

2012 Artisin

The Greatest Hits Debate: Can Videogames Be Classics?

artisin@artisincity.com (Artisin) — Mon, 30 Jan 2012 09:30:32 GMT

I have a terrible memory. Blame it on whatever, but I struggle with remembering what I did last weekend, let alone 14 years ago. But there I am, clear as crystal, fifty-two dollars in a wrinkled wad of moist green. Hands stained from excited clenching. The store fluorescents bounced off the glass case catching my eye, and like a fly drawn to a porch light -- I saw it. Crown jewel of the PlayStation section. I might not remember your birthday, but I'll always remember that glass case, and the copy of Final Fantasy VII waiting behind it. But before I bought it, I mastered sabotaging the Mako Reactor on the PlayStation Underground demo disc more times than I dare admit. And also rented it more times than I'd been fiscally responsible. My nostalgia makes Cloud Strife's epic a classic, and I'm willing to wager there's a whole lot of people who feel the same. But does an entire generation's ardent nostalgia make it timeless? Or does it only make it a prized generational possession, a pivotal moment in gaming history, a consumer artifact worthy of preservation because of what it used to be? And how does a person go about defining classic status in this dense, defensive culture of videogames without alienating himself from friends, colleagues and readers alike? Are there, or can there be, any videogame classics that define the form in an evergreen way?

"Of fucking course there can," read a text from a friend in response to my article query. "That depends on your interpretation of classic, which is inarguably subjective. Your logic is flawed and 160 characters doesn't do my response justice."

Ouch. But, of course, as my anecdote explained, classic is a subjective term. What may qualify as classic to one person may fall short to others. For purposes of clarity and structure, I'm using "classic" in the sense of timelessness, or, as defined: the highest established model, standard, or example within a certain form.

Back in 2000, I tried securing a loan of my own infatuation with FFVII into the bankrupt pleasure centers of my best buddy's gaming sensibilities. This, however, proved much more difficult than escaping the city of Midgar without a memory card. You see, his RPG experience started and ended with Final Fantasy IX: a better technical achievement by all accounts. The masterful FMV, artfully pre-rendered backgrounds and higher polygon-counts stand in stark contrast to FFVII's clunky visuals. In addition to updated graphics, FFIX introduced new gameplay elements to the series, such as the Active Time Event, Mognet, and individual character abilities which promoted a more balanced combat system. By these standards -- and only three years worth of advancements -- my friend found FFVII unplayable. Like any decent VII fan would, I berated him for his ignorance. It didn't occur to me at that moment I had failed to play previous Final Fantasy installments for the same reasons. Without the nostalgia, even a title as brilliant in 1997 as FFVII feels dated in as little as three years, if not sooner. Though true, does this make the game unplayable? No; but it shows even a masterpiece among videogames is fallible in the wake of time. Even if he played, enjoyed, and conquered the game, he could still make a legitimate case in favor of the game's antiquity by today's technological, design and gameplay standards.

In contrast, a song is composed of elements that do not so much advance as they do react to the previous generation. There isn't a leap in music theory that makes The Beatles feel antiquated. Cultural differences mostly enable a person to discern 1960s music from 1980s music. Though the ways we receive our music change, the way we hear it never does. There are only changes in convention and culture, and a true musical classic holds up against modern music in the sense that it was either composed well or played well.

"Stfu with your Beatles reference!" said my friend, feeling the weight of our friendship crumble. "You think a nine year old hears that shit and thinks it's revolutionary? They want Gaga and Eminem."

The essay hasn't even been written, let alone published, and my best friend already wants to murder me. But, yes, he's right: Nine year olds will, more often than not, prefer Gaga and Eminem to their parents' Beatles. Modern pop music, in this case, is the child's preference, as he has no context for the past. Just like my FFIX friend may come to like VII if he gave it the time of day, the Gaga fan may, too, find The Beatles enjoyable. But unlike the nine year old with his lack of a developed taste for music not programmed by radio or TV, the gamer can point to legitimate technological advancements in game design that make older games nearly unplayable by modern standards. This is where videogames -- when looked at as a form of art -- differ from music or literature.

For all their artistic aspirations, entertainment milestones and educational achievements, this criticism mottles videogame culture like a red dot on white cashmere. In spite of all that Mario, Zelda, Solid Snake, and Master Chief have done for videogames, there isn't much hope future generations will reflect on them and proclaim "this is a game that could very well been made today." They will be, or are already, outdated and outclassed in everyway, except for maybe in story or music score. This is not to say they will not be enjoyable any longer, but that they will be left behind in the technological dust, making it all the more unappealing to our children, and their children's children.

If this is the case, I don't anticipate the future of games journalism with bated breath. Cower as hipster games journos attempt to rationalize blocky and pixilated 32-bit characters as a deliberate aesthetic; incessant fog and baddies who pop up from the ground in The Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time as thoughtful game design instead of technical limitation; guards who can only see five feet in front of them and basic stealth maneuvers of Metal Gear Solid as the pinnacle of game design. Consider it a challenge for these writers to pull false meaning from technical and design limitations, all without allowing an ounce of the pretentious air wafting through their colons to escape into the atmosphere.

Since the shift in the industry from raw graphical power to innovational ways of play, games have entered a new era. Today, motion controls are the big draw. Social and mobile games are accessible and addictive. Downloadable titles mix old-school with new-school under an independent freedom. We're experiencing an evolution of play, and one that makes the last generation of videogames even harder to appreciate. The games industry is in a fickle way, and innovation is critical toward establishing a level of familiarity among gamers.

"Nothing transcends generations," said my friend. "The discussion might, but its relevance and importance does not."

To this, I point to a truly timeless and irreplaceable piece of music, Beethoven's Ninth Symphony. As the most memorable of all his symphonies, the composition remains impressive even by today's standards. Instead of displaced by newer modes of music from later, more advanced generations, his masterful composition lives on as a testament to the power of music in both its technical and artistic merits. For this reason, Beethoven's Ninth Symphony is considered by many the greatest composition in the history of music. Game design, however, hasn't reached a point where it has nowhere else to go but right. Is there a game design in our generation that will outlive us? And if there isn't, then none of our generation's games can transcend history. There will be stories, ideas and mechanics that have proven pivotal to the evolution of games, but no overall game design will be touted as the finest example of game design in the face of an ever advancing form. Our generational games are a dying breed. Even many re-released classic are done a disservice at the hands of journalists who have either outgrown their nostalgia or have grown spoiled by the advancements of the industry.
Similarly, literature may vary from time period to time period, and the words may become displayed digitally instead of on paper. In spite of these changes, books can still be reread and enjoyed at the top of their form for centuries. A videogame popular in 1985, however, would be about as playable to a child born in 2011 as fighting with twigs would be to someone whose first fight was with light sabers. While Final Fantasy VII is a masterpiece, a cherished consumer artifact, and arguably the greatest videogame ever made, its visuals are outdated, its gameplay is antiquated, and its mechanics outclassed. It no more defines the games industry than a leaf defines the fashion industry.

Any hope for videogames to experience a graceful aging like music or literature lies in the fighting of a losing war against impermanence. Our beloved art form can no more produce timeless classics as automobile manufacturers can. Like an automobile, a videogame possesses a certain undeniable quality of build, style, and execution for the time it was created. They become prized not for what they still are, but for what they once were.

The Classic Car Club of America defines a classic car by three criteria: it must be distinctive, it must be built between 1925 and 1948, and it must have originally been high priced. Videogames, though, are far from cars. They are not machines built for physical transportation, but for emotional, spiritual, and sometimes logical transport. While games may serve to get us from point A to point B, technologically speaking, they are more than hunks of factory manufactured materials intermittently thrown in garbage dumps when the achievements and DLC dry up like an unused sponge.
Videogames educate, romanticize, invigorate, and, most importantly, entertain us. There's good chance a gamer who has ever whistled Saria's Song, fought atop Metal Gear, ran a loop-de-loop or watched Ryo's father fall at the hands of Lan-Di, will revisit each experience a few more times throughout the course of his life. We will fondly remember our childhood treasures and treat them as if they were brand new; but what will our children think about these games? Our generations' offspring are well on their way to shunning our masterpieces for such inarticulate reasons as "the graphics suck" and "you can't sprint."

As people age, they don't so much as accept their dilapidation as they do exit life kicking and screaming, much like how they came in. Who wants to feel old? Life, like a competently managed factory, functions with the icy effectiveness of sterile machinery. It gives no quarter, plea bargains or second chances. We have shelf lives to make room for better, faster, and more expendable people to produce even more expendable consumer merchandise. I belong to a generation of gamers who started school during the 8-bit years, graduated from bed wetting in the 16-bit era, discovered awkwardly pubescent situations with their 32-bit systems, and fell in puppy love somewhere between the 64 and 128-bit eras. These are the folks that are now, or soon to be, raising kids their own. A new generation whom may possibly never know what it was like to look on helplessly as Sephiroth impaled Aerith with his masamune blade. I hold little hope of my daughter ever exploring the city of Midgar and saving Planet from Sephiroth. Not after she's played the latest installment of Final Fantasy, in 3D, with full-body motion controls, while I sit on the porch playing the poorly rated Final Fantasy VII HD on my iPhone 15. Or maybe I'm already old.

2012 Artisin

Looks That Kill

artisin@artisincity.com (Artisin) — Mon, 30 Jan 2012 09:25:52 GMT

Note: This is a short story written for an old creative writing class. Figured I'd post it if for no other reason than to see how my fiction writing improves over time. Enjoy!

The back of Detective McLane’s bony fist hurtled into Sam Starks’ raw flesh like a mallet pounding Tuna Tartare. “Answer me!” menaced McLane as he battered Starks yet again. The detective sat down, his eyes piercing into the swollen, sunken eyes of Sam Starks. McLane bit his thumb nail for a second as if wondering how to butch up his next threat, then leaned forward and took a long drag on his cigarette. "You're going to rot in a jail cell for the rest of your miserable life…" McLane blew a potent combination of arid tobacco smoke, heartburn, and cynicism into Starks’ leathery face.

Starks just sat there; his head down, spats of blood dripping from his mouth.

“Fucking answer me you piece of shit!” McLane sent his coffee mug crashing into the table, sending shattered fragments of acrylic and steaming coffee against Starks’s blood stained tweed jacket.

Starks shook his head and smiled.

“Why you little…” McLane leapt out of his chair and wrenched Starks’ necktie, forcing Starks’ face onto broken shards of coffee mug. The interrogation room door flung open and in marched another detective.

“Get a hold of yaself – Whadaya tryna do? Kill him before he even says a goddamn word?!”

“This dipshit’s jerkin’ us around, Lieutenant!”

“Get out of my interrogation room and cool off before I have your ass for insubordination!”

Like a good guard dog McLane obeyed his command and left the room. The commanding detective’s composure returned as if it never left. “Mr. Starks, my name is Lieutenant Foley. I apologize on behalf of Detective McLane, he gets emotional sometimes.”

"I can relate to that, Lieutenant,” Sam freed the shards of coffee mug from his cheek.

“Please, call me Foley. I hear that you have something that you want me to listen to?”

“Have you ever been in love, Foley?"

“I should hope so.” Foley lifts up his hand revealing a wedding ring. “What does love have to do with any of this, Mr. Starks?

“Please, call me Sam.”

“Well, Sam, you’re facing a body amongst numerous other felony charges. If you don’t have anything good to tell me then I’m going to have to send McLane back in here.”

"It all started two days ago with the toe-tagged Archie Valentine. You see, he came to see me in my office…”

"Sam Starks? Detective Sam Starks?" asked a rotund figure emerging hat in hand behind Sam's office door.

"That’s what it says on the door. Otherwise I’m going to have a talk with the folks who did the lettering” Sam joked, amusing only himself.

"Archie’s the name – Archie Valentine."

"How do you do Mr. Valentine?" asked Sam. Not that he cared; he was in a rush to leave his office and beat the traffic home.

"Not too well, Sam. Mind if I call you Sam?

“Call me whatever you like, Arch. Just don’t call me after I leave my office.”

“Ha, well, you see, I’m troubled that my wife – we’ve been married fifteen years – has been having an affair.”

Sensing this to be a long winded talk, Sam takes off his hat and jacket – revealing a Colt Single Action Army piece nestled against his ribcage – and reclines back in his chair putting his feet on the table. “Why would you suspect such a thing, Arch?” asks Sam as he lights up a cigarette.

“She used to be such a good wife, and now she is completely not herself. We used to go to bed at the same time…and our sex life…”

“Take it to a therapist, Arch. Get to the point.”

“Oh, sorry… Well, you see, she no longer tells me where she’s going, who she’s going with, and she comes home at odd hours. And if I even dare ask where she is going, she flips out and makes it seem like I’m the bad guy! She doesn't even seem capable of feigning the slightest interest in me."

"I see, that does sound serious. Though, not serious enough for me I'm afraid."

"Whatever do you mean?" spat Archie, no longer polite and growing agitated with Sam’s lack of empathy.

"I'm a P.I. – a private dick – I get my hands dirty with the kind of shit most other people wouldn’t muck around with. If you want your wife to start paying more attention to that big belly of yours, and the person that happens to be attached to it, then I suggest a marriage consultant. Otherwise, to be blunt – I'm not the one, chief." Sam stamps his cigarette out, raises up from his chair and begins to put on his coat. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have dinner I must attend to.”

"Perhaps this will change your mind," Valentine reached into his pocket.

"Now just you hold on for a second, don't go..."

"Relax," interrupted Valentine, revealing a wad of cash in his stubby fingers. "Even marriage consultants don’t make dough like this."

"I like your style, Mr. Valentine. But I think I might have preferred you pulled your heat instead. Money can make a man do strange things."

"Indeed, Mr. Starks. So, it’s settled then, you'll take my case?"

"I dunno – you got yourself a mistrusted broad and enough dough to finance a small war; should I read in between the lines, Mr. Valentine?"

"You’ve got it all wrong, Sam. Follow her – that’s all I want. You do that for me and I’ll take care of it from there."

“You don’t say. Well, if I take the case I’m going to need this heart breakers photo.”

“Of course,” muttered Archie, fumbling though his Louis Vuitton coat pockets.

“Here...”

Sam studied the picture. "She’s a real looker.”

“Yes, she is. So make sure you don’t get any funny ideas.”

“Comedy will be the last thing on my mind, Arch. What’s her name?”

"Vera."

"Against my better judgment, I took the case," said Sam to Foley. "And that's where things started to get messy. I followed her just like Mr. Valentine handsomely paid me to do. My expectations of her were dashed from the moment I laid eyes on her. This was a girl who was different from other high society types. I realized right away why Valentine had dropped so much dough into my lap to take this case: she was beautiful; too beautiful. Nobody wants a prized catch like that slipping away from them. Certainly a woman with looks like hers - looks that could kill – had to deal with douchebags feeling her up at bars, on the street, and probably even in grocery stores for Christ’s sake. Arch must have been going crazy wondering how many ‘no’s Vera’s mouth could produce.

“Where did you first see her in person at?” Foley asked.

“I watched over Archie’s house the next morning. I parked my Acura across the street from their home and holed up in there for a good while after Archie left for work…”

“Blue River” by Jack Teagarden eased through the speakers while Sam chain smoked and waited for Mrs. Valentine to leave the house. Light snow flurries fell, and the subsequent frost on Sam’s window helped to disguise his car, keeping suspicion low. About an hour later, Mrs. Valentine walked through the front door. Even bundled up in her Jax beanie, multicolored scarf, and wool pullover, Sam could tell just how beautiful she was. He glanced at the photo Archie had given him, and looked at the hipster woman leaving Archie’s home. “This photo must’ve been taken at prom...” Sam remarked. As she made her way down the steps onto the sidewalk, Sam eased out from his car and pursued. The snow fell even harder now, and in bigger flakes. “Good,” thought Sam. “The snow will make following her much easier.”

Mrs. Valentine stopped at an intersection with a group of other pedestrians waiting for their turn to walk. Sam waited just one person adjacent to her. Vera had on earphones and tapped her foot to a rhythm that Sam thought could have been jazz. For an instant, everyone else disappeared and it felt as though only the two of them stood there: two strangers in the snow waiting to cross the street. The “walk” light turned green and Sam snapped back into reality. Leaving the intersection behind them, Sam and Vera crossed the street. Once across, Mrs. Valentine waved her hand and jumped up and down like a TK. Sam thought maybe she had seen somebody she knew. Then it dawned on him that she was waving down a taxi. “Dammit!” thought Sam. He had to act or risk losing her. With no other taxi’s in sight, Sam barged into the same cab Mrs. Valentine flagged down.

“Umm, this cab is taken,” said Mrs. Valentine in the form of a question.

“We can share, if you don’t mind that is.”

“I do mind…but since you’re already in here I guess it doesn’t matter.”

“Where to, ma’am?” asked the cabbie.

“Jeanie’s Diner, on 22nd street”

“What a coincidence, I’m going there too!” lied Sam.

“If I didn’t know any better I’d say you were following me, Mr.”

“And if I didn’t know any better I’d say I was too, Mrs…”

“Valentine – Vera Valentine.”

“As in Mrs. Archie Valentine?”

“Yes, and yet again my husband’s reputation precedes me. And you are?”

“My name?

“Jack…Jack Teagarden.”

Vera’s eyebrow raised and a slight smirk expanded on her face. “Jack Teagarden, huh?” mocked Vera.

“What? Don’t think it suits me?”

“Oh no, I just know someone with a reputation that precedes yours as well” Vera removed her earphones and placed one in Sam’s ear:

“Oh, let me linger by your shore, and let me dream forever more, Blue River”

“That’s Jack Teagarden. Now, tell me who you are.”

Without hesitating Sam replied, “I’m Jack, babe.”

Sam and Vera got out at Jeanie’s Diner on 22nd street and sat in the last booth on the left.

“This is fate. I was destined to meet you,” said Vera, eyes on Sam and swirling the sugar around in her coffee more than necessary.

“What makes you think that?” asked Sam, sipping his coffee, his eyes never leaving Vera’s. She was most definitely not the girl he would have pictured as the wife of a wealthy fat slob like Valentine, thought Sam. She looked…ordinary. Like a diamond in the rough. She was down to earth, and a maybe even a smudge of crazy seeing as how she nonchalantly sipped coffee with a stranger who wouldn’t even tell her his real name.

“My Sherpa.

“Your...Sherpa?” said Sam rather confused at the prospect.

“Yeah – I do a lot of mountain climbing, and my Sherpa also gives me spiritual advice. He told me I would meet someone with a rare quality. And when you came up with that phony name as I was listening to the actual Jack Teagarden, I just knew that that was the rare quality he was talking about – a cultivated taste for the same obscure music I like.”

“That is pretty rare I guess,” said Sam.

The two of them sipped their coffee in silence for the next few minutes, occasionally making eye contact and smiling.

“Let’s go back to my place and listen to some records, Jack.”

“Would you like anything to drink, Sam?” asked Vera while setting her purse down on the indigo table next to a book on art nouveau.

Sam probed around the living room, feeling himself slipping into the life of Archie – the man who hired him to find out if Vera were cheating, not to be the one she cheats with. “Give me something hard.” Sam squirmed around in his seat. He calmed his mind by thinking presently. Archie’s home was much more refined than Sam would have given him credit for. Sure, he knew that Archie was a high roller, but by his out of shape appearance he didn’t think Archie would have such fine living sensibilities. It must have been Vera’s doing, thought Sam. The living room was arranged in contemporary fashion with warm colors, while overhead fluorescent lights complimented the room’s architecture. As Sam sat down on the beige leather sectional, he felt the imprint of what could only have been Archie’s. “Make it a double,” shouted Sam to the Vera, now in the bar area. Chlorine infiltrated Sam’s nose from atrium outside of the living room housing a swimming pool. “You and Archie live quite the wonderful life,” Sam said to Vera while she handed him his drink.

“Are you happy with him?”

Vera sighed again. “What’s happiness, Jack?”

“If you’re unhappy then why not just divorce him – take half?”

“I don’t care about money.” Vera set her empty glass on the table, slid her bare feet across Sam’s lap, and put a cigarette to her deep red lips. “Got a light?”

Sam reached into his tweed coat pocket, produced a zippo, and lit Vera’s cigarette.

“And besides, even if I did care about money I can’t take half because he made me sign a prenup. He’d have to…” Vera hesitated.

“Have to what?”

“Die.”

Sam ran his fingers through Vera’s soft brown hair; the length of which reached past her breasts and nearly sat on her lap. Vera stared intently into Sam’s eyes for about three seconds, though it felt like an eternity to Sam. Before he knew it his tongue was pressed against Vera’s. Sam stopped himself from going any further. “This isn’t right, Vera. I’ve been lying to you.”

Vera’s ears pricked up and her gaze deepened.

“My real name…It’s Sam Starks.”

“Sam Starks? As in private detective Sam Starks?”

“That’s right.”

Vera darted up from her seat. “You don’t like jazz, do you?”

“Of course I do, that part was sincere. Like you said, maybe this was destiny.” Sam reaches for her shoulder.

“Don’t touch me! You’re a liar, just like the rest of ‘em!” Vera turned around and Sam could hear her weeping faintly. “My husband, did he put you up to this?”

“I can’t put my client at risk, Vera, it’s not ethical.”

“But you can tell me that you’ve been hired to follow me? That’s ethical?” Vera stomped over to the front door and opened it. “I’d like you to leave, Mr. Starks.”

“…it was your husband,” confessed Sam. “He hired me to find out if you were cheating on him.”

"So Archie did hire you?" she asked, not sounding at all shocked. "How long have you been following me?"

"Just a day. I only followed you for a second before I met you in the taxi,” Sam confessed.

“You’re an idiot, Jack, err, Sam - ugh! That’s not why Archie wanted me followed, you fool!”

“Why then?” asked Sam.

“Because he’s blackmailing me…”

“Blackmailing you? How?”

“He has photos of me. He must’ve been using you to keep tabs on me to see where I went and who I talked to.

“I don’t understand. What’s the purpose of blackmailing your own wife?”

“I know things about him, and his company. Things that would put him away for a long time. You don’t get to the position he’s at in life by trusting people.”

“Do you know where he keeps these photos?”

“He keeps them at home, but they are locked in the safe in his office.”

“I can get them for you.”

Vera spun around. “You’d do that for me, Sam?”

“I feel just as duped as you do, Vera. And if there’s one thing that I don’t like, it’s being made a fool of.”

Vera leads Sam up the winding staircase to Archie’s office. Sam tries to turn the knob but it is locked. “Give me a hair pin.”

Vera did as Sam asked, and less than ten seconds later they were standing in Archie’s office. The entire room was surrounded by grass wall coverings, floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, and cabinet doors with stained glass windows and marble countertops. Vera almost immediately found the safe in question. “Here it is, Sam!” she exclaimed.

Sam knelt down on the birch hardwood floor and took a look at the safe.

“Can you open it?” asked Vera, seeming impatient.

“I don’t know…it’s a pretty sophisticated safe. It’s probably going to take a while.”

“Hurry up, Sam! We don’t have all night, Archie will be coming home in a few hours!”

“Alright, alright. Run out to my car – it’s the Acura parked across the street – and get me the black bag in the passenger seat.

“So, you’re telling me that Mrs. Valentine manipulated you into opening the safe to get “revealing photos” of her?” gathered detective Foley.

“Exactly. I didn’t even think to question her because I was taken aback by her and still pondering Archie’s deception in my head.”

“That’s some heck of a story you got there, kid. What happened next?”

“After about two hours I managed to get the safe open. Inside it was just a large manila envelope containing what I thought were the pictures Vera was obsessing over. I didn’t second guess her, or even ask to look. I didn’t think she’d want me seeing those photos – whatever they were – either.”

“Oh my god! Thank you, Sam!” Vera jumped up and squeezed Sam with all of her limbs. “You’re welcome, Vera. I should probably get going now before Archie comes home.”

“Nonsense; you’re not going anywhere, darling.” Vera began to undress the buttons of Sam’s shirt and pushed him on the bed.

Sam’s heart was pounding. “Maybe we should wait another time, Vera…” The reason and logic side of his brain shut down with the first kiss Vera planted on his lips. “Fuck it.”

“Take off your pants,” ordered Vera.

Sam did so without protest, and Vera excused herself to the bathroom.

“I’ll be right back, just have to freshen up.” Vera came back out of the bathroom thirteen minutes later wearing a black polka dot mesh corset with a satin bow and ruffled embellishments. Sam took immediate notice, and his cigarette fell from between his lips onto the carpet. Vera snuffed the cigarette out with the heel of her black Christian Louboutins and pushed Sam’s back onto the bed. She climbed on top of him and began to nibble on his ear.

"Stop, stop," said Sam. "I think heard something.”

"That's impossible, Archie shouldn’t get home for at least another hour," replied Vera.

"Vera? Where the hell are you?" screams Archie, making his way up the twisting staircase.

“Oh shit, get in the closet!" orders Vera to Sam.

Sam gets in the closet and Vera puts her jeans and wool sweater on over her lingerie just as Archie walks into the room.

"Hey honey, what are you doing home so early?" Vera runs over to give Archie a kiss.

"Why don't you tell me what I'm doing home "so early"?" menaced Mr. Valentine as he grabbed Vera by her shoulders and violently pushed her back.

"Baby what’s wrong?" Vera asked innocently.

"Don’t “baby” me! I know everything that you’ve been up to, Vera! I've had my suspicions about you, but I never knew for sure. Until I got a message from the investigator I hired to follow you detailing how you were with a man… here...in our house just fifteen minutes ago!

“How the hell...” thought Sam, listening intently with his ear to the door.

“But baby...”

“But baby nothing!” barked Mr. Valentine, searching anxiously around the room.

“Is this his? Are these the pants of the guy you’ve been fucking behind my back?”

“Those are your pants darling, I remember buying --”

“Shut up! You think I don’t know what my own clothes look like?!” Archie pulls a gun from his coat and points it at Vera.

“Okay, Archie. I have been having an affair. Why wouldn’t I?” Vera walks right up to Archie.

“Don’t test me babe, I’m not afraid to use this thing!” exclaimed Archie, hands nervously clutched onto the six shooter. In his hands they gun looked even bigger than he was standing there in his brown overcoat and green trousers.

“What are you going to do, Archie? Shoot me? Murder me? And then what? You think you can just waltz on out of here, case closed?

“Fuck you, Vera!” Archie reassured control of the gun with his left hand, sweat poured profusely down his face drenching his collar. “I don’t care if I get away with it!”

Archie closed his eyes and his muscles began to tense.

Sam was listening and watching from inside of the closet, and he recognized that moment right before the trigger is pulled. He had himself been in the position of both Archie and Vera before, and every single time it was his wits that got him out of it. This situation was no different. Sam burst out of the closet like the round from a pistol and flung himself onto Archie.

“Sam!” screamed Vera.

“Sam?!” yelled Mr. Valentine.

Sam had the business end of his Colt Single Action Army angled at Valentine’s balding head. “Sam...You son of a bitch! You set me up?!”

“I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about, Valentine. But you better start making sense real quick!”

“What kind of detective are you, Starks?” probed Archie. I pay you thousands of dollars and you go sleep with my wife and try to kill me?”

“I didn’t sleep with your wife, and you also didn’t tell me you were blackmailing her.”

“Blackmail? I’m not blackmailing her!”

“Shoot him, Sam!” screaming Vera.

“You helped her into my safe didn’t you? Didn’t you?!”

“What’s he talking about, Vera?”

“He’s trying to save his own ass, Sam. Don’t be stupid! Shoot him before he shoots me!”

“This was not supposed to go down like this!” said Sam.

“My ass it wasn’t,” said Archie, inching toward his gun on the floor.

“Don’t do it, Arch...” said Sam, assessing the situation.

“You lied to me about everything Sam… You stole my woman, and are pointing that peacemaker at me in my own home. You were honest about one thing, though...”

“What’s that?”

“You are a dick!”

Archie dashes for his gun and Sam puts a bullet in the back of his skull. Sam had seen a dead body plenty of time before, but Vera obviously hadn’t. “I’m going to be sick” shouted Vera running toward the trashcan.

Sam stared at what was left of Archie while Vera puked her guts out in the trashcan opposite of the bed. “It’s been a long time since I killed somebody…but the feeling is always the same.” He sat on the bed overlooking Archie’s lifeless body and lit a cigarette. "What did he mean, ‘I set him up’?" questioned Sam softly to himself.

Vera was still spitting what was left of her innocence in the trashcan.

“We have to get rid of this body,” said Sam, starting at Archie and running his gun through his own hair.

“I think that’s a matter for the police, dear.”

"Are you crazy? Cheating wife with lover and dead husband on the floor? Not exactly a strong case presents itself on our behalf, Vera… He said I messaged him...Why would he think that I messaged him?"

"Because you did message him, Sam.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You messaged him while I was in the bathroom changing around. You told him to come over, that you had found me with another man.”

“If this is your idea of a joke then it’s not fucking funny.”

“Oh, yes you did, sweety,” coaxed Vera as she rubbed Sam’s blood red cheeks. “Right after you stalked me all day long, broke into my husband’s safe, and tried to rape me, you called my husband over to murder him in cold blood.”

Sam’s head began to pound with the echo of the gunshot that killed Archie Valentine. “This can’t be happening… I’ll call the police - they’ll believe me!”

“Will they?”

“Not a firm believer in “the truth always prevails are you?”

“I’m not when “the truth” is easily manipulated, Sam. You’re the one holding the tainted gun. The bullet in my husband’s head will match with your pistol. What do you think the police will do when they find out the tools that were used to break into his office were yours. Or that your fingerprints are all over the house? I’ve been planning this for a long time, Sam. I was going to kill Archie myself. I was going to poison his food, a slow but sure method. But the problem with that is all signs would lead to me, so when I found your card in his jacket pocket I knew I could use you to my advantage.”

“Why’d you do it, Vera? You could have just left him!”

“I could’ve. But then I wouldn’t have gotten these,” Vera pulls out the contents of the manila envelope.

“Bearer bonds?” screamed Sam.

“Correction: a new life. With these bonds I have enough money to go wherever I want, do whatever I want, and be with whoever I want.”

“I’m afraid I can’t let you get away with this…”

Sam’s sentence is cut short by the sound of police sirens getting closer down the street.

“I called the cops, Sam. Right after you tried to rape me and killed my husband.”

Sam nervously looks through the blinds to the army of squad cars below. “If I’m going down, so are you baby.”

“And what are you going to do with your ‘truth’? Tell them what? That you tried to fuck your client’s wife and the client conveniently ended up dead courtesy of a bullet from your gun? And then what are you going to tell them? More fairy tales about how it was me who sent the message for Archie to come over? It was sent from your phone, Sam. Wake up!”

“Sam Starks, come out with your hands over your head!” shouted the Police captain from the megaphone.

“Better do what they say, Sam.”

“Fuck off…”

“If I scream they’ll breach this house in less than fifteen seconds, you don’t want that. Go on, surrender, Sam. You’ve been caught red-handed.”

“Have I?” said Sam.

“Don’t play that psychology bullshit on me; I’m the one holding the cards here!”

“Because you conned me into killing your husband and stealing millions of dollars’ worth of bearer bonds?”

“Are you having a panic induced stupidity attack? That’s exactly why! Gosh, you strong shy types are all brawn, no brain after all.”

Sam reaches into his coat pocket and takes out his cell phone.

“It’s too late for that, Sam!”

Sam smiles and turns the phone toward Vera:

“I was going to kill Archie myself. I was going to poison his food, a slow but sure method. The problem with that is all signs would lead to me, so when I found your card in his jacket pocket I knew I could use you to my advantage.”

The smirk vanished from Vera’s face, replaced by a cynical crying/laughter. “Guess I underestimated you.”

“Seems that way,” said Sam. “Only one thing left to do.”

“I couldn’t have said it better myself,” said Vera as she grabbed Archie’s gun and put it to her head.

“No!” screamed Sam, who darted toward Vera, slamming her into the end table and knocking her and the gun onto the floor. The police rushed into the room an instant later and threw Sam flat on his face.

“Are you okay, ma’am?” asked detective McLane.

Mrs. Valentine was completely silent.

“We’re going to get you some help, and make sure that this sicko gets what’s coming to him.”

2012 Artisin

A Little (lot) About Me

artisin@artisincity.com (Artisin) — Mon, 30 Jan 2012 09:02:49 GMT

When I got into this line of work, I didn't have a clue. I've always had a knack for formulating thoughts and formatting said thoughts into comprehensible and, for the most part, easily accessible narratives most readers enjoyed, or at the very least vehemently hated. But the focus was missing.

In the early fall of '07, I sold a research paper I wrote in college on Stephen Crane and the Red Badge Of Courage to oboulo.com, and thought I was a published writer. So, naturally I sought more opportunities in this strange Internet land where people would pay me for what I've been doing in school all my life, free of charge. That didn't pan out so well. My first gig, fresh off a firing from Bloom, was writing for Gosuarena. I picked Gosu, because honestly, they were the first ones I found on Craigslist that would pay. And pay they did, but not nearly enough to earn a living. Hell, it was hardly enough to afford a weeks worth of lunch. School lunch. But I wrote regardless, because I loved writing, and Gosu rekindled a lost childhood love affair with videogames.

Around the summer of '08, I went on to write for moresay.com, working closely with Brigador Stamback doing cartoon and entertainment blog posts. She didn't pay me, but it wasn't about the money. Not that I would've turned down an offer, mind you. It was about doing what I wanted, because that was the story of my life, and switching stories mid-narrative is just plain silly. I kept writing, but the site screeched to a halt. (Though I hear it's back up, good for you Brigador!)

My newly-appointed girlfriend at the time, though, didn't appreciate my noble rebellion against the retail coal mines in favor of doing what I loved. Being the sucker for love that I am, I again wanted more.

In D.C., during the second month of '09, I discovered a political research firm willing to bring me aboard for an intern position. So I interviewed, accepted the position, and began work on a project intended to better educate high school and college students on how congress works. (Which, ironically, doesn't work). I spent a few months at Federal Network, Inc. before realizing the mere promise of possibly being offered a paid position was not worth doing something my heart wasn't in.

During the summer of '09, I started writing for Spiteful Critic under editor Brandon Root. Here I was free to write about whatever I wanted, so long it was one of three things: a list, social commentary or humorous insight. I'm not particularly proud of my work there, even though my article on the Top Ten Rappers of The Decade got over 1,000 Facebook shares and over 100,000 hits. Most of it was the kind of snarky and amateurish "Look At Me, I'm Writing On The Interwebz" gibberish. It was a learning experience. I learned that 100,000 hits translates into about twenty bucks.

Around the time me and my girlfriend broke it off (A Very Special Christmas '09), I had started my own website. Much like me, the site didn't have focus. I blogged about hip hop, videogames and women, in no particular order. The women aspect was the biggest traffic draw, and I soon found myself a sort of Internet image pimp. This wasn't what I wanted. As if by a stroke of destiny, or stroke of a disgruntled employee's hammer to a GoDaddy server, every story I ever blogged vanished from the site. But I'm getting ahead of myself. During the three months I actively blogged for Artisin City, my ex-girlfriend and I had our backslide. The next morning, I tagged along with her to look at a house, because that's what people who backslide do to prove their not just sluts, right? The house was magnificent; much more than I could afford, or she for that matter. While looking around the basement, an older and much wealthier dressed couple were giving me the stink-eye. Probably wondering what a poor, wannabe writer like me was doing looking at their new home. I vowed at that moment to find some better gigs and further my freelance career. I applied ferociously to online publications and gigs of all sorts, but before anyone could reply, my I-Don't-Know-What-To-Call-Her-At-This-Point lady friend decidedly stopped talking to me, in mid-text at that. To this day, I don't know what set this off. Perhaps it was the lack of a high paying job, or job at all for that matter. Or maybe it was my lack of interest in her marriage advancements. But, more than likely, it was going out of my way to text her frenemy, who coincidently started working with her that very day. Hmm.

Anyway, I got a gig as an SEO marketer for Matt Brooks, writing tons of SEO articles for his company's model ships blogs (handcraftedmodelships.com, handcraftednauticaldecor.com), and rewriting copy for his many online stores. Then came the clients. I started rationing off my skill set to several companies, each wanting a piece of the almighty first page on Google. My name wasn't attached to most of these, and more often than not, it was replaced with another person's byline. My time as an SEO writer earned me a lot of work on sites such as TV Store Online, Wii Weight Loss, My Higher Education, Nasal Sinus Irrigation, Find A Muralist, Insurance Auto Info and IRS Tax Attorneys Info. If it sounds boring to read, it was even more boring to write. Except for a few notable gigs, such as writing Alexx Thompson's bio and Central Elements "About" page. There was also Eduardo Xavier, this fashion designer who hired me to write the descriptions of his formal wear on the aptly titled site eduardo-xavier.com.That was pretty cool, and I wasn't bothered too much when my site vanished into the ethernet. I was finally paid to write, but it still wasn't what I wanted to do.

Examiner dot com would be my next destination, where I was (and still am when I feel like it) the DC Console Games Examiner. I weened myself off the SEO, and even burnt some bridges in the process, but I found steady work writing for Demand Media a full year after my mutual breakup. I also applied, and was accepted to Break Studios, Suite 101 and Bright Hub, of which I have wrote the upper end of one article. And here I am, almost a year later, a new girlfriend who loves me for who I am, a child whose life I am responsible for not fucking up, and a waning amount of content left to claim from Demand Studios. Where do I go from here? I refuse to hustle backwards, and so I'm feverishly pitching articles to videogame publications faster than they can reject them. This is the hardest part, trying to get a foot in that goddamned door. But now that I have experience under my belt, a reason to build a career out of these freelance scraps I got, and a goddamned clue at what the hell it is I'm doing, I know that the future won't be such a shitty place after all.

2012 Artisin

5 Reasons It's Good to be an Insomniac

artisin@artisincity.com (Artisin) — Mon, 30 Jan 2012 08:39:00 GMT

Note: This post was originally intended for Cracked Magazine, but it ultimately fell on its ass. So instead of letting it rot away in Pages I decided to share it here. Enjoy >_<

The ancient Egyptians believed sleep caused people to lose their minds and descend into death. You just believe the prime minister of Malaysia wants you dead. Perhaps you've already gone insane. Relax, there's nothing wrong with the occasional insomnia-fueled paranoid delusion. Take solace in it, and just be thankful you don't have to engage in a nightly game of Russian roulette with psychosis like your well rested co-workers do.

Oriental Nightmare Death Syndrome

In the late '70s and early '80s, 18 Laotian refugees mysteriously died in their sleep. The victims were allegedly healthy for being third world refugees, and the only plausible explanation anyone could come up with for these deaths were nightmares. And we're not talking pansy American nightmares about being naked in biology class in front of Becky Larson, but vengeful tree demon nightmares about being smothered to death, while Becky Larson laughs at your small penis. The condition goes by many names, none of which are the least bit coy, such as Oriental Nightmare Death Syndrome and Sudden and Unexplained Nocturnal Death in Sleep. SUNDS primarily affects Asians (the Hmong in particular) and even makes sure to kill around 3:00 a.m., because apparently it's got a grudge and a schedule to keep. If this is at all starting to sound familiar then you probably remember a little flick called "A Nightmare on Elm Street." And shit gets even more real when you take into account Freddy Krueger, the star of your nightmares in the 80s, was conceived after Wes Craven read a series of LA Times articles on Cambodian refugees dying from Oriental Nightmare Death Syndrome. Fortunately, those of us who are insomniacs are too preoccupied with who the fuck Tyler Durden is to go to sleep.

Exploding Head Syndrome

Okay, where can we go with this one other than the fact that this syndrome is named after what happens when a 12 gauge goes off in your face? You could probably stop right here and have more than enough reason to keep fueling your insomnia with an adderall and cocaine binge. Rather than having their heads exploded in one fell swoop, however, victims of this syndrome are instead subjected to night after night of mental torture in the form of "loud bangs" in their head, not unlike that of a bomb exploding, or a gunshot. These sound attacks usually occur right before, and while coming out of, deep sleep, and are accompanied with bright flashes, shortness of breath and increased heart rate. Think of it as going to sleep every night knowing that at some point, just when you get good and comfortable, almost capable of trust, somebody is going to throw a fucking grenade at you. And not unlike having actual grenades thrown at you randomly throughout the day, exploding head sufferers may exhibit post traumatic stress disorder and report symptoms such as feelings of fear and distress after an attack. The cause of this condition is unknown, but it believed to be connected with stress and fatigue. Others speculate it's caused by minor seizures that affect the temporal lobe, or sudden middle ear shifts that create loud bangs in the victim's head. Suddenly those soft whispers you sleeping folk call "hearing voices" or "going crazy" seem a whole lot better, eh?

Sleep Apnea

Finally, a condition that doesn't present itself with obvious terms like "death" or "exploding head," right? In fact, sleep apnea sounds deceptively close to "sleep happier." Kinda starting to make us insomniacs rethink our whole -- wait -- what's that? Sleep apnea sufferers temporarily stop breathing anywhere from a few seconds to minutes at a rate of about five to thirty times an hour?* That actually sounds kind of shitty. So, lets put this in perspective: say you stop breathing for thirty seconds seventeen times in an hour in an eight hour sleep cycle. That means for every hour, you spend 8.5 minutes of it not breathing, and for every eight hour period of sleep, a total of one hour and eight minutes of it is without oxygen. Those unfamiliar with what not breathing is may find their memory refreshed by having someone near them clasp their hands around their neck and apply pressure. Once the sleeping brain starts to realize it's not getting any oxygen, it signals the body to wake up, usually with a loud snort or cackle that disrupts sleep. In addition to fatigue from constantly suffocating and being startled awake, sleep apnea also raises the levels of carbon dioxide in the blood, making the heart beat faster and the brain release epinephrine, or adrenaline. This causes blood pressure to skyrocket and may even lead to heart failure, cardiac arrhythmia or coronary artery disease. Meaning suffers may eventually have to start keeping tabs on their diet to keep their heart in shape. Meanwhile, us insomniacs aren't concerned with our refrigerators unless someone puts another goddamn clue on the hangman post-it note.

Bruxism

Compared to being nightmared to death, experiencing head exploding psychological trauma or suffocating in your sleep, bruxism doesn't seem all that bad. After all, it's just a little teeth grinding, and who doesn't grind their teeth from time to time? People who don't have fucked up faces, that's who. As it turns out, even a bit of seemingly harmless night grinding can result in anywhere from losing a tooth to grinding your teeth into complete bone dust. In addition to having the mouth of an 18th century British whore, bruxism also affects the jaw, resulting in TMD/TMJ and the deformation of the face. Bruxism occurs as a result of stress, anxiety, or having hideously deformed teeth in the first place. If there is a silver lining in all this, it's that bruxism gives a sense of purpose to the meth addicted insomniacs out there who might, in a moment of weakness, think it's time to call it a night.

REM Sleep Behavior Disorder

Those of us unlucky enough to go to bed at night and wake up in the morning have two separate stages of sleep: non-rapid eye movement and rapid eye movement. Those suffering from REM Sleep Behavior Disorder, however, have another stage of sleep: complete fucking chaos. What this means is that the sleep paralysis your mind usually tricks your body with during REM sleep is noticeably absent, leaving your limbs free to go absolutely chimpanzee on whoever is sleeping next to you. The lack of paralysis during REM sleep allows persons with RBD to act out their dreams in the form of talking, screaming, punching, kicking, jumping and flailing of the arms. Meaning you're gonna need a new excuse to explain your black eye other than "sleeping with my husband."

2012 Artisin

5 Socially Unacceptable Behaviors That May Save Your Life

artisin@artisincity.com (Artisin) — Mon, 30 Jan 2012 08:33:41 GMT

Note: This post was originally pitched to Cracked Magazine, but ultimately nothing came of it. It is not complete, nor will it ever be complete. Sue me.

If society's judgmental expectations had a personified image, it would probably look something like The Pope and your grandma. While our list of "don'ts" may not be as ridiculous as they once were, the holiest of grandma's still expects certain behaviors from us. The catch that everyone fails to mention is that upon entering into society, you have a choice of not disappointing your sweet ol' grandma pope and, well, staying alive.

Farting

What Society Says

Few things make a man more uncomfortable than holding in a butt burp due to the presence of other people. Letting one loose, however, rarely results in the culprit fessing up, but instead leads to a finger-pointing game that plays out like an Agatha Christie novel. If you fart in America, there is no way around it, you're a filthy human being who recklessly disregards the feelings of others. What no one tells you, however, is that pressuring a man to hold his gas is much more cruel and unusual than being subjected to a few minutes of air pollution.

Why It's Good For You

The gas that passes through your colon and consequently into the nose of your loved ones isn't just something your body does to freak people out -- it's actually good for you. In order for your bowels to function properly, the gases created during your body's digestive process must be released, which helps move stubborn fecal matter through your colon. To put it bluntly, without the help of your body's natural gases, pooping would be a kind of torture even Guantanamo Bay would frown upon. By training yourself not to fart, you're basically telling the shit in your bowels "one ripped anus, please." Even better, regularly playing the butt trombone works out your core by causing your diaphragm, pelvic floor, posterior wall and stomach to compress. So next time someone tells you you're looking a little flabby in your gut, don't be ashamed to turn the place into mother$%$&ing Nagasaki.

Cursing

What Society Says:

For years society has wagged its judgmental finger toward those who curse: "If you don't have anything nice to say, Christian Bale, then don't say anything at all." Which in itself is a saying that may provoke, at the very least, an urge to scream "fuck you, you fucking fuck!" We don't like being told what to do or say, because quite frankly it pains us; and no amount of [expletive deleted] or "beep" heard on television is going to sway us of cursing's cathartic properties.

Why It's Good For You:

The British (no doubt seeking retribution for their excessive use of "cunt") have discovered that swearing alleviates symptoms of physical pain. What's more, they found that cursing may be an instinct picked up from millions of years of evolution: making the pain-induced "FUCK!" the equivalent of a dog or cat yelping when you slam their tail in the door. Britain psychologists at Keele University tested out their theory by asking 64 students to willingly submerge their hands in a bucket of freezing water for as long as they can. One group was told to curse as much as they wanted, while the other group could only yell non-swear words. The group given a green light to swear decisively kept their hands in the freezing water longer than the group forbidden to curse.

Masturbating

What Society Says

That's the problem, society doesn't really say anything about it, except "don't do it." Granted, it's not as bad as, say, when your grandparents were growing up and their parents used to backhand them for so much as touching it while peeing.

Why It's Good For You

Not only does jerking it at night put you out faster than Ambien, it also relieves stress and gives your body a cardio workout by increasing your heart rate and lowering your blood pressure. (Notice the use of "you"... Everyone knows.) And it doesn't stop there, as the health benefits keep coming (mind, meet gutter). A 2003 study determined that men who stick shift in their beds five times a week are a whole third less likely to get prostate cancer. While our male readers are busy cleaning out their potentially hazardous sperm, let's speak to the women for a second. Girls, did you know that those of you who flick the bean are more prone to orgasm during vaginal and oral sex? Which in turn makes us all happier and probably leads to us living longer lives. And did you also know that letting your boyfriend (or an equally handsome stranger on the Internet) watch you stoke the furry wall is a good way to...(aside to editor: "What? I need a truthful fact to back this up?) aw, screw it, just let me watch!

Not Making The Bed

What Society Says

"Cleanliness is next to godliness!" While I'm not sure what neat freak managed to get away with coining a phrase that compares the simple act of being clean to an all-mighty deity who could smite you with his dick, he apparently never had to deal with dust mites.

Why It's Good For You

Leaving your bed in a carefree pile of sheets and blankets after a particularly moist night (we're not judging) might just be your saving grace. According to a Kingston University study, house dust mites which cause asthma and allergies have a harder time surviving in the dry conditions of an aired-out bed as opposed to the tightly tucked moisture retainer of a made one. Combine that with the knowledge that the average bed may contain up to 1.5 million dust mites and suddenly shit just got real. Since dust mites thrive on damp conditions in your bed, leaving it unmade throughout the day can turn your sweat soaked bed into dry storage for your goods, effectively starving the pesky night mites.

Picking Your Nose

What Society Says

If you pick your nose in America, you should go kill yourself right now. Seriously, you might as well be a bottom-feeding pedophillic sociopath with a drug problem. God forbid you ever have a booger in plain sight on a date and you have to play nose gymnastics to get it off. And don't even think about touching it with your finger (yeah, the same fingers that have no problem holding your cock in place while you release a stream of bacteria).

Why It's Good For You

Dr. Friedrich Bischinger of Austria wants people to know that mining for nose gold not only makes us happier and closer with our bodies, but it also gives a jolt to our health. Apparently, picking your nose and subsequently eating your boogers is a way of naturally strengthening your immune system. Bischinger argues that your finger is a great resource for getting to places untravelled by tissue paper and finding the really dry type of brain poop that improves your immune system. Yummy.

References

Dean Somerset: The Health Benefits of Farting

http://deansomerset.com/2010/08/11/the-health-benefits-of-farting/

Time: Bleep! My Finger! Why Swearing Helps Ease Pain

http://www.time.com/time/magazine/article/0,9171,1913773,00.html

Men's Health: Health And Sexual Benefits of Masturbation

http://www.menshealth.com/health/health-and-sexual-benefits-masturbation

BBC: Untidy Beds May Keep Us Healthy

http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/4181629.stm

Med KB: Eating Your Nose Pickings -- Healthy

http://www.medkb.com/Uwe/Forum.aspx/med/2551/Eating-your-nose-pickings-Healthy

2012 Artisin

Gears of War: Infinite

artisin@artisincity.com (Artisin) — Mon, 30 Jan 2012 08:18:12 GMT

Note: This post was written for The Escapist Magazine as a challenge and is completely un-factual.

According to Cliff Bleszinski, a Kinect-controlled Gears of War/Infinity Blade spin-off is in the works, and it's coming "sooner than you'd expect."

Unless you've been living under a rock since late 2010 (or on an Android device), you're probably no stranger to ChAIR Entertainment's Infinity Blade. Despite the "on-rails" gameplay that inspires much Kinect criticism, Infinity Blade quickly became the fastest grossing app of all-time, and a testament to the potential of mobile gaming.

"Gamers really responded to Infinity Blade's fast-paced, frantic hack-and-slash gameplay on the iPhone," Bleszinski said in an interview with Gamepunx Magazine. Its success is proof that, yes, there is AAA life on mobile platforms -- but what about on Kinect? Core gamers remain polarized with motion controls, citing Kinect as a shovelware device hardly capable of carrying a hardcore game.

Cliff Bleszinski, the self-proclaimed "Tony Stark of videogames," wants to change all that with his new magnum opus Gears of War: Infinite.

"Epic has been trying to figure out how we could make a Gears Kinect game that wouldn't be just a rail shooter, and then we suddenly realized, 'Duh! The answer's right in front of our faces!'" said Bleszinski. The result is Gears of War: Infinite, an unlikely mash-up of two distinctly different franchises. Though Gears of War and Infinity Blade are worlds apart in both story and gameplay, Bleszinksi is determined to make the two worlds sync up in a significant way.

The mashup is set to take place between the second and third installments of Gears, relying on, and expanding upon, cannon from both the Gears and Infinity Blade franchises. After Gears of War 2, Marcus Fenix stumbles across the legend of the infinity blade: a sword stained with the blood of countless generations of vengeance-spurred knights. Curiosity piqued, Fenix embarks on a quest for the mystical sword and finds himself disarmed outside of an ancient castle crawling with medieval baddies.

"Marcus gets ambushed and his gun gets damaged so it can't shoot," Bleszinski explained like a child explaining a game to his father. "But the chainsaw still works, so suddenly the man who brought a gun to a sword fight is forced to get his hands dirty."

The Utah-based developer responsible for Infinity Blade, ChAIR Entertainment (a subsidiary of Epic Games), will work closely with Epic on Gears of War: Infinite. Epic is counting on ChAIR's "experience incorporating motion controls into a game using the Unreal Engine" to help smoothen the transition from iDevice to Kinect.

Whereas Infinity Blade relied on quick swipe and tap finger gestures, a similar Kinect experience will almost certainly utilize full-motion slash and stab arm gestures. Although the transitioning of the trench style of Gears into the point and tap style of Infinity Blade is a concept many might see as gimmicky, the always out-spoken Cliffy B remains enthusiastic:

"The best thing about Infinity Blade is that -- as anyone who's played through it can tell you -- the game has some serious sci-fi elements in its plot," he said. "There's also a ton of stuff that's been left vague up until now, like what planet [Infinity Blade] takes place on and when its events occurred. Now we get to fill in those gaps in an incredibly exciting way."

Bleszinski also teased the possibility of unlocking new content for Gears of War 3 while playing through Infinite: "When you hit certain milestones in Infinite, you'll unlock new content for Gears 3," Bleszinski said. "I don't want to spoil things, but it's possible that Marcus might get some new weapons and armor to use against the Locust hordes."

Though Cliff Bleszinski may not have succeeded in convincing Microsoft to let him dismember Master Chief in Gears 3, controlling Fenix in fully decked-out God-King armor might just make up for it.

2012 Artisin

How Penguins Could Increase Donkey Kong's Popularity

artisin@artisincity.com (Artisin) — Mon, 30 Jan 2012 08:14:30 GMT

Note: This story is a parody for the latest Bitmob Writing Challenge.

Apes Are Kind of Dicks

Rise of the Planet of the Apes was a box office triumph for 20th Century Fox, but a PR nightmare for apes everywhere. One ape in particular, felt "empowered" by the film:

"I have dealt with identity issues all my life," Donkey Kong said. "My name is Donkey Kong, for Christ's sake! I-I don't even know what that means!"

When questioned about the cuteness of penguins, Donkey Kong went on a diatribe against penguins that hurt his image even more:

"Penguins! Don't talk to me about penguins!" he said. "My former owner Mario used to beat me and force me to do menial tasks until I ran away. He built his fame off of animal cruelty by throwing me to my first death in my own game! Then he turns around and helps a penguin, of all creatures, find her misplaced baby in Mario 64! What kind of mother "misplaces" her baby? A penguin mother, that's who!"

The interview ends at this point, as Kong viciously ripped off the reporter's genitals and beat him to death with it.

People Feel Safer Around Penguins

Studies have shown 99.9 percent of people would rather be locked in a room full of penguins than a room filled with apes. The other .1 percent could not be reached for comment because they were locked in a room full of apes.

In response to Donkey Kong's comments, the mother Penguin from Mario 64's Cool Cool Mountain had this to say:

"I feel sorry for Donkey because he never had a real childhood. Mario was in a dark place then, and Donkey, unfortunately, witnessed it first hand. As for the comments about my capability as a mother, I beg to differ with Donkey. I am a great mother, and so are all penguins! On a completely unrelated note, if anyone has seen my baby Tuxie, please reach me on twitter at '@WHERE'SMYBABY?!?!' Thank you."

Morgan Freeman

March of The Penguins proved that penguins could carry a film. But they didn't do it entirely by themselves. Voice sensualist Morgan Freeman took time from his busy schedule to talk to us about penguins because he, quote, "never turns down a job."

"Everybody loves penguins," said Morgan Freeman, stroking a penguin in his lap. "What kind of person doesn't love penguins? It's a little known fact that there would be no wars if penguins ran the world."

When asked about possibly including a penguin sidekick next to Donkey Kong to rehabilitate the ape's image, Morgan replied "Oh, absolutely!"

"Remember when Eminem was getting flack for attacking gays? He turned the critics' accusations on their ears when he got on stage with Elton John for a touching duet. Donkey Kong could learn a lesson or two from Em."

We asked Morgan if he would do the voice of the penguin in a Donkey Kong game and Freeman enthusiastically voiced his desire to "go wherever the penguins go."

2012 Artisin

Untitled Sci-fi/RPG Sample Script

artisin@artisincity.com (Artisin) — Mon, 30 Jan 2012 08:04:53 GMT

EXT. SPACE - INTRO

Pitch black view of space. It is deafeningly silent. A freckle of bluish white light cuts through the darkness as the camera slowly zooms in on the glimmer as it increases in size. Haunting high pitched strings crescendo. A pillar shaped space ship comes into view...

INT. SPACE SHIP - BARRACKS - PLAYER'S QUARTERS

Camera centers on PLAYER'S closed eyes as they dart open and the music ends on a staccato note.

[HOVERING ROBOT]

"Ah! Finally awake I see. Come on now, no time to waste!"

Player is prompted to enter his/her name and gender.

The sleeping PLAYER comes into view with a noticeably frustrated [HOVERING ROBOT] floating overhead.

[HOVERING ROBOT]

"It is time for your meeting with the board, PLAYER. They will not tolerate another tardy entrance, even from the son/daughter of the HEAD OF COUNCIL."

The PLAYER shoo's [HOVERING ROBOT] away and pulls the sheets over his/her head.

Metallic prongs spring from the circular orb body of [HOVERING ROBOT] and pull the sheets off of PLAYER.

[HOVERING ROBOT]

"This is no time for indolence. The fate of [PLANET] is resting on the decision of council and time is of the essence! Your father wants you to succeed him as HEAD OF COUNCIL and will not start the meeting without you in attendance."

PLAYER reluctantly gets out of bed. The camera moves into first-person view and the player is free to roam around the room. Next to the bed is an antique desk from the 2000's. On the desk are text books which the player can examine. The first books reads "[DEONTOLOGIST MANIFESTO]. The author of the book is [HEAD OF COUNCIL]. The second book reads "[UTILITARIANS Vs. DEONTOLOGISTS]." The third book is an Earth military combat training manual with illustrations of combat maneuvers. On the side of PLAYER's bed are a set of interactive controls for the holographic communications display.

IF the PLAYER interacts with the controls, the display is turned on and the holoTV displays the news.

[NEWS CHANNEL]

[FEMALE ANCHOR]:

"...[UTILITARIAN] faction leader claims the people of Earth have been indoctrinated and brainwashed by the [DEONTOLOGISTS] to believe they can co-habit [ALIEN PLANET] with the [NATIVES] peacefully in the long term. Here is an excerpt of what [UTILITARIAN LEADER] had to say":

"[HEAD OF COUNCIL] wants you to believe we can co-exist with the [NATIVE] people. He relies on an antiquated ideology of morality in a time where Earthlings are starving to death on their own planet and killing each other at alarming rates. As our resources dwindle to dust, [HEAD OF COUNCIL] wastes precious time negotiating with a people who do not want to help us... A people who have long ago shunned us from the rest of the universe. If we do not act right now, and take what is rightfully ours, humanity as we know it will cease to exist! The time for talking has passed. If you are with me, you will do what is necessary to ensure survival in this dimension!"

[FEMALE ANCHOR]:

"The battle for the survival of mankind continues as the leaders of each party attempt to convince Earth of the best course of action: warfare or diplomacy."

[MALE ANCHOR]:

"What a dire situation, [FEMALE ANCHOR]. In other news, neo-pop singer Pos X has been arrested again. The star's latest arrest comes after allegedly handing out doses of the notorious club drug "Euphoria." He was bailed out and posted this message to his iLog almost immediately":

"My fans. The fascists are trying to put me away again, this time for enlightening people to the truth. The fact is, my music is more powerful than any drug, but those who chose to use EUPHORIA find their eyes opened to a new dimension of truth that both the [UTILITARIANS] and [DEONTOLOGISTS] fail to see. The key to our survival is not with brute military force or with political sanctions, but with LOVE. Can't you see what's going on, people?! They're trying to lock me up for spreading love!! But what these fascists don't get is that they can put Pos X under the jail, but they can't stop LOVE from spreading!!!"

The [NEWS CHANNEL] repeats in a loop.

IF the PLAYER attempts to leave the room before getting dressed [HOVERING ROBOT] is cued:

[HOVERING ROBOT]:

"While time IS of the essence, sir/ma'am, the council still observes traditional manners of...ahem...clothing."

On the far side of the room are a row of lockers. In locker number 1, PLAYER sees and can examine a military grade rifle and combat knife, but cannot pick them up yet. Locker number 2 has civilian clothes, either for a male of female depending on the player's gender preference. When the player opens locker number 3 he/she eyes a white uniform with the [DEONTOLOGIST] symbol displayed on the arm. The screen fades to black and the sound of clothing being put on his heard.

A voice is heard on the intercom.

[INTERCOM ANNOUNCER]:

"PLAYER, please report to the lower deck for the council meeting."

[HOVERING ROBOT]:

"Oh dear...we must hurry, PLAYER! Your father will not be pleased with my performance in keeping you up to task!"

INT. SPACE SHIP HALLWAY

Marching drums fade in as PLAYER enters the hallway, followed by a section of woodwinds playing a lingering melody and trumpets providing a sense of grandeur.

Opening credits fade in and out from the right side of the screen.

As PLAYER walks through the metallic framework of the hallway, he/she is greeted by crew members:

CREW MEMBER 1, OPERATING AN ELECTRIC PANEL IN THE HALLWAY:

"Good morning, PLAYER! Your father and the rest of the council are waiting for you in the command center. Better not keep him waiting, you know how he gets about tardiness."

CREW MEMBER 2, LEANING AGAINST WALL SMOKING A CIGARETTE:

"Did you hear what that bastard had to say this time? It was on [NEWS CHANNEL]. He's trying to incite a rebellion. God help us all."

PLAYER comes to a door and interacts with it to open it.

INT. SPACE SHIP LOBBY

[HOVERING BOT]:

"This way, PLAYER. We must not delay the meeting any further!"

The lobby is in stark contrast to the grays of the hallway before it, peppered with an assortment of Earth's plants. Overhead lights give off an artificial sunlight quality. The lobby is alive with activity, as crew members converse and children play. The holoTV plays a loop of the benefits of [NATIVE] planet.

As PLAYER walks across the lobby, the camera pans over to the left side window revealing space and the [NATIVE] planet.

[HOVERING BOT]:

"Ah! [NATIVE] planet. Beautiful, yes?"

PLAYER'S sight remains on the planet, the screen moves up and down in a slow nodding motion. [NATIVE] planet is an array of vast blue oceans, lush green forestry and deep yellow from the lights of the cities.

PLAYER may talk with the crew members in the lobby:

CREW MEMBER 3, STARING AT [NATIVE] PLANET:

"They say Earth used to look like that. Hard to imagine it now."

CREW MEMBER 4, TYPING ON HOLOPHONE:

"If the [DEONTOLOGISTS] succeed, this will be the most prominent and beneficial exchange of culture and science in the known universe!"

CHILD 1, PLAYING:

"My mom says [NATIVE] planet has lots and lots of cool toys!"

HOLOTV INFORMATION CHANNEL:

"...resources such as water, soil and oxygen remain untainted and plentiful on [NATIVE] planet. The planet consists of more than 70 percent water, compared to Earth's 30 percent, of which the majority is consumable. The other 30 percent of [NATIVE] planet is rich in natural vegetation and solar powered mega cities that co-exist with nature, rather than go against it..."

CREW MEMBER 5, WATCHING THE HOLOTV:

"Look at all that water! Can you believe the [NATIVE'S] actually just give it away? Don't cost nothing! I'm gonna drink so much when I get there that I'll be pissing out my ears!"

PLAYER must go up the stairs at the far end of the lobby and interact with the command center door. Once in the command center, a cut scene is prompted:

[HEAD OF COUNCIL]:

"Good of you to join us, PLAYER."

COUNCIL MEMBER:

"Can we begin? That is, if it's alright with you, PLAYER. Time is not exactly something we have the luxury of these days."

[HEAD OF COUNCIL]:

"Let's get straight into it then, shall we?

[Aside to PLAYER] Observe carefully, soon this command will become your responsibility.

As I'm sure you are all aware, the [UTILITARIAN] leader has increased his belligerence and advocacy of violence toward the [DEONTOLOGISTS] in the past several months. His movement is picking up momentum with disenfranchised Earthlings growing impatient with negotiations with the [NATIVES]. The Earth doesn't have much life left, but neither will our species if we do not delicately handle this transition into the new world."

COUNCIL MEMBER 2:

"Movement? More like damning us all!"

Council mumbles in agreement

[HEAD OF COUNCIL]:

"Which is exactly why we must seal negotiations today. There's no telling what [UTILITARIAN] sympathizers will resort to if the action is delayed any further."

An explosion rips through the wall of the command center, opening a vacuum of space ripping through the room. The alarm blares and the lights dim to flashing red. Several council members are sucked into the blackness of space.

[HEAD OF COUNCIL]:

"The emergency shutter doors! Get to the switch, PLAYER!"

PLAYER resumes control and must navigate to the emergency shutter door switch. The camera sways with panicky motion and movement controls are temporarily reversed. PLAYER interacts with the switch to seal the hole in the command center.

[HEAD OF COUNCIL], INJURED FROM BLAST:

"Those [UTILITARIAN]...bastards....[gasps for breath]...they don't know...what they've done! PLAYER, you're...our only hope... take this."

RECEIVED [HEAD OF COUNCIL'S LETTER]

[HEAD OF COUNCIL]:

"Get to the lifeboat....you must survive!"

2012 Artisin

StreetPass DC

artisin@artisincity.com (Artisin) — Mon, 30 Jan 2012 08:02:52 GMT

Against all odds, Nintendo successfully freed millions of gamers from the clutches of couch potato-ism. As if the Wii wasn't evil enough, the 3DS' StreetPass function gives gamers an excuse to actually leave the house completely. In what can only be described as phase two in Nintendo’s diabolical plot for world domination, underground StreetPass groups encouraging face to face meet-ups are sprouting up in major cities around the world. Is this a new face of gaming or the weirdest flash mob ever?

Nintendo 3DS’ StreetPass is a mobile function built into every 3DS emphasizing on-the-go gaming and social connections. The system’s always-on pedometer counts every step taken, and deposits a play coin for every 100 steps travelled to use in the 3DS store.

The meat of the StreetPass experience, however, is the system’s ability to notify and connect with other 3DS systems within a 100 foot radius. StreetPass alerts each gamer that they have encountered another 3DS owner nearby, and transfers data such as their Mii, last game played and a random tidbit of information they chose to share. Once connected, the screen simulates a Mii interaction between the two gamers and even shows the number of encounters with the same person.

Multiple meetings with the same person allow a personalized greeting to be displayed the next time the two gamers cross paths. Such random occurrences, unfortunately, are rare while walking down just any street. Joshua Lynsen – the creator of StreetPass DC – learned this fact all too well after returning to America from his trip to Japan in December 2010.

“I brought my copy of ‘Dragon Quest IX’ and kept the game's Tag Mode active as much as possible,” Lynsen said. “While the function failed to do much for me in America, I got a lot out of it during my time in Tokyo. That experience demonstrated to me the true potential — and fun — of games with Tag Mode functionality.”

Lynsen started the first StreetPass group in February as a grassroots movement for 3DS owners living in the DC metro area. The group holds regular meet-ups for gamers to exchange data and make genuine social connections in the presence of other gamers.

“The effort is intended to foster a certain sense of community among participants while they work together to unlock new content in games like ‘Dragon Quest IX,’ ‘Street Fighter IV: 3D Edition’ and other games for the Nintendo DS and Nintendo 3DS systems,” Lynsen said.

Each meeting is held in public so anyone can join in for free. The first event took place on April 9, 2011 at the US Navy Memorial in Wash. DC, with over 20 people attending. In just two months, StreetPass DC has already seen its Facebook fan page spike to a few hundred "likes" and even attracted attention from gaming publications such as Kotaku and Go Nintendo. The official Nintendo of America Twitter page even tweeted a link to the Lynsen’s StreetPass Network – a website detailing all known StreetPass groups in the world.

Lynsen’s DC group is the seed that inspired dozens of other StreetPass groups to sprout up around the world. In addition to DC, there are now groups in New York City, Los Angeles, Boston, Minneapolis and Nashville, as well as across Europe and Australia. As of April 17, there are 209 StreetPass groups from six continents listed on the StreetPass Network. Nintendo is also embracing the StreetPass movement, and for the first time ever, it allowed displays advertising StreetPass events at the Nintendo World Store in New York City. While the staying power of this phenomenon may be questioned as of now, there is no denying the momentum of the movement Joshua Lynsen pioneered with StreetPass DC.

2012 Artisin

How Not To Become a Sucessful Games Journalist

artisin@artisincity.com (Artisin) — Mon, 30 Jan 2012 08:01:20 GMT

"This is my ending and my new beginning, nostalgia..."

I'm not entirely sure what it is I do here. But let's keep it real, when it comes to games journalism, most of you folks are only concerned with getting your news fresh and quick and your reviews fast and hard. You want to know what your favorite gaming site is going to rate Modern Warfare 3 rather than know what meaningful story the reviewer took away from it. And you wouldn't be wrong to wonder that. I want to know if it's worth playing just like you, but it seems writers today only cover the surface of the game, pandering to an "I Want It Now" audience, and failing to relay what the game actually is. That's just not interesting enough for me.

As a life long player, enthusiast, and rehabilitated addict of videogames, I can't bring myself to debase what I consider an art form I love to mere categories and stats. A game is more than the sum of its parts. The writers who chose to only see games by the old GamePro method of Graphics, Sound, Control and Fun Factor are no better than men who only choose to see women as lips, breasts, hips and ass. A woman is more than a walking checklist-- there is a personality under that lovely exterior. Now I like a woman's assets as much as the next man, if not more, but healthy relationships aren't built on features alone -- they're defined by experience. Like I said earlier, I've known videogames all my life: How could I treat her like a random flirtation when she means more to me than that?

But when dollars are figuratively bursting out of publishers' pockets, and perfect "10"s start popping up in reviews of Grand Theft Auto 4, you gotta suspect something slutty just went down. Let's backtrack for a moment and acknowledge that it's true to a certain extent, that when a gamer sits down with his game for the first time, he's bound to notice how pretty said game is. But give that same gamer some actual time with the experience of playing, and he's going to make a connection if the game is right for him. He's going to go beneath the surface and take part in a unique experience, both on and off the game. This is what games journalism should be about -- the experience, not the surface. Of course, what do I know about games journalism? I have a hard time even swallowing the "journalism" part of that title. Perhaps it's time someone coined a new name for what it is we do here, "Game Porn," maybe.

More writers are concerned with getting review copies, an E3 pass, and posting the same news that's going to be posted on every webpage, RSS feed and social network not 5 minutes after the person who broke the story posted it. Now look, I'm just as into getting free games as anyone else. In fact, if you're a PR rep, feel free to send games at my leisure. And as for E3 -- Yes, please. But, the difference between an actual writer and a so-called games "journalist" is one's integrity is not for sale and the other's is.

The deeper I get into this industry, the more I start to feel like Ryan Gosling's character in The Ides of March. I won't spoil it for those who haven't yet seen it (see it), but I'm wading in a pool of corruption and, frankly, I'm not that good of a swimmer. All I see are a bunch of shirtless dudes tossing around the same beach ball, and not a woman or beer in sight. I think I'm going to get out of the water while my torso is still dry. If you need me, I'll be over by the back of the gate where the cool kids hang, smoking menthols and reminiscing about how much better Pizza Hut tasted when they had the Street Fighter II arcade in the lobby. Word.

2012 Artisin

What To Do When Your Girlfriend Wants You To Stop Gaming

artisin@artisincity.com (Artisin) — Mon, 07 Mar 2011 04:38:00 GMT

“Watch out for the guy in the bubble shield, he’s got a shotgun!!” screams your teammate, a little too loudly into your ear piece. But with the score tied 49-49, and one more death yielding the game to the blue team, his dramatized shouts are warranted. But just as you’re about to empty a family of needler rounds into “HaloGod67”, a voice from behind you exasperatingly says,

“Can you turn that down? I’m trying to read!”

And just like that it’s game over for you. The distracting remark that caused your team the game came from your ever-so-pissed girlfriend. For the hardcore gamer who refuses to “grow up” such pleas are all too familiar. Despite earning the horrible ire of non-gamer girlfriends, it’s hard for a diehard gamer to give up until he’s won the last fight, played through it again on the hardest difficulty, and collected all of the achievements.

If left untouched, the situation can reach the boiling point and the dreaded ultimatum may be presented: “It’s either the Xbox or me.” How did it get to this point? But more importantly how can this be resolved?

Everything was fine when you first met her – movies, dinner, and great sex. But soon the novelty of the new relationship wears off, and with it comes off the masks we wear to lure one another in. Eventually the movies become fewer and farther in between, the dinners become repetitive and stale, and the great sex is replaced with a few seizure-like seconds of “thanks for trying”. She finally sees you in your authentic form, as you now see her. Forget Sephiroth, Liquid Snake, or even Bowser – she’s worse than any digital antagonist you’ve ever encountered. To her, your gaming reflects a childish inability to cope with the pressures of the real world, and poses a threat to her position in your life. To you, her incessant nagging and threatening over your gaming makes her take on the form of an unholy, authoritarian Nazi vampire, who won’t rest until your entire video game collection is annihilated!

However, this cruel ultimatum she presents will not solve the problem, but will create new problems. Part of being in a relationship is sacrifice, but that shouldn’t mean sacrificing a life-long hobby that alleviates your daily stress. In spite of this, it is crucial that you do not counter this with the “fight fire with fire” mentality. Don’t believe me? Go ahead and see what happens when you turn the lights out as she’s reading, “How to Change Your Man in 10 Easy Steps” – it won’t be pretty.

The trick is to find a game she might be interested in so that she can “see what all the fuss is about,” and sit down with you for a gaming session. Then perhaps he will be happy to see you take part in his world and it will be a good reason for him to take part in yours. If the girlfriend's hobby of choice is reading it might mean a lot to her if you wanted to accompany her to the library every once in a while, or even join a faggy book club with her. You both will learn new things about each other by becoming involved in the other’s hobby. The authoritarian approach is not the way to make a relationship run smoothly; truly invest in each other, and you’ll find happiness together.

If that doesn’t work, yeah, you guys should probably break up

2012 Artisin

Are Smartphones Dumbing Us Down?

artisin@artisincity.com (Artisin) — Mon, 07 Mar 2011 04:32:00 GMT

The term ‘smartphone’ may be a tad misleading according to the recently published New York Times article, “Digital Devices Deprive Brain of Needed Downtime”. This is to say that frequent use of digital media can disrupt your brain’s downtime - a necessary component of internalizing information. Without this downtime the brain doesn’t have a chance to process information previously learned, resulting in chaotically cluttered and inattentive minds.

Chances are there are more than a few of you reading this article while accomplishing some cardio riding your local gym’s indoor bike or while in class when you really should be listening to your professor’s lecture (but don’t stop reading now on account of that), or even just walking down the street. While having a smartphone handy is excellent for spicing up mundane moments such as luring your thoughts away from the tedium of exercise, it does come at a price.

Users of digital devices tend to become obsessed with augmenting dull moments of their time with their phones, tablets, and laptops. It goes without saying that such devices are a great way to pass the time and to remain busy, but how busy is too busy? With our incessant need to compulsively communicate and stay in touch we are fatiguing our minds to the point that we do not benefit from our experiences and surrounding environments. The need to stay relevant and on the grid sucks away precious brain recovery time, and slows down our processing to a screeching halt. Scientists at the University of California came to discover the effects of constant digital stimulation on brain processing power through rat testing. Whenever the rats where in a strange place, their brains lighted up with activity. However, it wasn’t until the rats were given a break from exploration that they seemed to truly process what they just experienced, forming a concrete memory of their reality.

Being bombarded constantly by stimulation from digital devices takes invaluable moments away from the brain to reset itself and form a true realization of our experiences. Loren Frank, assistant professor in the department of physiology at the University of California states, “Almost certainly, downtime lets the brain go over experiences it’s had, solidify them and turn them into permanent long-term memories.” By constantly being glued to some form of digital media you curb the natural learning process of the brain.

2012 Artisin

The Top 5 Video Game Experiences of All Time

artisin@artisincity.com (Artisin) — Wed, 15 Dec 2010 22:38:00 GMT

Once in a while there comes along an experience that shapes the way that we look at things. A video game experience that makes something in your brain tingle. A game where simply a mere melody from its title screen sends nostalgia crawling up your spine. There are a few video games with these kinds of experience that stick out in our minds; not just for being great games, but for their “wow” factors. Sometimes these experiences are shaped by our personal interpretations; i.e. revolving around what our lives meant at the time. Therefore, you may have a different top five list, but we can all agree that the following five games helped to shape the way video games are made even to this day.

5) Dead or Alive 2

Up until DOA 2 came out on the Dreamcast in 2000, fighting games had been rather stiff. Tecmo changed all that when they introduced the fighter with sex appeal in an all new light. DOA 2 brought fluidity to fighting games; the same way Virtua Fighter introduced the genre and Tekken contributed bone breaking. Thanks to the intuitive counter system, the characters in DOA 2 appeared to actually be fighting with one another, and not just doing move after move. I can still remember the sense of awe I felt after I knocked somebody off of the Chinatown roof into the neon lights below. Do I even have to mention the female “bounce” that DOA pioneered? Didn’t think so.

4) Metal Gear Solid

When I first rented Metal Gear Solid from Blockbuster I had no idea what to expect. Actually, I had rented GoldenEye 007 for the N64, and it was my brother who picked up Metal Gear Solid. By the next day I had completely forgotten about GoldenEye and was immersed in Metal Gear Solid's enthralling story and gameplay. I was taken completely off guard as if Solid Snake himself had snuck up behind me and choked me out. From the start I realized that this was no ordinary game, but an event in video game history. The exhilarating thrill I got from hiding behind cover and sneaking out to choke out a guard, or running away from security cameras was unlike anything I had ever experienced in a video game. The incredible cinematic presentation, natural dialog and voice acting, superb graphics, and stealth gameplay introduced a new type of video game experience that is still incorporated today.

3) The Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time

From the first time you were greeted by that melodic tune as you load up the cartridge, to your first time on horseback exploring the vast depths of Hyrule, Ocarina of Time immersed you in a new video game experience. That experience came to take video games to a new level of depth and exploration in a virtual world. Never before had such large environments with no particular direction been incorporated into a game in such a way. Ocarina of Time brought you into a vast new world different from other games at the time, giving an unparalleled sense of adventure and fantasy. The green fields and blue skies still stick out in my memory to this day as one of the greatest video game experiences of all time.

2) Mario 64

No one thought that Mario would be able to make the transition from 2D to 3D while retaining the same feel as the old games, but boy did Mario 64 prove them wrong.
Mario 64 wowed the world over with its incredible graphics and large environments. As one of only two launch titles, Mario 64 helped propel the Nintendo 64 through the holidays of 1996. You didn't even have to play the game, but could just watch and be astounded as Mario ran and jumped in all his 64-bit glory. Today, this 3D formula for Mario has produced some of his best video games such as Super Mario Galaxy 2, but none of the new titles could ever replicate the feeling of moving Mario around in 3D for the first time.

1) Halo: Combat Evolved

Like it or not, Halo changed the face of gaming for the better. Its intuitive control scheme, regenerating health, weapon limits, and many other aspects have become commonplace in all FPS to this day. But what set Halo: CE apart from any other video game at the time started the moment Master Chief’s escape pod crash landed in a burning blaze onto the Halo ring. From that moment on you knew that you weren’t playing an ordinary game. Never before had such an expansive world been detailed by a video game. As I adventured through this alien world for the first time I was wide eyed at the amount of detail, and stupefied by the endless terrain I had to traverse. The look down from the crossing bridge to the next plateau as a hostile alien ship hovered overhead, deafening whir pulsating through my subs, became a defining moment in the history of video games. The premier first person shooter on consoles had arrived.

2012 Artisin

Mark Zuckerberg: TIME Magazine Person of the Year

artisin@artisincity.com (Artisin) — Wed, 15 Dec 2010 22:27:00 GMT

TIME Magazine can’t stress enough the fact that their Person of the Year award “is not an honor”. In 1938, Adolf Hitler was named TIME Magazine’s Person of the Year. Unlike Hitler, however, Zuckerberg fast tracked the world to complete connectivity through a global social network. And at a babyish 26 years of age, billionaire college dropout Mark Zuckerberg is responsible for leading 550 million (or 1 out of every 12 people) into the social network at an astounding rate of 700,000 a day. If 700,000 is too big a number to comprehend, imagine that if you lived for 700,000 days you’d be 1,918 years old; which by that time Facebook would have added over 490 billion members, or about 72 times the Earth’s current population. Starting to get the picture? There’s no doubt that Facebook is a social revolution that won’t go the way of the dinosaur - *cough* MySpace *cough*. But the bigger question is where will it go?

The fundamental problem and question facing our generation is a private issue; and by private issue I mean it’s everybody’s business. The entire world is up in arms about losing their privacy to status updates, Tweets, Google Maps, YouTube, and even Kinect; though, they’d be hard pressed to stop using the Internet to yammer about it. While Facebook may not be upfront about it, Zuckerberg’s world of social integration gives its users their own choice as to how much privacy they allocate themselves. For instance, you can change your privacy settings to allow only certain people to see what you post on your wall, who posts on your wall, where you live, what you do, and how to reach you offline. Or you could simply avoid posting private things, or even stop posting altogether. Just don’t feel left out when the rest of the world lives in the cloud and you have your precious privacy all to yourself on the ground. According to CNN, privacy is dead, and either you get with the program (literally) or cease to exist (figuratively, of course).

While no one can be sure where innovators such as Mark Zuckerberg will take us with social networking, he certainly has the Internets going nuts and deserves to not be honored with TIME Magazine’s Person of the Year, Hitler or not.

2012 Artisin