Welcome to the Screamsheet! This place can best be described as a reflection of my weird and fragmented personality. Here you’ll find rants both childish and mature, fiction both published and unpublished, music, videos, and anything else that might wander across my brain.
After several days of time travel, apocalyptic battles, and high-tech battle suits, a moment of peace and quiet scares me. When the statements have been taken and the damage control teams have arrived, it’s just me sitting in a hotel room, staring at a wall, and contemplating my many aches and bruises.
My mind should be doing its own damage control. I should be trying to figure out a way I can explain the last few days to the public. Salvaging my reputation wouldn’t be that difficult – with all his talk about mind-control and plans within plans, Rosey gave pretty much everybody involved a defense if they want to use it. No, your honor, it wasn’t me who lied to a jury, conspired with a convicted criminal, and may possibly have driven an increasingly unstable superhero over the edge – it was all the doings of the evil Dr. Pythagoras. I was just an unwitting pawn. But then, that would be the biggest lie of all, wouldn’t it?
Everything I did was calculated on the idea that Rosey could be redeemed. He just needed to get out of that cell and use his genius to help society. But I didn’t see the rest. I didn’t see the world where a barely stable nuclear man who had held it together for far too long was just one minor nudge from going over the edge. I didn’t see how easily Rosey would slide back into his old ways once he had the excuse of an insane Paradigm.
The sun sets, and I’m left sitting in the dark, staring straight ahead at nothing.
I didn’t see.
If humans found a way to clone dinosaurs, would you be down for it?
There’s no right or wrong answer to this question, unless you bring up Jurassic Park as an argument against cloning. Then you’re wrong.
Jurassic Park is a good book and an entertaining movie. But it always makes me grind my teeth when people use it as an illustration of the dangers of human beings playing God. It is not a cautionary tale about the dangers of cloning. It is a cautionary tale about running a shitty zoo. Continue reading
Liking something is an emotional experience that doesn’t always sync up with a logical mindset. There are several things which my rational mind recognizes as terrible but which I personally can’t get enough of. This is an examination of some of those things.
It’s worth noting that these are not guilty pleasures. A guilty pleasure is something that you feel bad about liking (i.e., the way Americans should feel about our obsession with reality TV). I feel no guilt or shame over liking these things – I just recognize that, from any logical and sensible perspective, they are terrible. Continue reading
I have a habit of starting Pathfinder games as nothing more than beer and pretzel affairs, only to see them develop into something bigger. One of the prime examples of that would be my ongoing Night Below campaign, which has moved beyond the boxed adventure that serves as its namesake and is now borrowing heavily from the Wrath of the Righteous adventure path.
It’s been a couple of months since I’ve been able to run this game, and when I can’t run a game I tend to mull things over a lot and let certain ideas stew. This has led me to realize that what began as an excuse to string a bunch of dungeon crawls together has actually developed some Nietzschean themes over the past few years.
Seeing Eva manhandle Paradigm in a suit she’s barely familiar with confirms something I have long suspected about myself: I am an idiot. I’ve invented gadgets that allow me to stand toe to toe with gods, move planets out of their orbit, and most recently travel through time, and none of it matters. Unlike Eva, I can’t think on my feet.
Fortunately, given some prep time, I can still come up with remarkably well-crafted strategies. And beating Paradigm in a fistfight was never my Plan A.