Moe Lane's Blog, page 885
June 26, 2020
Sorry, this is a mental health day.
Nothing’s gelling and I’m worried that I have a cavity. Not so bad, now that the dentists are opening up again – except that mine promptly closed up again for renovations. I think that I’m running under a sleep deficit, too.
So I’m just taking the rest of the day off. See you folks tomorrow.
June 25, 2020
Tweet of the Day, I Don’t Think This Is False Perspective edition.
Or not much. Saltwater crocs are huge. 17 feet long, for males.
Saltwater Crocs are so B I G pic.twitter.com/11VONEAQMz
— Gators Daily
06/25/2020 Report, FROZEN DREAMS Kickstarter.
Today, I sat down and worked on revising the stories for the sampler. Structural edits, and so forth: I’ve done the deed on two out of six of them, and plan to have the others done by Sunday. After that, I will create the actual sampler and distribute it to backers. As I’ve said elsewhere: I don’t know if I should charge people on Amazon for these, at least at the sampler level. They’re going to get released without paid copy-editing or proper cover (the full short story collection will be released with both, but that’s a money issue), and that does make a difference.
Oh, well, that’s still a couple steps down the road.
06/25/2020 Snippet, HOLDOUTS.
Story’s proving to be a bit difficult to gel. An annoyance, that.
Patreon!“Told you,” said Pam as the three of us looked down at the crumpled body bag. She was pretty cheerful about it, and only a little bit smug. Pam likes being right; then again, don’t we all?
Once I was actually looking for it, the damned thing was easy enough to find; it had been stuffed down into what looked like an old septic tank, then had dirt scuffed over it. Greta looked slightly surprised that I had managed to track it down so quickly. “People are bad at hiding things,” I explained. “They always pick somewhere nobody’s going to want to look, so I start out by checking the places that smell the worst. Septic tanks and mass graves, Greta. Never hide things in those.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” said Greta. “That body bag isn’t current issue, by the way. It looks too old.”
“Yeah,” said Pam. “Before you ask: no fingerprints. What does it smell like, sir?”
The new CYBERPUNK 2077 story trailer.
CYBERPUNK 2077 looks quite neat-o.
Release date is September 17, 2020: although Steam thinks it’s coming out in November. I’m not sure how this is getting resolved, although I’m assuming November, just to be on the safe side. That seems… reasonable. Besides, I’ve waited this long.
Moe Lane
The “This Is Just Total Bull[expletive deleted]” GREENLAND trailer.
Just… no.
You don’t watch GREENLAND in theaters: you get it six months later and have a viewing party so that you can throw popcorn at the screen. Comets don’t work that way, comet fragments don’t work that way, social media doesn’t work that way, FEMA doesn’t work that way, cometary strikes don’t work that way, deep impacts don’t work that way, the military doesn’t work that way, planetary atmospheres REALLY don’t work that way, Greenland doesn’t work that way, and any international conspiracy capable of creating the Quest Object featured in the film absolutely, completely, and unquestionably doesn’t work that way.
Other than that? I guess it’s fine. Things blow up.
June 24, 2020
‘The Warrior.’
On the radio. In the drive-thru. I shamelessly sang along, to the horror of the cashier.
The SUPERMAN: MAN OF TOMORROW trailer.
It doesn’t look that bad, actually. As GeekTyrant noted, DC doesn’t do too badly with their animated movies. SUPERMAN: MAN OF TOMORROW looks like it might be cool.
And at least it doesn’t look grim.
06/24/2020 Snippet, HOLDOUTS.
Continuing on!
Patreon!I hate abandoned supermarkets. I’ve never been in one which wasn’t dangerous, one way or the other. This one looked more like the ‘jagged metal edges’ type than the ‘nest of savages’ one, or at least it didn’t smell like the latter. Once you get a whiff of that combination of old crap, rancid meat, and stale piss, you never forget it. It doesn’t matter if it’s feral vampires or humans, either. The smell doesn’t change.
Oh, the supermarket smelled like somebody died: both in the old days, and just recently. But the smell wasn’t being renewed regularly. I turned to Sax as we picked our way to the place where the feral was shot. “Why was somebody in here, anyway? And where’s his interview?”
“I don’t know, Special Agent,” Sax replied. “For both questions. Whoever found the feral made an anonymous call from a pay phone. The operator said it was a woman, probably an adult, and that she got off the phone really quickly.”
“Damn,” I said. “Well, there’s progress for you.” Not every town up here in the north had rebuilt enough infrastructure to have pay phones.
