These7Days

23rd January 2011

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Week 2 - Song: The Fall

Here is a metal song I wrote late at night at some point durring the week. It’s a bit rough around the edges, but hey, it’s a metal song right?

Rage, The state I’m in/

unable to escape it.

I stand here restrained

all the world

it barren lies before me.

I, I am the one,

leader of all,

All my warriors stand behind me.

We, we stand in rage,

the tides of time are turned against me

I, am the one,

my will extends,

unchained by the mother,

She, mistress of all,

bends before me,

we unanointed lie together

But now, filled with rage

we crumbling face

the dying of our single breed.

She barren lies

scourged by the folly of unrestrained man.

The rage it stands,

the only lasting power still within my grasp

Purely by this might

my sword it gleams

unsheathed in the torment of the night.

23rd January 2011

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Week 2 - Story: Mother

I wrote this story for class, but I had to edit it to take out the dialogue. and FUUUUUUU, I just realized I didn’t save the original version in its complete form. GAAAAHHHRRRR. Anyway, here is the inferior edited version with no dialogue.

Mother

Light streams in to a spacious boudoir, nearly empty with only the bare minimum furniture for the maintenance of an impeccable lady, Mammi. Upon a bench, gazing into a mirror she sits, attended by blindfolded young boys. They slowly brush each arm and leg of the petite slender beauty, their motions practiced to perfection, steady and smooth strokes of the soft bristled brush. As the attendants reach the end of each limb two young girls approach from a small doorway hidden within the paneled walls. They bear bright yellow cloth meticulously folded. They place each drape of cloth on her with extreme symmetry and grace, each layer intricately interlocking to form a dazzling pattern. The two girls finish their work in unison and pause in silence. Mammi’s hands slowly reach out to rest on the young girls’ shoulders to either side of her. The door at the end of the chamber opens, visible to her through the mirror. A man dressed in the purest black suit with a black shirt and tie enters the room, treading silently on the carpet. As he approaches the lady looks slowly to her shoulder, revealing her profile to him with eyes closed.

His mouth opens, the sounds are unfamiliar. The words pass over Mammi like a cool tide. They seem polite an earnest. He stops a few paces from her, and the servants fall in line silently, facing him from the other side of the bench. The servants look straight ahead, perfectly motionless in his passing gaze. More words emerge. A tone of admiration and near awe fills his voice. Then, slowly, Mammi’s eyes open. The man takes a pace forward, looking at her in the mirror. His hand extends, gesturing gently towards her. He says one word with particular clarity, Adamine. He gestures to the door, bowing slightly. He walks from the room with a trim gate. She stands, placing her weight upon the waiting shoulders of her servants. She stands silently for a moment, her hands resting upon their tender shoulders. Her mouth slowly opens, as though she were about to utter a word. She pauses in mid motion, then slowly closes her mouth again. She turns gracefully and walks from the room.

*****

The royal family sits, beautifully fit in their finest silks, at a shining wooden table laden with the finest glass serving-ware and heaped with glistening roasts, quail, and curries. Their number stretches far across the room, seated an unbroken line of heredity and elevated unity. A young man sits at the head of the table, blond and tall with a dashing look but cruel mouth. The lady slowly walks into the room and climbs fluidly into a waiting throne, placed at the end of the table and elevated among them in a lofty isolation. Chatter begins a moment after she sits, it’s volume even and consistently kept at a warm murmur. Then, once and only for a moment, the lady lifts her gaze and her chin abruptly to look at him. His eyes gaze slowly at her as he shifts from speaking to one side of the table to the other, pausing only for an instant. The queen looks back down at her food, arranged only a morsel upon each plate. She begins to eat at a consistent and unbroken pace.

Now in silence they sit, the whole family with their hands held out waiting. Then, in unison, perfectly uniform rows of young supple hands hold out tongs. The towels steam for a moment in the royal hands, then are rapidly unfolded and placed upon their faces. In that very moment of contact a towel, hot and damp descends over her eyes. Small fingers draw back her shoulders slightly so she looks up into the now obscured chandelier, its light still dully piercing the soft fabric. The towel slowly lifts slightly, each corner grasped tightly. She feels a knot pull snugly upon the back of her head. The cloth is smooth and unforgiving. She is led silently by the hand, not slowing for the stairs descending from the high throne.

*****

The motion ceases and the hands are gone. A door clicks shut and silence settles around her. The air is cool and dry, smelling of old stone. The sound of a door, a new hand larger but still soft pulls her to the side, a thump of strong oak and the click of a lock. She kneels slowly down upon the fur laden floor. Muffled footsteps pace around her. Words controlled and commanding come from the direction of the footsteps. She sits, silent and still, listening to the slight tension in his breath and the crackling of a fire place. The voice speaks again, sentences and phrases jolt and grate Mammi’s ear. These last words are tinged with a hint of resentment. His footsteps grow suddenly near. Quickly and roughly his hands force the blindfold up off of her face. There above her the blond king stands clad in a white fox fur robe and immaculate white pants. His gaze is cold and steady. After a moment he tosses the black silk to the floor. After a moment he looks stolidly at a framed painting hanging above the mantle. She recognizes a face from the crowded table, a woman of superb beauty and poise. She had been sitting at this king’s left hand. Now the words come bitter. Slowly they grow to an angry growl. His sapphire eyes stare into the painted face of a king, crowned and haughty in his gleaming white gold armor. He falls silent, his face contorted in contempt. The sound of the fire fills the room. It is clear something important has been revealed. Is this his father in the painting? As the seconds pass Mammi looks down. She rests her gaze upon the empty face of the long dead wolf before her. A bell rings from the king’s direction. He gestures to himself. Sire, is this his name? He slips from view beneath a new fold of cloth.

*****

A new and unfamiliar room greets the sore and taxed Mammi. Again tiny hands emerge to disrobe her, leaving her in the steam of a personal bath. Suddenly, before she is able to step towards the water the children burst into view again. They cary a beautifully carved wood and cloth screen printed in a color to match the blue stone walls of the chamber. A light brings with it the shadow profile of a figure familiar yet mysterious. The edges of the portrait lengthily emerge into view before her, a silhouette of becoming proportions. A voice emerged from the steamy reaches of the room, its femininity does little to soften the hard commanding presence of its owner. The rhythmic drive of the silhouette’s voice powers down upon Mammi, enveloped in steam and held captive by the thrust of the words. The lady steps slowly towards the light of the screen. The words sound like a series of commands, yet the pauses seem somehow too infrequent. The shadow comes close. A warmth glows from within it. The words are clearer now. The voice seems velvety beneath its command. A breathy sensuality hidden within its strident volume. The Queen Mother cuts short. The sound of the lady’s breath cuts through the gurgling of the baths, piercing through the thin cloth of the shear barrier. Her hands slide smoothly along the glossy wood. She strides ever closer to the open passage. Grasping one hand upon the lip she proudly steps into the gleaming lamplight.

The queen mother sits stunned upon her cushioned chair, eyes fixated on Mammi’s face. The younger woman’s posture and stance reveal in the flickering glow the curves of her divine body. The Queen Mother’s eyes slowly travel the sumptuous lines. A single tear falls from her perfectly manicured lashes. She rises from her seat stepping hesitantly forward. The lady steps forward with a confident allure. Drops of moisture fall from her flowing hair to her supple skin. The small space between the two beauties fills with a palpable tension. Tiny beads of sweat hang upon the Queen Mother’s brow. A stern look passes suddenly over her face. Her words, harsh and sharp, shatter the silence. A blast of cold air makes goosebumps rise on Mammi’s bare limbs before the door swings heavily shut.

Alone in the steamy chamber Mammi falls to her knees and begins to weep.

*****

The procession extends for miles down from the mountain stronghold of the Royal Palace. Lilly petals stream from a thousand clean pink hands, cast by the wind into streams and eddies of white. Mammi, from her lofted litter. Smoke rises in the distance. The glow of bonfires is barely visible in the evening light. The sound of thousands of people lining the road booms at every side. Mammi tries to keep her eyes forward towards the horizon, but the sun’s low slung light makes it hard for her to bear. The throng screams at her. Over and over that strange name Adamine emerges from the din. When she glances momentarily to the side they go wild, jumping and reaching towards her hoping to touch her flowing white dress. Diamonds and pearls weigh heavily upon her head, neck, and chest.

As they grow closer to their destination Mammin begins to hear music. Coronets blare an imperial Fanfare. There they stand, amidst three towering fires the royal party waits in anticipation. She clenches her fists tightly. A priest is shouting in an new and equally unfamiliar language, addressing the thronging masses held back at the edge of the flames. The King stands rigidly, his face hard and eyes unforgiving. Behind him the Queen Mother stares intensely, her mouth a sharp thin line. The litter settles. The warriors bearing its weight kneel to the ground. A strange frenzied look takes hold on Mammi’s face. The King stifles a slight sneer. The Queen Mother’s eyes begin to show her anger. The crowd has fallen hushed. All is quiet around her but the roar of the flames.

A step comes. Then another. Mammi hesitates before touching the ground. She looks towards the King, her eyes wild. The gazes hungrily for a brief instant at the Queen Mother who had spurned her. Then in a burst of motion she leaps from the step. The shining white fabric of her gown flows out behind her. The crowd shrieks in surprise as the flames seem to burst forth to meet her. Roaring, screaming, thunderous sound envelops her as the cloth is charred from her skin. Her mouth opens for the last time in a fearsome cry of rage and anguish. Then only blackness remains.

23rd January 2011

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Week 2 - whoopsey

Well, the time has come around for my next vlog installment, and wouldn’t you know it my computer is going screwy on me. I have a lot of great things to show you guys, but it will have to wait until I can figure out what is going on. To tide you over I will post the still photo and text components of this week in advance of the video.

Hope you like it anyway, and check back later for the video!

17th January 2011

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Week 1 Mystery Document

As part of my 7 things for the week I present to you this rambling document I wrote the other day after doing laundry for an hour and a half, enjoy!:

Systematic approach to a challenge-based social dynamic simulation

Create a virtual infrastructure in which challenges are posed to the individual, these challenges will impose one another in certain steps of the processes necessary for their achievement. For instance the challenge to divert a body of water to a certain flow-dependent series of mechanisms for the production of a resource and constructing a structure high enough to reach a certain area in which a resource can be accessed, in conjunction with the slow continual yield of a third resource in areas unaffected by either digging or construction. These resources would in turn allow the completion of certain secondary goals, or towards an increase in efficiency or yield from the other challenges in the same area. These goal points (the water mechanisms and air-born resource location) could be located in different areas for each individual player, so that the completion of a structure to a certain point may aid another individual, but not necessarily achieve their own goal directly. The competition for land could be overcome either by all people in that area driving for a single resource by coordination of efforts, through voluntary momentary self-organization, a guild system, systematic bureaucracy, or even force-based state/gang control. Alternately the area could be subject to self-derived team competition. These actions could be further encouraged by shifts in yield levels over time for each resource, compelling them towards one goal over the others, while putting them at odds with players who’s priorities in the same areas are not in line with their own. The system would need to be made extremely robust against automatized system manipulation (using bots or hacks) and systematic disruption from individuals seeking to undermine the majority system in favor of chaos (trolls). The efforts would be made further subject to interpretation if certain abilities of individual players could be made inactive or reduced in effectiveness as a result of interpersonal interactions, either through a damage and attack system as is already present in current video games, through a democratic vote-based system (making the area or entire system much more vulnerable to gang-style majority rule), or even a wiki-type rewriting of an individual’s ability profile (being able to set one another’s balance of abilities, for instance elevation of jumping, horizontal jump distance, dig function volume, construction/object placement speed, movement speed, speech range/volume (the proximity within which other players must fall to hear them), attack power and defense (for a more typical video-game approach), and other aspects. This system would necessarily need to require that the same amount of ability “points” remained in the individual’s profile while allowing other players to change where the points were deposited. Resource collection could also contribute to an individual’s available points, with each new challenge achieved increasing the overall number of points in their profile, allowing them to place them for the first time in their desired profile aspect. Certain levels could even be made to include “concrete points” which would not be alterable by other players, say every 5 or 10 levels. Geographic variability in goals would play a huge role in the game experience, and goals could even be made in radial patterns, overlapping with some other goals in certain areas, and others in others. These geographic areas of control would further add to the diversity of individual motivations within the overall system, forcing some goals to be chosen over the entire area of that goal’s range by way of group force, or creating smaller geographic units by way of what overlap composition was found in each goal-combination sector. As a possible individual motivator there could be some sort of ultimate prize given to those who achieve certain goals only available to characters of high levels (similar to current MMORPGS), or by making the achievement of certain goals to an extreme extent (gathering a certain amount of a single resource) result in the triggering of some sort of event or individual gain (changing the terrain of the map, allowing the player to open a portal in one sector to another geographic map, giving them god-like powers within a specific sector (mod status), a shift in the goal pattern of the map (making that resource more scarce or abundant), or any combination thereof).

Utilize minecraft framework?

If each realm (a realm being a map contained on one side of a portal) had within it a different set of rules and attributes (how much each point effected each attribute for instance, or whether the points were under the control of the individual or everyone else, or only some other players, or how easy it was to open a portal (some worlds could be “nexus worlds” where it is easy to open portals to multiple other worlds) the dynamics of inter-realm relations could become extremely interesting. The actual manner in which points translate from one realm to another also introduces a new venue for dynamic change. For instance if the “birth” realm of a character gave them a set of susceptibilities and strengths (a preset concrete point in a certain attribute, or a better per-point benefit in specific attributes in certain other realms (think water worlds, earth worlds, gas worlds)) or points could translate only in one direction across a portal, leaving a character at square one if they choose to return to the realm from which they came.

Birthing: choose random or choose a set realm, with more points given to those choosing random. A “pioneer” would be given the chance to open a realm entirely to themselves, with the possibility of being followed shortly by others if they choose to reveal the name of the realm (or perhaps they must discover the name of the realm in some manner?) to other players who they want to play with, or alternately they must wait for the eventual entry of other “random” players. If they choose not to reveal their realm name they may well gain enough points or strategic knowledge of the attributes of the realm that they will gain a position of advantage in the realm when other players do arrive. If they can find a way to capitalize on these perks they may become kings or leaders among the people. Each player would necessarily be limited to a specific number of births per account in order to prevent seeking of pioneering opportunities.

NERD!