I no longer have the ability to write at work during my lunchbreak, which is a full hour that I used to be able to dedicate to writing a blog or whatever else took my fancy.
But my desk backs onto the line manager's now so he can see everything I write/draw/type/whatever, and quite frankly it makes a man paranoid.
So, for the forseeable future, the Book of Odsox is shut down.
TTFN,
Od.
Friday 25 September 2009
Monday 6 July 2009
Meanwhile...
I am moving! It's official!
I'm all confirmed with the letting agent and my council (although I have to pass the Pre-Termination Council Inspection first - breeeeze), and I can move into the new place as soon as Mr. Weanie's moved his stuff out! Exciting!
I'm going to start shifting bags of stuff across this week with the aid of trusty Fi, Justin's missus. Bless her, she's already helped me ditch a whooooole bunch of stuff at the British Heart Foundation charity shoppe and she's helping me shuttle stuff now. Must make it up to her somehow.
AND this Saturday my dad's heading on over from Loughton to pile the big furniture into his Chrysler something-or-other people carrier and transport it!
I look forward to lugging my stuff (Bookcase, sofa, etc.) up three flights of stairs. O_o;
Speaking of moving stuff up three flights of stairs, it was only just over a year ago when I helped old Weanie move his stuff in.
I NEARLY DIED. Lost my grip on the TV and nearly got squished.
Bloody shame Weanie's got to move, really. We're gonna miss him kickin' about in Colchester all the time, but I reckon he won't be able to stay away for too long. =D Need to go drinkin' with Weanie again. Guy's a legend.
Right, I'd better get busy - people to call, boxes to pack, moving to be done!
WOOOOOOOOOO
I'm all confirmed with the letting agent and my council (although I have to pass the Pre-Termination Council Inspection first - breeeeze), and I can move into the new place as soon as Mr. Weanie's moved his stuff out! Exciting!
I'm going to start shifting bags of stuff across this week with the aid of trusty Fi, Justin's missus. Bless her, she's already helped me ditch a whooooole bunch of stuff at the British Heart Foundation charity shoppe and she's helping me shuttle stuff now. Must make it up to her somehow.
AND this Saturday my dad's heading on over from Loughton to pile the big furniture into his Chrysler something-or-other people carrier and transport it!
I look forward to lugging my stuff (Bookcase, sofa, etc.) up three flights of stairs. O_o;
Speaking of moving stuff up three flights of stairs, it was only just over a year ago when I helped old Weanie move his stuff in.
I NEARLY DIED. Lost my grip on the TV and nearly got squished.
Bloody shame Weanie's got to move, really. We're gonna miss him kickin' about in Colchester all the time, but I reckon he won't be able to stay away for too long. =D Need to go drinkin' with Weanie again. Guy's a legend.
Right, I'd better get busy - people to call, boxes to pack, moving to be done!
WOOOOOOOOOO
Wednesday 20 May 2009
BE RIGHT BACK!
I'm closing the blog down for a short period while I get a new design, aesthetic and everything together. Heck, I might even open up a new website entirely.
Either way, thanks for reading and rest assured I'll be back to rant about stuff soon!
Od.
Either way, thanks for reading and rest assured I'll be back to rant about stuff soon!
Od.
Monday 18 May 2009
Thursday 14 May 2009
"Let No Man Look Up At The Sky With Hope!"
Just thought I'd let you all know that I have a new theme tune.
If you don't already have it, I suggest you obtain a copy of the Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man's Chest soundtrack. In fact, buy all three. Although maybe not At World's End because that one was well ropy compared to the first two.
Listen to the track "The Kraken".
That's what I listen to now. Over and over.. it's such an amazing piece of music. Huge orchestral pipe organs and heavy bass with a thumping, urgent drumbeat that just drives you to do epic things. Every time it gets to a crescendo I get a shudder and desperately find myself looking for an axe, or guns, or somewhere high to stand and scream orders over a battlefield.
Needless to say, it makes for truly inspiring music in WAR.
Download WAR too. Give me someone to fight, or someone else to fight alongside.
If you don't already have it, I suggest you obtain a copy of the Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man's Chest soundtrack. In fact, buy all three. Although maybe not At World's End because that one was well ropy compared to the first two.
Listen to the track "The Kraken".
That's what I listen to now. Over and over.. it's such an amazing piece of music. Huge orchestral pipe organs and heavy bass with a thumping, urgent drumbeat that just drives you to do epic things. Every time it gets to a crescendo I get a shudder and desperately find myself looking for an axe, or guns, or somewhere high to stand and scream orders over a battlefield.
Needless to say, it makes for truly inspiring music in WAR.
Download WAR too. Give me someone to fight, or someone else to fight alongside.
Monday 20 April 2009
"Time For Beddy-Bye, Mr. Bubbles!"
It's been another while between proper blogs, hasn't it?
My apologies.
Truth be told, not a lot has been going on in my life.
I'm still working in the same job, (mentally) scraping by while my bankroll fluctuates alarmingly each month. It's all I can do not to jack it in.
My writing continues, and I've decided to stick a sword in Driven By Hate after I get the final part of Earned In Blood uploaded. Mainly because the inspiration for most of the events there (House Sathar) has gone on indefinite hiatus while other players try different games, etcetera.
That and something that one of the Sathar players mentioned about it being fun to write fan fiction but even better to write your own universe, ie one that the author has created.
I agree thoroughly; the only problem being that I get bogged down with detail whenever I start something universal-size.
Other than that, I finally went and got a copy of Bioshock. Well, it was only a tenner and it's been
niggilng at me for a year or so, so it seemed like a worthwhile purchase.
Turns out it was a REALLY worthwhile purchase.
This game is awesome. Totally immersive (if you keep your volume settings loud enough so that the tribe of chavs who have moved into the flat downstairs are drowned out), fun, well-designed,
gory and intriguing, this has to be the best single-player FPS I've played since F.E.A.R.
Speaking of which, F.E.A.R. 2: Project Origins is out, and it's pretty bloody scary.
Oh, I also added to my Dresden Files collection with my long-sought-after paperback copy of Small Favour, ONLY TO FIND OUT THE HARDBACK VERSION OF TURN COAT IS OUT.
Damn it all to hell, when will they learn to release both at the same time!? I won't buy hardcovers unless they're Pratchett these days (or really really cheap and good), so I love paperback editions. Smaller, handier, cheaper.. Plus I have the paperback set of the Dresden Files, thus a hulking great hardback would ruin the whole thing.
Hey! Listen!
You remember me banging on about Warhammer Online, yeah? You must have. Because I hardly ever stop.
Download it and play it, give me a shout on Burlok or Karak Azgal or, heck, e-mail me if you join the WAR and let me know who to help/kill!
Gem was supposed to sign up ages ago, but due to myriad reasons she hasn't. (probably doesn't really want to play a mad, gibbering goblin shaman that thinks it's a girl - and who would?) I was hoping to glean a few more troops from my readers, and then I remembered that MMOs aren't to everyone's taste.
Shame.
Right, I'd best get back to the grindstone before the boss gets back.
Odsox OOOOOOOOOOOUUUUUUUUTTTTTTTTTT.....
"Go On and Pull That Trigger!"
Just a little brain-zephyr's worth of writing for you while I think of a better update:
The bloody mess was spread over a space of at least ten feet, broken bones and flesh scattered like patches of macabre plant life amongst the dry scrub of the plain. What hadn’t been taken by scavengers was playing host to a massive swarm of damned flies, their tiny black bodies part of a hungering army which scurried eagerly amid the gore.
A cloud of them filled the air around what was left of the corpse. Their strange, shrill buzzing was intensely loud despite the open terrain. To anyone listening closely enough, the noise could be heard as hundreds of high, thin screams that could drive a man insane if he listened for too long.The hunter swept his gaze across the thickest patch of the stuff, where rib bones stuck out of caked blood and rotting meat. He’d seen three more killings like this one recently, but this, absurdly, was the tidiest of the bunch. He checked the grip of his pistols and looked at the surroundings.
Parched, gritty plains extended in every direction, dotted here and there with spindly, skeletal trees and unremarkable rocks of all shapes and sizes. The scrub was a no-man's land constantly baked by the glaring, oppressive suns, with little cover for a predator, let alone a man-eater, and the few creatures that called it home could provide no real sustenance. Aside from the damned flies, whose screaming would become maddeningly loud whenever they were attacked, a few small lizards and scorpions could be found scurrying about the baked ground. These might have kept a lone eagle or reaperwing from starving, but a man-eater would die after a day in this environment.
‘Miles from anywhere, no sign of tracks, nowhere near in range of any man-eaters and besides, they wouldn’t have left anything, let alone this much mess.’
‘What a bloody shambles.’
‘What do you reckon?’ asked the taller man, switching his gaze to his partner.
The hunters were nearly identical in their clothing; broad, shady hats protected their eyes from the yellow and orange suns glaring down on the plain. They wore battered brown dusters over their clothes (unremarkable denim jeans and plain, simple shirts) and their hands covered by finely worked black leather gloves. The only real difference lay in their choice of armaments.
The shorter, slimmer man, with cold blue eyes and a scraggly black beard, wore a modified rifle which had a long body and a thick, oppressive muzzle. There were also two very serious-looking knives at his belt, which he toyed with idly.
Ka, the taller of the pair, was a heavyset man with two massive pistols holstered at his waist and a red bandanna tied around the bicep of his coat. A scratched, well-used axe peeked from the harness on his back. His brown eyes flicked nervously from the corpse to his partner.
‘Oll? I said, what do you reckon?’
His companion squatted down by the remains, sweeping his broad-brimmed hat from side to side in an effort to clear the damned flies from his sight. He reached out with a gloved hand and dipped a finger into the mess, stirring it around before gingerly pulling a broken rib from the muck. He inspected it thoughtfully, then tossed it over his shoulder, a handful of damned flies screaming helplessly after their meal.
‘Oll? You goin’ deaf, mate?’
The shorter man stood up, replacing his hat and placing his hands on his hips.
‘I reckon…’
‘Yeah?’
‘I reckon we need a fuckin’ drink.’
The bloody mess was spread over a space of at least ten feet, broken bones and flesh scattered like patches of macabre plant life amongst the dry scrub of the plain. What hadn’t been taken by scavengers was playing host to a massive swarm of damned flies, their tiny black bodies part of a hungering army which scurried eagerly amid the gore.
A cloud of them filled the air around what was left of the corpse. Their strange, shrill buzzing was intensely loud despite the open terrain. To anyone listening closely enough, the noise could be heard as hundreds of high, thin screams that could drive a man insane if he listened for too long.The hunter swept his gaze across the thickest patch of the stuff, where rib bones stuck out of caked blood and rotting meat. He’d seen three more killings like this one recently, but this, absurdly, was the tidiest of the bunch. He checked the grip of his pistols and looked at the surroundings.
Parched, gritty plains extended in every direction, dotted here and there with spindly, skeletal trees and unremarkable rocks of all shapes and sizes. The scrub was a no-man's land constantly baked by the glaring, oppressive suns, with little cover for a predator, let alone a man-eater, and the few creatures that called it home could provide no real sustenance. Aside from the damned flies, whose screaming would become maddeningly loud whenever they were attacked, a few small lizards and scorpions could be found scurrying about the baked ground. These might have kept a lone eagle or reaperwing from starving, but a man-eater would die after a day in this environment.
‘Miles from anywhere, no sign of tracks, nowhere near in range of any man-eaters and besides, they wouldn’t have left anything, let alone this much mess.’
‘What a bloody shambles.’
‘What do you reckon?’ asked the taller man, switching his gaze to his partner.
The hunters were nearly identical in their clothing; broad, shady hats protected their eyes from the yellow and orange suns glaring down on the plain. They wore battered brown dusters over their clothes (unremarkable denim jeans and plain, simple shirts) and their hands covered by finely worked black leather gloves. The only real difference lay in their choice of armaments.
The shorter, slimmer man, with cold blue eyes and a scraggly black beard, wore a modified rifle which had a long body and a thick, oppressive muzzle. There were also two very serious-looking knives at his belt, which he toyed with idly.
Ka, the taller of the pair, was a heavyset man with two massive pistols holstered at his waist and a red bandanna tied around the bicep of his coat. A scratched, well-used axe peeked from the harness on his back. His brown eyes flicked nervously from the corpse to his partner.
‘Oll? I said, what do you reckon?’
His companion squatted down by the remains, sweeping his broad-brimmed hat from side to side in an effort to clear the damned flies from his sight. He reached out with a gloved hand and dipped a finger into the mess, stirring it around before gingerly pulling a broken rib from the muck. He inspected it thoughtfully, then tossed it over his shoulder, a handful of damned flies screaming helplessly after their meal.
‘Oll? You goin’ deaf, mate?’
The shorter man stood up, replacing his hat and placing his hands on his hips.
‘I reckon…’
‘Yeah?’
‘I reckon we need a fuckin’ drink.’
Monday 16 February 2009
“So Here We Are.”
The problem, you see, is that when I wake up at 06:10 every morning and stare at the ceiling, I come up with long, depressing diatribes in my head that would make for distracting if not laughable blog entries, but then I somehow manage to forget them on the way to work.
Today’s, for example, was going to be a horrible, mushy, self-deprecating (FUCK I was trying really hard to remember that phrase the other day!) miserable rant about girls and how lovely they are etc. etc. ad nauseum, basically due to the fact that I haven’t been able to touch one in more than a friendly fashion for about two years.
Of course it wasn’t ALL going to be about touching them, even though that’s one of the best parts.
It’s when you wake up for the umpteenth morning, on the right-hand side of a double bed with that great big empty space next to you.
Now don’t get me wrong – I’m well aware of the fact that the last girl to share that bed with me was, quote unquote, ‘rubbish for me’, - but that doesn’t half make you pine for some companionship. Well. It does me, anyway.
Some of you might be happy with your singleness, but I for one am becoming pretty bloody fed up with it. I’ve got a comfy double bed that isn’t being used to its full capacity, an amateur set of cooking skills that are entirely wasted on a single 24y/o male living alone, a DVD collection that puts your average dude’s clutch of shite Vin Diesel DVDs to shame (Variety. I has it.), and a whole HOST of rants that don’t get a chance to fall on seemingly patient but actually uninterested ears!
The worst thing about it all is probably the pity, though.
You know what I’m talking about.
Although.. saying that.. the pity is about the closest thing I get to attention these days, and when you grew up an only child with an awesome mum who paid attention to you 24/7 WHETHER YOU WANTED HER TO OR NOT, living on your own and not having anyone around to interact with is, quite frankly, absolute pears.
Yeah, anyway look, I get paid on the 23rd, so I’ll be booking an appointment wiv da toof-fixa after paying the main bills, and I fully expect you all (all three of you!) to take the time out of your busy schedules and LOOK AT ME, PAY ATTENTION TO ME!
On a final, slightly related note, I did manage to pluck up the courage to speak to the hot bargirl in The Swan opposite the Corn Exchange when we went to see Dylan Moran last Wednesday. Just general shit and trying to big up Josh’s sample CD, but I spoke to her! Go me!
Now if only I could get that sort of courage up all the time.
Back to the grind…
Od.
Today’s, for example, was going to be a horrible, mushy, self-deprecating (FUCK I was trying really hard to remember that phrase the other day!) miserable rant about girls and how lovely they are etc. etc. ad nauseum, basically due to the fact that I haven’t been able to touch one in more than a friendly fashion for about two years.
Of course it wasn’t ALL going to be about touching them, even though that’s one of the best parts.
It’s when you wake up for the umpteenth morning, on the right-hand side of a double bed with that great big empty space next to you.
Now don’t get me wrong – I’m well aware of the fact that the last girl to share that bed with me was, quote unquote, ‘rubbish for me’, - but that doesn’t half make you pine for some companionship. Well. It does me, anyway.
Some of you might be happy with your singleness, but I for one am becoming pretty bloody fed up with it. I’ve got a comfy double bed that isn’t being used to its full capacity, an amateur set of cooking skills that are entirely wasted on a single 24y/o male living alone, a DVD collection that puts your average dude’s clutch of shite Vin Diesel DVDs to shame (Variety. I has it.), and a whole HOST of rants that don’t get a chance to fall on seemingly patient but actually uninterested ears!
The worst thing about it all is probably the pity, though.
You know what I’m talking about.
Although.. saying that.. the pity is about the closest thing I get to attention these days, and when you grew up an only child with an awesome mum who paid attention to you 24/7 WHETHER YOU WANTED HER TO OR NOT, living on your own and not having anyone around to interact with is, quite frankly, absolute pears.
Yeah, anyway look, I get paid on the 23rd, so I’ll be booking an appointment wiv da toof-fixa after paying the main bills, and I fully expect you all (all three of you!) to take the time out of your busy schedules and LOOK AT ME, PAY ATTENTION TO ME!
On a final, slightly related note, I did manage to pluck up the courage to speak to the hot bargirl in The Swan opposite the Corn Exchange when we went to see Dylan Moran last Wednesday. Just general shit and trying to big up Josh’s sample CD, but I spoke to her! Go me!
Now if only I could get that sort of courage up all the time.
Back to the grind…
Od.
Wednesday 4 February 2009
DA MIRAKUL BLOG FILLAH
Good evening.
Work is hectic, my nights are all taken up by fighting and writing.
Read this while you wait for a proper blog, courtesy of the '25 Random* Things About Me' Note meme that's going around on the Book of Face.
25. When I am occupying a locked toilet, everyone in my local vicinity loses the
ability to check the Vacancy/Occupied indicator strip on all toilet doors, thus
resulting in them going to open the door blindly and looking stupid as
it refuses to budge while inside I've half leapt off my seat due to the
resounding THUMP as they walk into the door.
USE YOUR EYES, ASSHAT!
24. I do not believe, even slightly, in ghosts. Aliens and monsters, however, remain a strong possibility.
23. I can't remember if this number was where it was written, but I'd like to add myself to the list of those who don't trust people who don't like cheese. That's un-English, that is. If you don't like cheese, you're either foreign or a mental.
22. I have no defined musical taste aside from my obvious fondness for ska. My Music folder contains an eclectic set of songs (Think of a musical genre. I has it.), and I refuse to accept any mockery on the subject, because music is an art and art is not only form and content; art is also
subjective. So fuck off.
21. I don't like cricket.
20. When I pick what I'm wearing every morning, I don't even bother to check if my socks
match anymore.
19. Working for the government, while mind-numbingly over-complicated and tedious, does have its perks.
18. A solid hour of my normal day consists of looking at pornography online.
17. If I were an animal, I would be a fat, lazy tabby housecat who likes nothing more than
sleeping on his owner's desk in the pool of sunshine from the window and, on quiet days, chasing potbellied mice through the garden.
16. I am physically and mentally incapable of recognising or returning flirtation, even subconciously. I'm an evolutionary cul-de-sac.
15. My nights are currently divided between playing Warhammer Online, getting wasted so as to forget the monotony of life (/drama), watching Jericho, legitimately acquiring movies, reading, listening to music and writing fiction. No teim fer wuvs, doktah Jonez.
14. I retain a genuine sense of surprise when people admit to not hating me.
13. You know those awesome sort of digitigrade hopping-leg thingies that you sometimes see people wearing so they can bounce along the road like a VERY TALL sprinting kangaroo? I love those.
12. There is a difference between movies, films and cinema.
11. While there are people in the world who insist on buying into Blizzard's behemoth MMO, I will be there to shout 'YOU'RE DOING IT WRONG!!'.
10. I am incredibly insecure. So much so that it took me half an hour to decide to leave this one in.
09. Every Friday should be fish and chips night, as far as I'm concerned.
08. Bam-bam-buh-bam, ba-lam-bam-buh-bam, I wanna be cremated.
07. (Slice of Bread x 2) + (Cheese + Pickle) / 2 = Best Sandwich Evar.
06. My least favourite dream is the one where I'm about four years old, dressed in a mini parka jacket and baggy dungarees, and I'm standing just outside of a car with its passenger door open. My mum, who's sitting in the driver's seat crying, says something to me, hauls the door closed and drives off, leaving me alone in the middle of a massive car park.
05. I have a primal fear of sharks. So much so that I point-blank refuse to swim in the ocean and I have even been known to express a paranoid suspicion of man-made bodies of water.
04. My favourite book is 'Good Omens' by Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett.
03. I crave attention and the approval of my peers. It's something I picked up years ago after my apathetic phase, and I dearly wish I could outgrow it.
02. I should probably put out a want-ad for a girlfriend. It's the only way I'll get back into the dating game at this rate.
'Tubby mid-twenties nerd dude seeks patient, understanding brunette dudette with similar tastes. Sense of humour and low expectations a must. '
01. DIS IS DA BEST WAR EVAH!
Cheers, and see you on the battlefie- oh wait, none of you play WAR..
Od.
*It's not random if someone has actually put some thought into it, you ignorant fuck.
Work is hectic, my nights are all taken up by fighting and writing.
Read this while you wait for a proper blog, courtesy of the '25 Random* Things About Me' Note meme that's going around on the Book of Face.
25. When I am occupying a locked toilet, everyone in my local vicinity loses the
ability to check the Vacancy/Occupied indicator strip on all toilet doors, thus
resulting in them going to open the door blindly and looking stupid as
it refuses to budge while inside I've half leapt off my seat due to the
resounding THUMP as they walk into the door.
USE YOUR EYES, ASSHAT!
24. I do not believe, even slightly, in ghosts. Aliens and monsters, however, remain a strong possibility.
23. I can't remember if this number was where it was written, but I'd like to add myself to the list of those who don't trust people who don't like cheese. That's un-English, that is. If you don't like cheese, you're either foreign or a mental.
22. I have no defined musical taste aside from my obvious fondness for ska. My Music folder contains an eclectic set of songs (Think of a musical genre. I has it.), and I refuse to accept any mockery on the subject, because music is an art and art is not only form and content; art is also
subjective. So fuck off.
21. I don't like cricket.
20. When I pick what I'm wearing every morning, I don't even bother to check if my socks
match anymore.
19. Working for the government, while mind-numbingly over-complicated and tedious, does have its perks.
18. A solid hour of my normal day consists of looking at pornography online.
17. If I were an animal, I would be a fat, lazy tabby housecat who likes nothing more than
sleeping on his owner's desk in the pool of sunshine from the window and, on quiet days, chasing potbellied mice through the garden.
16. I am physically and mentally incapable of recognising or returning flirtation, even subconciously. I'm an evolutionary cul-de-sac.
15. My nights are currently divided between playing Warhammer Online, getting wasted so as to forget the monotony of life (/drama), watching Jericho, legitimately acquiring movies, reading, listening to music and writing fiction. No teim fer wuvs, doktah Jonez.
14. I retain a genuine sense of surprise when people admit to not hating me.
13. You know those awesome sort of digitigrade hopping-leg thingies that you sometimes see people wearing so they can bounce along the road like a VERY TALL sprinting kangaroo? I love those.
12. There is a difference between movies, films and cinema.
11. While there are people in the world who insist on buying into Blizzard's behemoth MMO, I will be there to shout 'YOU'RE DOING IT WRONG!!'.
10. I am incredibly insecure. So much so that it took me half an hour to decide to leave this one in.
09. Every Friday should be fish and chips night, as far as I'm concerned.
08. Bam-bam-buh-bam, ba-lam-bam-buh-bam, I wanna be cremated.
07. (Slice of Bread x 2) + (Cheese + Pickle) / 2 = Best Sandwich Evar.
06. My least favourite dream is the one where I'm about four years old, dressed in a mini parka jacket and baggy dungarees, and I'm standing just outside of a car with its passenger door open. My mum, who's sitting in the driver's seat crying, says something to me, hauls the door closed and drives off, leaving me alone in the middle of a massive car park.
05. I have a primal fear of sharks. So much so that I point-blank refuse to swim in the ocean and I have even been known to express a paranoid suspicion of man-made bodies of water.
04. My favourite book is 'Good Omens' by Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett.
03. I crave attention and the approval of my peers. It's something I picked up years ago after my apathetic phase, and I dearly wish I could outgrow it.
02. I should probably put out a want-ad for a girlfriend. It's the only way I'll get back into the dating game at this rate.
'Tubby mid-twenties nerd dude seeks patient, understanding brunette dudette with similar tastes. Sense of humour and low expectations a must. '
01. DIS IS DA BEST WAR EVAH!
Cheers, and see you on the battlefie- oh wait, none of you play WAR..
Od.
*It's not random if someone has actually put some thought into it, you ignorant fuck.
Monday 26 January 2009
Driven By Hate - A Druchii Blog
Ladies and gentlemen, druchii and goblins, ravens and orcs, you are cordially invited to peruse..
A collection of tales chronicling the exploits of Raucir Lustingclaw and the ill-favoured House Sathar.
So basically, I've been writing a lot lately, and what with the spotlight the other week and the positive and constructive feedback I've received for my posted Druchii Tales on The Grey Kabal's forum, I've decided to open up a seperate blog for the whole thing.
Obviously Raucir's tales are the focus of the collection (every aspiring writer should be considered an egomaniac), though I'll be posting the occasional Bonus Story when I have the spark to actually write something interesting. I'm also intending to Write On Demand at some later stage, once I'm more confident.
Thanks to all of House Sathar for their warm welcome, their ongoing perseverance in Warhammer Online and their help and advice on my writing.
As a final note, I'd like to point out that right now Driven By Hate is a work in progress which needs a lot of tweaking, and that I'm beginning by posting one (maybe two) excerpts a week so as to help my run up at giving this writing shit a serious shot.
Read on! \m/
Od.
A collection of tales chronicling the exploits of Raucir Lustingclaw and the ill-favoured House Sathar.
So basically, I've been writing a lot lately, and what with the spotlight the other week and the positive and constructive feedback I've received for my posted Druchii Tales on The Grey Kabal's forum, I've decided to open up a seperate blog for the whole thing.
Obviously Raucir's tales are the focus of the collection (every aspiring writer should be considered an egomaniac), though I'll be posting the occasional Bonus Story when I have the spark to actually write something interesting. I'm also intending to Write On Demand at some later stage, once I'm more confident.
Thanks to all of House Sathar for their warm welcome, their ongoing perseverance in Warhammer Online and their help and advice on my writing.
As a final note, I'd like to point out that right now Driven By Hate is a work in progress which needs a lot of tweaking, and that I'm beginning by posting one (maybe two) excerpts a week so as to help my run up at giving this writing shit a serious shot.
Read on! \m/
Od.
Tuesday 13 January 2009
"Heads Down, Non-Geeks!"
Just thought I'd show off a wee bit to my gaming/geek buddies by saying
I'M IN UR SPOTLITE, SHOWIN OFF
For those of you who aren't into that sort of thing, I will summarise.
I play a game called Warhammer Online: Age of Reckoning. I play it because I've loved the Warhammer setting (both Fantasy and 40K (read: gothic science fiction)) for years, although I can't be arsed with the hassle of the miniatures game with the rules and the numbers and the MONEY involved in buying the damned things.
As a result, I've read countless Warhammer novels, novellas, compilations of short stories, battle reports, etc. etc. ad nauseum, and even tried to write my own stuff every now and then.
A short while ago I won 2nd prize in a Writing Blurb competition down at our local Games Workshop, which was a nice ego boost that cheered me up at the time, and now, while there's no corporeal reward as such, one of my pieces written on a whim for Warhammer Online has been chosen for a Spotlight article on my regular forum.
This, as you can imagine, has rekindled my dream of writing again, and as such I'd like to thank any of my friends who've been kind/interested/bored/tolerant enough to read anything I've written over the years.
Od.
P.S. FEAR MA L33T WRITIN' SKILLZ
I'M IN UR SPOTLITE, SHOWIN OFF
For those of you who aren't into that sort of thing, I will summarise.
I play a game called Warhammer Online: Age of Reckoning. I play it because I've loved the Warhammer setting (both Fantasy and 40K (read: gothic science fiction)) for years, although I can't be arsed with the hassle of the miniatures game with the rules and the numbers and the MONEY involved in buying the damned things.
As a result, I've read countless Warhammer novels, novellas, compilations of short stories, battle reports, etc. etc. ad nauseum, and even tried to write my own stuff every now and then.
A short while ago I won 2nd prize in a Writing Blurb competition down at our local Games Workshop, which was a nice ego boost that cheered me up at the time, and now, while there's no corporeal reward as such, one of my pieces written on a whim for Warhammer Online has been chosen for a Spotlight article on my regular forum.
This, as you can imagine, has rekindled my dream of writing again, and as such I'd like to thank any of my friends who've been kind/interested/bored/tolerant enough to read anything I've written over the years.
Od.
P.S. FEAR MA L33T WRITIN' SKILLZ
Friday 9 January 2009
"Fucking Pasties Everywhere..."
Today's Cycling Soundtrack:
The Bravery The Bravery - An Honest Mistake
Koala Kid Shaun of the Dead OST - The Gonk (Remix)
Method Man & Redman The Blackout - Alrightcha
Leftfield Leftism Track 3
Lazlo Bane Scrubs OST Superman
Dynamite Hack Take A Bite Outta Rhyme - Boyz in Tha Hood
WELCOME to my new readers, and:
I am BACK from St. Ives!
And it was cracking! Bloody cold, but we were stumbling around in fancy dress with CamelBaks full of Jack Daniels and Coke (or vodka and coke for some of the others), fired up on booze and toasty warm! There were several awesome shots taken, although I believe most of them were taken by DJ Bean, who at some point in the night lost his camera. Booooo.
Still, Bean managed to get a good shot of the group using Nick’s camera (From left to right - Mr. Bump, the Big Bad Wolf, Bugs Bunny Humping Chair, Litte Red Riding Hood, The Terminator (circa 1984, get in), Scooby Doo, A Soldier, A Dinosaur, Homer Simpson, Little Miss Naughty and in front, Another Dinosaur - out of shot: A Panda and the Cowardly Lion):
No-one had the heart to ask the Tardasaurus to move out of the frame. She was having such a good time.
And in case you can’t see my ugly mug in the dark up the back there, here’s a nice close-up (currently serving as my Book of Face profile photo):
“For the last time, I’m not supposed to be Robocop.”
We saw some amazing costumes as we trawled through the town. I’d upload some of the more awesome ones, but as I said, young Bean lost his camera, and I haven’t been in touch with any of the others to see if they got any good ones. Still, we had a cracking time, and I really liked the hostel we stayed in. A couple of the others thought it was a bit iffy, but I felt like I was staying in someone’s house! A really big house, mind you, but a house nonetheless! I’ve never felt so bloody comfortable in a place I’ve paid to stay in. There were comfy armchairs and sofas, little tables with chairs, a pool table, two fruit machines, a TV corner (including MASSIVE selection of mostly awesome videos and even a couple of DVDs, all free to watch as and when), and even a PS2! I only discovered this last on the day we left, however, which is a bloody shame because I would have done some all-night gaming otherwise.
The stay cost each of us £60 (Free showers, bunk beds with 6 people to a room), and we had a nice, warm-ish little courtyard to go and smoke in.
Yes, I said smoke. CIGARETTES. Roll-ups, for preference. I’ve dropped the habit now that I’m home again, but as I explained to people there (“Rich, I didn’t know you smoked.” – “I don’t. Well, apart from now.”), it’s a social thing, quite literally. I don’t get cravings for cigarettes, but if I spot people rolling up I suddenly realise that in a minute or two, BAM, there go half my conversational partners. I consider it a necessary sacrifice in order to increase my meagre powers of socialising.
On the subject of sacrifice, a little note for anyone who’s met my friend Justin, by the way:
NEVER LET HIM EAT CORNISH PASTIES.
His farts smell like the aftermath of Chernobyl probably smelled. Death, nuclear radiation and doom. On the journey home (8 hours on three trains with Justin and Nick), he was suspiciously unsmelly, while still being quite (silently) farty. As we got off our final train and stepped onto the platform, dog-tired and ready for bed, we took a deep breath of Colchestrian air.
I nearly retched. That little bastard had been fermenting one final superfart the whole way, and unleashed it just as we got back. So there he was, laughing like a git while Nick and I legged it down the platform to get away from the stench.
Oh, and while I was in St. Ives, I bought an extra copy of Bill Bryson’s Notes From A Big Country. Why? So I could swap it with the copy of Nick Hornby’s High Fidelity that I found on the hostel bookshelf.
I haven’t even finished it yet, but High Fidelity, and I really hate to say this, has made me have a serious think about where I am and what I want to do with my life. The lead character, Rob Fleming, is a thirty-four(?) year old who runs a record shop, and, I hate to say it because it sounds so clichéd, but for some reason I identify with him and a lot of his musings. I also fucking LOVE the way he has a Top 5 for just about EVERYTHING. I was one of those kids who always asked people what their favourite things were (part of a film, character in a book, kind of sweet, breed of dog, etc.), so much so that I remember Mum asking me, in a somewhat irritated fashion, to stop doing it. I’m pretty sure I still do that a lot.
Anyway, I’ve been reading it avidly. And I looked at my list of ideal jobs (nearly all of which are pretty much unachievable owing to the location/effort/qualifications/capital/time involved in successfully applying for them), conveniently written in Top 5 fashion:
1. Creature Designer for Jim Henson’s Creature Shop.
2. Creative Design Assistant for BioWare.
3. Author. (Science-Fiction, Modern Fiction and Fantasy)
4. Professional Movie Reviewer (including pen-light like Penny Hardwick!).
5. Film Director.
A job where I get to wear what I like, do what I love and get paid for it, essentially. Confucius is noted to have said something along the lines of, ‘Find a job you love and you will never work a day in your life’.
I just deleted three further paragraphs of me ranting about how much I hate my job. You don’t need to suffer that shit again. Instead, why not look at this? Sorry if that link doesn't work, I was blocked at work, but hopefully it's the awesome clip from Doomsday involving a bunny and an automated machine gun.
I reckon I might be in with a shot at No. 3, so I’m off to do some more writing now. Probably be on Warhammer again later.
Od.
Tuesday 6 January 2009
"GETAHTOFIT!"
Just clearing the page!
I had a cracking New Year and a highly enjoyable Hogswatch, and while currently busy at work (and sure to be busy with writing and playing this evening), I just thought I should let you all know that I still aten't ded and I'm looking forward to seeing you in the New Yarr!
Od.
I had a cracking New Year and a highly enjoyable Hogswatch, and while currently busy at work (and sure to be busy with writing and playing this evening), I just thought I should let you all know that I still aten't ded and I'm looking forward to seeing you in the New Yarr!
Od.
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