Tyler F.M. Edwards's Blog, page 69

WoW: Patch 6.0.2 Thoughts

It’s finally here. At long last, the pre-expansion patch for Warlords of Draenor has arrived, signifying the first significant patch for World of Warcraft in over a year. It’s not really that big a deal, but after the longest content drought in the game’s history, it feels like manna from Heaven.

At least at first. It’s turned out to be something of a rough ride.

New looks:

The most obvious change in patch 6.0 is the new character models for all pre-Cataclysm races except Blood Elves.

I have long been vocally critical of the idea of new character models, and I was very worried Blizzard was going to botch them horribly, but against all odds, I actually kind of like them.

It’s a huge change, to be sure, and I’m still making up my mind. There’s a lot of mixed feelings going on.

Supposedly, these updates were meant to capture the spirit of the original models — our characters should look the same, but better. Not sure what happened to that idea, because most models bear little or no resemblance to the originals. Human females, near and dear to my heart because of my rogue, are almost unrecognizable compared to their past selves.

This is how my rogue used to look:

This is how she looked after the patch:

Not very inspiring.

I would view this as a disaster if not for them adding the option to change your face for free in the barbershop. While I wasn’t happy with my new old face, I was able to find another that seems decent to me. This is Maigraith’s final look:

Still not perfect. I miss her predatory glare. On the plus side, the new facial expressions help make up for that loss. She looks a lot like her old self while fighting, running, or stealthed. Just not while idling.

I wound up changing faces for pretty much all of my affected characters. It’s not good that none of them looked like the originals, but since I was able to find faces I’m reasonably happy with, it works out in the end.

It’s still a very odd transition. I’m still making up my mind on exactly how I feel about things. I find my rogue’s new run animation entirely too bouncy, and her talk animation makes it impossible to imagine her saying anything other than, “Oh, no you di’int!”

But I do like how fluid the animations are now. I like how animated hair has become. I love her sprint animation — she’s gone full-Batman.

The change doesn’t seem quite so dramatic with the other races/genders that I play, and I’m largely okay with how they turned out — aside from having to change all their faces. My shaman looks so badass now I’m tempted to start playing him again.

There is, of course, a huge outcry about how much the models have changed.

It’s a bit ironic. Going in, I seemed to be the only one who didn’t want new models. Now I feel like the only one who likes them.

I can’t blame people for being upset, though. This is a huge change, not at all the faithful recreation Blizzard promised. The new models look good, but they don’t look like the originals.

This is exactly the sort of trainwreck I’ve been predicting since the idea of new models was first floated.

For my part, I find myself wondering why, if a complete overhaul was the plan after all, they didn’t fix issues like Orc males having hunchbacks for no reason?

A related issue is that many races have also received new combat grunts. The most bizarre thing about that is they also kept the old ones, so my character now calls out with two separate voices in combat. It’s very distracting, and I can’t imagine why they thought this was necessary. I guess somebody needed to justify a pay cheque.

They done broked it:

Then there’s the item squish. I rather like the idea of compressing numbers down to a more reasonable level, and I find it quite refreshing to be critting for a mere ten thousand damage, instead of a quarter of a million.

But it has had some odd side-effects.

Lower level content has been made vastly harder, and many people are finding it difficult if not impossible to progress.

I tried to do the revamped Blackfathom Deeps on a lowbie protection paladin, and even the smallest trash packs — where many mobs are not elite — were absolutely demolishing me. With a reasonably well-geared (by lowbie content standards) group, we wiped about half a dozen times before the first boss, and the boss itself butchered us like a hog.

So that was that.

Now, I’m all for making the lower levels a bit more challenging. I’m not a fan of just facerolling through everything with no effort at all. But I’m pretty sure a level twenty dungeon shouldn’t feel like doing heroic dungeons in quest greens back in Cataclysm. There’s a difference between challenging and broken.

This has also reminded me that the WoW community doesn’t really have the maturity to handle hard content. If something goes wrong, the group just turns on itself, and the insults start flying. Nothing is ever hard, and if you think it is, you’re a ****ing retard who should delete the game. People don’t look for solutions; they just look for someone to blame.

This is one reason I don’t make much of a stink about how easy WoW is, even though it’s a situation I’m really not happy with. I don’t want to be associated with the “L2P noob” crowd that is eager to attack anyone who ever admits to finding anything difficult.

If your only reaction to a struggling player is to tell them to learn to play, but not how to play, then you don’t deserve to play a game with challenging content.

Er, sorry, little off-topic there.

Anyway, the item squish. Aside from the low level issues, current content is also having some hiccups. I haven’t done any raids or dungeons beyond the new Upper Blackrock Spire since the patch, but I’m told many are suffering from boss abilities that were not squished and now one-shot entire raids. Terrace of the Endless Spring, for instance, is reported to be completely unplayable at the time of this writing.

I’m also hearing it reported that many outdated legendary weapons have suddenly become best in slot.

Did someone say, [Thunderfury, Blessed Blade of the Windseeker]?

It’s kind of baffling that problems this big and this numerous could slip through to the live game. I understand that the item squish is a massive and overwhelmingly complex task, but they had roughly half a year in beta and more resources than any other MMO developer out there. This shouldn’t have happened.

It is worth noting that, according to the latest hotfixes posted on Blizzard’s site, many of these issues have now been fixed, but I won’t have time to check for myself between now and when this post goes live.

On the other hand, the item squish has also had the odd effect of making lower level content ludicrously easy for max level players. This, at least, is intentional, though it still feels odd.

Before the patch, I could not solo Dragon Soul at all. Since the patch, my rogue was able to clear up to Spine of Deathwing with little trouble, and I only had to stop there because I couldn’t get the roll mechanic right.

I tried Bastion of Twilight and Firelands on my warlock, and they’re now as easy as Burning Crusade raids were before the patch. As for Burning Crusade raids, I’m practically one-shotting the bosses.

It’s all down to a new tech that vastly inflates player power versus stuff they outlevel. Crits for half a million damage from basic abilities without cooldowns. This also has the impact of making self-heals based on damage, like leeching poison, insanely overpowered.

It all feels quite strange. I like that I can solo so much more now, but it’s a bit of a shame there’s no longer any challenge in soloing.

Oh, right, there’s new content:

In the end, the least memorable part of patch 6.0 is the pre-expansion event: The Iron Tide. I wasn’t expecting much, so I’m not disappointed, but there really isn’t much to it.

The quest chain is so short and so dull it makes me wonder they bothered including it at all. It offers no story to speak of beyond, “A bunch of Orcs showed up out of nowhere and started killing people because reasons.” Even by WoW standards, the quest design is generic in the extreme. And they’re aren’t really any decent rewards.

The preview of the new Upper Blackrock Spire was a bit more fun, even if we only get to kill the first three bosses. This says more about how long it’s been since we got any new five-man content than about the quality of the dungeon itself, but after so long, new content is very refreshing.

On the downside, it really should have had a achievement, or some kind of unique reward.

The Hero of Orgrimmar:

Of course, the best part of this patch is that Gamon is finally getting the recognition he deserves.

Filed under: Games Tagged: fantasy, Warcraft, World of Warcraft

TSW: All-Seeing, All-Knowing

This weekend saw another repeat of the Gilded Rage event in The Secret World, bringing with it the usual double ability points and world bosses. As soon as it was announced, I knew my time had come.

At long last, I was approaching completion of my main’s ability wheel. I had only about a dozen abilities left to unlock, spread between pistols and shotguns.

I knew the Golden Weekend could take me over the top. And so I made myself a new leech build for killing golems, girded myself, and sat down to grind.

And I slew many a Blingzilla. And I endured lag, and poor tanking, and long hours of spamming Bloodline. I healed tanks, and I killed adds, and slew bosses from Kingsmouth to Kaidan.

The AP flowed quickly, yet so close to my goal, it felt agonizingly slow. I resisted the urge to buy a booster from the item store — must conserve bonus points for pretty clothes. I just kept fighting, boss after boss.

And thus, at long last, I came to the end of my journey. After nearly two years of playing and countless hours of farming, I bought my last few abilities and completed my wheel, earning the Panoptic Core.

Yay me.

I probably could have done this much sooner if not for my scatter-brained bouncing between games and my deranged need to play alts in TSW.

I do think the ability wheel is my favourite progression system to date in an RPG. It’s quite easy to create a build — or several — that works and is fun for a minimum of effort, but to complete it all takes vastly longer. It can keep you busy for weeks, months, or even years, yet it never feels like a grind, because you’re never really forced to keep advancing it. It provided a steady flow of accomplishment without being something you need to worry about.

And even now, I’m still far from “done.” I’ve still got my auxiliary and augment wheels to finish — I’ve barely started on those.

I also had some good luck with drops this Golden Weekend. Got myself a purple Signet of Breaching, a purple DPS augment, and enough bullion to upgrade my head talisman to 10.3. So it was a productive weekend all around.

Since I haven’t posted about TSW in a while, might as well chronicle some other recent adventures of interest.

Dungeon soloing:

Soloing out-leveled group content is one of my favourite things to do in WoW, but I always figured TSW’s light vertical progression would render such an impossibility. However, I’d heard of others managing it, so I decided to give it a try.

It went better than I expected. I was able to burn through all of Polaris without much difficulty, though the Ur-Draug nearly got me a couple of times.

I also managed to complete Hell Raised, but that was far more challenging. I died numerous times, and I had to experiment with a long list of different builds to make it work. It eventually became more frustrating than anything. But at least I finally beat it.

Oddly enough, Machine Tyrant wasn’t too hard, but Recursia was nearly the end of me.

On the plus side, it was yet another example of how there is almost no problem in TSW that cannot be fixed with enough cleverness and adaptability. That is something I very much appreciate.

I haven’t tried soloing anything past Hell Raised. I imagine I’d probably be dog meat.

The Last Pagan:

I don’t really have much to say about the most recent Sidestories pack other than to say that Ricky Pagan is fantastic, and both his missions were absolute joys to play through. Truly TSW at its best.

He’s another example of how top-notch the writing in TSW is. He could so easily be written off as a completely silly joke character, but they made sure to let us see beneath his cartoonish exterior to the scared, traumatized man beneath. Ricky Pagan is funny and colourful, but also tragic and poignant.

Filed under: Games Tagged: fantasy, The Secret World

Rage of the Old Gods, Chapter Four: Bleeding Heart

We come now to the fourth chapter of my science fantasy epic, Rage of the Old Gods. In the coming weeks, I will be posting the entire book for free on this blog. If you missed the last chapter, go check it out now.

As part one comes to its close, Leha returns to Barria to meet the threat of the resurgent Old Gods, but she finds she may already be too late. The age of humanity is coming to a close.

———————

Chapter Four: Bleeding Heart

Across the world of Barria, the nations of humanity found themselves at war. Not a war with their neighboring humans as they were familiar, but a war with the machines they had thought nothing but tools. In the confusion, few even understood the source of the attack, and city after city burned in the ensuing chaos.

* * *

The cry rang through the marbled halls of the palace. “They’re getting closer!”

Prince Tyrom, the young monarch of Pira, felt the floor shiver with the distant rumble of the Automaton assault. He looked at the panicked eyes of his advisors and chamberlains, seeing the confusion he felt reflected in them.

“We have to go,” one said.

Tyrom remembered what he had seen from the balcony: Automatons running unchecked, shattering the ancient city of Pallenia like discarded crockery. It broke his heart to say it, but he agreed. “Signal the evacuation. We head for the sea.”

Pages bolted away to spread the word. The Piran capitol, the last remnant of the Jansian Empire, had broken before its own Automatons.

He did not understand. This had to be some devious attack, but who would attack Pira? They were the inheritors of Jansia’s culture, but the empire’s power had long since faded. They were no threat to anyone.

It made no sense.

Surrounded by a knot of guards and courtiers, he made his way out of the palace. The night was black as pitch, the stars obscured by the ever-present Piran drizzle. He spared a glance back at the graceful curves of the palace, thinking of all the works of art, all the history, he was leaving behind. All about to be crushed by machines he himself had commissioned.

Amidst the rain, the tears trickling down his cheeks went unnoticed.

* * *

In all her career as a soldier, Natoma, guard captain of Uranna’s Nettoh Province, had never encountered a problem she couldn’t solve. She had never faced a challenge she could not overcome.

Until tonight.

Her Automatons, the garrison of machines she was supposed to use to defend her province, had attacked. She did not know why. But that was a question for later.

As her soldiers shouted in terror and confusion, she took to the field with a calm stride. She cried her instructions in a clear, measured voice, and in so doing, she imposed order upon the chaos. She rallied her troops to stand against the rampaging iron titans, and they fought with all their hearts to keep the machines from breaking out of the compound and into the surrounding city.

It wasn’t enough. Neither her calm, nor her soldiers’ bravery, nor their combined might was enough to keep the Automatons in check, and they shattered the walls of the barracks to charge into the streets, laying waste to all they found.

Natoma and her soldiers pursued, following the path of rubble and broken bodies left by the machines. She fought with everything she had, but her soldiers continued to fall, and the Automaton advance continued unabated.

The sense of defeat was nauseating and unlike anything she had felt before. She reeled in horror as she utterly failed to defend her people.

Natoma had never faced a challenge she couldn’t overcome. She had never felt powerless.

Until tonight.

* * *

In the woods of western Tor Som, Yarnig Tor Lannis, whose father had been emperor but whose family would not be crowned again by the cycle of Tor politics for another two generations, sat upon the veranda of his country home and fiddled with his pencils, sketching a songbird roosting in a nearby tree.

This is where he had come to seek peace, away from the bustle of the capitol and the battle-hungry rhetoric of the ruling Tor Vargis family. He had no love for the bloodlust that Empress Tor Vargis had instilled in his people, who were already imagining how fat they would become off the spoils of the conquest of Eastenhold. And so he had come here, to the peace of his family’s country estate, to escape the frenzy of the war effort.

But it seemed escape was not to be his. The rumble of hooves echoed from down the road, startling the songbird from its perch. As Yarnig put down his sketch, youthful brow furrowing, a messenger charged through the gate and into the courtyard of his home, reining his horse to a halt.

The man was disheveled, his face sweaty and streaked with ash, and he all but fell off his horse. Yarnig stood and called the servants to see to the man, already knowing something was terribly wrong.

The exhausted messenger sketched a rough bow, gasping for breath. “Emperor Tor Lannis,” he managed to choke out.

Yarnig’s blood froze.

* * *

The platform creaked under Leha and Doga’s weight as they landed. Leha wiped sweat from her brow; the weather had changed back to hot and sunny while they had been in the cave.

An elderly Lost One looked up at their arrival, saw the silver disc in Leha’s hands, and yelled out, “They did it! They did it!”

Lost Ones flooded from the huts and trees, forming a mob around her and Doga. They were peppered with congratulations, praise, and eager questions until Sheen stepped to the fore and gestured for silence.

A broad smile split the elder’s wrinkled face. “I did not think you could do it, but you did.” She turned to her people. “The last God has been slain by these heroes! This is a time for celebration!”

The crowd cheered.

Leha held up a hand. “No.”

Sheen peered back at her. “No?”

“It is not a time for celebration.” Her voice lowered shamefully, she told them of the Automatons and her discovery of their true nature. As she spoke, the Lost Ones lost their jubilant expressions. Their joyful faces turned grim. Some seemed afraid, others angry.

She finished by saying, “I believe the Tors have finally restored the Automatons to the level of power they held before the Liberation. I need to deliver this knowledge to Barria before they have a chance to organize a strike against humanity.”

The Lost Ones were left speechless.

A bird sang in the distance. It seemed far too beautiful to exist in such a dark moment.

Elder Sheen cleared her throat and spoke in a voice that shook slightly. “The spell is dangerous, and I do not know if we can break the seal on Barria, but we will do what we can. The Gods have returned, and it is our duty to do whatever we can to fight them.” The elder paused, and added, “We will send some of our warriors with you, to help in the battles to come.” Sheen called for volunteers and selected fifteen men and women. Doga was among them.

At that moment, Leha realized for the first time that there would be battles. Even if humanity struck first, war would be inevitable. The first war between humanity and the Old Gods had devastated Barria and spilled over onto Tyzu and Sy’om. What might the second bring?

The crowd dispersed. Some went to prepare for the trip to Barria; others tried to return to their lives.

Leha took Sheen aside. They sat near the edge of the platform, in the cool shade of a tree. “There’s something I have to talk to you about,” Leha said. She explained about her new powers.

The elder leaned back in thought. “I have never heard of anything like this. I would guess that it is a result of the changes we wrought in you – the fact that, in you, we combined two worlds. Are you experiencing any negative symptoms?”

Leha shook her head.

“Then I would take this as a blessing. It may prove to be a powerful weapon against the Gods. It might even help us break through the seal on Barria. If you alter your energy, and the energy of those we send with you, to the level of Barria, it may make the difference.”

Leha bowed her head respectfully. “Thank you, Elder. I’ll try.”

Sheen stood slowly, her joints protesting. “Now, I must prepare for the spell.”

Leha said goodbye to her and settled in to wait, trying not to think about the trials to come.

* * *

An hour later, Leha, the warriors that would accompany her, Sheen and the Watching Eye’s two other wizards, and a mob of curious Lost Ones – nearly the entire clan – descended to a shady glade smelling of earth and flowers. The canopy blocked much of the sun’s rays, making the patch of forest where they settled refreshingly cool – compared to the rest of Tyzu.

Leha and the warriors gathered in the center of the glade, and the wizards formed a circle around them. The onlookers made up a second, wider circle.

Leha did a mental check of her gear and signaled her readiness.

Elder Sheen said, “We will spread word of the Gods’ return. Should you break the seal on Barria, the clans of Tyzu will be ready to aid you.”

“Thank you,” Leha said, bowing her head gratefully.

Next to her, Doga’s mouth set into a grim line. “All my life, I have dreamed of returning to our original homeworld. I wish it were under different circumstances,” he said quietly.

Sheen raised the silver disc, Leha summoned the power of Barria, and the spell began. The wizards sweated and grimaced with the effort. Flashes and crackles of energy flickered through the air, and odd sensations slithered across Leha’s skin.

With a brilliant flash and a burst of thunder, she and her companions entered the space between worlds.

The third time was different. She felt as if she had been hurled into the heart of a tempest. Currents of energy buffeted her, and her nerves tingled with strange powers. Bangs, sizzles, and noises without names assaulted her ears. Her body flashed between heat and icy cold.

The torrent reached a climax. Her body burned with energy until it seemed she was on the brink of being fried alive. She felt as if her body was being repeatedly turned inside out and then righted again. Her heart hammered in terror, but she wasn’t sure the sensation was coming from inside her chest anymore. She would have screamed if she could.

Then, her feet touched ground.

* * *

The air stank of smoke and spilt blood. Drogin crawled across the debris-strewn floor of the attic, making his way to the hole in the roof. Screams, battle cries, bangs of magic, the clash of arms, and the roar of fires assaulted his ears. Splinters caught in his blood-soaked clothing and jabbed at his sweat-drenched skin.

He looked out at the ruins of Heart. Corpses littered the streets. More than half the city was wrecked or burning, and the sky, choked with clouds and ash, reflected an eerie red light. A wave of dust and smoke, lit by flashes of magic, told him the Automatons were approaching.

“They’re getting closer,” he warned.

Eranna, a Tor soldier with a tall stature and blue eyes, joined him in gazing at the approaching machines. She muttered something in her own tongue. Her platinum hair was kept in an intricate braid, and her face had a sullen, humorless cast.

The last two and a half weeks had seen some of the bloodiest fighting in history. The people of Eastenhold had fought with the ferocity of desperation, making the Tors pay dearly for every inch of land. But the Wizard-Automatons had proven too great an advantage, and the Eastenholders had been pushed back to the capitol.

The battle for Heart had gone on for three terrifying, sleepless days and nights. Now, the sun had risen on the fourth day, bringing a faint lessening of the ashen darkness. Drogin glanced at it and thought back to the first day, the last time that his life had made any sense, the last time it had been as simple as Tor versus Eastenholder. Part of him almost missed it.

At dawn of the second day, as both sides had fought exhaustion and each other in vicious battles, the Automatons had turned on their masters. Now, the machines of both armies roved through the city, destroying everything and killing any human they found.

In places, troops from the two nations had banded together for survival. Drogin and Eranna led one such group. In his mind, with the machines destroying everything in sight, any human was a potential ally. The Tors had done terrible things, but even that was nothing compared to what the unleashed Automatons were perpetrating.

In other parts of the city, the war continued, and the two peoples killed each other still.

Drogin had never imagined such destruction.

“We should go,” Eranna said, speaking heavily accented Eastenholder.

“Yeah,” he said, pulling out his wand. He crawled across the low attic and went down the stairs to the main floor of the house, followed by Eranna, another Tor foot soldier, and three Eastenholder warriors.

They left through the back door and pounded down a street book-ended by roaring fires. The heat stung Drogin’s skin. They reached a crossroads, and Drogin hesitated, unsure of what direction to take.

“That street leads to the granaries. If they haven’t already been stripped bare, we might be able to find food there,” a member of Heart’s garrison said, pointing to the left.

None of them had eaten in more than a day. They went left.

Drogin had never been more exhausted in his entire life, but he forced himself to go on, his legs protesting every stride. He kept his wand pointed outward, and his tired eyes searched for danger. This section of the city, the southeast quarter, had seen less fighting, but that didn’t mean that they were safe.

A group of odd-looking people appeared from a side street ahead. When Drogin saw who led them, his heart did a somersault.

“Leha!” Finding new strength, he shot forward and swept her into a hug, lifting her off her feet.

“Drogin.” She hugged him back. She felt different than he remembered. She was thinner, but also more muscular. She now had the wiry body of an athlete.

He put her down and held her at arm’s length. “How are you? How was your journey? How did you get back?” He noticed her pupils, and his smile faded. “What happened to your eyes?”

She brushed away his arms. His alarm grew as he noticed what appeared to be claws on her fingers, but her sleeves hung down to cover her hands, and she spoke before he could ask her about them. “It’s a very long story. What’s happened here?” Her eyes held a fierceness he didn’t recognize.

He looked at the ruined city around them. “I wish I knew. The Automatons have gone berserk. They’re killing everyone. Tor, Eastenholder, everyone.”

Leha swore, but there was more sadness than anger in her voice. She took another look around the city, the last holdout of their nation, and saw the nightmare it had become, and for a moment, there was an infinite grief in her eyes – still brown in the iris, but now indigo in the pupil.

Then, she put on a mask of determination, and the fierce gleam returned. “When I was on Tyzu, I fought one of the Old Gods. It had survived since the Liberation.” She looked him in the eye. “It was an Automaton. The Automatons and the Old Gods are the same. Wizard Vorren didn’t invent them; he rebuilt them.”

Drogin gaped at her. “How is that possible? They’re machines! They can’t be the creator race.”

Leha shook her head. “I don’t know. Maybe they were created by another, older race. The point is that they made us, we overthrew them, and now they want to go back to the way things were. We have to stop them.”

Drogin took a step back, covering his face with his hands and hoping he wouldn’t cry. His whole world was coming apart. That the Automatons he had worked on for his entire adult life could be the same as the Old Gods was madness. But the world seemed to have gone mad. Perhaps it was true.

He suddenly felt very, very tired.

Dropping his hands, he noticed, for the first time, the orange-skinned creatures accompanying Leha, and the tense standoff between them and his own companions. He ran his fingers through his hair. What now?

“Who are these?” he asked her, indicating the aliens. He almost asked what they were, but their hard expressions cautioned him to politeness.

Leha managed a weak smile. “Their people are called the Lost Ones; they are the descendants of humans who were trapped on Tyzu when Barria was sealed. They’re here to help us.”

Drogin eyed their alien visages and claws – claws like those he thought he’d spotted on Leha. “They’re friendly,” he told his companions, though he continued to study their skull-like faces and armored skin.

Leha’s expression became serious again. “The Lost Ones did something to me – ”

Drogin’s grip on his wand tightened, the hot magic building within him, ready to strike out against any who would harm his sister. “What did they do?”

“No, it’s nothing bad. They changed me.” She held up a hand. His earlier impression had been correct; each finger now ended in a jagged spike, and he took an involuntary step back. “I can do things now – things no one else can. I think I can stop the Automatons, but I need to be close to them. I need to get to the battle.”

A sudden gust of smoke burned his eyes and made him keel over, coughing. When he straightened, he wheezed, “You?”

She frowned impatiently. “Yes, me.” She pulled a knife from her belt and hurled it. It flew with greater speed than he had thought possible and carved a chunk from a nearby wall, a stone one, with a loud crack.

Drogin’s face lost its color.

“Okay, we’ll go.” He looked back at his companions. They stared at Leha with wide eyes. “Anyone against fighting the machines?”

They looked at each other. None of them seemed inclined to object. It’s not as if we have a better option.

He turned back to her. “All right.”

She was already off.

He followed uneasily. His group shot glances at the savage-looking Lost Ones, and none with more suspicion in their gaze than Drogin.

Leha had always been confident and fond of the occasional risk, but now she seemed downright reckless, and there was an edge to her, a feral lust when she spoke of fighting, that seemed utterly alien. Even more than her claws, her eyes, or her reshaped body, this change disturbed him. He couldn’t imagine what had changed her so much in so short a time.

Nothing made sense anymore, he thought, dejected.

* * *

The smoke was everywhere, but it wasn’t the source of the tears blurring Leha’s vision – she had changed herself so it would stop burning her eyes, nose, and throat. Her nation had been destroyed, her people slaughtered, and her land ravaged. But she could not allow herself anger. If humanity lost this first battle with the Automatons, they might never recover. And to win, they had to be united. Tor and Eastenholder would have to put aside their differences.

She swallowed to dispel the lump in her throat, trying not to give into fear or despair.

It wasn’t hard to find the Automatons. They simply had to follow the screams, roars, and crashes that followed the machines wherever they went.

They entered a broad square with a fountain at its center. Its trickling provided a surreal counterpoint to the thunder all around them.

With a bone-shaking smash and a great clanging of metal, an Automaton burst through a building on the opposite side of the square, spraying dust and rubble across the flagstones. Judging by its round edges and relatively short stature, the Automaton was of Eastenholder design.

Leha flooded the flying debris and the Automaton with the energy of Sy’om, giving her allies time to avoid the stone projectiles. She grabbed one of the slow-motion rocks and swung it back toward the Automaton. As she did so, she infused it with the energy of Tyzu.

It smacked against the machine’s head, ringing it like a gong. She sped the Automaton up to Tyzu’s speed, and it slammed into the rubble of the building it had destroyed, landing on its back.

Returning it to Sy’om’s energy and giving herself the power of Tyzu, she leapt across the square and landed on its chest. She ran forward and tried to pull at its neck plates, but this Automaton was in far better condition than the one on Tyzu had been, and she could not yank them free.

Her allies swarmed around the fallen machine and attacked it any way they could. The Lost Ones used hatchets and claws to tear off pieces of armor. The Barrian soldiers had already found weapons, such as warhammers and large axes, strong enough to be effective on Automatons and were using them to smash at its joints. The air rung with their blows. Drogin wielded his magic to cut into its shoulder joints at the armpits, where it had no lead plating.

Leha clawed at its neck plates, trying to find a weak spot. The machine remained in slow-motion, but soon, its arms would arrive to crush her. Remembering how effective the acid-filled anti-Automaton bolts could be against the machines, she switched her venom glands back on and charged them with producing acid to eat through lead and steel.

Blinding pain shot through her fingers as the acid slid down her claws. She forced them to build an immunity, gritting her teeth through the fiery pain.

A drop of vile, yellow liquid dripped from a claw. It sizzled and burned on contact with the Automaton’s skin, sending acrid smoke into Leha’s nose. She grinned, feeling a strange and savage pleasure, and attacked the bolts holding the neck plates in place. You’re mine now.

The fastenings dissolved under her assault. She ripped the plates away and squirmed inside the Automaton, just as its hands clapped around its neck.

After the heat of the burning city, the cool of the machine’s interior felt refreshing. She wriggled up its neck, cutting through any struts in her way, and into its head. She grabbed its artificial mind, a globe-shaped matrix of silver set with pieces of quartz, and wrested it from its housing.

The Automaton shuddered and died. She heard its arms fall away from the opening in its neck.

She crawled out of the machine. Her companions were clustered around it, panting and trying to rest.

Drogin stepped forward and said, “How did you do that?” His face hung slack with something like awe – or fear.

“Which part?” she replied, breathing heavily.

“All of it.”

She slid off the still Automaton and walked towards the fountain. “It’s complicated. I don’t fully understand it either.” Reaching the fountain, she drank deeply from its basin. The water tasted of ash and dust. Once her thirst was quenched, she added, “I promise I’ll explain things when we’re in a little less danger, okay?”

Without another word, she turned and headed northwest, where the sounds of battle were the strongest. Some unspoken agreement had made her the leader of their group, and Drogin, the Lost Ones, and the Tor and Eastenholder soldiers followed.

As they headed west, approaching the part of the city where the fighting had been heaviest, the destruction became more complete. In some places, entire city blocks had been leveled by fire or machinery. More and more bodies lay in the streets. The sight of them, and the smell, made Leha gag and reminded her that, despite her new powers, she was no warrior.

The thunder of battle grew louder. The clouds reflected flashes of green-white magic.

They climbed a pile of rubble in a particularly ravaged section of Heart. Leha’s eyes widened as she beheld what lay beyond, and she nearly threw up.

What had been an open-air market lay before them. The buildings around it had been smashed and burned, and bodies blanketed it. The earth was stained with old blood, and the bodies had begun to rot, filling the air with a fetid stench.

It was easy enough to see what had happened. Tor and Eastenholder forces had clashed, creating the bodies with gut wounds, missing limbs, and slashed throats. Then the Automatons had come and, with the humans too busy killing each other to mount a defense, slaughtered both sides, creating bodies that were crushed, broken, or torn into chunks.

Leha held her sleeve to her nose. “Can we go around?”

Drogin came up beside her, sending pieces of broken brick clattering deeper into the pile. He looked around. “Not easily. We’d have to take a pretty wide detour to avoid the more impassable rubble piles.”

She gave a shuddering sigh. “Let’s go.”

Gingerly, they stepped down into the market. The smell was even worse up close.

As they walked, they surveyed the horrors around them.

“The power of the Gods is truly terrible,” Doga said, walking awkwardly in Barria’s relatively low energy. His eyes were wide with awe, and his voice quivered with a fear Leha would not have expected from him.

“Yes,” she responded, speaking the Lost One tongue. Drogin looked at her oddly.

She knelt beside the body of an Eastenholder warrior, a young woman around her age. “But it is not the most terrible of things,” she whispered, looking at the Tor bolt that had pierced the woman’s neck.

She peered around the market. She couldn’t help but think that many of these people may have survived the Automatons if they had worked together.

She remembered the Lost Ones’ abhorrence of conflict between humans. She recalled the harmonious lives of Sy’om’s ice creatures. She knew then that unity was humanity’s only chance for survival.

She could think of just one way to achieve it. Focusing on her memories of Sy’om, filling her mind with images of glaciers and caves, she sent her consciousness across the worlds. She sought a creature both gentle and kind, a creature who had saved her once before.

Leha? Benefactor said, his jaw twitching in astonishment.

She flooded him with a wash of memories, wordlessly explaining everything that had happened since she had left him. Underlying it all was a sense of need and urgency, an unspoken plea for assistance.

He reeled for a moment. She could sense him clutching his head as he processed the knowledge she had given to him.

He regained control and said, I will help you.

She felt a tug at the back of her mind, and then a sense of presence within her head.

Her perception expanded, and she felt the minds of her companions – like whispers in another room. If she concentrated on one of them, she could hear their thoughts clearly.

With the aid of Benefactor, her consciousness stretched across a broad section of the city. She could feel the thoughts of hundreds of people. Some fought; others hid; all feared for their lives.

She sent a burst of fellowship to each and every person within range, communicating the knowledge that they were all human, of a single race, and that their only hope of survival was to come together.

For a moment, some resisted. Tors and Eastenholders recoiled in horror at the feeling of connection with their enemies. But then the link deepened beyond the petty hates they had learned in their lives, to the base of what made them human – the same basic hopes and desires. In the concord of the telepathic link, there was no room for hate, doubt, or fear.

An expression of serenity on her face, Leha rose to her feet and walked out of the market. Her companions followed. Each bore the suggestion of a smile.

A cool mountain breeze blew across their faces, dispelling the reek of the dead and bringing with it the scent of ice.

As they walked ever closer to the rage of the front lines, soldiers of Tor Som and Eastenhold joined them. First there were few, then their numbers blossomed to dozens, and finally they became several hundred strong. Without a single spoken word or instruction, they organized themselves into ranks and marched together, Leha at their head. Save for the clank of armor and the clap of footfalls, their army was silent.

They came to a place where three Tor-built Automatons were tearing apart an inn, and attacked.

Battle wizards lashed out with fingers of scorching energy, aiming for where the machines’ lead armor was weak or nonexistent. Crossbowmen fired anti-Automaton bolts, filling the air with stinging smoke. Foot soldiers battered the machines with warhammers, swords, axes, and whatever else they could find. The Lost Ones accepted metal-tipped spears from their Tor cousins and hurled them, Leha imbuing the missiles with the energy of Tyzu so that they struck with the force of ballista bolts.

Leha stood behind and watched her people battle in perfect harmony with each other. She thought it was beautiful.

Whenever someone was injured, the others would sense it immediately and swoop in to protect them. Leha would inundate their wounds with the powers of the world spectrum, using Tyzu’s speed to knit smaller wounds quickly and slowing the bleeding of major wounds with Sy’om’s energy.

The Automatons, slowed by Leha, were swamped by the humans’ superior numbers. It was not long before they fell.

Leha’s small army paused to tend their wounded before moving on. Silent during the battle, now many of them cried out or moaned in agony. Their pain was transmitted to all within the link, but though it spread their suffering, it also provided comfort. Each injured fighter felt the compassion of hundreds, and though some succumbed to their wounds, slipping out of the link and leaving hollow voids behind in the minds of their comrades, they did so knowing they had given their lives for something greater than nations. They had died for humanity.

* * *

They resumed their journey towards the main group of Automatons – as silent as ever. They made their way through the broken city, the noise of the Automatons growing ever louder. They came to a square surrounded by relatively intact buildings, and everything suddenly went quiet.

They stopped. Leha looked around her. I don’t like this.

Benefactor asked, Where is the sound?

I don’t know, she replied.

People raised their weapons nervously.

The buildings all around them exploded.

Before she could do anything, a piece of rubble struck her in the head. Pain clanged through her skull and she fell to the ground. The air filled with sound, virtually deafening her.

She got to her feet, trying to clear her thoughts. At least two-dozen Automatons had attacked and were ripping their way through her force. People were screaming and dying. The flying rubble alone had killed many. The battle wizards fought a losing battle, struggling to hold off magical attacks by a pair of Wizard-Automatons. Blinding energy crackled and boomed above the heads of the combatants.

Leha summoned the power of Sy’om and used it to slow the machines, but the damage had been done. Nearly half of her soldiers had been killed already, and though Sy’om’s energy weakened their magic, nothing could stop the Wizard-Automatons.

She felt victory slipping away. No amount of telepathic connection could reorganize her troops. The terror of hundreds shrieked through her mind. She ran for one of the Wizard-Automatons, planning to attack it with her claws.

With a slowness that had less to do with low energy than it did with arrogance, it turned to her, raised its hand, and unleashed a blast of magic. Something knocked her aside, but it still scorched her clothes, burned her skin, and incinerated people around her. As she hit the street, she bit her lip and tasted blood.

Drogin, the one who had saved her, rushed to her side and grabbed her arm. “We have to get out of here!” he shouted. He had appropriated a battle wizard’s silver-plated staff.

Leha shook away his arm and directed Tyzu’s energy into healing her various aches and burns. “No!”

He looked at the Wizard-Automaton; it had returned its attention to annihilating the rest of her army. “We can’t stop them. They’re machines. No wizard can channel as much energy as them. No soldier can fight them.”

She watched it burn a squad of Tor soldiers, feeling every death within herself. “No. No one can equal them.” She reached out and held her brother’s hand, linking their minds more closely than she had with anyone else. We can’t run. They’ll find us eventually. We have to stop them now, she told him.

We can’t win, he sent.

Within each other’s minds, the shrieking chaos around them, the scent of burning bodies, and the pain of their various injuries seemed far away.

Leha’s expression softened. We can’t, but they can. She sent to him a package of thoughts and memories – including a memory of Sheen talking about the danger of Tyzu’s energy.

Drogin, understanding her plan, shook his head. I can’t do it. I’ll be killed.

I won’t let you die, she said.

You must do it, Drogin. The Rock Gods need to be destroyed, Benefactor said.

Drogin did not know him, but his trustworthiness was evident in the telepathic link. Drogin nodded. Okay, I’ll do it.

They emerged from their telepathic refuge.

Leha looked at the Wizard-Automaton and hurled a rock at it. “Face me, you coward!”

It turned on her angrily and raised its fist. As it struck, she infused it with Tyzu’s power. The magic flared to more than twice its previous intensity.

Drogin raised his staff, drew the attack to it, and sent the magic back to the Automaton. The light burned Leha’s eyes. She feared she would be blinded, but if that was the price she had to pay, then she would pay it. The magic formed an oval arc between the machine and Drogin, pulsing and searing in a burning cycle. She placed her hands on his left arm and used Sy’om’s low energy to stop the magic from overwhelming him. Even so, he screamed in pain.

She screamed in sympathy.

Her entire world reduced itself to the earth-shaking rush, eye-stinging light, and burning heat of the magical loop.

With an explosion like a thousand thunderclaps, the link broke, and they were hurled backwards to collide with the remnant of a broken wall.

The light vanished. The battlefield went quiet.

Trying to ignore the pain in her back, Leha sat up and blinked her eyes. If she squinted, she could barely see a pile of molten slag where the Wizard-Automaton had been.

The Earth rattled under heavy footfalls. The Automatons were attempting to flee. She didn’t know if machines could feel fear, but they looked terrified.

“You better run!” she cried, though she could not have offered even token resistance. She returned them to Barria’s energy and allowed them to leave.

Drogin had collapsed. She rushed to check his pulse.

He was alive.

She breathed a sigh of relief.

“We did it,” she whispered, as much to herself as to him, hugging his limp form and kissing him on the cheek.

The voice of her benefactor tickled the back of her mind. Leha, I am tired. I have to leave soon.

Just one more thing, she sent. Holding his shoulder, she spoke into Drogin’s mind. Drogin, I don’t know if you can hear me, but we won. She thought his lips twitched in response, but she couldn’t be sure. Rest well, my brother.

* * *

Drogin groaned, waking Leha from her doze. She clutched his hand and peered down at him as he opened his eyes.

“Leha?” he said, blinking.

“I’m here.”

“Where are we?” he asked, his voice hoarse.

“A home. It used to belong to a wealthy merchant. There’s an Automaton-shaped hole in the east wing, but the rest of it is intact. We’ve been using it as an infirmary.”

He tried, and failed, to sit up in his makeshift bed. “What happened?”

Leha brushed hair from her eyes. “Our plan worked. The Automaton was destroyed by its own power. I think the rest of the machines were frightened by what we did. They all fled.” Her eyes sparkled with pride as she added. “It was very brave, what you did.”

He shook his hand free, and this time, he did sit up.

She gave him a mug of tea full of medicinal herbs. Its earthy scent filled the air.

He sipped it. “They’ll be back.”

Leha’s face lost some of its cheer. “Yes, but at least we’ve shown them, and our people, that they can be beat. This was an important victory.”

Drogin made a growling noise. “I feel terrible.”

She swabbed his brow with a cool rag. “The physicians are amazed you survived. They said what you did could have killed a wizard with twice your power.”

“It must have been whatever you did that saved me,” he said.

She noticed him eyeing her claws with an expression of suspicion or concern – she couldn’t tell which. She tried hiding them by putting her hands in her pockets, but found that they didn’t fit anymore.

He combed his hair with his fingers. “Leha, what happened to you on Tyzu?”

“It’s kind of a long story,” she said.

“Tell me.”

She got up, added more wood to the room’s fireplace, returned to his side, and told him.

———————

Enjoying the story so far? The next chapter will be posted soon, but if you can’t wait, you also have the opportunity buy the full ebook now!

Filed under: My writing, World Spectrum Tagged: books, fantasy, Rage of the Old Gods free chapters, sci-fi, steampunk, The World Spectrum, writing

Retro Review: Continuum Season Three, Episodes 6-9

It’s time again. Be warned: Spoilers ahead.

“Wasted Minute”:

This episode deals with two largely unrelated plotlines.

Most of the attention goes to the latest Liber8 plot. This time, they’ve stolen dangerous chemicals from the unsubtly named “Sonmanto” corporation. But as is always the case where Liber8 is concerned, their plan is not what it appears to be at first glance — which is something I appreciate. While the constant Liber8 plots could get tiresome, the fact that there’s always some twist keeps it interesting.

The other, more compelling plot deals with the two Alecs. The rift between them becomes wider as Alec 2.0 vows never to become like his future self, while Alec 1.0 continues to be a prick. But Kiera and the Freelancers see nothing but threat from Alec 2.0. The more he diverges from his future self, the more they believe he must be eliminated. That he is becoming a better person is irrelevant to them.

Mostly, this was a good episode, but the two plots didn’t mesh as well together as they might have. It felt a little like watching two episodes at once, and the Liber8 story didn’t seem to accomplish much. Yeah, they won some more PR points. That’s hardly news at this point.

This isn’t a criticism, but I am finding it harder and harder to like Kiera as a character. I grant that things are not black and white, and I can sympathize with her desire to protect her family, but her ruthless streak is becoming ever more pronounced, and she’s been consistently making the wrong decisions for quite a while now. Her betrayal of the non-evil Alec is very hard to forgive.

The ending of the episode was the highlight: a cliffhanger featuring an armed standoff between Kiera and the Freelancers following her discovery that Curtis killed her other self.

Overall rating: 7.2/10

“Waning Minutes”:

This is something new. Instead of an episode set in the present bookended by scenes in the future, this is an episode set in the future bookended by scenes in the present.

An offhand comment by Curtis sends Kiera’s mind back to the future (hurr hurr). While she was escorting a Liber8 terrorist to prison, her flyer malfunctioned and crashed in the wilderness. She and her prisoner were abducted by a band of renegades eking out an existence outside the influence of the Corporate Congress.

But they are not the only visitors to the settlement. Kagame has taken refuge there to recover from an injury, treated by a pre-Liber8 Sonya.

It’s only a matter of time before the eyes of the Corporate Congress turn towards the renegades, and that can only spell doom.

I’m not quite sure how to rate this episode. It’s too early to see how, if at all, “Waning Minutes” fits into the greater arc of Continuum. At face value, it seems a bit like filler — it’s an entire episode of flashback, after all — but if Kiera’s revelation about being “asleep” makes her change her ways, maybe it will mean something after all.

On the plus side, even if “Waning Minutes” is filler, it’s pretty good filler. There aren’t necessarily any major revelations in this episode — we already knew the Corporate Congress was brutal and ruthless — but all of it is well done.

My one issue with this episode — and even calling it a complaint seems a bit too harsh — is Sonya’s arc feels like an odd retcon. True, this doesn’t contradict her previous backstory, and they even bother to connect the two events, but it feels a little redundant to give her two life-changing moments that sway her to Liber8’s cause.

On the plus side, her new backstory is better than the original. I do like Sonya. It’s interesting that — more than anyone else in Liber8 — she seems to be a truly kind and decent person. She was simply pushed too far by a corrupt world. It’d be nice if we could see more of this side of her in the modern world.

And seeing Kagame again is always cool.

Overall rating: 7.7/10

“So Do Our Minutes Hasten”:

This episode made my brain hurt. In a good way.

“So Do Our Minutes Hasten” is an almost overwhelmingly complex ball of intrigue. It all begins with a deadly chemical attack on the heads of a major corporation. Of course, all eyes turn to Liber8.

But Kiera realizes something isn’t adding up. Liber8 have been painting themselves as Robin Hood. Murdering a dozen innocent people would be bad for their image, and lately they’ve spent more time on PR than actual terrorism.

At this time, Dillon chooses to separate Kiera and Carlos. Kiera is assigned to work on the chemical attack, while Carlos pursues a possible whistleblower from Sonmanto, who claims she has evidence of countless illegal acts by that corporation. She also happens to have ties to one Julian Randol.

Betty is eager to help with all those myriad tangled webs, desperate to regain the trust of her former friends.

Kellogg begins weaving one of his patented schemes by encouraging Jason to reconnect with Alec 1.0, and as if all that isn’t enough, Curtis shows up to extort Kellogg into aiding him, seemingly promising to share the secret of immortality in exchange.

Immortal Kellogg. Those are two words to send a chill down your spine.

All that is barely scratching the surface of the complexity of this episode. It didn’t feel like an episode of a TV show; it felt like a movie. A really good movie.

The intrigue is so thick you could cut it with a knife, and while I try to avoid cliches like this, it does keep you guessing until the very end.

There’s really nothing about “So Do Our Minutes Hasten” that wasn’t excellent, but I think Betty was the real standout from it — and that’s not something I ever expected to say. I appreciate finally understanding why she betrayed the police to Liber8, and it puts her in a surprisingly sympathetic light. Perhaps she was the only truly pure-hearted one in this whole tangled mess.

Of course, making Betty suddenly so much more likable sets up the brutal ending quite brilliantly.

Overall rating: 9/10

“Minute of Silence”:

This episode isn’t quite as tangled as the last one, but it’s still a complex and fascinating bundle of mysteries in its own right.

A coma victim (played by Ryan Robbins of Sanctuary and Stargate: Atlantis, among other things) wakes up with amnesia. He only remembers one thing: the name “Kiera Cameron”. But she has never met him before.

It soon becomes clear that this John Doe is not just a random unfortunate. It appears he, too, is not of this time, another refugee from Kiera’s future. But who is he, and how and why did he come to the past?

My tinfoil hat theory: He’s Kiera’s son, all grown up.

Elsewhere, tech companies all across Vancouver, including Piron, are the victims of several robberies assisted by an early form of Kiera’s cloaking technology.

Alec 1.0 is having a bad day. As if being stolen from wasn’t enough, Carlos reveals to him the true fate of Kiera 1.0, his new technology isn’t working, and Kellogg is suing him.

I’m a big fan of Ryan Robbins, so naturally I liked this episode a lot. Even aside from him being awesome as per usual, “Minute of Silence” has a lot of good mystery and a decent emotional punch.

It’s interesting to me that, for the last two episodes, Sonmanto has served as the “big bad,” and Liber8 has almost fallen into being the good guys in the equation. I wonder if this an anomaly, or another sign of the show’s direction changing?

Also, yeesh, Alec 1.0 just keeps getting nastier. We can now add defiling the corpse of a former friend to his list of “questionable decisions.”

Overall rating: 8.1/10

Filed under: Retro Reviews Tagged: Continuum, review, sci-fi, TV

BlizzCon 2014 Wishlist/Predictions + New Article

We’re now a little over a month away from this year’s BlizzCon, so now feels like a good time to go over my predictions for the convention’s reveals, as well as what I’m hoping to see.

Warcraft:

I can’t imagine there will be much to discuss in regards to World of Warcraft at BlizzCon this year, since Warlords of Draenor won’t even be out yet. A surprisingly large number of people are speculating they’ll announce the expansion after WoD, but I think that’s crazy talk.

Time to face facts, people: Blizzard isn’t going to deliver on their promise of faster expansions. They’ve been saying it for half a decade, and we’ve still gotten a year-long content gap every time.

Even putting aside how absurd it is to think they’d have anything to show from 7.0, they wouldn’t want to spoil the hype around WoD, such as it is.

I could see them making some reveals for the first content patch of WoD, but that’s about it.

I don’t think we’ll be lacking news for the rest of the Warcraft franchise, though.

I fully expect to be hearing a lot about the Warcraft movie at BlizzCon. There was a teaser trailer shown at Comic Con this year, so I would be surprised and more than a little disappointed if they didn’t release the first publicly available trailer at BlizzCon.

Something else that we might see is news of remastered versions of the old Warcraft strategy games. It’s already been announced that Blizzard is working on updating them for newer systems, and this year is the twentieth anniversary of the Warcraft franchise, so now seems a good time to release them.

Unfortunately, I suspect all they’ll do is update the code so the games run well on modern operating systems. Heck, Warcraft I was a DOS game.

But what I’d really like to see is full graphical remakes. They can keep the game mechanics the same — maybe better pathing and some quality of life tweaks, but nothing more — but redo them in the StarCraft II engine. That would be nothing short of amazing.

There have been rumours swirling of an HD remake of Warcraft III, but I dare not get my hopes up. Plus, as much as WC3 is my favourite installment of the franchise, and as much as I would love to see it with revamped graphics, I think the earlier games would benefit from that treatment a lot more. WC3 still runs okay on modern systems, and the graphics have aged reasonably well due to their cartoony style. Even in if the earlier games could run on modern systems, they’d look and play rather poorly.

But I don’t see Blizzard wanting to put forth the effort necessary to fully update those games, sadly.

There’s been a lot of talk of another expansion for Hearthstone lately, so I expect an announcement of it at BlizzCon.

StarCraft:

It’s been a while since Heart of the Swarm launched now, even in Blizzard time, so I think it very likely that we’ll be getting a major dump of information on the final expansion, Legacy of the Void.

Protoss have always been my favourite race, so it’s hard to imagine myself not loving LotV. I’m a little nervous since the story for HotS was pretty underwhelming, but it would take some serious effort to make an entire game full of Protoss not be awesome.

I greatly hope they will make Zeratul a Warcraft III style hero as they did for Kerrigan in HotS. It adds such an interesting extra dimension to the gameplay, and Zeratul is such a legendary figure that he deserves to be more than some guy who only shows up every few levels and just hides in your base.

I’m curious what other unique mechanics the campaign will bring. Given the identity of the Protoss, I think it might be interesting if, instead of applying blanket upgrades to unit types, individual units could become veterans based on their kill counts, gaining better stats and new abilities over time. Your strongest veterans would follow you throughout the campaign, becoming ever more powerful.

I’ve heard it said they don’t plan to add any new units to the multiplayer, but I expect them to renege on that. It feels pretty underwhelming if they don’t add anything to half the game, and why would multiplayer fans need to buy the expansion if there are no new units? Doesn’t make good business sense.

As futile as it seems at this point, I’m still hoping they find a way to make carriers actually useful for something.

Diablo:

I fully expect there to be at least one more expansion for Diablo III. It’s been rumoured since before the base game was even released, and the ending to Reaper of Souls had multiple cliffhangers.

It does seem a bit soon after RoS for another expansion to be announced, but one can still hope. Much to my surprise, I’ve come to greatly appreciate Diablo III, and RoS was nothing short of spectacular, so I’m very excited to get my hands on another expansion.

As for what the actual content of the expansion will be, it’s hard to say at this point. Undoubtedly, we’ll be hunting Diablo himself once again, but beyond that, it’s all guesswork.

My hope is that the destruction of the Black Soulstone means Leah’s spirit has also been freed, and that we may see her be redeemed. She did not deserve her dark fate, and I’d like to see her get her happily ever after, or something close to it, at least.

I also hope to see more conflict with the angels. One of the most interesting aspects of Reaper of Souls was realizing that the High Heavens were as much a threat to humanity as the Burning Hells. And Imperius really needs to be taken down a peg.

We’ve also got to help Shen track down Dirgest, and we have to solve the murder of Lyndon’s brother.

The setting is a big question mark. For some reason, I get the feeling we might end up in jungles of Kurast, but I have no real basis for that. The Dreadlands also seem a likely prospect, being a hotbed of demonic corruption.

Personally, I’d like to go to Xiansai. A far northern land with Asian inspirations? Hell yeah. Plus, it’s the homeland of two of my favourite characters: Covetous Shen and Li-Ming.

I also expect another new class in the inevitable second expansion, whenever it comes around. Necromancer is probably the most commonly requested one, but I think it might be too close to the witch doctor.

Mind you, I said the same thing about monks and paladins, and then we got the crusader. And it is worth noting that a lot of people — myself included — enjoyed the necromancer in Diablo II and do not feel the witch doctor is at all a valid substitute.

But I think my money is going to be on druid. It’s the only class from Diablo II whose archetype does not seem to be at all represented by any of the D3 classes. I’m not sure exactly how a druid would play out in D3, partly because I’m not sure how they worked in Lord of Destruction, but I think it could be interesting, particularly if shape-shifting is involved.

Heroes of the Storm:

With the final stage of technical alpha before us and the last account wipe behind us, I expect we’ll see an announcement of an imminent beta for Heroes of the Storm at BlizzCon.

I think it will either be an open beta, or a closed beta with the option to buy access through founder’s packs. Either way, I expect this will be another case where “beta” means “soft launch.” The alpha is already surprisingly polished, and the game feels almost ready for primetime to me.

I’m predicting an official release in early 2015.

I hope to see a bunch of new hero announcements at BlizzCon, as well. Hopefully some of the more iconic heroes. It feels very strange to me that they’re already putting out ultra obscure heroes like Rehgar Earthfury and completely new creations like Brightwing when major icons like Thrall, Jaina Proudmoore, Sylvanas Windrunner, Fenix, Mephisto, and Baal are still nowhere to be found.

Would be nice to see a new map or two, as well. I really want to see a StarCraft-inspired space platform map. So far, every map has been fantasy-based. Let’s get some sci-fi in there for flavour.

Other:

Sadly, it was recently announced that the upcoming MMO known only as “Project Titan” has been cancelled. Not that it was likely to be discussed at this year’s BlizzCon anyway, but it’s still a bit disappointing.

That said, there’s still the chance Blizzard might surprise us. There have been rumours of another unannounced game aside from Titan, possibly a shooter similar to the Left 4 Dead series. The term “Overwatch” was supposedly trademarked by Blizzard aways back, so that might be related.

I wouldn’t mind seeing a shooter set in the StarCraft universe, especially if I can play as a ghost. On the other hand, it might be nice to see Blizzard take a chance with a new IP. They haven’t done that since literally last century.

* * *

What about you? What are you expecting to see at this year’s BlizzCon? What are you hoping to see? Share your thoughts.

New article:

In my latest published article, I delve into the darkest mysteries of the World of Warcraft and seek to uncover the truth behind the enigma of the Old Gods.

Filed under: Games, My writing Tagged: Diablo, fantasy, Heroes of the Storm, sci-fi, Starcraft, Warcraft, World of Warcraft, writing

Retro Review: Continuum Season Three, Episodes 1-5

You know the drill: Spoilers incoming.

“Minute by Minute”:

The spectacular second season finale provided a tough act to follow, but “Minute by Minute” makes an admirable effort.

The episode picks up immediately after the end of the last season — quite cleverly — by seamlessly continuing from the “previously on…” sequence, showing Alec arriving one week in the past. Sure enough, Emily is still alive — and now we have two Alecs running around.

Alec does his best not to interfere with history too much, but it doesn’t take long for his meddling to have dramatic effects. Kellogg’s fear of Escher is made even stronger than it was before, with deadly results.

Meanwhile, a week into the future and along a different branch of the continuum, Kiera meets with her Freelancer captors, who seek to recruit her to their cause.

In the process, we finally learn the true nature of the Freelancers — or at least their version of it. They are a thousand year-old order dedicated to mitigating the damage to the continuum caused by time travelers. Interestingly, most of them are not from the future, though their technology is.

Kiera is initially unwilling to sign on with them, but when Alec’s meddling causes all of time and space to begin collapsing around her, she has little choice but to accept. She is officially initiated as a Freelancer and sent back in time one week, where she commits suicide.

Not in the way you’re thinking.

This is a very strange episode, and it seems to signal a change in direction for Continuum. Things are a lot more complicated now, and the sci-fi is front and center in a way it hasn’t been before. Now that Kiera is a Freelancer, she’s even less of a hero than she was before, and I suspect things may take a darker turn.

But I’m not complaining. Time will tell (ha) whether the show actually does change direction in a significant way, or whether the new direction is a positive one, but right now, I am cautiously optimistic. I’ve said before that Continuum started life as little more than Cops and Robbers with more technobabble, and while that was plenty entertaining, it isn’t a concept with a lot of legs. That the show is now building a more complex and distinctive mythology can only be a positive.

It’s also interesting that Garza now finds herself indebted to Kiera. That could go interesting places…

Overall rating: 8/10

“Minute Man”:

Okay, I was wrong. Kiera didn’t kill herself. That scene was misleadingly shot. At any rate, we know have a mystery of who murdered the other Kiera. Hints point towards Kellogg, but it’s hard to say for certain.

At the same time, Jim finds himself hounded by a vengeful Liber8 after his betrayal. He seeks aid from the cops, but finds little sympathy from them. It seems Vancouver may once again be short a mayor.

Kellogg seeks to coerce Emily into working for him as she did for Escher. She initially refuses, but it turns out she was Escher’s killer, and when Kellogg threatens to reveal to Alec that Escher was his father, she has little choice but to agree to his terms.

Kiera and her Alec are forced to carefully dance around the past Alec so he doesn’t find out about his future self. Kiera has nothing but venom for her Alec after he double-crossed her, which strikes me as unfair of her. I think anyone would have made the same decisions he did.

“Minute Man” is also the first episode of Continuum to feature a proper opening credits sequence, which feels a little overdue.

I worry it’s a bit early to be casting broad generalizations about this season, but so far, I find season three has definitely had a very different feel to past seasons. Things seem a lot darker and more complex.

The characters have lost their camaraderie, and everything is uncertain. Kiera has become bitter and angry. I’ll need a few more episodes to determine whether I like this new direction better or not, or even if it actually is a new direction or just a quirk of the first couple of episodes. It’s smarter, but also less fun.

Overall rating: 7.2/10

“Minute to Win It”:

After a nice rest cure in an institute for the criminally insane, Lucas is back, and he helps Liber8 to carry out a series of bank robberies targeting corporate secrets.

Alec Original Flavour has a series of shocks when he finds out that Mr. Escher was his father, that he left Piron to Alec, and that Emily is not who she has claimed to be. For her part, Emily is confronted by New and Improved Alec and learns that he traveled through time to save her… and that there are now two of him.

Meanwhile, Carlos struggles to cope with the death of one of the Kieras.

This should have been a good episode, but there’s too much that makes little or no sense, and that drags it down. Lucas’s insanity has vanished, seemingly cured by some magic of Sonya’s, but this isn’t well-explained. And if Liber8 could just brainwash people, why did they need to stage these elaborate robberies to begin with?

Kiera should be freaking out at the prospect of Alec taking over Piron, considering that’s yet another step away from her future, but she actually encourages him to accept the offer and seems glad about it. Carlos’s craziness feels odd, too. I can see the death of Kiera 1.0 shaking him up, but I don’t see why it’s making him lose his marbles to the extent it is.

Overall rating: 6.9/10

“Minute Changes”:

This is another episode so busy and packed with awesome I can’t believe they managed to fit it into an hour.

Much of the plot of “Minute Changes” deals with unrest upon a nearby university campus, where several students have begun speaking out in favour of Liber8. The situation deteriorates, and before long, students are lying dead in the streets. The cops claim they were defending themselves, but the evidence doesn’t support that claim.

The bloodshed causes the Sultan of Sleaze, Julian Randal, to come out of hiding and once again prove himself be a being of pure spite, pettiness, and douchey smugness.

Kiera is torn. She has little sympathy for anyone who supports Liber8, even in the most minimal way, and her futuristic ideology puts little value on truth or equality, but she is still a basically moral person, and she can see that what the cops are doing is wrong.

Carlos also finds himself painfully conflicted. On top of the campus shooting, he continues to obsess over the death of Kiera 1.0 — a plot that still feels strange and contrived to me — and the investigation into the Liber8 sympathizers among the students at last brings to light Betty’s association with Liber8.

Elsewhere, Alec 1.0 is settling in as head of Piron and drawing ever closer to becoming his future self, a man who values technological progress ahead of humanity. He’s quick to burn his bridges with Emily, allowing him to focus on the ruthless pursuit of discovery. And in the process, he learns of the existence of his other self.

This was easily the strongest episode of the season to date, despite the occasional hiccup like Carlos’s continued slip into madness. It is a very complex and morally gray story where no one is truly innocent, and everyone struggles to find out where the right path lies.

This episode makes the best use of the darker and more mature tone of the third season, elevating the concept of Continuum to their purest expression. It’s a clash of misguided ideologies, and no one’s hands are clean.

I also really enjoyed the plot following the two Alecs, and especially their fantastic confrontation near the end. It makes the fullest use of the potential of time travel as a plot device. It allows us to consider how minute changes (c wut i did thar?) can radically alter who a person is, and it cuts to the heart of what Continuum is about: the fight to define the future.

Alec 1.0 is becoming a ruthless businessman, the author of Kiera’s twisted future, while Alec 2.0’s love for Emily shifts his priorities towards what really matters: humanity.

Overall rating: 8.5/10 Best line of the night: “They don’t have a Kirk. They don’t have a Picard. They barely have a Geordi!”

“30 Minutes to Air”:

This episode falls more into the category of filler, but at least it’s fun filler.

“30 Minutes to Air” sees Liber8 storm a TV station and begin taking hostages. Ostensibly, their plan is to broadcast a manifesto, but this is Liber8, so of course, it’s not that simple.

So basically it turns into Die Hard.

It’s a plenty entertaining episode. It just doesn’t do much to advance the plot or the character arcs. Liber8 uncovered a bunch of dirty corporate secrets, but they already had a nice collection of those.

The most significant thing to come out of “30 Minutes to Air” seems to be Alec 1.0 continuing to burn his bridges with everyone, even Kiera.

My one significant complaint is that Dillon’s issues with his daughter, and the flashback to Travis’s family — Does Sonya know he had a wife? — didn’t seem to have any relevance to the rest of the episode, so they were rather odd bookends.

On the plus side, it was nice to see Carlos back on top of his game. Let’s hope his dead lady obsession is soon to be a thing of the past.

Overall rating: 7.2/10

Filed under: Retro Reviews Tagged: Continuum, review, sci-fi, TV

MMOs Have Group Content All Wrong

One of those unwritten rules of MMO design seems to be that group content should always be the most challenging content, and that the most challenging content should always be group content. There’s even a progression where the larger the group, the harder the content becomes, with raids inevitably being the toughest challenge there is. To that, I have just one question:

Why?

That’s not a question I can recall ever seeing asked, let alone answered. It only occurred to me recently, and thinking about it, I’m not sure I can find any compelling reason why group content and the hardest content must be one and the same. But I can think of a lot of reasons why they shouldn’t be.

The wrong priorities:

Since I seem to be interrogating my readers today, let me ask you another question: What is the purpose of group content in an MMO?

I’d wager most people would answer something along the lines of supporting the multiplayer aspect of the game. Group content encourages people to work together, and supports socialization. That’s a good thing in a social genre like MMOs.

I don’t think many people would answer that question with, “To provide the hardest challenges.”

But yet, that seems to be the overriding priority for MMO developers. Not to provide opportunities for socializing, but to make players sweat as they struggle with content of the highest difficulty.

Not only does making group content and hard content synonymous not aid socialization, it actively harms it.

For one thing, difficult content immediately excludes players who lack the skills to complete it. You might say that they don’t deserve to complete it if their skills aren’t up to snuff, and arguably, you’re right, but that’s exactly my point: It divides players based on skill level, when the whole point of group content is to bring people together.

One of the reasons I tend to prefer soloing in MMOs is because I don’t enjoy putting social stress on top of content-induced stress. I’m perfectly okay with a challenge — I think the time I’ve spent in StarCraft II and The Secret World proves that — but when you also add that to the stress of potentially letting your friends down, or being let down by your friends, it’s just too much.

When people in a group are of differing skill levels — which is pretty much always going to the case to some extent — it invariable starts to feel awkward. Perhaps a friend is under-performing, causing wipes. You’re forced to choose between hurting their feelings or hobbling your own progression. If someone is far more skilled than their friends, they will inevitably become frustrated and may have to abandon their in-game social circle entirely. Or maybe you’re the weak link. Even if your friends are understanding, you still may feel ashamed for holding them back.

None of these situations are fun.

It’s also worth noting that playing as a group is innately more challenging than doing solo content, all other things being equal. Even putting aside issues of logistics and getting everyone to actually show up — which I do not consider to be true difficulty — it is a fact that the more moving parts there are, the more that can go wrong. The more people there are in your group, the more it becomes inevitable that at least one person will screw up. So why does group content need to be innately more challenging even on top of that?

Group content isn’t even a good measuring stick for skill because of the potential for being carried. There are people in WoW right now who are buying full gold challenge mode runs for massive amounts of gold. They’re earning rewards meant for the most skilled without displaying any skill at all.

The only rationale I can think of for why difficulty and group size should be equated is that developers wanted to encourage people to group by putting all the best rewards behind it, but felt that they then had to crank up the difficulty, because it doesn’t feel right to give the best rewards for easy content. But if that’s the case, it’s a pretty tortured logic.

Group content is for socializing:

Currently, most if not all MMOs put their effort into finding new and creative ways to make group content challenging. What they should instead be doing is finding new and creative ways to make group content a welcoming environment for groups of all sizes and skill levels.

Even Guild Wars 2, a game with incredibly laid-back and inclusive design philosophies, decided its only organized group content, dungeons, should be intensely difficult and require rigid party sizes.

I would much prefer it if group content was designed with the idea of being relatively low stress. I would rather see the greatest challenges come in the form of solo content, so each player is judged solely on their own merits, while group content is made for relaxing with friends.

Developers should instead put their effort into scaling technology that can accommodate any and all group sizes and other such tools to ensure everyone has a place. Group content should be a social feature first and foremost, not something that exists purely to test one’s skills and determine who the most uber-leet gamers are.

That’s not to say that group content can’t or shouldn’t ever be challenging. Indeed, I think a variety of difficulties to suit all skill levels — including the best of the best — is one of the things that would promote socialization.

But it shouldn’t be the overriding goal for group content, to the exclusion of all else.

The Secret World does a better job on this front than most games, though it’s still far from where it should be. The primary source of group content, nightmare dungeons, are brutally hard, and the lack of any decent tools for finding groups rather hobbles the game’s socialization potential.

But it has plenty of challenging solo content, so it’s not a stark divide between easy soloing and hard group content, and scenarios are a step in the right direction. They feature numerous difficulty settings and group sizes to suit the needs of most anyone, and interestingly, group sizes are not actually enforced on most difficulty settings. This means you can do a group scenario with less than five players, or do a solo scenario with all your friends.

In scenarios, it also tends to be true that doing them solo is more difficult than doing them as a group. This has been decried by many for being a departure from the norm, but if you ask me, it’s a welcome concession to what should be common sense.

I’m told that City of Heroes had a very flexible stance on grouping that put socialization first, but since I never played that game, I cannot comment on it further.

World of Warcraft has had an odd and inconsistent history on the matter. These days, it does offer a lot of easy group content that is good for socializing without stress, but it still tends to obey the logic that the larger the group, the harder things should be, and Blizzard has been systematically stripping any significant rewards from most everything but organized raiding so us casual scrubs never forget that we’re not real players.

For whatever reason, MMO developers have decided that if you want a challenge, you must group, and if you want to group, you must be ready for a challenge. I am left baffled as to why this is, as it seems to only hurt the social connections that should be the focus of group content, but it’s not a policy we’re likely to see changing any time soon.

I’m afraid I shall be left with my confusion and disappointment over the matter for a long time to come.

Filed under: Games Tagged: Guild Wars 2, The Secret World, video games, World of Warcraft

Rage of the Old Gods, Chapter Three: Tyzu

We now arrive at the third chapter of my science fantasy epic, Rage of the Old Gods. In the coming weeks, I will be posting the entire book for free on this blog. If you missed the last chapter, go check it out now.

This chapter sees Leha reach the jungle world of Tyzu, but it doesn’t take long for her to once again find herself in mortal peril, and even if she comes out of alive, she will never be the same.

———————

Chapter three: Tyzu

It was no less strange the second time. Instead of feeling drained, this time, her every cell resonated with new energy.

Her feet hit ground, and again, her knees went out from under her. This time, she slammed into the earth with incredible speed.

She groaned.

She pushed herself up, and found herself several inches above the ground. She fell again.

Another groan. Traveling to other worlds was proving more painful than she had expected.

Carefully, she picked herself up and looked around her.

She was in a forest, but it was like no forest she had ever seen. Trees taller than Heart’s highest buildings shaded the forest floor with huge, broad leaves. The wide spaces between trees were choked with bushes, shrubs, odd grasses, and vines. The air hummed with the sounds of buzzing insects and the caws of alien birds. The air was hot, hotter than anything she had felt before, and humid.

She shed her winter gear quickly – more quickly than would have been possible on Sy’om or Barria.

Once she had her gear stowed in her pack, she took a cautious step forward. Her foot moved so fast that it nearly blurred. She almost lost her balance. On top of that, the carpet of vegetation tangled her feet. She thought she could see it growing and tightening on her. She wondered if she was seeing things.

Overhead, two birds shot by like a pair of crossbow bolts.

Leha sighed. This was all far more difficult than she had envisioned.

She gathered her wits and pressed on. It was a while before she found a method of travel that did not result in her making trips to the forest floor. She learned it was easiest to jump and try to land on top of the underbrush; she steadied herself with her staff when the need arose. On this world a small hop could carry her several feet. It was almost fun.

She still fell, on occasion.

She took in her surroundings, searching for anything that might prove useful against the Tors. Unlike Sy’om, Tyzu teemed with life. She caught glimpses of arboreal mammals, brightly plumed birds, lizards and other reptiles, insects that would have given her nightmares had she still been a child, and things she couldn’t identify. Most of the creatures made noises, forming a constant blanket of sounds.

The weather was strange. Once, she saw a storm front form a few miles away. It fired several dozen bolts of lightning and dissipated within a few minutes. Later, a gust of wind came out of nowhere and smashed her into the hard bark of a tree.

She picked herself up. She thought that she would have an excellent collection of bruises come morning, but then she realized that her previous bumps no longer hurt. She checked, and they had completely healed. I guess this high energy thing has its advantages.

She got moving again, bouncing across the green carpet with almost comical speed.

Something snarled.

Looking behind, she saw a dark blur hurtling towards her. She leapt, and a creature that was somewhere between a large cat, a bulldog, and a human slammed into the ground where she had been standing.

She dropped into a defensive crouch and raised her staff. Her heart jammed itself into her throat.

It pounced at her. She flung her staff at it, but she missed, so she drew her sword and attacked with it instead, slashing its shoulder and hurling it against the tree she had hit moments earlier.

Its back hit the tree with a loud thwack, but in the blink of an eye, its arms rotated backwards and grabbed the trunk. It leered and launched itself at her, moving its arms back to a more normal position.

Leha jumped backwards with all her strength. She soared across the forest floor, the beast leaping after her.

She rebounded off a tree and hit the underbrush hard. She rolled, her frightened breaths coming fast. Her adversary leapt after her, landing so close she could smell its carrion-like stink. It blurred forward, snapping its jaws.

Leha took another flying leap backward. The creature followed. She swung her sword wildly in the hopes of frightening the creature.

She was tensing her legs for another jump, when two bolts of sharpened wood pierced her adversary in midair.

It fell to the ground, dead.

A man-shaped blur appeared at the carcass, retrieved the crude spears, leapt, and landed a few feet from her.

This new being was human in shape, but decidedly alien. Its leathery, hairless skin had a deep orangish tan, its fingers and toes ended in long dark claws, and its pupils were a deep blue. It wore a loincloth and appeared to be male. It had stowed the spears in a satchel on its back, and its hands were empty, but she assumed the claws were weapons enough. It stared down at her intensely. It stood more than a foot taller than her.

It took a step forward and barked several syllables. It might have been a language.

Leha raised her sword and tried to control her labored breathing. “Stay back.”

It took a step forward. It spoke strange words and gestured with its hands.

“Stay back!” she warned. She raised her sword, hoping she looked more dangerous than she felt.

The alien appeared taken aback. It said more things she could not understand.

Leha’s heart pounded, and sweat rolled down her back.

The creature stepped forward. Leha squeaked and slashed the air. The alien shook its head.

Before she could stop it, the creature wrapped its wiry arms around her waist and leapt into the canopy. She tried to fight it as it jumped from tree to tree, but it had taken her sword. Her fists and teeth made no impact on its hard skin.

She began to scream.

* * *

By the time they arrived at the alien’s destination, her throat was raw, and her fighting had subsided into numb terror.

They had come to a village consisting of a ring of small wood huts built onto the tops of trees. A wide platform of woven vines and plants filled the gap between huts. The platform had clearly been built, but it was also alive. Leha had never heard of anything like it.

Her captor placed her in the middle of the platform. A crowd of bronze-skinned aliens, young and old, male and female, gathered around her, talking and whispering amongst themselves. All were bony, hairless, and wiry, like the one that had captured her, and all wore nothing but loincloths. One of them took her pack and sword for the others to examine. She did not try to stop it.

A bent, wrinkled crone knelt next to her and spoke. Leha whimpered and shivered under her gaze.

The old woman listened as the others chattered. After some minutes, during which Leha had time to contemplate all the horrible things they might do to her, had passed, the crone issued an order, and a pair of males grabbed Leha by the arms and led her to one of the huts. They ushered her inside and closed the door behind her.

The hut was stained with an earthy-smelling resin and furnished with a stool, a sleeping pallet, and a basin of water. A glassless window supplied light. It was too small to wriggle through.

Leha tested the door latch, checking the lock. To her surprise, it creaked open at her touch. She peaked her head out, only to be pushed back inside by a clawed hand.

She didn’t try again.

She flopped down on the pallet. The fabric was coarse, but it was no worse than the blankets she had used on Sy’om. She combed her hair with her fingers. Her scalp felt hot and sweaty. She curled into a ball and drew her knees up to her chest. Despite the heat, she shivered.

She heard the aliens talking outside her door. “Should we fry her or boil her?” “Should we serve her with soup or a salad?” she imagined them saying.

* * *

By sundown, her throat had healed, and her stomach growled with hunger. Couldn’t they at least fatten me up before they kill me? She paced, her boots clacking on the wooden floor. Often, she narrowly avoided ramming into the stool or one of the walls. She still wasn’t used to how fast things were on Tyzu.

The day had not passed quickly. The long hours had been filled with a mix of boredom and fear. She had spent eternities staring at the walls and the ceiling. Every time she had heard one of the aliens come near the hut, she’d jumped.

She swore under her breath.

There must have been evening-blossoming flowers nearby. A rich, fruity scent was drifting through her open window. It made her stomach stir with hunger. At least things had cooled since the sun started setting, she told herself. The thought provided little comfort. The heat and humidity remained stifling.

Her door opened, and she wheeled around. A male alien stepped towards her. She prepared to defend herself. She wished she had a weapon, but her knife had been in her pack.

The creature stopped in front of her. Before she could twitch a muscle, his arm shot out, and he dug his claws into her left arm.

Hot pain pierced her arm. She cried out.

The alien withdrew its hand and left the hut, looking apologetic.

She crumpled to the floor. Her muscles felt like they were turning to jelly. It was all she could do to crawl onto the rough pallet. She stared at the dark ceiling as the room began to spin. Her heart raged inside her chest, sending her blood roaring through her veins. Her head ached, and her stomach churned. Her limbs felt like they were on fire.

Panting, she looked at her arm. Something yellow glistened in the wound. She wanted to cry.

The hut warped around her, and she thought she heard laughter. She rolled over and emptied what little was in her stomach.

* * *

She was ill all night. She tossed and sweated and cried out in pain. Fevered dreams and terrifying visions assaulted her. Sometimes, she felt jagged pains so severe that her back arched and her whole body spasmed. During one such episode, she bit her tongue with enough force to draw blood.

Sometimes, she would black out; these were her favorite times. Her rare moments of lucidity were just another nightmare, as it was then that she felt the most pain. During those times, she had time to contemplate the death she felt sure was coming. She regretted ever leaving Barria. She wished Drogin was there with her. All the fear, sorrow, and pain of the past weeks came out in sobs both loud and silent.

A few hours before dawn – as fire invaded her every vein, and her insides tried to strangle themselves – she was finally given the peace of lasting unconsciousness.

* * *

When she awoke, it was morning. Sunlight slid in through her window, painting the room in shades of yellow and golden brown. The scent of leaves and the calls of birds floated through the air.

She no longer felt sick, though she was tired and parched.

As slowly as was possible on Tyzu, she sat up and checked her left arm. Her tunic arm was torn and bloodstained, but the wound had scabbed over and looked to be healing well.

She lifted her arm to run her fingers through her matted hair, and nearly screamed at what she beheld as her hand passed in front of her face.

Each of her fingers ended in a jagged, inch-long black claw. A drop of yellow liquid beaded on the end of one of them.

They’re turning me into one of them! she thought, remembering children’s stories of monsters that turned their victims into copies of themselves.

The sight of the yellow venom, the same venom they had injected into her, on her claws made her empty stomach heave. She shut her eyes. I’m a monster!

She wished she could tear the venom from her body. She feared she would become a predator, seeking victims to change into yet more monsters.

When she opened her eyes, the venom was gone, and her claws were dry. She checked every one in amazement. None of them had any venom. She wondered if it had been a lingering hallucination from her illness.

Having claws was disturbing, but it was not so bad as having claws that dripped with malignant poison.

She started to head for the basin of water, but then she looked down. Five claws had punctured the toes of each of her boots. She sagged, feeling her sense of horror return. She wondered if she would ever be able to remove the claws. She wondered if anyone would accept her as human, or if they would see her as a monster. She wondered if she would ever get back to Barria to find out.

She tried removing her boots to get a look at the claws, but she could not disentangle the two. Using the claws on her fingers, she tore her boots and socks to shreds.

The claws on her toes were shorter than those on her hands, but no less sharp.

She took a deep breath and tried to calm herself. Her aching throat reminded her that she was still human enough to need water. Avoiding the pool of vomit, she crawled to the basin and drank deeply from the clear, cool water.

When her thirst had been quenched, and the water had stilled, she looked at her reflection. Her hair was dirty and tangled, and there were dark circles under eyes. She felt relieved that her complexion was still pink, and not the orange-brown of the creatures that had kidnapped her, but then she realized that her pupils had turned blue.

She sighed forlornly. What am I?

She crawled back to the pallet and lay down, consumed by numb horror and a sense of revulsion at what had been done to her.

* * *

She did not know how long she lay there. It felt like hours, though the sun hardly moved, so it could not have been very long.

Eventually, the heat in the hut became too much, the walls too close, the stink of her vomit too overpowering, and she was seized by an overpowering urge to flee.

She sat up, wiped sweat from her brow, and stared at her claws. She had weapons now. Her eyes darted to the door. The need to run built up inside of her until it could no longer be contained.

She crept towards the door, planning to tear apart anyone, or anything, that stopped her from leaving. She opened the door, filled with a primal fury she had never felt before.

There was no guard. She looked around the sunny platform, blinking in confusion. All of the aliens had gathered at the center of the platform and were eating various types of fruit. They looked at her with curiosity and a touch of something like concern.

One of them said something to her. She must have grown accustomed to the speed at which things moved on Tyzu, because she could clearly make out the words now, even if she didn’t understand them.

Something had been odd about these aliens since she’d been captured, and now she realized what it was: nothing in their demeanor indicated aggression. Their monstrous appearances had distracted her, but the one who’d captured her had done nothing to harm her, despite her violent attempts at escape, and their inspections of her had spoken more of concern and curiosity than maliciousness.

Now, their gazes held what appeared to be kindness. And something else, something almost beseeching.

In spite of what they had done to her, she felt her aggression bleed away.

She held up a clawed hand. “What did you do to me?”

Several of the aliens conversed amongst themselves. One spoke to her and gestured for her to approach. He held up a bowl of fruit.

Realizing how hungry she was, Leha crept towards the aliens. The living ropes of the platform cut into her feet, and she wished she had stronger calluses. She sat cross-legged at the edge of the ring of aliens and received the bowl of fruits. She tore one open with her claws and feasted on the juicy inner flesh.

Many of the aliens were talking to each other. She felt sure she was the topic of conversation.

Pausing eating, she looked down and saw that her feet had developed thick calluses. What in the world?

One of the aliens, the warrior that had captured her, spoke to her, and she understood one of the words. Barria. Something clicked in her mind and she understood what he’d said. “Are you from Barria?”

She stared at him and nodded slowly. This set off a ferment among the aliens; they buzzed with excitement.

One of them asked her, “Has the seal been broken? Are the Gods defeated?” Somehow, she understood them perfectly now.

She spoke, and the words she said were of the language of Tyzu, not Eastenhold. “The Old Gods have been dead for millennia. The seal remains, but I have found a way to circumvent it.” More questions appeared to be forthcoming, but she held up her hands for silence, sweet juice dripping from her claws. “Now, I want some answers. Who are you? What did you do to me – ” she indicated one of her blue pupils “ – and why?” A trace of anger crept back into her voice.

The old crone, the one Leha had seen before, put down her bowl and spoke in a raspy voice. “We are the Watching Eye clan. I am Elder Sheen; I am the leader. Our people, the people of Tyzu, are known as the Lost Ones. We came to this world to find new ways of battling the Gods and to create a bastion of humanity on this world.”

Leha leaned forward, her eyes wide. “You’re human?”

Elder Sheen examined one of her clawed, leathery hands and chuckled. “Yes, we are human. Tyzu has changed our bodies, but our hearts are as our ancestors’.”

Leha blushed, realizing she’d been rude.

Sheen regained her sober expression. “As for what we did to you, I am sorry for any discomfort we caused. When Doga found you, he recognized you for what you are: a woman of Barria. It had been so long since we had heard from our homeland that he could not bear to leave you, but you fought him and feared us. We had to find a way to get through to you.” Her eyes shone with an ancient, primordial longing. Leha tried to understand the sense of loss, of loneliness, that must have haunted the Lost Ones for thousands of years.

“Tyzu has wrought many changes in us. One is our claws. They are poisoned; any creature we strike will not live for long. Another is the ability to control our own bodies – albeit in a limited way.”

Leha’s expression showed she did not understand. Elder Sheen held forth a hand, and her face tightened in concentration. After a minute of waiting, Leha saw that the elder’s claws had grown slightly. She nodded in understanding.

Leha no longer felt so uneasy – her old curiosity had been riled.

Elder Sheen continued. “We realized that we could combine these two things. It took several hours, but Sosk was able to change his venom into something that will change, not kill. We thought that if there was something of us in you, you would gain an understanding of us.” She leaned back. “And you have.”

“Can it be reversed?” Leha asked quietly.

“No,” Elder Sheen replied.

Leha bent her head. Her throat tightened.

As much as she did not want to be changed in this way, she could not bring herself to hold it against the Lost Ones – not after seeing the way Sheen’s eyes misted when she spoke of Barria. They had been separated from the rest of humanity for seven thousand years; in their place, Leha probably would have done the same thing.

“I am sorry. Perhaps we did not consider the consequences of our actions,” Elder Sheen said.

Leha held her head in her hands. “I understand,” she said, her voice slurring.

Sheen waited until Leha had composed herself before speaking again. “Tell us of Barria. What has happened since the Gods sealed it? Why did you come here? How did you come here?”

Leha sniffed, took a bite of fruit, and told them of the end of the Liberation. She gave a brief lesson on Barria’s history since then, and then launched into her own tale. She didn’t go into as much detail as she had on Sy’om, but it still took a long time to finish.

Elder Sheen worked her jaw back and forth, then said, “So you came here to find weapons with which to fight these Tors.”

Leha nodded.

Lost One children offered bowls of water for people to rinse their hands. Leha took the opportunity to clean the fruit juice from her fingers. The water was cool, and it helped to refresh her after the last night’s ordeal.

She looked at Elder Sheen. “Do you know of anything that I could use?”

Sheen shook her head. “The reason the powers of the other worlds were effective during the ‘Liberation’, as you call it, was that the Gods could not easily adapt. Humans are far more able to change.”

She leaned forward. “And I must tell you that, even if we did know a way to help you fight, I do not think that we would. We Lost Ones have fought with each other at times, but it is a shameful thing, and we do everything we can to avoid it. Human killing human is abhorrent; we will not be a party to it.”

Leha’s heart plummeted. “Then I came here, suffered through everything, for nothing?” She couldn’t keep the frustration from her voice.

Sheen’s wrinkled visage softened sympathetically. “It would appear so. I am sorry.”

Leha put her head back into her hands, scraping herself with a claw in the process. The Lost One crowd began to disperse as she tried to hold back tears. Some spoke of holding a belated celebration of victory over the Gods.

She decided she wanted to be alone. As she was about to stand up, she remembered the calluses on her feet.

Looking at Elder Sheen, she said, “One more question.”

Sheen, whose elderly joints had not allowed her to leave yet, turned to her. “Yes?”

“What is this?” She pointed to her feet. “One minute, I want calluses to protect my feet. The next, I have them.”

Sheen furrowed her brow perplexedly. “You must have inherited our ability to change ourselves, but you should not have been able to do it so quickly. It would take us the better part of an hour to do something like this. Strange.”

The elder’s confusion did nothing to make Leha feel better, but she thanked her, all the same.

She stood. With the ropes creaking under her, she crossed to the edge of the platform. Staring down, she listened to the sounds of the forest beasts and tried to decide what to do next.

* * *

She spent the rest of the day considering, rejecting, and then reconsidering her options. She could continue to explore Tyzu, perhaps contact other Lost One clans, but there was no reason to believe she would gain anything from that. She could return to Sy’om and explore it further, but she doubted she would find anything useful there. She came to the crushing conclusion that her mission had been a failure, and that she would have to return to Barria.

Assuming she could find a way back.

The Lost Ones left her alone, for the most part. They clearly wanted to spend time with her, but they seemed to realize she needed space. They expended their time in the everyday business of living – hunting, gathering, cleaning, making and repairing their simple tools, cooking, and so forth. The elderly and those without any pressing tasks tended to play a board game that used various animal bones as pieces. The children on Tyzu were much like the children everywhere. They ran, and laughed, and played. Leha had to wonder what was to stop them falling off the platform during some of their rowdier games. The young ones were inclined to gawk at her and ask her questions about Barria. She tolerated them but did not make any pretense of friendliness.

At one point, a short Lost One man approached her. She recognized him as Sosk. She shivered as she remembered the events of the previous night.

He stood two feet from her and rung his hands. “I want to tell you that I’m sorry for the pain we – I – have caused you,” he finally said. He seemed as if we was about to say something else, but he stayed silent.

Leha stared up at him. She couldn’t bring herself to hate him for what he had done, but the memory of his claws tearing into her arm was still fresh in her mind. She resisted the urge to look away. She didn’t have the energy to think about this now. “I understand,” she said, and she did look away.

Sosk waited for her to say more. When she didn’t, he left. Leha returned to her contemplation of the forest below and her dark thoughts.

In the middle of the afternoon, a storm blew in, seemingly out of nowhere. Leha and the Lost Ones were forced to take shelter in the huts while lightning raged and titanic winds ripped through the forest. It seemed to Leha as if the world was coming to an end. The Lost Ones informed her that such weather was common.

When the storm was over, they returned to what they had been doing beforehand. The lightning had set off several brushfires; some got close to the village before burning themselves out. The Lost Ones were not fazed by any of it.

At dinner, just after nightfall, Leha spoke to Sheen again. “Are there wizards among the Lost Ones?”

Sheen nodded. “Yes. I and several others provide magical services for the clan.” The elder chewed on a piece of meat.

The creature they were eating had looked something like a deer, but it tasted more like chicken. It smelled like bacon.

“We have no silver, though, so we are very limited,” Sheen added. Her odd-colored skin seemed to glow in the orange torchlight.

“Why don’t you have any silver?” Leha asked, spearing a piece of meat with a claw. She had to admit that they could be practical.

“The silver we brought with us, and the knowledge of how to make more, were lost in ages past.”

Leha accepted a mug of fruit juice from one of the Lost Ones and sipped the sweet beverage. “Could you manage the spell to take me back to Barria?”

“Our ancestors did their best to penetrate the seal and return to Barria. What makes you think you will do better?” Sheen rasped.

Leha shrugged. “What choice do I have? I don’t want to stay here.” She looked up, adding, “No offense.”

Sheen shook her head as a way of saying, “None taken,” and made a beckoning motion with her hand. “Describe the spell.”

Leha explained it, adding that they would need to draw a large amount of power to create a new jumping point, as the jumping points to Barria had been eliminated.

Elder Sheen shook her head sadly. “We cannot do it.”

“Why not?” Leha pleaded, running her fingers through her hair. The feeling of claws on her scalp was more than a little disturbing.

“Tyzu’s energies are chaotic. To channel that much power without silver would surely kill the casters.”

Leha hung her head and let out an exasperated sigh.

After several minutes like that, she lifted her head and said, “There must be something we can try. A spell. A place to look for the silver you lost.”

A Lost One warrior with a scar on her chin leaned forward. “There is one place where silver can be found.”

Heart pounding, Leha looked at her expectantly.

“That will not help her, Haj,” Elder Sheen said.

Leha leaned forward. “What is it?”

Sheen frowned and put down her food. She seemed hesitant to speak. “Not all of the Gods failed to adapt to Tyzu. One was able to survive, though it went mad. It took up residence in a cave north of here. Every few years it would emerge to pillage and cause havoc. Our clans could not defeat it. It may be dead now – it has not been seen since I was young – but we have not dared to check.”

Leha felt her blood chill at the knowledge that an Old God still lived. “What does this have to do with finding silver?” she asked.

“The Gods fused silver onto their bodies. It gave them great mastery over magic,” one of the Lost Ones said.

Leha shuddered. “If I was to try and take this Old God’s silver, would your clan help me?” she asked Sheen.

“No. It is too great a risk,” Sheen replied sternly.

Leha ate her food without tasting it. The world seemed to be closing in on her.

* * *

That night, she dreamed of Three Gates’s destruction, of fire and war and death, and of Drogin. She dreamed of the cold stares of Tor Automatons and of the screams of frightened women. She startled awake many times, sometimes waking the Lost One woman whose home she stayed in.

When dawn finally came, bringing with it a return of Tyzu’s intense heat, she felt more tired than she had before she had gone to sleep. She shared breakfast with the Lost Ones, saying little.

After she had eaten and drank, she returned to the hut she shared and sought out her belongings. She could not stay here while her nation burned, and she had just one hope of returning to Barria. She had to kill the Old God and tear the silver from its body.

She did not bother to consider how reckless her quest was – or how small her chances of survival were.

As she fastened her sword belt, a deep voice spoke behind her. “Leha.”

She spun around. It was Doga, the one who had taken her from the forest. “Yes?” she said.

“I wish to apologize for frightening you when we first met. It was not my intent.”

“Oh, that’s all right,” she said dismissively, hooking her knife onto the belt.

Doga paused before saying, “You are going after the God, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” she sighed, expecting him to try and talk her out of it.

Doga pulled himself to his full height. “I would help you.”

She looked up from rooting through her pack, a questioning expression upon her face.

“Our ancestors came here to fight the Gods. It seems my people have lost sight of our purpose here. Though I’m sure Elder Sheen believes she is doing what is best for us, I think she has allowed fear to lead her away from our duty.”

Leha stood. “Will you get in trouble for helping me?”

“Elder Sheen has not ordered us to help you, but she has not ordered us not to help you. I am free to make my own decisions.”

Leha stepped forward and placed a hand on his hard shoulder. “Thank you,” she said earnestly.

Doga bowed his head. “It is my honor.”

They stepped from the hut together.

“I must gather my weapons. I will meet you there,” he said, pointing to the closer edge of the platform.

She went and stood at the edge. She wondered if any of the other Lost Ones had noticed what she was doing. If so, they gave no sign of it.

As she wished that she had brought some armor with her from Barria, Doga returned. He had a satchel of three sharpened wood spears on his back, and a stone-bladed axe hung from his belt. “I am ready,” he said.

She looked down at the distant forest floor. The scent of new growth floated up from far below. “How do we get down?”

He glanced at her. “We don’t.” His body blurring, Doga leapt off the platform, flew more than two-dozen feet through the air, and landed neatly on the branch of a neighboring tree. He beckoned to her.

Fear clutched at Leha, but she reminded herself that things worked differently on Tyzu, and that this was no more dangerous than fighting an Old God would be. She took a deep breath, stepped backwards, took a running leap off the platform, and fell like a stone.

She shrieked.

Doga shot downward, caught her in midair, and landed on the trunk of another tree, sinking his claws into the wood.

She hugged the tree, trying to calm her breathing.

“I’m sorry. It is so easy for us that I thought…” he said.

She looked at him with frightened eyes. “I can’t travel like this.”

“It would take too long to walk there. You must change yourself, make your muscles stronger.”

She sighed. Closing her eyes, she concentrated on becoming strong, agile, and fast. Her limbs tingled, and she could feel her muscles growing. Her body became leaner, tighter, harder.

She opened her eyes. “Okay, let’s try it again,” she said in a strangled voice.

Doga jumped away. Upon landing, he turned and called, “I will catch you if you fall.”

Leha took another deep breath, and leapt.

She shot toward the tree, barely having time to reach out with her claws before banging into the trunk. Her claws found purchase, and she clambered up onto a branch just below Doga’s.

“Much better,” he said. A hint of a smile touched his angular features.

She nodded dumbly.

Doga said, “Again,” and took another blurring vault. She followed him, this time with more grace.

“I think I’m getting the hang of this!” she called to him. He nodded and jumped again.

They continued traveling in that manner for the next half-hour. Doga led the way, with Leha following. She grew to enjoy this mode of travel. It was almost like flying. The wind would rush across her body with each jump, exhilarating her – it was almost enough to make her forget the trials of the last few weeks.

She took the opportunity to observe many of the strange plants and animals that called Tyzu home. Doga told her that the forest was home to numerous kinds of vicious predators – including Stassai like the one he had rescued her from – but they did not encounter any of them.

As they neared their destination, a storm appeared – there was rarely any warning of storms on Tyzu. They were drenched in the blink of an eye. Lightning flared, but much of it went through the clouds and not down; Doga assured her that they were in little danger. Nonetheless, they avoided the taller trees.

They reached the base of a cliff, and Doga pointed down. A large cave, like a yawning mouth, pierced the cliff side. They skittered down the trees and approached.

The cold, pounding rain had damaged Leha’s mood, and the knowledge that what she was about to do was likely suicide killed the last of her good feelings. She shivered and set her mouth into a grim line

She drew her sword, and found that her claws prevented her from having a good grip.

She threw it away in disgust. Doga watched it clang against the rocks. He seemed confused but said nothing.

He drew a spear, and they entered the cave.

The rock was cool and wet under Leha’s bare feet. The ground was strewn with gravel and boulders. Some had sharp edges she could feel through her calluses. She willed them thicker. A small stream ran down the middle of the tunnel, filling the air with a faint trickling to accompany the cacophony of the storm outside.

Leha tried to concentrate on making her body as strong and tough as possible. The fearful drumming of her heart and the rush of adrenaline through her veins made it hard to think straight.

“If it is asleep, we may be able to ambush it,” Doga whispered, startling her. His face was set into a mask of determination. “It cannot control the magic on Tyzu, so it will have to fight us with its bare hands.”

That’s a great comfort, she thought sarcastically.

They turned a slight corner, and she saw a piece of tarnished silver reflecting the dim light. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust, but when she did, she gasped.

There, lying on the cavern floor, its metal body covered in dirt and rust, was their quarry.

It was an Automaton.

Leha’s first thought was that it was one of the Tor Wizard-Automatons, but she realized that its design did not match. It wasn’t any make she recognized.

Seeing her distress, Doga asked, “What is it?”

She started walking out of the cave, gesturing for him to follow. They stopped just inside the cavern mouth and she turned to face him. “It’s an Automaton!” she said.

“What is an Automaton?” he asked, looking perplexed.

“A machine. We use them on Barria for combat and heavy labor.”

Doga quirked his head. “The Gods do your bidding?”

“No, we – I,” she stammered. She flopped onto a damp boulder. “Wrath of the Old Gods,” she said, invoking the greatest of all swears.

Truth dawning on her, the blood drained from her face. The Old Gods had been living among humanity for centuries, and now, the Tors had finally restored them to their original level of power.

Eastenhold was not the only nation in peril. All of Barria was in danger.

“Leha, what are you talking about?” Doga asked.

She clutched the boulder she sat upon to stop her hands shaking. Her claws dug little furrows in the stone. “Hundreds of years ago, a wizard named Vorren invented a new type of magical war machine called an Automaton. It changed the face of the world. His nation, Jansia, became supremely powerful; my own country was founded by refugees fleeing the Jansian machines.

“Except he didn’t invent them. He must have found the wrecks of some of the Old Gods and rebuilt them, not realizing what they were. And every generation has been making the Automatons bigger and more powerful ever since.”

It now seemed unforgivably foolish, and her face burned with the shame of thousands of years of recklessness practiced by the people of her world. “It was thousands of years after the Liberation. No one remembered what the Old Gods had been. ‘Titans of strength and terror’ was all we ever knew of them.” She dropped her gaze. “We… forgot.”

As she spoke, his face tightened. His brow furrowed, his eyes widened, and his lip quivered in anger. “How could you have forgotten the Old Gods, after all they did to us?”

She looked up at him forlornly.

Her heart beat even faster now. She needed to get home and warn her people. She had to warn everyone.

A creaking of metal echoed from deeper in the cave. Doga’s head snapped around. “It’s awake.”

He ran back into the cave, spear at the ready, and she followed.

The Automaton had come to its feet. Even as massive as the cave was, the machine couldn’t stand straight without hitting the ceiling. It struck at them with both hands. They dodged in opposite directions moments before its fists smashed into the cave floor, sending dust and rocks flying.

Doga threw his first spear. It broke against the Automaton’s armor. The Automaton struck back; he dodged and threw the second. This one broke through the machine’s corroded chest, but it did not slow the ancient God.

While Doga kept it distracted, Leha circled behind it, trying to think of a way to bring it down. Her brother had taught her much about the inner workings of Automatons. If this one was like the modern models, it would have a disc of pure silver within its chest, drawing power to keep the machine operating. Tear out the disc, and this is over.

Doga hurled his last spear. It clanged off the Automaton’s head without effect. He drew his axe and struck the thing’s hand, tearing a deep gouge in the corroded metal. The Automaton swung its other hand in a wide arc. Doga avoided it – like Leha when she had first arrived, it was unsteady in its movements – but the blow shattered the cavern wall.

A piece of rubble hit Doga’s head with a meaty smack. He collapsed.

Leha’s heart skipped a beat and she cursed herself for hesitating. “Damn you!” she cried.

The Automaton turned to face her, its joints squealing and its feet crushing rocks. It fixed her with a baleful, blue stare. A voice, inhuman and cold, spoke in her mind. Rebellious whelp.

It raised its fist to crush her.

Still blaming herself for not helping Doga, she didn’t dive out of the way until it was almost too late. The floor where she had stood was pulverized. Bits of broken stone stung her skin.

She swung with her claws, snapping off one of the machine’s fingers. It backhanded her, smacking her against the cavern wall. Pain blossomed in her back. It attacked again, going for the killing blow. It was too fast; she couldn’t avoid it. If she had been on Barria, she might have had time to react, but here, she didn’t.

The Automaton slowed, allowing her to escape.

Confused, she bounded into the rear of the cavern, away from its clutches. The Automaton pursued her, but it was now moving at the speed it would on Barria, and she could evade it easily.

What happened? She thought back to the moment just before it had slowed. She had been thinking that if it had slowed to the pace of things on Barria, she would have been able to escape. And it had.

She decided to do an experiment. She concentrated on lessening the energy around it, on making it move as it would on Sy’om.

The Automaton slowed down to a crawl.

Leha felt a surge of vindictive pleasure. A smile split her face.

Still moving with the speed of Tyzu, she leapt onto one of its outstretched arms and ran up its unnaturally cold skin, arriving at its neck. She grabbed one of the rusted steel plates on the front of its throat and pulled with all her strength. Her muscles burned with the effort, but with a great screeching of metal, the plate tore off. She began pulling at the plate below it. In its current condition, there was little the Automaton could do to stop her. The second plate was even more corroded and came off easily. It crashed onto the stone floor.

The third plate took more effort. She had to brace herself on the machine’s reinforced collar and engage what felt like every muscle in her body to pry it loose. She gritted her teeth against the pain it caused her. Finally, with a great screaming of metal, it came free. She had to put her momentum into a spin to keep from falling off the machine’s chest.

The Automaton’s hands were almost close enough to yank her free, but she had created a wide enough hole in its neck for her to dive into its chill interior. She crawled down into the mass of gears and support struts that was the inside of its chest. Standing on a lateral beam, she clutched the faintly glowing silver disc that provided the machine’s power. Unlike its surroundings, which had been chilled by its drawing power to fuel the machine, it was warm. She shrank her claws to get a better grip, braced herself, and pulled, pitting her newfound strength against the steel of its moorings.

The inside of the machine was in better condition than the outside, and the silver was bolted in tightly. No ordinary human could have done it. But Leha was no longer an ordinary human.

Her body rose to the challenge, growing and enhancing its musculature beyond what she would have thought possible. Her arms became hard cords equal to any metal.

When she thought she could not stand the pain any longer, the disc broke from its moorings. She nearly fell into the gears in its hips, but caught herself in time.

The machine shuddered and dropped. Leha held on tightly, but it still moved with the energy of Sy’om, and the landing was soft.

Silver disc in hand, she wriggled out of the machine and ran across the dank cave to check on Doga. His head was bloodied, and her throat tightened as she approached. Then, she heard a groan, and he lifted his head.

“Did we win?” he asked groggily.

Kneeling before him, she held up the silver and grinned.

He smiled weakly. “How?”

Her grin faded. “I don’t know.” She looked at the fallen hulk of the Automaton. “It was about to kill me, and I thought that, if I was on Barria, I would have time to escape, and then it slowed down, like it was on Barria. Then I tried to make it as slow as it would have been if it was on Sy’om, and it worked.” She added, “I don’t understand it.”

Doga looked at her oddly, propping himself up on one elbow. “Maybe it has something to do with how we changed you. Maybe it made you a wizard.”

“Maybe,” she admitted. “But, on my world, the Automatons are shielded with lead so magic won’t work on them.”

Doga frowned. “This one was too. All the Gods were,” he said, glancing down at the floor.

She furrowed her brow. “Maybe the lead lost its efficacy over time.”

Doga hauled himself to a sitting position. He looked a little pale. “It’s possible. There is one way to see if you are a wizard: try to cast a spell.”

Leha wasn’t sure if trying to cast a spell on a high energy world, without training, was a good idea, but her curiosity got the better of her. She pointed at a nearby rock, closed her eyes, and tried to send a bolt of magic at it.

Nothing happened.

She tried changing her body, making herself into a wizard. Her face screwed in concentration.

Nothing happened.

She opened her eyes. “I’m not a wizard.”

Doga shook his head. “It is a mystery.”

Remembering the urgency of the situation, Leha said, “I need to get back to Barria and warn my people. Can you travel?”

He nodded. “Just give me a few moments.”

She nodded and stood. She stepped across the cavern to examine the dead Old God. She had spent so much time imagining them; it was nothing like what she had expected.

Running her hands across a rapidly warming metal foot, she wondered how she had defeated it. She picked up a stone and threw it. Halfway through its arc, she willed it to Sy’om’s energy level. It slowed greatly. With a thought, she sped it back up to Tyzu speed, and it clattered to the floor.

She shook her head. I don’t understand.

She performed several tests of her abilities before Doga signaled he was ready to go. She found that she could change the energy level of any object, even herself, to that found on Tyzu, Barria, or Sy’om.

She continued to ponder it as they left they cave and returned to the Watching Eye Clan village.

———————

Enjoying the story so far? The next chapter will be posted soon, but if you can’t wait, you also have the opportunity buy the full ebook now!

Filed under: World Spectrum Tagged: books, fantasy, Rage of the Old Gods free chapters, sci-fi, steampunk, The World Spectrum, writing

Review: Gotham, Pilot Episode

As noted previously, I’m not the biggest fan of DC comics. Which is putting it kindly, really. But I can occasionally be convinced to give Batman a chance. His is a story with at least the potential to be done well. It rarely is, but the possibility is there, unlike Superman, who is always going to be lame no matter how he’s presented.

I have an unusual store of goodwill built up toward the Batman franchise from the Nolan movies, so when I learned of the TV series Gotham, I decided it was worth a try.

Gotham is a prequel, of sorts. Bruce Wayne appears in the story, but the show focuses on a young Jim Gordon and the slow slip of Gotham into crime and corruption.

It’s an interesting idea. It’s a show steeped in the mythology of the Batman franchise, but one in which Batman himself will never appear. My hope was that it might be something of a cop show with a twist, larger than life enough to stand apart from TV’s host of other crime dramas but more down to earth and believable than other comic book adaptations.

But how did it turn out?

After watching the pilot episode, I am left with a profound feeling of… nothing at all, really. I am neither impressed, nor dismayed.

Gotham begins where Batman always begins: with the brutal murder of Bruce Wayne’s parents. Newbie detective Jim Gordon and his trainwreck of a partner arrive on scene and are left with the unenviable task of investigating the deaths of two of Gotham’s wealthiest and most famous individuals.

The resulting investigation takes Jim Gordon on a tour of Gotham’s seedy underbelly and gives him firsthand experience of just how corrupt the city, and its police force, have become.

They waste no time in introducing a slew of iconic characters from the Batman universe. In addition to core characters like Bruce Wayne, Jim Gordon, and Alfred, Gotham’s pilot also featured appearances by Catwoman, Carmine Falcone, the Riddler, Poison Ivy, and the Penguin.

The main problem I had with Gotham was that it is a very clear case of “trying too hard.” Every single scene goes balls to the walls in an attempt to play on the emotions of the viewer, and the cliches are coming hard and fast. Even the music is tacky and over the top, almost lapsing into the realm of unintentional self-parody at times.

I also feel that Ben McKenzie is badly miscast as Jim Gordon, and that the character in general is poorly handled. Granted, I’m not an expert on Batman’s mythology, but when I think Jim Gordon, I think grizzled veteran cop. I think good-hearted everyman trying to do the right thing against all odds.

I don’t think pretty boy super cop and war hero with an improbably hot girlfriend.

On the plus side, other members of the cast are handled much better. Although he is at times another example of the show trying far too hard, David Mazouz is fairly impressive as a young Bruce Wayne. Lot of gravitas for a kid. I was also rather impressed with the sheer vileness of the Penguin, played by Robin Lord Taylor.

Catwoman seems interesting, too. It’s hard to judge her character, since she hasn’t had any dialogue yet, but the way the actress (Camren Bicondova) moves is, well, incredibly cat-like. I’ve never seen anything quite like it. Reading up on Wikipedia, it seems she’s a dancer, so I suppose that explains it.

Gotham has some other redeeming features. It’s a visually interesting show, with a look that has a certain undefinable comic book air to it without seeming overly cartoony.

It’s definitely not a bad show. I’ve certainly seen worse pilots. But the plot is too cliche, the main character too much of a cartoon, the emotion too overwrought and clumsily shoved onto the viewer.

If you’re a big Batman fan, I think this is a show worth your time. But as someone whose interest in Batman is minimal, I find myself with little enthusiasm for Gotham. I’m still on the fence as to whether to keep watching, but right now, I’m leaning towards not bothering.

Overall rating: 5.5/10

Filed under: Reviews Tagged: Gotham, review, TV

Retro Review: Continuum Season Two, Episodes 10-13

I think we all know how this works by now. Here be spoilers.

“Second Wave”:

The last few episodes have been a little slow by Continuum standards, but here’s a welcome return to form: A thousand things are happening at once, and there’s no chance to catch your breath.

“Second Wave” sees Garza captured with the aid of Alec’s “Arc” program. As she is given a taste of some “enhanced interrogation,” Alec also concocts a scheme to track down Travis by activating his military CMR, but this has some unwelcome side effects.

At the same time, Julian is embracing his role as Theseus, and Lucas is continuing to lose his marbles… OR IS HE?!??

Most interestingly, though, the Freelancers are on the move. They are acting to interfere with both Liber8 and Kiera, and Mr. Escher has his eyes set on Alec — which is causing some very mixed feelings for Emily.

So much happened in this episode that I don’t even know where to begin discussing it. Which is probably my favourite thing about it.

I think the story of the Freelancers was the most interesting. They seem somehow more sinister than Liber8. Liber8 is something we understand, the devil we know. And while their methods are reprehensible, their goals are admirable.

The Freelancers, though, are a wildcard, and from what we’ve seen so far, I don’t believe there is anything admirable in their motives. In the long run, I think they may prove far more dangerous than Kagame’s disciples.

Julian’s development still feels a little odd. Seems like they’re trying to force his character in a direction that isn’t consistent with his previous depictions.

As with almost everything involving her to date, Emily falling for Alec in truth is very predictable, but not unwelcome.

“Second Wave” also saw Kiera’s slide toward the Dark Side continue. Her taking a page from Admiral Cain’s playbook* isn’t inconsistent with her character, but it is strange she isn’t just using her truth serum. Seems like that’d be a lot more efficient, and while Kiera is obviously not above some cruelty when it’s expedient, she has never seemed the sort to be cruel at the expense of expediency.

*(Two completely unrelated sci-fi references in as many sentences. I wonder if there’s a prize for that?)

Finally, Curtis being a Freelancer is a fantastic twist, which raises all sorts of delicious questions.

Overall rating: 8/10

“Second Guess”:

This is another very busy episode. Now completely lost in his madness, Lucas absconds with part of Alec’s Arc program and uses it to sow chaos every way he can. This gives pretty much everyone a bad day.

The fact that the cops are now lackeys of a shady corporation, as well as Jim’s connections to Liber8, come to light. Jim begins to play both Liber8 factions against each other in the hopes of freeing himself from their coercion. Alec is racked with self-doubt as he sees what his technology can do when used by those with ill intent.

About the only one benefiting from the anarchy is Julian, who is using it to spread his message far and wide.

Meanwhile, Kellogg looks into Mr. Escher and the Freelancers and grows more concerned the more he learns.

“Second Guess” is another episode where so much happened I hardly even know what to say about it. I will say that I enjoyed it all, and I really can’t think of anything to complain about.

One unexpected twist to come out of all this is that Kiera now possesses the time device in its entirety. Obviously, she can’t use it to get home, because that would be the end of the show, but hopefully it can have some sort of interesting effect on the story going forward.

I also continue to be fascinated by the Freelancers. Between their air of mystery and the fact they seemed to lack any redeeming qualities, I’m beginning to find them a more frightening threat than Liber8.

Overall rating: 8/10

“Second Last”:

“Second Last” sees pretty much everything crumble into chaos.

Gardner’s body has been found, and all the evidence points to Kiera as the killer. She and Carlos are forced to become fugitives, with their former comrades on the police on their trail.

As part of a thoroughly misguided attempt to gain allies against the Freelancers, Kellogg grants Travis access to Alec’s lab, and he extorts Alec into outfitting him with the spare CPS suit, making him even more unstoppable than he already is.

Mr. Escher places new pressure on Emily to recover the time travel device from Alec, forcing her to choose where her loyalties lie: Escher, or Alec.

The result is an episode that is nail-bitingly intense from start to finish, and which could have served just fine as the season finale — but there’s still one episode left.

I can’t say that I’m happy about Emily’s death, seeing as I’m a big fan of Magda Apanowicz, but I’m not sure I can hold that against this episode. That’s more my own personal reaction rather than any mistake on the part of the show. It’s not objectively bad for the story.

Besides, it’s sci-fi. No guarantee she’ll stay dead.

While “Second Last” was unusually gripping and action-packed even by Continuum standards, I think the most interesting thing about it may have been some of the offhand comments made by Jason.

For one thing, he seemed to indicate the Freelancers may not be from the future after all. Or at least not in the way we think. So who are they? People from the present who somehow got their hands on future tech? Is there some sort of parallel universe shenanigans going on? If they’re not from the future, how was Curtis one of them?

Also, when the Freelancers hit his apartment, Jason said, “I won’t go back.” Is this an indication he has been captured by the Freelancers before? Is that why he’s such a screwball?

Of course, it’s also possible some or all of this is just Jason being crazy.

Overall rating: 8.4/10

“Second Time”:

Holy mother of… This is almost “Boomer shot Adama” quality.

Okay, first of all, let’s run down all the crazy things that have happened here.

Jason isn’t Alec’s father. He’s Alec’s son. Escher is Alec’s father.

Escher isn’t leader of the Freelancers after all. He was trying to protect Alec from them — he’s still a bastard, though.

All of the time-travelers, including Kiera, have been captured by the Freelancers.

Alec’s gone back in time to save Emily.

Carlos and Betty have gone rogue and sought the aid of bloody Julian of all people.

I just… wow. That is one Hell of a cliff-hanger.

Do I even need to say this was an amazing episode? There was no part of it that was not mind-blowing.

Of course, it’s Continuum, so there was no shortage of tension or action. I was particularly impressed with Kiera’s battle with Travis atop a moving elevator. Once again, I am awed by what this show can pull off for what is undoubtedly a low budget Canadian production.

But that barely scratches the surface of what made “Second Time” so excellent. I think what impresses me the most is how so many different plot threads have come together, how so much foreshadowing over so long has paid off so well. I think I may have underestimated the cleverness of Continuum’s writers. Severely.

There were a lot of great little moments, too. I really enjoyed Kiera’s ruthless assessment of how Dillon has become corrupted, and it made me realize what an interesting arc that character has had. He was quite bland for a long time, a good guy but an unremarkable one. But his slow fall from grace has been well-executed, and now he’s one of the show’s more sinister figures: the progenitor of CPS, the man who sows the seeds for Kiera’s totalitarian future.

I also liked how Carlos was clever enough to find out Betty was the Liber8 mole. Usually, Carlos is second fiddle to Kiera, and for the most part, that’s as it should be, but it is nice to see him accomplish something on his own for a change.

Beyond all that, I’m just struck by how much this show has improved. Don’t get me wrong; Continuum was always a good show. I’ve enjoyed it consistently from the outset, bar an occasional minor stumble. But it was always a pretty basic show.

The second season, and particularly the Freelancers, have done a great deal to make it less simple, less generic. They were exactly what Continuum needed to stop being just Cops and Robbers with more technobabble. The series is weaving a fascinating and complex mythology all its own.

Overall rating: 9.4/10 Mind = blown. Kaboom.

Filed under: Retro Reviews Tagged: Continuum, review, sci-fi, TV