Why No, I Can't Rap

Since having heard a song entitled "Fuck Me, Ray Bradbury", I've been idly writing down song titles theoretically about famous literary writers. I'm actually tempted to try writing out some of these as songs, but here's what I have so far.

Fuck Ayn Rand (Objectin’ Objectivism)
James FC (Let the Indians Be)
Requiem for Kafka (Burn this Song)
Snitchin’ on Pynchon (The Man is Insane)
Willie Shakes is Pimpin’ Phrases (Ol’ Dirty Bardsterd)
Bret Easton Ellis (Hates the Rich and the Jealous)
HPL (Racist as Hell)

Ah well. Maybe one day...

A Double Shot of V

Mandatory two-month update after periods of infinite silence. First of all, tickled pink that one of my ten minute plays is being produced. Second, have a dose of a story I wrote for a professor to gain access to their class.

The Anvil Chorus

“You should feel pretty damn lucky, kid. It’s just you and me.”

“I know sir. I don’t intend to disappoint.”

The cage groaned hesitantly as it descended, their conversation slightly muffled by the sound of metal grinding on wet rock. The elevator’s sole bulb swung gently as the cage rattled and rumbled, Bill’s eyes barely adjusting to the dark when the light swung away from him. The foreman let out a hacking cough and adjusted his helmet and belt around his aged paunch, turning on his helmet’s light.

“So is this your first time working with industrial machinery?”

Bill fumbled with his own light, adjusting the tool belt. “No, I used to repair picking and knitting machines at a garment factory.”

“Ah, well, I can’t exactly say this’ll be similar. But at least you’re licensed.”

The elevator’s cage rattled as it hit rock bottom, the air moist and still, the sound of the machines and the workers in time like a military cadence. As the foreman fidgeted and fumbled with the lock to the cage, the sound of footsteps slowly echoed closer. Bill craned his neck to hear, rubbing his eyes as they strained against the darkness and the narrow beam of his own light.

They walked in unison, step by step, their uniforms worn and stained. Their matching steel helmets shone in unison dead-ahead, encasing their heads protectively and fully. Upon each identical shoulder rested a matching pick-axe, bouncing with every step. A chill ran up Bill’s spine quietly. “I thought you said I was the only worker down here besides you.”

“Oh…I didn’t lie to you, kid. I’m going to have to give you the grand tour.”

The cage’s door slid open with a gentle grind of metal as the foreman quickly exited, waving Bill on as he stepped into the antechamber of the mine. “Whatever you do, stay close to me, move quickly and don’t break their line.” Nimbly, he slipped between a small hole in the march, turning to wait for the new mechanic.

With a heavy swallow Bill sprinted forward, almost instantly catching a foot on a misplaced stone. He swore loudly as he came to a dead stop, the wind knocked out of him as a gloved hand caught his trajectory, the miner staring down at him like a towering mass of muscle and metal. Babbling quietly as the titan of a man loomed, Bill blinked as the foreman gripped his arm, pulling him out of the path of the miner.

“What did I tell you?”

“I’m s-sorry! I...I tripped!”

The foreman groaned and pulled him insistently by the arm. “Just shut up and keep moving.”

The corridors stretched on endlessly as the foreman lead Bill by the arm, gripping tightly to give him no quarter to resist or lose sight of his superior. The walls of the mine seemed to constrict the deeper he was lead, eventually stopping at the base of a decrepit generator rattling loudly in mechanical protest. The foreman simply nodded. “Here she is. Your primary job is to keep her running.”

Bill frowned. “Sounds like something might be amiss already…I’m going to have to cut the power and take a look.”

“All right. Just make it quick. I don’t have the tolerance to be down here in the dark.”

“You think I do?” Bill grunted as he pried the access panel loose and threw the switch, the light on his helmet quietly bouncing in the oppressive gloom as he began his work. “So you promised me a history lesson.”

The foreman nodded as he chuckled, his light bouncing in time with his head. “Yeah, I did. Hell of an atmosphere. Just listen up, okay? Listen to me, and the sounds around you.”

“I’ll bet you don’t really know how long we’ve been at it here, or what we dig up. Honestly? I’m at the point where I don’t really remember either. All of our lives revolve around routine down here. But I do know how long this mine goes back; at least the 20’s. Business really picked up in the 30’s, especially when the owner was happy to snap up any man or woman willing to brave the depths down here with a candle and a pick. Back then…they were replaceable. I bet you never got that feeling, huh? The knowledge that there could be a cave-in, and that’s it. Your wife and kids would get a paycheck, business would continue as usual. And that’s what happened. Almost like clockwork. When the application stack got nice and high…it was a little too convenient.”

The foreman paused, quietly shushing the both of them. In the distance, so far yet so close, Bill could hear the sound of the marching boots, and the clanging of pick-axes. “But what’s the point of working if the machines aren’t on?”

The foreman chuckled in a low rasp as he cleared his throat. “I know. I like to think we’re hearing the ancient past, the workers who came before us. But it’s the harsh truth. That’s Them. They’re not stopping. They’ll never stop.”

“…why?”

“We had a psychologist down here about a decade ago. When I was bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. It was called depersonalization disorder. The workers got too used to routine: the long hours, the muscle memory, the repetition. You’re lucky. Your job relies on things going wrong, heh. But I knew it wasn’t anything like that. It couldn’t be. For shits and giggles, I took a piece of chalk and marked one of Them. Shit…back then, there couldn’t have been more than six of Them.” He coughed loudly, clearing his throat as the sound of metal and boots increased in intensity and sound.

“I followed that man around for days and days. I asked my co-workers to monitor his every movement. And we sat down after about a week and…well…”

The generator sparked and hissed angrily as Bill swore, thumping it with his wrench hand. “Let me guess. He never took the helmet off. He never slept. He never broke step.”

“Yeah. That about sums it up. And we told the supervisor, who told the owner, who told the board.”

“What happened?”

Lou sweated nervously, despite the cold terror washing over his body. When the call came in, he could hardly believe the news. They’d done it. They’d actually done it. The entire east wing, collapsed completely by specially-placed explosives. What stood between him and fifty stranded men was six hundred feet of solid, collapsed rock, and all he could do was pound his fist futilely against the slab marking the tomb. Behind him, the chairman sat in the folding chair, watching the foreman sob and cry for the fate of his men.

It had been a week. The six of Them he had kept working around the clock, step by step. The rest of the workers were granted a reprieve of a few days to mourn the accident, assured that a team was working on saving their colleagues. All Lou could do was sit in perpetual fear by the chairman’s perch, the stubble growing thick and lush on his face as he prayed. Last night they had both awakened to the sound of rock being struck, and deep down Lou knew his prayers were useless as the sound slowly but surely got louder.

The base of the east wing was awash in a chorus of furious metal and crumbling rock, the walls pulsing as the reborn captives pushed forward to the threshold of their tomb. Lou never felt guilty for shutting his eyes as the first pick-axe burst through the wall of rubble, unable to witness or hear the emerging horrors as he clapped his hands to his ears. He heard the chairmen get up quickly, laughing madly as he strode towards the company’s greatest asset. He heard the man talking rapidly, standing squarely in Their path. He barely heard the crunch of bone, but he did hear the low, gurgling rattle and the methodical shuffling of feet. By the time he mustered the courage to open his eyes They were all gone, his boss a crumpled heap lying in the rubble, the sounds of new axes and men added to the choir of unyielding workers.

“And that was that. They never tried it again, but the damage was done. They just couldn’t be stopped. And the bosses realized…well, it wasn’t worth paying for labor unless it kept the machines running. The funny thing is…they’ve never raised a hand against me.”

The lights flickered on as the generator roared to life, both of the men rubbing their eyes in pain. For a brief, terrifying second, Bull thought he could make out the looming form of one of Them at the corridor’s entrance, gone as soon as he blinked. “There should only be like, sixty of them. I could swear I’ve seen more.”

Lou lowered his head quietly. “I know. But accidents…they still happen. I can take grim solace in know they’re not on purpose anymore. But every time…every time I pray.”

==FAILURE==

Urgh. This has been an exercise in futility, hasn't it. Regrettable.

Keeping that in mind, might as well expand on a weird idea I had for a survival horror game. The premise would more or less be that a scientist and a bodyguard get trapped underground.

Hopefully, it sounds a lot better when elaborated upon. A group of explorers and geologists come across an unexplored cave system in the Ural mountain range. Where exactly, I cannot say, as I really don't know a lot about precise geography in Russia. Anyway, they help open up enough of an entrance and begin exploring the caves and chasms, trying to circumvent an underground river. In the process, a minor earthquake accidentally separates Robert and May from the rest of the group.

Robert, the scientist, carries a specialized geology kit around with him and is able to take samples of stones, move through small spaces without worry of getting stuck or cut up and also carries a first-aid kit, not exactly skilled with medicine but capable with instruction.

May, the bodyguard, carries rope, hand-crank flashlights, blankets and other survival gear. In addition, she wears flexible body armor and is capable of feats of strength, like breaking stalagmites, stalactites and moving heavy rocks. In combat, she'd have to help protect Robert from harm but would be restricted to using bludgeoning weapons like large stones and stalagmites as projectiles.

For the most part, you can switch back and forth between them relatively effortlessly. Most of the weapons in the game do consist of hand-held, improvised weapons, plus Robert is capable of harvesting minerals and ores to make rare, specialized weapons. For example, with enough magnesium and a fragile container with a fuse, he could make a magnesium grenade that could be used for blasting, emergency lighting or to be thrown at enemies.

Most of the enemies in the cave would, of course, be bizarre, inhuman creatures that have grown up without light. A flashlight is a viable tool to paralyze and stun the enemy before attacking, but of course they're capable of coming out of the walls or tracking the duo relentlessly. And some form of salvation comes to the duo when the cave system intersects with an abandoned coal mineshaft, closed many years ago during the Cold War. From there they'll have to traverse ruined tunnels, decaying mine-cart tracks and finally the decrepit, rotting remains of a coal sorting and packaging factory before finally escaping the underground.

Of course, it's not likely that I'll be able to actually make it all a game. But I have ways of possibly making this come to life...

On the Abhorrence of the Reptiles

1. And lo, the Great Prince Wrapped in Silk reached out his hand down to his followers, and bestowed unto them a manuscript sealed by golden silk of his body.
2. And they read the decree set forth by the Silken Prince, and they found it to be good and agreeable, and the Sons of the Iron Cloth began to preach from the sidewalks and the dockyards, at the libraries and on the steps of the great political buildings.
3. And the people listened and scoffed, thumbing their nose at the Sons, ignoring them. But yea, those who truly heard the words of the Prince were entranced by His Five Tenants.
4. "One: The men of scales and venom are never to be trusted, for do not all mythologies say that the serpent is naught more than a liar?"
5. "Two: If those who walk on all fours and slither cross your path, and you know them to be carriers of the unholy scale, then you must strike them down with cold fury and true vengeance, unmaking them."
6. "Three: The serpent and the reptile will gladly lie and betray you for their own safety. As your sword, hammer, axe or fist swings down to end their miserable life, they may whisper miserable secrets to you. They may promise to tell you the secrets of creation, the path to immortality, or how to unlock the true desire of the flesh. They may threaten to bite you and let you partake of their venom, or expose your sordid secrets to those who love you. But take heart. In the eyes of the Silken Prince, the killing of the reptile is a sign of atonement and confession of sin."
7. "Four: Should the abhorrent reptile strike true before the blow falls, then this is a test of your allegiance to mankind. Do not seek out the men of science and medicine to cure you, or the elders with their ancient herbs and magicks to soothe your pain. The venom of the reptile will make you see beyond sight itself, and the spirit of the scaled beast will call you to the realm of darkness. But take heart. Though you may palpitate and burn with a fever of the sun, your faith will deliver you from the reptile's domain. If not...then may the forces of nature and order have mercy on your soul."
8. "Five: Man is man. Animal is animal. For man is no longer of the animals, having manifested his destiny. The serpent and reptile wishes to create his own destiny and take that of mankind's, making the world in his image to become closer to the primal forces and magick that spawned all. This shall not happen. For serpent betrayed man many eons ago, and man shall never forget his vendetta."
9. And surely, there was a great riot in the squares of the Great City, the Children of the Iron Cloth leading the newly enlightened to war with the great evil. And they went into the cold, fetid depths of the sewers, scoured the parks and every patch of moss, and waged war upon the zoological constructs treating their enemies like kings.
10. And when the act was done, there was an awesome hush over the land, and the city stood still in a state of twilight.
11. For while man purged the serpents and reptiles, there became an imbalance, for the segregation of serpent and man separated good from evil. The Children of the Iron Cloth, their militia and each inch of the city remained paused in a perpetual state of limbo, for it is written that life cannot continue in the absence of good or evil.
12. And the Silken Prince wept at what he had done, for He had hurt his children in his plan to save mankind. And the Prince slept, sobbing and dreaming dark dreams in his secluded tower.
13. To this day, the mighty city still stands at its eternal twilight, the forces of good frozen, the Prince sleeping and crying at what he had wrought. And around the world, man and reptile learned to trust one another and recognize the necessity of their rivalry.
14. And they came to an understanding, as man took knowledge from the serpent to grow strong, and the serpent was pampered and preened by man, made comfortable so that they would lose more than they would gain should they ever truly turn against mankind.
    
15. It is stated that one day, men with the heart of snakes or snakes with the heart of men will return to the mighty city. And their return will ignite the dormant fires of war and conquest and re-awaken the sleeping Prince.
16. And scholars and politicians debate if the people will repent and become calm or violent and fervent. But for now, it is forbidden. For mankind has learned from the actions of the Prince, and with knowledge comes greatness.

The Parable of the Necessity of Evil, from the Book of Morality, Chapter 19, verses 1-16.

On Cannibals

Here comes the morbidity, ladies and gents. When it comes to monsters and horror tropes, there really isn't that much that beats the more human threats. Werewolves, vampires and the undead only really go so far for us. And let's be honest: people are fond of humanizing these creatures so that we can either A: relate or B: fear better.

For example. Twilight is really popular because Meyer decided to use the term "vampire" on an immortal, sparkling pasty man who has trouble showing emotion. A far cry from the original vampire: a romantic, charismatic foreigner with a sinister air about him with limitations and rules he has to follow. I'd elaborate about vampire allegories, but one of my friends, Term, is creating a presentation on the history of vampires in popular culture.

As for B, zombies and the undead are feared because of the Uncanny Valley. They were once human, but are now feral, carnivorous husks of people: mindless, autonomous beasts. Zombies are at the juncture in the Uncanny Valley where we recognize them as almost perfectly human in form, but the fear comes from the fact that they aren't human in mind, emotion and reason because those simply cannot apply.

This is where cannibals come in. Humans eating humans because of insanity, necessity or sadism. Cannibals are essentially the perfectly human enemy because they're the closest they can be to an average person. You hear about Dahmer and Albert Fish and things like that, and people never found out what they did because they were just so goddamn normal. Y'know, you see a man on the news who kept a schoolgirl's corpse wrapped in Squeeze-Cheese and taped to the ceiling and his neighbors are like "He was such a normal guy. Always cooking for us, making his special barbecues, and never made any hassle except for the weird smells". Cannibals are the perfect thing to fear for me because they're human, plain and simple.

So that's why I'm making the token cannibal clan as the introductory enemies for the beginning of the BESM Space Campaign. And sure, it'll be easy for me to just coat 'em in blood, shave their heads and make them seem creepy and incestuous. But I'm not gonna take that route. Call it weird, but I pride myself on making complicated human enemies. They're not the type to dance around under the full moon and brandish weapons as the heroes cook. They may be cannibals, but they are a family. And I think that making them a bit more complex and engaging than "EAT MEAT! WANT MEAT NOW!" just makes them scarier and gives the players a better chance to develop what kind of people their characters are. Though at this point I only know there's going to be a xenobiologist who misuses his pets for profit and a cultured man wearing a damn-near indestructible NBC/Spacesuit hybrid. Ah well. Let's see how it turns out.

On the Blog Title

Just so I get this out of the way. The name came from a bizarre tangent on whether or not Simon Belmont would beat Edward Cullen. I honestly don't play Castlevania, so when someone mentioned that Soma apparently beat Chaos and Soma is Dracula so somehow that makes Simon's accomplishment of defeating Dracula/Soma that much more impressive, I responded in the only manner I could think of.

Read the last few lines and make a random statement about it.

Hence "Infinite Dracula Paradox".

Yep.

Damn I'm witty.

And So It Begins

My name is James Estes. I am a twenty year old man who really isn't incredibly interesting but likes pretending he is. This is my blog. There are many others like it, but this is mine. My blog isn't my best friend. It is a weird slice of my life. It's not imperative that I must master it as I must master my life. My blog, without me, is useless. Without my rifle, I am not. I must aim my blog true.

My blog and myself know that what counts in the internet is not the amount of posts, the noise of our posts, nor the ruckus we make. We know that it is the hits that count. We will hit.

Happily sampled/altered from the Rifleman's Creed of the Marine Corp. Enjoy the stay.