Phantom

Phantom can be taken to mean several things.

It could be talking about The Phantom, a mask wearing comic strip superhero that got his start in the 1930s. He’s the first superhero to wear a skin tight spandex costume, and the first to wear a mask where his pupils didn’t appear. Both of those have become a standard in the comic industry.

It could be talking about Erik, the primary antagonist of the 1909 French horror novel The Phantom of the Opera.

And, I’m sure there are plenty of other things I could point too… Hell, just Google the word Phantom and see how many responses it comes up with. I did just that, and it came up with 55,700,000 results in some .44 seconds. The first three things that I saw marked was a movie named Phantom, a car by Rolls-Royce, and the Phantom Fireworks Company. After that came the Wikipedia page Phantom which is more or less a disambiguation page that gives brief description of the word and then lists the number of different things it refers too. It’s a rather extensive list.

Anyway, in the context I would look at it in, a phantom is a type of ghost, which is a type of incorporeal undead which can be used effectively in both fiction and table-top gaming. I was looking for a specific link to a creature simply titled phantom to one of the SRD (System Reference Document) websites, but the search sort of came up empty. I got a Phantom Steed, a Phantom Fungus, a Phantom Trap, but no creature simply titled Phantom, and it would be my guess that the rules for a ghost and a specter would be the same exact rules you’d come across for a phantom. In fact, for a table-top game, or a work of fiction (any genre of fiction), the best use of the term phantom would probably be to describe a corporeal foe who is very stealthy and moves about like a ghost or specter would.

I can actually sort of see a villain like that. I’d leave him undead, because that would just go well with the name (and hearken back to The Phantom of the Opera where Erik had a face that looked like a decomposing corpse), and I’d give him two magical items: a cloak of greater invisibility, because how else would someone calling themselves the phantom want to get around, and a ring of incorporiality (yes, I just made that word up) which makes it possible for this corporeal creature to move about in the exact same fashion a ghost would. Using the ring he would be able to shift from the physical plane to the ethereal plane and pass through solid objects as though he were a, for lack of a better term, ghost. Give him a pair of boots that supply a bonus to his move silently check and he’d be damn impossible to find if you weren’t using magic to look for him…

Hmm…

I might have just figured out the proper antagonist for the adventure my Dungeon Crawlers are travelling through right now…

Shit…

This is a public forum.

You saw nothing!!!

Absolutely nothing!!!

It was just a phantom, a figment of your imagination, now go back to bed…

I know that’s where I’m going.

Ryan

7-20-14

Bad Wolf, story stater...

So, what follows is the first little segment I wrote of the novel I'm working on for publication later this year. I wrote this about two years ago, and am just now getting back to it. Lol.

Enjoy:

Azariels's head throbbed as he sat up. He felt the warmth of his flesh through the palm of his hand, and knew the light would sting his eyes when he opened them. Still it had to be done.

Pain flared, momentarily, and a small tavern room opened up to him when the lights cleared a little. There had been drink last night, and plenty of it, and now he was sitting on a rough mattress with a wool blanket pooled around his waist. He didn't have to look to know the innkeeper's daughter was laying to his left. She was a young thing, Azariel also knew, between fifteen and seventeen summers, and there would be blood staining the mattress. The elf smiled at this last bit, and wondered just how many virginal notches that made on his belt.

Still, there was a time to make a quiet exit, and that time was vanishing as fast as Sol rising in the sky. He was out of bed, his pants and tunic on when the heavy fists fell on the door.

“Felicia!” The innkeeper called in the gruff and grizzled voice of an old soldier.

Felicia, a dainty redhead, shot up into a sitting position, her wide eyes staring at the door.

“Damn it,” Azariel said.

“Felicia, open this door!” There was no pounding this time but Azariel heard the click as a crossbow was drawn and its bolt set. He checked the catch on his belt, making sure it was secure, and slid both his knives back into their sheathes at his hips. He grabbed his rusted greatsword, a weapon as blunt as the side of a tree and broken down to the length of a longsword, he slid it into the frogs on his back, leaving it open to the world, and started for the window.

“You're leaving?” Felicia said, panic in her voice. The night was coming down around her, no doubt.

“I'm a big fan of not getting shot with a crossbow,” Azariel said. He lifted the window and looked out. They were two stories up, and the nearest building, a little general store, was more than thirty feet away. Straight down was the answer, painful maybe, but necessary.

“We can explain it to him,” Felicia said, her voice pleading, dancing towards hysteria. “We can tell him we're in love!”

Azariel looked back at her for a moment. She was beautiful with skin the color of alabaster, and great big green eyes. Her hair was like the sun setting on the horizon, and had been the thing that attracted him to her in the first place. He considered it, considered staying with her, and decided against it within a period of two seconds.

The door exploded inwards, the knob ripping off and splinters flew in every direction. The innkeeper stepped in, a man six feet tall and built like a dwarf with a beard to match. He leveled the crossbow and fired within heartbeat of the door opening. The bolt whistled through the air. It hit the wood of the window sill hard enough to throw another series of splinters into the air. Azariel stared at it for a moment and the two inches that separated it from his hand.

“No, daddy!” Felicia said. She flung the covers aside and charged her father. “I love him! Please no!”

“I'll kill ya!” the bartender bellowed and yanked the string back on the crossbow faster than anyone Azariel had ever seen.

“Yeah,” he said, and set his foot on the window sill. He ducked his head and kicked. The elf flew, his back and legs straight as an arrow, and his arms out like the feathered fletching. He turned in the air, rolling head over heels, and landed in a crouch. His ankle yelled at the contact, but Azariel was up in short order. Another crossbow bolt struck the ground, kicking up dust.

“I'll kill ya! Ya damned elf!” The bartender said. Azariel glanced back, saw the innkeeper was already loading another bolt. Still the elf couldn't resist himself.

Azariel spun on his heel, sweeping both arms out, and the left back in as he bent at the waist. He flipped his shoulder length blonde hair over the top of his head and made a show of flipping it back. He straightened and locked eyes with the innkeeper. The man had his crossbow leveled and sighted. Still Azariel smiled, a devils grin. He could see Felicia over her father's shoulder. She was tugging on his arm, trying to get him to stop.

“I wish you luck in your endeavor, kind sir,” Azariel said, the devils grin never leaving his face. “My name is Azariel Athendash. Though, I'm unable to face off with you today, I hope you seek me out. I could use a good challenge.”

With that Azariel ducked and spun. He heard the bolt impact where he had just been standing. The barkeep would be loading another bolt by now, but Azariel's legs were swift, and carried him out of the crossbow's range, and around the corner of the general store. He slowed to a walk as he moved towards another cluster of buildings closer to the town wall. He'd stored his gear under one of the two watch towers, and it was time to retrieve it. It was time to move on from this little hovel, time to move on to bigger and better conquests. Maybe a city.

And, there's a bit more too it, but I think I'll post the rest of it elsewhere then here. On Watt Pad or Medium, maybe DeviantArt. Or maybe all three. Anywho, when I do post it, I'll make sure you all have links. And, I hope you all can't wait for the book!!!

Ryan

6-19-14

Good NEWS!!!

Today was supposed to be a blog post about Han Solo, but I think I'm going to hold off on that post till tomorrow.

Why?

Because I have good news that I can and can't tell you about.

What's the good news I can tell you about?

Well, I'm starting work on a new book. It's a fantasy story that encapsulates one of my number one favorite Dungeons and Dragons game moments. I would tell you what that moment is, but it would ruin the story. Let's just say that it involves a halfing and a dragon. Yes... it get's you all excited doesn't it?

Anyway, what's the good news I can't tell you?

That would be the publication date of this story. I have a date in mind, and my calenders and goals are all marked towards this, but I'm not going to get to far ahead of myself.

All I will say now is that I am going to self publish this book, and I hope to have it on the market by the time fall rolls around. We'll see how that goes with me working on it and what not. And, I'll let you know more the closer I get to my goal.

Also, if there's an artist in the audience who would be willing to work for next to nothing I need to get some cover art for the book. That might have to wait though.

Anyway, peace out.

Ryan

6-18-14

Spock

Spock is THE original alien. Lol. Spock made it cool to be an alien. Yeah, I don't know. It just seemed to be the right thing to say at the time.

Is there ever really a right time to say anything, though?

I don't know, and I don't know why I brought it up here. Yeah, my head's kind of shorting out again. That happens pretty often I suppose though.

Herm.

I guess I could start listing off facts about Spock. But, that might not be all that entertaining, so instead I'll run through crafting Spock as a Dungeons and Dragons/Pathfinder character.

And, after thinking about it, that is a bad idea.

Why?

Because I don't want to start an argument in the comments. Lol.

I was going to say he was an elf (half elf technically, since Spock is only half Vulcan) Psion following the telepath's power tree. With the abilities we've seen in the show and movies I'd put him around fifth or sixth level with most of his skill ranks dumped into knowledge (arcana most likely) and his stats would be unusually high in the strength, constitution, and intelligence areas, while lacking in charisma and wisdom. (The alternate of Bones who would be high in wisdom and charisma.)

As for gear, that'd get down right irritating trying to mimic Star Trek tech. Well, maybe not too irritating. Give him a rod of lightning in which the energy damage can be controlled, giving the rod both a stun and kill setting. That covers the phaser. A stone of communication allowing verbal communication with anyone using a similar stone linked with the same arcane “frequency” (basically meaning the stones had to be made by the same mage).

The tricorder is where I get stumped. That and the universal translator. The universal translator could be translated as a helm of speak language/tongues, giving its wearer the ability to speak any language, period. The tricorder might translate as a stone of perception, giving the user a bonus to their natural perception skill, and maybe granting them ranks in knowledge relating to what the stone picks up? I don't know.

An orb of perception, maybe?

I dunno.

If I get bored at some point I might really work up stats for both the vulcan race and Spock as a character. If I do that, though, I'll also have to work up the stats for an airship version of the Enterprise. And, I could see this going a very long way.

Oy vey.

I don't know.

I'm just going to call it a night.

Ryan

6-6-14

The Shovel of Truth

The Shovel of Truth (pictured above) is a +5 golden holy shovel of lie smiting and depression bane. Its use is designed solely to clear away all the nasty crap one's mind comes up with at the worst of times. Like when you think that nobody cares about the things you do.

It's not true.

It never has been, and it never will be. Somebody will always care about the things you are doing. And, sometimes you won't even realize those people are there.

I've been feeling that way recently. I've been kind of in the dumps about a lot of things, and one of those things happened to be my blogging and the results I didn't think I was getting.

Well, I had a real long drawn out chat with a friend of mine and she was telling me about how depression is just one great big lie. It's your mind working against you, telling you things, hateful things that aren't true. It's the voice that whispers about how you messed up that job interview. It's the voice that tells you you're worthless, that everything you've done up to this point has been meaningless.

After a while, those lies get heavy, and I told my friend about how I am. I told her that all I wanted to do was collapse beneath them, let them run me over, just so I could get a little rest. I told her I wanted to give in, and give up. Then I told her what giving up meant to me (and that's not something I'll repeat here), and she told me that I didn't strike her as the type of person who just gave up.

I believe that.

There have been so many points, so many places in my life where I've just wanted to give up. I've wanted to lay in bed and wallow in my grief and self-pity. I've believed the things depression's been telling me. But, I didn't give up.

I kept moving. And, it hasn't always been my own will that's got me going. More than once it's been my wonderful Cupcake pulling me up out of the muck and getting me to start moving again. And, I thank her for that. She like's to say she's a flashlight for me, to help me find my way in the dark. I like to think of her more as a lighthouse, one that shines as bright as any star, and let's me see the world for miles and miles.

And, now I have a shovel to help that lighthouse. Lol. Poor analogy, but I think you get what I mean. I now have a weapon to use to beat that depression back. I have the truth to back me up.

The lie: Nobody cares about my blog/writing.

The truth:

Blogger- On average I get between 20 and 30 hits a day, with one official follower.

Fanfiction.net- One of my stories has 59 favorites, 107 alerts, is featured in 2 communities, and is just shy of 50,000 views.

Hubpages- I have 10 followers, and I haven't posted a Hub in the last three months or so.

People care. The proof is there, and I just need to be patient to get the numbers I want.

So, I'm going to take my Shovel o' Truth, and I'm going to go beat some depression/lie zombies to death. Later.

Ryan
4-23-14

Trolls

You got a purty mouth. Heh. Heh. Heh.

Big ugly green monsters without too much going on inside their noggin, and most of them have the ability to regenerate. That’s probably all you really need to know about trolls. But, cutting the post off there would be kind of lame. So, I’ll see what else I can weasel out of these critters.

Trolls, in Dungeons and Dragons and Pathfinder, are just shy of being a giant in height (nix that, they are giants) topping off between seven and eight feet tall and weighing anywhere between three and eight hundred pounds. If they have hair it’s greasy and limp and their noses often look like it’s been broken one too many times. They favor swamps, bogs, and moors as their homes. Trolls, like I mentioned above, have the ability to regenerate hit points over time and re-grow limbs and such. It’s not a fun thing to come up against, especially if you’re lacking a torch, or a campfire, or a weapon with a flame enchantment on it.

Another interesting thing to note is the lack of gender among trolls (at least from my point of view and my house rules) as they reproduce asexually. To make more trolls you cut a piece of an existing one off and a new troll, minus a few points of intelligence from the base troll, will grow in 3d6 days. This makes it really nasty for adventurers who hack and slash their way through a whole troop of trolls and don’t take the precaution of burning the bits and pieces after the fight. What that group gets is an army of pissed off trolls tracking them down later in the week.

And, one fun thing that comes along with this is making a smart troll.

According to 3.5 stats for a troll the average intelligence is a 6. This means the troll gets a -2 modifier to anything that requires the use of intelligence. And, if you’re making a troll PC you take a -4 racial adjustment to whatever you rolled for intelligence. The statistic block even goes so far as to state that 3 is the lowest a trolls intelligence can drop.

So, how do you make a smart troll?

First, you bring a little malevolent pixie named Damien Trollbringer (he’s been mentioned on the blog before) into the picture.

Second, you pick up as many wondrous items as you can that give bonuses to intelligence.

Third, you let Damien go at applying all of these magic items, ointments, potions, and what have you, and then use a Wish spell to bind all of the items to the troll as if they were a natural part of his body.

Not Revenire the Troll King, but I can't draw so he's close enough.

The result is Revenire the Troll King. Revenire (the last time I looked at the character sheet) has an intelligence of 35 giving him a +12 to any intelligence related skill. He used this intellect to escape Damien and went about creating an army of super trolls. He used his own fingers to spawn the first ten of his army, those are his generals, each with an intelligence of 30, the subsequent generations, after the fourth, is back to having average troll intelligence.

I would do the math on that, but it seems like it would be a lot. At a random guess, I’d say you’d have around 100,000 trolls, assuming that each general cut off all ten fingers, and then the next generation did the same, and so on and so forth.

Yeah, that’s an epic level adventure waiting to happen J

Anywho, I’m off.

Later kids.

Ryan

4-10-14

Relationships in Dungeons and Dragons Part 2

If you missed it, here’s a link to Part 1.

I should have finished writing this yesterday instead of waiting. I don’t mean writing it all and posting it on one post, I just mean write out both parts of the post. I mainly wish that because I don’t know what to do right now, or how I should continue on with the topic. In fact, it’s very tempting to pick another topic and just skip over the rest of this one.

I don’t know why.

I’m tired is probably a poor excuse since I’ve taken like three naps today. and, me sitting here and thinking of reasons as to why I don’t want to write on this topic is just stalling.

I’m going to write it.

So, get on with it.

Yesterday we talked about how a relationship might work between a PC and an NPC. Today, I wanted to talk about PC to PC interactions.

This is a lot more complex than the former, as the number of added variables is almost infinite. While the interaction with an NPC is mechanical, the interaction between PCs is very fluid it’s literally one person interacting with another. (God, I use the word interacting a lot in that paragraph.)

Now, don’t get me wrong, the same rules that govern a NPC’s actions apply to PC interactions. So, let’s go back to our rogue.

The rogue has blamed the royal vizier for the theft of the crown jewels and got the man sentenced to death while the rogue sells the jewels on the black market. But, the rogue’s friend and fellow adventurer, a paladin in service to Sol, questions the rogue about the jewels.

Not the image I wanted, but my drawing skills are kind of lame. Lol. So, yeah, totally not my art work.

The rules at this point would once again pit the rogue’s bluff skill against the paladin’s sense motive skill, plus any truth spells the paladin might have in effect. A d20 roll would be used to settle the matter, and if it was an NPC thing the d20 roll would be it.

However, we’re talking about people here, sitting around a table. The paladin and the rogue are sitting at the table, and the paladin’s player knows that the rogue stole the jewels and is now selling them. So, we run into an impasse.

What should happen is the players follow along with what the rolls gave them: if the paladin rolled higher a higher score than the rogue spills, if the rogue rolled higher the paladin will know about as much as the king did. And, in my experience this is what happens, thankfully.

The other thing that could happen is an argument that spills out of the game and into reality, with players using their out of game knowledge to choose how their characters act and react. This is called metagaming and this is often a negative thing that DMs hate.

It really ruins the fun of the game for everybody.

And, my brain is stopping there.

Ryan

4-8-2014

PS: There might be more to the topic, I just can’t think right now. So, yeah… don’t know where I’m going.

Relationships in Dungeons and Dragons Part 1

This is an interesting and vague topic for a blog post. And, I’m sure if I really wanted too, I could let this topic spill out across the blog until it was novel length. That’s how in depth one could get with this topic. It would work as both a psychological and sociological study and would be a beautiful topic when it comes to the development of fictional characters and worlds and how all of that works in tandem with the Dungeon Master’s world. And, I think I lost where I was going with this topic already.

I don't know these people, but yeah, that's pretty much what our gaming space looks like.

These people in the doctor’s office are giving me a headache. They’re talking to one another right over top of my head, and they’re across the room from one another. This is making me stabby… very very stabby.

I probably shouldn’t be talking about that in a public forum, but the absolute discourtesy these people are showing for those around them is disgusting.

Things are sort of quiet now. So, we can get back to the topic at hand. Any Dungeons and Dragons setting, even if it’s set in our modern world, is a fictional setting. All of the people that make up its populace are fictional (yes, even if Abraham Lincoln or some other historical figure is featured in it, they are fictional as well). This is because the world exists solely in the Dungeon Master’s mind and once or twice a week that world exists in the minds of his players. The relationships there are based on fictional events and fictional lives and… I don’t know where I’m going with this.

Either way… a relationship between a player character and an NPC is based on the way both act and react as well as the way the dice rolls. Say a rogue is trying to convince a king that he wasn’t responsible for the theft of the crown jewels, and even takes it so far as to blame the theft on somebody close to the king. This is a tense relationship moment (and would be one where it would be heavy on the roll-playing) and the result of the encounter would fall to the dice. The rogue’s bluff skill versus the king’s sense motive: they would roll a d20 and add their skill modifier to the roll and the highest would win. That’s a mechanical way of determining things.

Another way to see how that relationship works would be through pure role-playing. The rogue’s player would have to put on a convincing enough song and dance to get the king (the Dungeon Master) to go along with what the rogue is saying.

And, I'll blame this one on the royal vizier.

We actually had an incident like this in our last game session. A drow sorcerer was trying to convince a troop of drow soldiers that he was a priestess and that they should submit to him and let him and his friends pass. He had the bluff and disguise skill to pull it off, but he was kind of stuttering in the role-play. (The player’s new to D&D so I kind of expected it, though he did better than I did my first time trying to outwit somebody.) He didn’t pick up on the fact that drow women have no respect for males of any race, including their own. They’re a matriarchal society, and the priestesses are belligerent when it comes to ordering males around.

When he picked up on that it was kind of awesome. I enjoyed seeing that look of triumph on his face when the drow guards bowed before him and split the column in two to let him and the party pass.

Kneel before me in terror, infidel!!!

And, there’s more to cover than that, but I’ve reached the limit of what I feel is appropriate to put into a blog post. So, to be continued…

Ryan

4-7-14

Here's part two for your viewing pleasure.

My Cupcake

My topic for today was supposed to be skinwalkers, and while I have that post half written I think I’ll wait and post it tomorrow. I’ve got something else to talk about today. Something that I feel is quite inspirational.

Let me see if I can set the stage for it, so you can feel the same way about it.

I think off and on (a dangerous prospect) about what I’ve accomplished in my life and all the potential I feel has been wasted. When I think about these things I get quite morose, and one of the number one subject I think about is school.

I messed up in college. I really did. I know most of the blame for that falls at the feet of a diseased I will mention no further, but I still feel the fault is mine. I could have fought back and worked towards the potential I thought I had. Well, the potential I know I had. Don’t get me wrong, I accomplished a lot. I graduated, and I have a bachelor’s degree at my house waiting to be framed and put on the wall in my office. But, it wasn’t bachelor’s degree I wanted. It wasn’t any of the degrees I wanted.

And, that’s what I was thinking about last night. I was missing being in school, knowing I could do better, especially now with all the steps forward I’ve taken. I was thinking about the degree programs I could apply myself to now with the same discipline and energy I put towards keeping up with my daily goals. I thought of several.

I want an associate’s degree in forensic psychology and addiction counseling because of my interest in the field of psychology.

I want an associate’s degree in software and web design because my sister inspired me to go for that field. And, I made a promise to a friend that I would design a program that made a DM’s life a just a little easier. He’s gone now, but I’m going to keep that promise.

I want to finish all the bachelor’s programs I started. The history and English focuses in literature and writing. And, I want to get a bachelor’s in psychology for the same reason I want the associates.

There are even two master’s programs I want to go through. I want an MFA in creative writing, focusing in particular on writing novels. And, I want a master’s psychology, again, that’s because of the same reason I want the associate’s and the bachelor’s.

Those wants and desires right there require one thing above even the determination I could put into those programs. They require money, a literal mountain of money.

And, that kind of brings us around to the point I wanted to say about my cupcake. She came into my writing room and stood beside me and asked why I was down. I told her about the school thing and about how much it was cost, and she looked at me and said two words: Then Write.

Then write.

Like the answer was as plain as the nose on her face, so much was said in those two words; so many feelings that I don’t even know how to describe them, but she knew the answer as she always does. I doubted myself, and my ability to make a career out of writing. But, she doesn’t doubt it. And, I don’t think she ever has.

Then write.

Words really can the world, and now that mine’s been changed, I need to get to work.

Thank you Cupcake, for everything you’ve done and everything you will ever do for me. Thank you for being able to see that little flickering flame inside of me, and knowing exactly how to feed it. I will write, and I will make you proud of me, and that one thing is what will make me happiest in this world. I love you.

Ryan

4-3-14

April Fool’s Day

I thought about writing a post entitled Cupcake’s Pregnant, but I ditched the idea. The joke became a little to real for me, digging down into that place where all our fears lie in wait.

What fears are those?

They’re something I’d rather not talk about. Today has been too glorious a day for dark feelings and depression. The sun is out riding high in the sky and the temps have swarmed up to 80 degrees, at least that’s where it was when I got out of my car. The skies were blue, and there wasn’t a cloud in sight. And, if this is Mother Nature’s way of saying April Fools and dumping a foot of snow on us tomorrow, I’m going to find a way to split the earth in two.

Going to have to do some research there, find Tesla’s plans for his death ray, and adapt it into a railgun-esq contraption… And, there goes that train of thought.

Anyway, where did April Fool’s Day come from?

I bet Google knows.

Google pointed me to Wikipedia and Wikipedia confused me. My attention span has been rather short today, and I’ve only been reading like every third word or so. Plus, I’ve got a headache starting, and my gums are hurting again.

God, there’s really nothing about this topic that’s catching my interest. This is making it very difficult for me to talk about it.

Nothing like Booze, Drugs, and Sex to celebrate the good times.

I guess I could relate it to Dungeons and Dragons in some way shape or form. I could write an adventure based on the holiday, and use the festivals Hilaria, a Roman festival, and the Feast of Fools, a Medieval festival. The adventure hooks could be simple. A group of young boys play a prank on a wealthy merchant by setting an animal of some sort loose in the merchant’s shop. The merchant takes things farther and intends to have the boys killed. It would be up to the PCs to set things to right by stopping the assassins, bringing the boys to the merchant to apologize and get them to help repair what was damaged by their wild animal. Or the merchant could contract the PCs to bring him the boys, and when they arrive have the merchant’s men murder the boys. The merchant would look at his handy work and walk away from the PCs, his last words to them being “Enjoy the Feast of Fools.”

A hundred other scenarios come to mind as well, but I’ll keep those to myself.

And, this makes me think of the ultimate April Fool’s Day prank to have ever existed. Though, it occurs during Carnival, a wild celebration taking place before the beginning of Lent. The victim of the joke if Fortunato, whose walled into an alcove in a crypt beneath Montresor’s home. The Cask of Amontillado should have been set on April Fool’s day. The Amontillado is the joke, the bait that pulls the victim in. And, before the last brick is set in place Montresor should look in and say “April Fools.”

Though the phrase In Pace Requiescat (Rest in peace) is sort of a fitting ending.\

In Pace Requiescat my ass!

 Bull shit! It should be “April Fools.” I’m going to rewrite The Cask of Amontillado, and make it happen exactly the way it should. Yes, sir!

Ryan

4-1-14

Dream House part 2

Okay, so this last week has sucked pretty hard core, and yeah, I could give a hundred reasons as to why it sucked, and I would probably spend most of my time bitching about my mouth. I’m not upset at the dentist, which would be stupid as he’s not the one that caused the problems in the first place. That responsibility falls squarely on my head and the poor hygiene decisions I’ve made in the past. I’m getting better now and getting the work on my teeth done is a part of that. But, GD it hurts.

And, that enough whining from me.

What I wanted to talk about right now is one of the things that made this a good week amidst all the hell: Our dream house.

My post yesterday was about this absolutely beautiful house, and it included a wide array of pictures depicting this house. While I find the house is a fascinating topic, I don’t think there’s really much more to say about all of it until I’ve been inside it. What I do find fascinating is the concept of the Dream House.

What is a dream house?

A simple answer: A dream house is the ideal house for a person/couple who can see themselves living in that one place, contentedly, for the rest of their lives.

The difficult answer: I don’t know.

The Dream House is a symbol of status and stature. It’s a way of saying “Look Mom and Dad! Look! I made it! I’m living the American Dream!”

It also seems as though there’s a great deal more psychology. I mean you could easily look at the size of the house and judge just how successful a person has been in their chosen field. Look at doctors and lawyers for instance. They don’t live in palatial homes, but I can guarantee they typically have houses that have ten plus rooms. Some of their houses even come with guest houses instead of just guest rooms.

And, I lost where I was going with this.

Either way, a person’s house is like a castle. Its size represents the strength and success of the one who built it. It’s positioning (especially in a mountainous area like WV) could be another indication of how a person sees themselves. If they’re building a big house on the crest of a mountain it’s because they want to feel powerful. They want to be above other people, and they want to be looked up at.

This even works in the opposite direction. Peole who build huge castles with thick walls are insecure and vulnerable. They don’t feel like they’re able to protect themselves or their family, so they build this big house to look strong and impressive. They set their houses up high on the mountain because they feel looked down upon, and weak. It’s Little Man Syndrome with houses instead of cars/trucks.

Now what does a dream house mean to me? Well, it means I made It! Lol. But, yeah, I told Melanie yesterday or the day before that our lives would be “okay” once we had the aforementioned house; once we could fill our gas tanks up instead of cringing at the twenty dollars we dump in every couple of days; and once we could fill our cabinets with mountains of food and still have money to spend on the things we want to do, the little frivolous pleasures in life as it were.

That’s my idea of what a dream house means. You can take from that what you think I’m saying and we can go from there.

Laters.

Ryan

3-30-14

Dream House Part 1.

Melanie and I have found the absolute most perfect house that has ever existed. We want it. Bad. We want it so bad we can feel the need boiling deep inside our stomachs. It’s an interesting feeling to fall so in love with a place, one that we’ve never even physically been inside the house. We’ve only seen the outside of it, and at great distance at that. But, recently, due to a lot of hard work and digging on the internet I found pictures of the inside. And, oh… my… god!!!

 

I like circles, don't you?
And, the lighting is fabulous. Lol.

Needs a little renovation, and the previous owner's
belongings need to be removed.

The Kitchen.
I pray to God there's not food in those cabinets...

The outside and a three car garage.
One for me.
One for Melanie.
And, one for our armored zombie smasher tank.

The front hall.
The circles on the door makes it feel a little bit like the shire.

The Grand stairs.

The front door from the outside.
It looks heavy.

I can't really tell what's supposed to be in this room.

Indoor Pool!!!
And, the water's still there.

Top of the staircase I believe.

Now, there are a couple of interesting things about the house. Certain rumors say there was a murder suicide while others say the owners up and left after their daughter hung herself from the top of the stairwell. And, of course there are others. All of them agree, however, that the house is haunted, which makes it even better for me and Melanie! Lol.

Though we might need to befriend a Catholic priest, ya know, just in case.

As for its location, that is something I cannot reveal at this time, mainly because this is a perfect zombie fortification location. So, when we buy it, we might tell you were it is, just because we like you enough to protect you from zombies.

Ryan

3-28-14