Saturday, March 31, 2007

SR Fanfic

  • Mar. 31st, 2007 at 7:30 PM

This was written a LONG time ago as a character concept piece.

The Dead Deckers Society (2002)

How many times have you said “ I’m getting too old for this?” It seems to be happening more and more of late. Like many runners, I at one time was once a part of the corporation. Yup. Writing wiz code every day for the man. Getting nowhere…fast. I did my job efficiently. I moved up a little, but overall I didn’t have the charm of the “Fast-Trackers”. I didn’t kiss any ass, and that in the end killed me (well, it’s one of the things that killed me). It is all about who you know.

After almost twenty years of service to the late Fuchi Industrial Electronics I left. It wasn’t nearly as neat as that. Actually, I died in the process.

This is the story...

My older sister was just a normal kid till the change hit her. Some gene or something “expressed itself” and she grew into a beautiful young lady. Her elven grace did not find it my way. And growing up in Portland, Oregon when the United States was dying a painfully slow death was not a fun place. Essentially we grew up in a bunker. At least it seemed that way. Eventually the US of A died and I was ready to leave. Eventually the Tir was formed and Portland no longer seemed home. I took off for the closest thing to it: Seattle. Hell, it was almost America right?

Anyhow, It was nothing like I expected. 1st thing I did was get the hell kicked outta me in some bar that doesn’t even exist anymore. Burned down during a time when “Race Riots” were really about race. I spent the better part of a year doing odd jobs and getting in trouble. One day waking up outside a Circle J Mart in clothes I don’t remember wearing, hung over, and smelling foul I met an older guy, in his 30’s, in a mix-matched pair of shoes, a Heavy Metal T-shirt, jeans and a rain jacket. He wanted to use the phone I was apparently huddled under. I moved and he pulled out a little device and placed it to the receiver prior to making a call somehow bypassing the need for a credit card. I was fascinated. He completed his call, and walked back to his car to leave. I guess I was just standing there dumbly when he hollered out to me “ Are you coming or what?”

This was going to be the smartest, or the dumbest thing (and prolly the last thing) I had ever done. I was all of eighteen years old and was ten-foot-tall (actually six) and not so bulletproof.

So we drove to Redmond. Looks very different now. I mean it was bad then, but damn…we pulled up to an apartment complex. A single four story building. We took the stairs, as the elevator was broken. Cliché I know, but it was. We went to the top floor to his flat, which had like ten locks on it. I of course was thinking that this might be a bad idea. I may have even had said something to that effect when he simply left the door open as he walked in. Second-guessing my instincts I walked in.

The home of Kev Hickman was more of a lab than a home. There were at least fourteen computers about the main room. All apparently networked, all apparently working on their own processes. I didn’t know anything about computers really back then. The ASSIST technology was still in its infancy back then and only superusers had it. I walked in and he directed me straight to the washroom where he pointed out towels and soap. I took the hint, but I guess I watched too many horror films as a kid so; the pucker-factor was still pretty high. I quickly showered and dressed in some clothes he had left. Didn’t fit, but they weren’t filthy so I couldn’t bitch. I came out of the washroom to the aroma of food. It was sensory overload. I guess I hadn’t eaten in a couple days, cause even though I really tried not to inhale what he had lain out, it was gone in seconds. The man introduced himself is Kevin Hickman and I know he went on for a while but to this day I haven’t the first clue what it was about.

I woke up on the couch with a blanket over me to a dark room lit only by flashing monitors. Kev was hunched over one opened up system with a soldering iron in one hand and a tester lead in the other. I don’t know how long I was out but I was alive (=not dead by some psycho). I got up and dragged over a folding chair to observe what he was doing. “Sleep well?” he asked, not taking his attention away from the task at hand. “Yeah, how long was I out?” I asked. “Bout fourteen hours.” was his reply. He didn’t ask any more questions that night and neither did I. He stayed up really late and racked out a little before dawn. Before going he told me to stick around till mornin. I did.

Again I woke up on that couch to the hunched over guy at the computer. “So what are you going to do with yourself?” he asked out of the blue. At a loss I answered that I didn’t know. I was a high school dropout in the 21st century. Prospects looked slim. “Maybe the Military?” I said sheepishly. He just looked at me. “I dunno.” was my only possible answer. “You need to get yerself an education.” He said matter-of-factly. I looked at him incredulously. “How exactly do you propose that?” I joked. “It can be done, just depends on what you want to do, and how much you want it.” He started. “Everything in this world revolves around how much you want something, and what you are willing to do to get it. Look around you. Everyday you see the ‘can-do’s’ and the ‘Cant’s’. The ‘can-do’s will be somebody, the ‘cant’s’ never will. It is a simple fact of life.” He explained. “ So, what are you?”

It was Kev that introduced me to the world of computers. He was a first generation Decker that went by the handle Ampere. He for some reason made it possible for me to attend the University of Washington, even though I was a dropout and had no money. He showed me what could be done without money. I learned a great many tricks in those four years. And that was just the beginning.

Fuchi Industrial Electronics recruited me straight out of college. At the time I couldn’t help but feel that I was moving up in the world. At that time I went into surgery for my first cyberware. Fuchi of course spares no expense on it’s own. And I went to work developing Intrusion Countermeasures for the premiere IC Production Corporation.

I guess I never did really fit in. I kept close to Ampere over the years. We actually worked with and against each other a few times. I kept my past largely a secret. To the Corp, I had no family, no real past. Eventually that did affect my progress up the corporate ladder. I peaked out as a Senior Counter-Intrusion Specialist. I was a team leader. I found out that the higher you go up the ladder, the more you find out. Generally stuff you would rather not know. Stuff that’s hard on the conscience. So many secrets. Lots of skeletons in the closets. Especially as a Decker for the man.

I don’t care what anyone says, a Decker is a Decker. They are the biggest snoops around. I still don’t know why the corps have their own. They must know that we snoop them as much as we keep the others out. That is why we are given regular Psych evals. To test out our trustworthiness. Most Deckers and people who spend all their time jacked in, away from the real world end up suffering in the social skills area. In the Decker field, the geekdom factor is high (old school term). It is fairly easy to bust a Decker who snoops where he shouldn’t. I got a few bad evals. I took some “time off”. Everyone does. But at least I never actually got caught. Well, there was once. I’ll get to that later.

Over time I saw things that didn’t sit well. I knew by virtue of my profession hundreds of Deckers. Some got an opened door. Some got fried. I only fried a couple knuckleheads that should have known better. Ampere and me started doing some little deals. You know, the kinda deals where “the-boys-in-blue-come-and-confiscate-your-system-and-lock-you-in-a-car-and-you-drive-away-never-to-be-seen-again” kinda deals.

Yeah, it happened. Actually it happened a lot. It was getting to the point where I was getting very nervous about the consequences. I did one job for the Tir with a buddy of mine SunRay (an elven Decker). Anyhow, I left a few key doors open and disabled some IC. Would have been fine except that at the last minute SunRay sends a sensing ping to the CPU on the target server. No way to cover that. I start shutting things down as Sunray exited the Intranet with a few hundred MP of sooper-sensitive data from R&D. So I shut the system down and start an alert as a good Corp boy should do. Typed a short report and sent it via e-mail. Then I happened to receive a phone call on my cell…Ampere on a voice modulator said to gather some stuff cause I’m going on a trip. Needless to say, I was at a loss for words. I gathered up a few items around the shop and whipped up a fake hand receipt and coolly left the building.

Upon arriving at my place I was greeted by the entire elven nation. No kidding. Ampere was there with like five or six folks that must have flown in from the Tir. Actually to find out, they had. Among them was my dear sister Corbin. She is some sort of Uber-Mage or something. And of course since I’m now 35 she is bout forty-five. But she looks all of twenty. “Jeezus…I’m getting too old for this”. So they proceed to inform me that Fuchi is preparing to turn on me and that I need to leave the AO. (Area of Operations). I would have never believed it but Ampere confirmed my deepest fears when he showed me the surveillance files on me.

The apartment was a blaze when I left Seattle that morning. I traded the company car for a beat-to-hell motorcycle (which was almost certainly stolen anyhow) and rode out with Ampere and Kori (an elven mage-combat type, i.e.: one each, OD green) for Vancouver (the one just north of Portland not the one in old Canada). The plan was to lay low in Vancouver for 30 days while the smoke cleared then crossing the border to Tir Tairngire via the Old I-205 border crossing station. We would be met and escorted in.

We waited around for the longest month of my life. And on the day that we were supposed to leave (of course) everything went to hell. It happened so fast I don’t even remember it all. Somehow, we were made. And a corporate goon squad showed up. They would have gotten us good. Ampere had gone to the Border Station to confirm the arrangements and that left only two of us at the (not-so) safehouse. Kori was on guard when she woke me up. I got ready and grabbed our stuff when she summoned a Fire Elemental right there in the house. Needless to say it was impressive. I ran for the bikes and she screamed for me to go. Bullets were whizzing by when I took a round in the left shoulder, which knocked me clean off the bike. The Fire Elemental raged my way either covering me or encouraging me to go. Either way I got back on the bike and ran for the border. (Wasn’t there a jingle…?).

The goons were in hot pursuit as I made my way down old HWY14. I was finishing my turn into the Interstate towards the Border Crossing Station, going WAY too fast I might add, almost home free when suddenly the bike moved sideways. I remember it all in slow motion as I recalled that it wasn’t supposed to move that way and that something was very wrong. I remember the world shifted around sideways and the ground was coming from behind me. I remember my left shoulder taking the bulk of the landing and remember coming to an abrupt stop. I also remember the bike coming right at me just before my world went black.

They say I died there. In many ways I did. My old life was gone. And if it weren’t for a sister that I always begrudged I would be dead. Actually my heart did stop briefly. Corbin resuscitated me and put me into some sort of hibernation. Unfortunately I was in a coma so how the hell was I to know? Nine months and multiple surgeries later I awoke in the Hospital I was born in: Eastmoreland Osteopathic Hospital. They had to replace my liver and re-rout some fluids as well as totally rebuild my left arm and left leg that were mangled in the wreck. I guess Ampere stayed here for a few months before being “asked” to leave. Now I’m beholden to the Tir. I have a huge debt to pay off. They aren’t likely to forget anytime soon.

I’m back in Seattle now. Back home. Amp is getting old (er). So is everyone else except for Corbin it seems. I’m still workin the matrix like before. Leaner, faster and much more experienced. I’m going to be 42 this year. Can still keep up with the kiddies, and then some. But sometimes, when it’s going to rain, the old bones and muscles have memories. And it rains here a lot. It’s times like that that I can’t help but say “Damn, I’m getting too old for this.”

Copyright 2002-2007 here.

40k Fanfic

The Drop

“FIVE MINUTES” Sergeant Mellican bellowed as he flipped the toggle. Internal lighting switched from normal white-light to a red. The red lights give a strange pallor to everyone’s faces, eyes look…strange, especially when everyone is smeared in camouflage grease, and the “whites” look reddish, and the retinas glow with an eerie light of their own. I know it’s a reflection of the lights, but it is still unsettling. All gear strapped down. Anything shiny blackened or taped.

The antiquated Marauder bomber rattled and shook as the incoming flak started coming in. Seated in the webbing and alumilite frame bench seats along with the rest of the third and headquarters platoons of 1st Company, 75th Skopjian Rifles (Jump), I double-checked my lacing, snaps and buckles again for the fifth or sixth time. Absently I checked my dog-tags were around my neck, then leaned forward to check my boots to see if the extra tags he was issued were still affixed.

“Quit moving around” Trooper Fastig hissed from the seat across from me.

The troopers were packed in tightly, knees interlocked. With all the gear they carried it was going to be a miracle if they make it to the ground in one piece. Standard pack strapped to their chest with a quick-release buckle, gravity-chute strapped to their back, additional ammunition, rations, breathing gear, chemical protective suits, all strapped to them, including their weapon, strapped in a carrier bag on their leg. Your average trooper weighed in at maybe 185 pounds…his gear…125-185 pounds depending on his weapon and ammo load-out.

I kissed the Aquila pendant I wore with his taped-together dog tags, and then stuffed them both inside my tunic, under my body armor.

The Marauder banked sharply, and I felt like I was falling, I gripped my gear and looked to the other troopers, who before seemed stoic…now looking more and more shocked.

Sergeant Mellican stood and spoke with his vox-caster, “COMM CHECKS, BY PLATOON…NOW” he roared through the cramped compartment, over the whine of the overworked engines. The sounds of blasts and rumbles of artillery could be heard through the skin of the craft. Each platoon ran a com check, each trooper sounding off with their assigned number and “UP”.

“Red Two-Five Romeo UP” I called out through my micro bead as my turn came up.

I watched as Sergeant Mellican and Colonel Athelos both loaded and readied their weapons, adjusting their straps so they were handy upon landing…something that was against Imperial regulations: Weapons were to be unloaded and stowed in leg-bags for safety until arrival on the battlefield, IR-670-1. Trooper Davvis seemed to be a natural at soldiering…he followed suit, and prepped his weapon. I felt like doing the same, but didn’t want to do anything different from my comrades, stick out, and be different, so I did nothing.

Colonel Athelos was at the door, and he pulled it open with a twist of the control lever. All loose materials in the aircraft immediately were sucked out the open door, Colonel Athelos, standing in a balanced stance, hands bracing the door, looked out of the vessel and surveyed the area, looking for the landing zone. Sergeant Mellican handed the Colonel a tube of some sort, with a streamer flying from it…and the Colonel tossed it out the door. Raising his night vision optics, the Colonel watched the fall of the streamer. He threw out a few more before nodding back to Sergeant Mellican, who in turn called out “ONE MINUTE” over the vox bead.

Everyone on board shuffled a bit in anticipation. That’s when the first blast impacted the Marauder bomber. The vessel bucked, men were thrown forward when a small part of the tail section was blasted off by a bright explosion of green energy. Sergeant Mellican and the Colonel found their feet. Engines screamed metal on metal screeching and low-tones of metal stress could be heard throughout the cabin, the vessel banked again as the pilots attempted evasive maneuvers. I had an almost overwhelming urge to vomit the rations I ate prior to boarding.

“STAND UP” was the command given, and everyone struggled to get to their feet on both sides of the vessel, amidst the tightly packed troopers.

Colonel Athelos turned to us, and called in to his micro-bead:

“WE ARE GOING IN NOW, THE SHIP WON’T SURVIVE AT THIS ALTITUDE, I WILL SEE YOU ON THE GROUND, DO YOUR DUTY, THE EMPEROR PROTECTS!” and with that, he stepped right out the open door in to the night.

Sergeant Mellican was shouting “GO” to the troops, ushering them out the door. The ship bucked again, a trooper stumbled and fell at the door, Sergeant Mellican caught him, stood him up, checked his gear and tossed him out “GO YOU SLOW LAZY GOOD FOR NOTHING SONS OF WHORES” he bellowed. I couldn’t help but smile at that, Sergeant Mellican was like the father and mother to the Regiment. He was formerly a light infantry trooper who got pulled in to this regiment by the Colonel, who had wanted to give him a commission. Mellican’s only response had been “Sir, I’ll go to your fancy jump regiment, but I’m not taking any fancy officer rank. I’m a grunt sir; my place is among the troops” and so Sergeant Mellican came to this regiment, a decorated veteran of decades of service. Today was supposedly his 45th birthday.

Trooper Davvis, with his striking looks, block chin, good build will likely be a sergeant like him. Of all the Troopers that came from the replacement depot, Davvis has adapted the best. Where I’m average, he’s excellent, where I barely eek through, the sets a new standard. Am I jealous? Maybe a little. But then we are both merely doing our duty for the God-Emperor, and I should strive to do better. The Emperor hates a slovenly soldier. Davvis was a couple guys ahead of me, I could see him help out the other troopers, check their gear…where I had forgotten to in the chaos of the moment. I snapped back to reality.

“YOU HAVE A MALFUNCTION!” I heard from behind me.

“WHAT???” I screamed back.

Trooper Fastig called out again…”YOU HAVE A MALFUNCTION…YOUR STRAPS ARE TWISTED, YOU HAVE TO FIX YOUR STRAPS, ELSE YOU’LL BREAK YOUR FRIKKING NECK IN THE DROP”. I froze, looking back at Fastig, who was a trooper who was regularly in some sort of trouble, busted twice back down to Private-Trooper for insubordination, gambling, fighting, et cetera. His crooked sneer showed only derision. I don’t know why he had taken a dislike to me. I had only been with the unit for a month. He was like that with all the new guys though.

“SHATBAG! WHAT IS YOUR MAJOR MALFUNCTION?” Sergeant Mellican called over, I winced “FASTIG, I’M TALKING AT YOU!” Sergeant Mellican finished.

“IT’S NOT MY MALFUNCTION SARGE, IT’S THIS FRIKKING REPO, HIS KIT IS TWISTED” Fastig called back over the rumbling barrage.

“WELL STEP UP ON THE WEBSEATS, FIX THE MALFUNCTION THEN GET BACK IN LINE!” The sergeant waved on a couple more troops with the requisite “GO” bellowing with each.

I was jerked roughly backwards, up on to the webbing straps that served as seats on the Marauder. I could hear Fastig muttering behind me, nothing clear. A few quick tugs and then time abruptly came to a halt.

I was standing on the web straps, Fastig complaining and adjusting my kit. I saw Sergeant Mellican give a trooper a quick once-over, and give the “GO” command. Next Trooper up was Davvis; he was looking back at me. Good guy I remember thinking. Solid guy. The kind I want in the foxhole next to me. He looked back towards Sergeant Mellican and stood in the door. Mellican gave another quick glance and I saw him open his mouth to shout the expected “GO” when Davvis’ upper half simply vanished in a blue-green flash of super-heated plasma; a hole was blasted in a straight line where Davvis had been across the hull of the Marauder, and out the other side. In a flash, I saw a sleek ship of some unknown sort whiz by the open door and vanish, in a half a heartbeat.

The world twisted on its side. The lower-half of Davvis’ corpse fell out the open hatch. The look of shock briefly played upon the face of Sergeant Mellican, as men screamed and fell aside. For a millisecond I saw Sergeant Mellican grab the next trooper and toss him out the door as he screamed out impotently “EVERYONE OUT NOW”.

The rear of the Marauder buckled and as time began to start again…it simply tore away, Sergeant Mellican tumbling away in to the night. At this time, the rest of us started spilling out of the shattered Marauder. No order was left: the ship was going in to a spin and centrifugal force did the rest. Some men were tossed out in to the night; some like me got hung up on the rigging. Fastig screamed something unintelligible as he hung on to my kit falling towards the sheared off end of the aircraft. I tried to grab him, but he slipped away, his eyes crazy with horror. I saw the world twist and spin, a couple more men dropped from the craft, and then with a snap and crack I too fell in to the night sky.

Free fall. A moment of weightlessness. Floating in space, it almost seems unreal. Even the darting shapes and lines of brilliant energy seemed a fantasy as I tumbled through the air. As my body fell through space, my mind finally caught up to me…I have a malfunction.

I have a malfunction.

Copyright 2006-2007

Better Tidings...

In lieu of posting news about vehicular karma, I'm going back to the important things...

Our hobbies!
Honestly, our hobbies...what we do for fun, how we choose to spend our time (opposed to how we generally must spend our time...working at a job we often loathe in order to exist) says volumes about who we really are.

So, currently on the workbench...

Army Rangers circa 1996 for a Modern Skirmish game I'd like to run. Tinkering with the idea of tweaking the Warhammer 40k ruleset to handle this.

25mm Gripping Beast Roman Auxila for Warhammer Ancients Battle. Also the first five bases of US Paratroops for Flames of War.

15mm Flames of War figs are freaking tiny. I'm used to 25mm figs. I have been tentative about painting the uniforms as I only have GW Paints, and even though there is a conversion guide for using Vallejo paints (or really, using GW paints instead of the preferred Vallejo paints) they don't match up, and I don't want to mess these up. The bases are largely done; once the figs are done, I'll add some static grass to finish it off.

25mm Spartans for Warhammer Ancients Battle.

25mm Roman Auxila, based and primed, ready for paint. Yup, more Warhammer Ancients Battle.

My wife is working on our Eldar force for the next 40k league. Dire Avengers this time.

Dire Avengers, my favorite Aspect Warriors. Katie is getting good. Photos like these are hard to fool, they show EVERYTHING and any imperfections are obvious. These look awesome in pictures...they'll rock on the table!

Here's a couple Exarchs we're tinkering with. Once the Dire Avengers are actually done, gems painted, decals, everything...they will be awesome!

Thursday, March 29, 2007


Okay, so the radiator is fixed...$418 later...but the car has a blown head gasket...which'll cost me another $1200.

Pulled the battery on it to put in the Nissan and it STARTED!
The Nissan needs brakes all around and an alternator as well as finding a drain on the battery that occurs while it is off.

Hrmmm...which'll be cheaper to fix?

I have to get one of them running as we have no vehicle otherwise.

[I know this is just a sucky phase we're going through, and it'll pass. Objectively I know this. I'll just be really FUCKING glad when this "phase" is over.]

Use what you know...

When I write, or develop anything I tend to use folks I know as examples.

See if you guys recognize the following...

A portly and loyal Centurion.
A complicated, torn, egotistical black knight.
A conniving aristocrat with stunning looks and a heart as black as coal.
A scrawny rogue and scoundrel who couln't tell the truth if he wanted to.
An old warhorse mercenary whose nobility was seen and who became a knight and married well.
A salty seadog and raider who carved out a fiefdom for himself.
A beautiful scholar and adventurer who is loved by many, but trapped in a marriage to a bastard.
A smiling bandit whose charm is evident, and cold heart isn't.
A fragile agent who balances overwhelming responsiblities with madness.
A talented engineer buried under his obsessions.
A psyker witch who hides her talent so she can keep her job...helping untold numbers of citizens recover from the traumas of war.
A poet whose ego won't let him see that his desires simply won't sell.
A competing poet who is so focused on the competition he can't see his way free of the confines of his art.
And yet a third poet who is successful only through constantly whoring himself out, but burns himself out.
A grizzled veteran legionary who returns home to be stuck on garrison duty along the Rhine border when hordes of barbarians come flooding across when the river finally freezes over.

Tuesday, March 27, 2007


I'm tired.
Tired of being an illustrator.
Tired of drawing for other people, drawing what they want, when they want it. Tired of revisions and editors who can't simply give art I have to get a 20 page synopsis.

I don't give a flying fuck about your synopsis, or your project, or the fluff material.

Tell me what you want to see in this picture.
A figure, standing/ kneeling, laying face down in a pool of his own blood...whatever. Give me facings, posture, facial expressions, what they wear and what they are doing/ carrying.

That's it.
Keep it to a paragraph or two.

Take in to consideration that I have to translate what your "vision" is and put it on paper...then send it to you to get input on so I can through a process of revisions give you what you want to see.

Also, try and remember that I'm the art guy and sometimes what you want...looks cool to you, but looks fucking retarded to everyone else. I know sometimes what you think is cool is cool and all...but sometimes your vision isn't going to work.
Deal with it.

You are paying dirt cheap prices for not only quality art, but several revisions worth of quality art...of which you are only paying for the one final version. I get to work my ass off jumping through your production schedule hoops to make you happy, so I can afford Taco Bell (sometime later, when I DO finally get paid...sometime down the road.)

What am I going to do?
My writing sucks, so that's not really marketable.
I'm sick of drawing for other FUCKING people.
Hell...back to the IT graveyard where I can slave away for someone else and accomplish little.
I don't know.

I'm just tired and pissed off.


On another note, the radiator broke on the car.

The neck/ sleeve the radiator hose clamps on to snapped off, flush with the radiator, blowing all the coolant out of the engine, overheating it and shutting it down.
No fix other than replacing the radiator.
Assuming all else is's a $300 setback.
The vehicle is now in the shop (I got the beast started and limped over to the shop after topping off the engine with coolant...which it immediately blew all over the place).

Monday, March 26, 2007

Vehicular Karma...

Ours sucks.
We've had the very worst luck when it comes to vehicles.
Since last June...
Katie got in a wreck (she got rear-ended), we bought a car that lasted two days, then our van died (the secondary vehicle), then we bought another car...that lasted a few months before the electical went out (put it in the shop), I went to Seattle and of course, needed a vehicle (great car, drove it to Madison), the fixed car crapped out again electrically during the big freeze in January (it's dead now and needs to go in to the shop) and today...on the way home the good car, the volvo sputtered, smoked and died half a mile from home (it's now parked next to a mechanic's shop).

Tomorrow I'm going to walk and go get the car. See if I can get it started and possibly diagnose the issue, or limp it to a shop to get it looked at. Katie is hitching a ride with a friend from Black Earth (we live in Mount Horeb).

Wouldn't be so bad if I had a regular dayjob (I've been playing "artist" working on freelance illustration while interviewing around the Madison area). I thought I had a certain job in the I found out they took another applicant.

So anyhow, we may not make it to paint night tomorrow.
Thankfully Katie gets paid Friday, and I hope the State Income Tax return arrives soon.

It's been a crappy day.

Thursday, March 22, 2007

League over...

Well, this campaign ended as expected.
Xenos and Chaos scored great, almost even (Xenos won in the end). The Imperium forces didn't even come close. I came out 0 wins, 4 losses and 1 draw. Frustrating to say the least.

All the experience was on the non-imperial side. Being stuck with a sucky Coming in halfway through was certainly not to my advantage.

I'll be glad when I get to make a list, test it out and hopefully play it with at least an average chance of success. The list I used here was untested, and made up in all of ten minutes. No real thought involved.

I'm making excuses of course. I still got owned. Badly.
Tonite I couldn't roll dice to save my life. I mean...seriously...a handful of ones when I only needed twos to hit or wound. WTF!?!?!

Anyhow, time for a break.
Going to finish up my eldar, and play some Warhammer Ancients.

Rome...on HBO

I love this show. It's a crying shame it's ending so soon. This coming Sunday is the Finale.

Katie and I watch very little TV. Maybe some Discovery Channel or History Channel, sometimes National Geographic or the Military Channel...but that's about it. Otherwise we're watching movies. If we're working on projects, we put in/ turn on a movie we've seen already...otherwise we'll get something off HBO/ Cinemax.

If more TV was like Rome, we'd watch all the time.

We're sucked in to the plot and seriously concerned about what's going to happen with Verenus and Pullo.

We'll likely buy the DVD when it comes out.

Wednesday, March 21, 2007


After a week in Lancaster Pennsylvania...I'm back.
Tired of course. Sore.

The event was Cold Wars which was a lot of fun. Historical Wargames convention. Really different than an Origins of GenCon. Different folks attend...different niche. Had a great time. Ate a lot of good food at the local hot spots. Talked a lot of shop (about starting a game store and the realities of supply and demand and disposable income).

Now that I'm back I need to send off a couple pics for approval to a couple different clients (which are woefully late now). I have doctor appointments and interviews to attend as well. This week is going to be busy as hell.

Thursday, March 8, 2007

Welcome to The Emperyan...

You'll see strange things here.
This is a place where I write things that'll likely otherwise be forgotten. Hopefully the signal to noise ratio will remain nice and clean.

Hope you enjoy your stay.

Do yourself a favor...don't fall asleep.