creative writing

This tag is associated with 2 posts

Knee of the curve

In hindsight, I had a lot of fun new experiences in the last month and a half. This was despite my developing minor but chronic medical complexities since January of this year that lend itself to a whole host of stresses. Two months and a few days ago, I joined EVE Online after very inconsistent or indirect gaming experiences for years and years, such as logging into MUDs for socializing with old friends (that’s text-based multi-user dungeon for you folks playing Crysis on Ultra mode) and watching my boyfriend play his PS3 titles.

In fact, I knew what I was getting into when I was joining EVE Online. I had meant to play the game because I was thrilled by its portended difficulty. Also, less than two months after establishing my account, I would’ve completed a 45 page essay on EVE Online’s game interface and interactivity towards my degree in Cinema Studies. This was a few weeks ago. Now, looking back, the ache of the stress over academic pressures and the debilitating lack of self-confidence had faded almost into nothingness. Not just for this one paper, or this one class, but now I look back over the course of the last year and I think to myself: Wow, I did that. With the guidance and the kindness of many people, I have played hard and I have worked hard.

I had read a lot of articles about EVE before ever starting out on a trial account. Thus, on the thirteenth day, I was gutsy enough to be the last writer to meet the deadline for the 17th Blog Banter presented by CrazyKinux, where each of the eighty participants addressed the topic of how women have engaged with EVE Online, and how EVE Online ought to engage them in turn. With my modest knowledge amounting to an entry of nearly 3,000 words, and where other players may have far more in-game experience and astute writing background than I, CrazyKinux must’ve had his work cut out for him! Somehow, I have managed to find myself in his top ten winner’s list. My heart skipped a beat and butterflies (or frigates!) tickled my stomach when I read his announcement of the winning entries:

  1. The Ghost Report: Eve Blog Banter: The Girls Who Fly Spaceships
  2. “Prove It”: Women In EvE
  3. Blog Banter #17 – Women in Eve
  4. The Ladies of New Eden (An Analysis on How Men are not from Mars, & Women are not from Venus)
  5. Cloaked and Watching You: The Ladies of New Eden
  6. Space Broker: Gal-Ristas!
  7. Tech 2 stilettos
  8. It’s a woman’s world (they just don’t know it yet!)
  9. Ladies of New Eden
  10. Lady Vengeance, Or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Pew-Pew

And a list of recommended reads:

CrazyKinux pronounced that it was near impossible for him to designate who is actually ranked #1, and whom #10, because of the complexity and expansive style and content of all entries. Regardless of where I am placed, I am honoured to be mentioned at all in the 10th spot, on the same list as the talented individuals above me. There is much that I would like to learn from the diversity of style, humor and experience that these and other entries exemplify. The lovely thing is that creative activities such as this generate continual discussion, from forums to TeamSpeak to commenting on other blogs, and are furthermore written by individuals of differentiated interests and backgrounds. After all, I take the attitude that games do matter, even when actions taken within it appear to only affect a self-sustaining alternate universe, with a certain set of rules and premises for conventional behavior. Indeed, they help us build connections between peoples and ideas, both in mundane and exceptional actions in our lives.


Seasonal tempest

So uh, I’ve been writing original roleplays in forums lately. Don’t ask, I’ve been in an essay deluge, and badly needed a break, some kind of censorship against stress. EVE Online doesn’t help, because I’m bloody writing about 60 pages on it. I love everything about writing, and a lot about EVE Online, but sometimes I wonder about the physics of my own computer if I hurl it against the wall in a hissy fit. Poor thing’s only getting the end of my stick because it’s the stage where all of this plays out. But I digress. Here’s the roleplay “setting an imaginary stage” introductory post. It’s written fairly simplistically, because it’s supposed to generate interest and other writers’ much more precise and individualistic portrayals, not muddle such a possibility with narrowed writing from the get-go.

the first breath.

You’ve always known that there was something more at the edge of your consciousness. Something flaying reality out of the corner of your eye. You crave for a sustenance that isn’t there.

You’ve gone through the paces that society had set out for you. Gone to school, or gone to work, in the numerous gleaming structures that populate the urban sprawl like dandelions. You’ve flown in the latest civilian thrill-ride by the seat of your pants but you felt nothing, except maybe a bit of annoyance at how unexceptional it was. You’ve forgotten some hours and days. Conversations, similarly, seem disjointed. The responses that your parents, friends, and loved ones give you sometimes seem like they’re talking to someone else who isn’t there.

But sometimes, when you close your eyes, you see a radiance never imitated anywhere else, and an earthy warmth that feels solid and reassuring. There’s presences everywhere, of all shapes and sizes. Even if you can’t see them nor hear them, you think that they’re more real and free than anything else you’ve known.

what will happen.

One day, someone will approach you and claim to experience the same things as you, and he will seem to have a most sparkling vitality compared to anyone that you’ve met. He will demonstrate things that will seem absolutely magical to you. You have the feeling that he’s wise beyond his years, and indeed much later you’ll learn that this ‘person’ is comprised of the vital force of many living species, of animals and plants who share the creative throught-stream in the body of a human.

This visitor will initiate you into an order to protect and fight for Mother Nature at all costs. He will draw you away from the established, techno-crazy order of the human cities. Your relationship as this person’s apprentice will be tumultuous, as he may be your greatest ally or your greatest rival.

interplay of motivations.

Mother Nature is in shambles, and in anger, due to human inaction and greed. You’ve had this intuition for years prior to meeting your mentor, and what human society have tried to pull a wool over your eyes have been cast aside. When you first meet your mentor, you have an inkling to the power that you were given to protect Mother Nature, and all life on Earth as a result. These powers are coordinated to the power invested in the seasons, and the position of the Earth in relation to the sun, moon, and the stars. These will develop over time, in company of peers like yourself, and the species-mentors.
The continual drive for irresponsible technology have lead Mother Nature to erect this bastion of protection for all that she holds dear. But humans are varied in their opinions and their dispositions, and they change their politics as it suits them. Some may be willing to help the side of the environment, while others have vested interests and their hands are tied to their finances. Yet others are all the more willing to look for scapegoats for their displeasure, and are quick to label anything outside of civilized society as hacks and cheats to the system. How will you respond, in this world, your home?

EXTRA: mind of the praeceptors.

She has felt comprised of the multiple for as long as she can remember. Before she even had a body, emotions and the strategic rationalism of intellect. She knew that she was composed of thousands and more of different sources of vital energies. She can distinguish them like individual hairs, strands of thoughts and behaviors intertwined. Sometimes one snapped off in death, sometimes another one pricked forth with new life. She looked out across vistas and knew exactly where which one lived, and planned with them in the rhythms of their migration.

She, like other praeceptors, don’t necessarily often live in a cluster. Sometimes they’re amenable to coalescing together in small groups, connecting thoughts and experiences. Sometimes they avoid the company. It depends on the atmosphere. Some praeceptors extend beyond the bond of their species and into the joy of their ecosystems, comprising of the most daunting predators to the shivering grass. Their mind and presence are a wonder to behold.

She’s been given a human body, female, lithe, with the vaulted human intelligence. She thinks that her efferent network of partners are going to exist long after she’s gone. They’d just drift to another form capable of contemplating them, loving them, and regarding with them. She knows, with bone-deep certainty, that it was the kinship of respect that had allowed them to find each other, for her to find herself.

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