Profile for Arancaytar
| Field | Value |
|---|---|
| Displayed name | Arancaytar |
| Member number | 2984 |
| Title | Law Bringer |
| Postcount | 8752 |
| Homepage | http://encyclopedia.ermarian.net/ |
| Registered | Wednesday, May 14 2003 07:00 |
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| My Nanowrimo Novel - Vahnatai stuff! in Blades of Avernum | |
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Law Bringer
Member # 2984
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written Tuesday, November 22 2005 05:20
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quote:With the tremendous readership that I already have, I can probably afford a alienate a few ten thousands of them who were only after kinky stuff anyway. :P -------------------- Encyclopaedia • Archives • Members • RSS [Topic / Forum] • Blog • Polaris • NaNoWriMo Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair. I have a love of woodwind instruments. Posts: 8752 | Registered: Wednesday, May 14 2003 07:00 |
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Law Bringer
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written Tuesday, November 22 2005 04:22
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Hypothetical scenario: If a very experienced BoE designer had a very great amount of free time on his hands, and was very very bored and liked the plot and setting of A4 a lot... Which is about as likely as TM designing a sequel to Geneforge, of course. Still. Edit: Where the irony, of course, lies in the fact that an "E4" for BoE has already been made long ago. I currently don't remember which scenario that was, though - Falling Stars, or At the Gallows? [ Tuesday, November 22, 2005 04:25: Message edited by: NaNoWriMo ] -------------------- Encyclopaedia Ermariana • Forum Archives • Forum Statistics • RSS [Topic / Forum] My Blog • Polaris • I eat novels for breakfast. Polaris is dead, long live Polaris. Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair. Posts: 8752 | Registered: Wednesday, May 14 2003 07:00 |
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Law Bringer
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written Monday, November 21 2005 23:43
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I hope there will be some experience penalty at least; otherwise there is just no penalty at all to a character death. It'd be like those ridiculous "respawns" you see in FPS games. Of course, getting away from an enemy when the majority of your party has already kicked it might prove a bit of a challenge, given the "seamless" world that should allow the monsters to follow you home. Except they probably stop following you once you get to the next area. Ah well. -------------------- Encyclopaedia Ermariana • Forum Archives • Forum Statistics • RSS [Topic / Forum] My Blog • Polaris • I eat novels for breakfast. Polaris is dead, long live Polaris. Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair. Posts: 8752 | Registered: Wednesday, May 14 2003 07:00 |
| My Nanowrimo Novel - Vahnatai stuff! in Blades of Avernum | |
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Law Bringer
Member # 2984
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written Monday, November 21 2005 17:17
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Chapter follows. Sorry for the double post, but it's probably better to keep the actual text separate from the conversation. --- We finally get some dialogue in all those ultra-long reams of solitary wandering and deliriousness! Oh, and there *won't* be any Vahnatai/Nephil scenes, explicit or not, just to head off any enquiries or comments. For one, that'd turn it all into some crappy fanfic, and for another, I wouldn't be able to write a sexual scene (much less a remotely believable one) if my life depended on it. If I'm feeling bold, there might be a bit of romance, but it'd be some pre-apocalyptic, last-people-in-the-world romance, the kind where the actual relationship is overshadowed by the impending DOOM to ALL OF CIVILIZATION. Because, what do you know, that makes it far more easy to write convincingly. Since from this point on (the first half of the 50,000 words was only introduction, the real story is beginning now), I have only the haziest idea where the plot is going, I should be excused for increasing mediocrity. That's what I think at least. If you disagree, you don't *have* to read it. Do something that will scar your mind less. Like look at goatse or something. Chapter Six: The Claw It took many days, even weeks, to nurse him back to health. The long time of hunger had left its marks upon him, and for the first week he was barely conscious. Dreams and reality seemed to flow into each other and blur at the edges, so that he felt he was half trapped in a curious universe where nothing made sense and all reason was abandoned, and half sleeping constantly. But it was a curious sleep, for he could question his thought process while it occurred, something he had believed impossible within dreams. He could analyze his thinking, and ask himself that age-old question: "Am I dreaming, or awake?" and not know the answer. His sense of time, if it had ever existed in the first place, was gone completely. Occasionally it grew light around him, only to grow dark again scarcely later. If it had been minutes, hours or weeks since the last time it had grown dark, he could not say, for he did not know. Gradually, as if waking from a nightmare - but infinitely more slowly, as if stretched out over many days - he grew aware that he was lying down. Before, he had felt only a disembodied presence floating in the void, but with a gradually increasing awareness he recognized his physical body that could not yet sense or move at his command, but that was his anchor within the physical world; and he realized he was lying on a bed of some sort. The sensation gave him vertigo for a moment, and he felt disoriented because he could not move, but was as if held in his position by arcane bindings. A few more days, and he was alse able to sense the texture of the sheets beneath and above him. It was a rough, but not unpleasant texture: He did not recognize the material - certainly the sheets at the academy had been infinitely more fine than these, as would those of the cheapest tavern he could have rested at in Mehdat - and yet they felt comfortable. Yet, it was at least a week before he suddenly felt the irresistible urge to open his eyes, and found that they moved when he willed them to. The cold air stung his long unused eyes like daggers, and he was lucky that it was night, for the daylight would have been blinding to him. Nonetheless, his first sensation as he looked was the agony of exposing his eyes, and only gradually did the colourful, hazy clouds of his vision dissolve into a clear image. It was dark, but not pitch-black - a torch seemingly hanging behind and above him, out of sight, cast the room into a flickering, orange glow. By the light of the torch, he slowly explored his room with his eyes - not moving his head, because it would not obey him yet, but only his eyeballs. He seemed to be in a small room, and the walls had the surfaces of rough, unpolished stone. Casting his eyes around, he looked for the corners, but found almost none - the chamber was rounded and irregular, like a hole burrowed out of the earth - or like a cave. Indeed, the rough stone walls looked not like they were erected in any fashion, but rather carved out of a solid rock - marks were visible were the builders' tools had hewn the stone and carved it chip by chip. The ceiling was low - not so low he would have to watch out for his head when walking upright, but lower than in the great halls of the academy, where the Vahnatai had lifted the ceiling to a height of more than four paces above the ground. The ceiling, too, had no edges, and went over into the walls in a smooth, seamless curve. He could not see the floor, for he would have had to turn his head for that, but he would not have been surprised if the floor, too, had been a slightly concave surface. In spite of the simple, almost primitive architecture of what must have been his lodging for the past weeks, and would likely remain so for the next few weeks if not months, he found that the room appeared to be decorated with comfortable furniture. The bed he was lying in was standing against the wall facing the door, there was a wooden desk on the wall that his feet were pointing toward, and out of the corner of his eyes he could see a structure that could only be a bookshelf near his head. A bookshelf? His mind was reeling with the implications. Whoever had rescued him, the matter of their species aside, had to be at least reasonably civilized, if not architecturally advanced. He thought back to the dreamlike encounter with these beings, so many days ago, and realized that their strange appearance could well have been a product of his imagination. Had not his fever made him see shadows and horrors out of time in those agony-filled days of travelling without food? Had he not at last collapsed, near death, and found he could not recall his name? Could, when his rescuers gathered around to look at him, his mind have played a trick on him to disguise them as monsters, when they were of the Vahnatai like he was? That did not explain the cave, however. His people would never carve out a hollow like this, that was more a rabbit's burrow than a dwelling! No civilized creatures would--- his gaze fell back on the bookshelf, which still stood there, almost admonishing, a silent reminder that the builders of this cave, whatever else might be said about them, were literate. Besides, his feelings of superiority were somewhat dampened by the realization that whoever lived in this place had probably saved his life. It would reflect well on him to display some form of gratitude, even though he still did not know the identity, or even the race and origin of his saviours - or their intentions. He noticed a dark rectangle in the wall above him, and after some examination realized it must be a window. The realization did not come that easily, because besides the immediate impression of lying within a cave, he was used to sleeping underground, as the Vahnatai did. Yet, the window opened out toward an evidently dark night sky, and he noticed when the cold winds began again, that had stung his eyes earlier. The window was open - not that he was used to windows with transparent crystal panes, which only the larger and more magnificent halls possessed. The winds tore freely through the chamber, but he was protected by the thick sheets that still covered him up to the chin - only on his face did he feel a cool breeze that felt at once refreshing and chilling. And yet, as he looked up again at the window hole that opened to the world outside, he caught, by the orange glow of the torch, a silvery glint where none should have been - the glint of metal. He was behind bars. What was he - a recovering patient, or a prisoner? Were they his rescuers, or his captors? His mind reeled yet again with the puzzle. The fact that the door was closed - uncommon among the sleeping chambers of the Vahnatai, who slept without windows, but open doors to let fresh air enter the room - seemed to matter little in the face of these bars. What use would these creatures have for bars if not to lock him in or restrict his movement? Surely not to keep things out - predators avoided populated areas, even where they did not encounter the advanced magic of the Vahnatai to ward them off. As he looked around the chamber again, he suddenly sensed again how utterly alien it was. The walls seemed to close in around him with the psychological implication that he was imprisoned, and no bookshelf in the world could have reassured him of their goodwill. He was awake now, however, and for the first time realized that he was conscious. His sense of time had been severed completely when he passed out, and perhaps even before. By the light outside, he noticed it was night time, or at least late afternoon or early morning. But the narrow window showed no stars, nor the moon, by which he might at least estimate the season. In spite of the long time he had spent wandering, he was sure it could not be mid-winter yet. The fourth day of the eleventh month was the day he had set out, and in the weeks he had starved, and the weeks during which he had been recovering, he had lost all sense of the passing time. Equally, he realized he had not the haziest idea where he was. Not just in the sense of height, or the location of his room within whatever complex it was they were keeping him in. He had spent a long time wandering in a direction that must have been generally north-west - although he had probably changed his course several times without realizing - and it seemed that he was soundly off the edge of the map. Cat people. Not even their legends mentioned creatures like this. Where could they possibly come from? There had been reports a long time ago, academical studies, biological experiments. An entire branch of magic had been dedicated to the unravelling of the innermost secrets of life. They had managed to build an entire chart that showed how the animals that surrounded them were related and had developed from each other: The endlessly changing nature of life; the gift of the god Dahrnai, who had perceived the Order that came from Chaos. And yet, they failed to discover the origin of the Vahnatai themselves, which was generally taken as a confirmation of the old sacred texts that granted the People their special place as the pinnacle of Creation, combining both the Changing and the Unchanging, that made the People the only race on the planet never to have evolved, and never to evolve. Eventually, the field had lost its sensational novelty, and the more renowned wizards had abandoned it, although there were rumours that some of them were still attempting to unlock the secret of this evolutionary process itself: How it functioned, and how it might be replicated. The notion was generally scoffed at. Could it be that within less than a month's wandering from his home town lived a race of beings nobody had even known to exist? It seemed unthinkable, if not outright impossible. Avtris was not exactly the center of Vahnatai civilization, but the area surrounding it was not exactly a blank spot on the map... he struggled to recall into his mind the maps he had looked at long ago, and remember what they said lay northwest of the city. Try as he might, he could not remember. Remember. Like lightning it went through him. His name! He recalled only a vague muttering, a few syllables borne on the wind. They vanished as if into a hazy mist, as if he was trying to recall a tiny detail of his life that had occurred many decades ago. It was the first time that he was consciously aware of the lack of his name; before, the cover of delirium or unconsciousness had stopped him from thinking further about it. This did not change anything - as awake as he was now, the name was gone. He decided to put it out of his mind for the time being. If he was ever going to return to his people, they would know his name - and if he was not, he did not need it anyway. There was a strange satisfying feeling at that last thought. Why should I return? With anger, but a remote and cold anger that was more some distant memory of annoyance, he remembered the nature of his departure. They had cast him out of the academy for sleeping. When he had left, he had intended never to return to Avtris, so why should he now? Then the fear began to nag at him again: What if he was never going to see his own people again, ever? The bars before the window glinted in the torchlight, reminding him where he was. He felt cold. The door opened, and a cold draft immediately swept through the room from the window. It had opened only a crack wide, but the howling of the wind could be heard through it, and there was a sliver of bright light coming in. Whatever room the door opened towards, it was lit more brightly than the chamber he was sleeping in. A shadowy silhouette could be seen in the light. Noticing the cold draft that the open door was causing, the silhouette opened the door a bit wider, slipped in and quickly shut the door to prevent the draft; the absence of the background light transformed it into a three-dimensional figure that was nonetheless too shadowy to see clearly in this dark room. Still, he recognized the head and the stature of one of the cat people he had seen only once before when he was near death. At once relieved and apprehensive because the sight had not been a fever dream brought on by his delirium of starvation, but these cat people were extremely real, he fixed his gaze upon the figure as it strode purposefully toward him. * * * The first thing that struck me about the sight of these beings - and will always continue to strike me as a marvel, no matter how often I shall see them - was the way they moved. My own People are now famed for their agility and dexterity, and their ability to move in complete silence, but seen against these first of the cat race, we were clumsy and blundering, big-footed as Troglodytes and as slow and noisy as them in our movements. Only one who has seen a wild tiger walk through the woods, the only sound of his passing - if there is any at all, which is only the case when he is not hunting - the deep, thundering grumbling that he utters as he goes, can truly appreciate the unbelievable level of dexterity that results from the combination of those creatures that walk upright with the feline race. Truly, it was like a shadow sweeping over the floor when they walked. Though I hear now that their race has since declined, as has ours, and is no longer as famed for its agility as ours is now, these first of the cat people were unbelievable in their movements, and their limbs seemed to flow rather as a liquid than move through the air as solid objects. The similarity to those felines who walk on four legs is only apparent in their movements and their faces, for their stature is distinctly built for upright walking. Their front limbs, double-jointed like that of the goblins and troglodytes and monkeys, and unlike our own, are quite adapted to use tools and execute deft manual operations. Their feet - though lithe - are only used for walking, and are not prehensile like those of most apes, and their legs manage to combine their seeming weightlessness with a strength that allows them to run at a great speed over tremendous distances without tiring, as well as jump to almost half their height, which is a very impressive ability. Their face, finally, is the most distinctly cat-like about them, for the shape of their head is such that it almost looks as if the head of a large cat was positioned on the fur-covered body of a very lithe human. Their ears are positioned high on the sides of their head, the tips distinctly visible above the head as its highest points; their mouth is quite small for beings of such size, although they can open it wide and it has an array of ferociously sharp teeth. Their eyes, lastly, are uncanny in their depth and inner fire; their irises are vertical slits as in normal felines, and they are frequently colored a radiant emerald green that seem to burn with an almost hypnotic flame, holding any creatures they gaze upon as if bound by a spell. * * * The figure had reached his bed, and was now quizzically surveying his still form, her gaze coming to rest on his face. He was compelled by an urge to shut his eyes and pretend that he was sleeping, but he realized it was too late to pretend. Already, it seemed that she - he instinctively assumed the figure was female, for in her face as in her movements, she seemed to be built more slightly than the males who had discovered him in the wilderness earlier - had noticed that his eyes were open, and gave a slight start. She began to talk in a strange tongue - it was the same purring sound he had heard earlier - but he did not know if she was addressing him or talking to herself, thinking out loud. Then, after a while of this, however, she paused and looked at his eyes as if awaiting a reply from him. Having not recognized a single word of the language, he had no choice but to remain silent even in his own language - there was more risk in a misunderstanding than there was in silence, immediately establishing the fact that he could not understand her. Sensing that he had not understood her words, she briefly hesitated, creasing her brows in thought in a way that he immediately found cute - somewhat to his alarm - and then haltingly addressed him in Novah. "I see you are awake. You have been sleeping for more than ten days. Are you in discomfort?" For a while, he could not answer, for his lips would not part. However, he found that he could now move his head, and slowly shook it from side to side in a gesture that he hoped meant the same among her people as it did among his. It seemed to mean that, however, for his answer in the negative appeared to pacify her slightly, and she seemed less nervous than she had before. "It has been very long since we have encountered one of your kind, and not even my grandparents remember that encounter. The arhmshar say that you are our enemy, but the hunters who found you said you were in no state to be anybody's enemy other than yourself, and so we did our best to let you rest and heal." Her speech hesitated several times during this long sentence, and her word for the ones who had named his people enemies was not only unrecognisable to him, but equally unpronounceable. The way she stressed it made him think of the elders back at the academy, and he assumed that this was what they called the wise ones of their people. He was glad that their word appeared to carry less weight than that of the elders of Oriath did, for if it had, he might not have received such hospitality. He found that his tongue obeyed him at last, and opened his mouth. "I am... grateful." His speech hurt in his throat, which felt sore and dry, and he was silent again, unable to speak on. Apparently, he had caught a cold as well alongside the starvation. In the sparse light, he could not tell if she was smiling at this, but he heard it when she answered again. "That is a pleasant surprise, for the arhmshar predicted you would be neither grateful, nor polite, which you turn out to be, Tam." His mind reeled in shock. "You know my name?" She had called him by what must be his name! Had he uttered in his sleep, then? But it was impossible, how could he have told them his name when he himself did not know it! "Yes, Tam; that is what you answered the hunters when they asked you, they told me. You might not remember it; you were close to death at the time." Tam - nobody. Suddenly, he remembered that what he had told the hunting party was not his true name, it was just the only thing that came to his mind when he was at a loss for his name. His true name remained forgotten, and he would have to get used to it. He might as well take the name Tam as his own - he would need one, to be sure, and it was better than nothing. "Tam." He let the word roll over his tongue experimentally. Then again. "Tam," the swift, explosive start, and the long nasal sound that appeared to come naturally over their lips. His new name would take little getting used to; he liked it immediately. "Is that not your name?" She asked, sensing his unfamiliarity with the word. "It might as well be," he responded, now smiling himself, "for I have no other. Also---" He could speak without difficulties now, but his sore throat still gave him pain, and he had to cough briefly. The dryness in his mouth, however, seemed only to worsen at this, and he could not cease coughing, which irritated his already hurting throat and ended in a choked kind of rattle. "Here." She held out a kind of wooden cup filled with what was hopefully water, except he was too thirsty to care if it was and what else if anything might be contained in it. For a few seconds, he struggled with his arms that were still as if glued to the bed, then she noticed his predicament and held the cup to his parched lips to let him drink, which he did in small, halting gulps, for his throat was too sore to drink even water without feeling pain. He drank for a while; then he had to cough and almost squirted water through his nose, at which she took the cup away again. He was far too weak to be embarrassed. Feeling slightly better, he was able to continue speaking. "Where am I? When am I? And who are you?" "You are within the resting-halls of our clan, and several leagues north of the place where they found you - although I can tell that does not tell you a lot, for they say you were in no state to know where you were at that point. As for the time... the sun turns next week, and the great moon is gone." It had been full shortly before he had gotten lost in the storm, and it cycled about six times a year. He had left Avtris more than a month ago. "We call ourselves the Nephilim, though what name you have for us - if you ever did - I do not know. Far and wide, we are the only sentient inhabitants of this land, and your kind never strays so far from your roads that you find yourselves in these parts. Well, usually.", she added. "You seem to be an exception, though whether in hardiness or foolishness, I cannot say. Travelling without rations, without even the tools you would need to hunt, in a season when nature herself is your enemy! It is a miracle you even made it this far, for wherever you came from originally, you must have travelled a great distance indeed to reach us." "We are the Nephilim," she appeared to return from the change of subject, "and there are none more skilled with the longbow than our People, although we have had little need to test that skill save in the hunt, for many lifetimes now." "No, I mean who are you?" Novah had no plurals, which made such ambiguities very common. "I? I am a healer apprenticed to the arhmshar of our clan. I am Mh'repha of the Claw." -------------------- Encyclopaedia • Archives • Members • RSS [Topic / Forum] • Blog • Polaris • NaNoWriMo Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair. I have a love of woodwind instruments. Posts: 8752 | Registered: Wednesday, May 14 2003 07:00 |
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Law Bringer
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written Monday, November 21 2005 16:22
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quote:Yeah, but who ever heard of a vengeance plot hatched by gazers? That would be like... a goblin vendetta, only more powerful cannon fodder. Now, the Slitherikai revenging themselves on Avernum for... uh... for whatever half-cooked reason Jeff invented for it would be a bit less uncool. Depends on the reason, however. -------------------- Encyclopaedia Ermariana • Forum Archives • Forum Statistics • RSS [Topic / Forum] My Blog • Polaris • I eat novels for breakfast. Polaris is dead, long live Polaris. Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair. Posts: 8752 | Registered: Wednesday, May 14 2003 07:00 |
| My Nanowrimo Novel - Vahnatai stuff! in Blades of Avernum | |
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Law Bringer
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written Monday, November 21 2005 15:50
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Not at all! How am I supposed to keep writing without that drive to compete? :) 28101. Yayness. I probably won't get to 30k, but damned if I don't try. I can sleep during the lectures tomorrow, that's what they're for. :rolleyes: (Yes, I know, before everyone starts jumping all over me about responsibility. It's just nine more days anyway, and my schedule and life will be back to normal) Edit: 29020. And if I write any longer now, I won't be able to wake up long enough tomorrow to carry myself to the auditorium, which would get me in trouble - because while few will be concerned if I sleep in the lecture, they will be if I sleep at home. Funny how the world works. -- Oh, and Week Four starts tomorrow - or has started 3 hours ago, really. Ouchomg. [ Monday, November 21, 2005 17:22: Message edited by: NaNoWriMo ] -------------------- Encyclopaedia • Archives • Members • RSS [Topic / Forum] • Blog • Polaris • NaNoWriMo Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair. I have a love of woodwind instruments. Posts: 8752 | Registered: Wednesday, May 14 2003 07:00 |
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Law Bringer
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written Monday, November 21 2005 15:36
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Following the ancient logic of the Spiderweb games that whenever it's not other humans that are the villains, it's the Vahnatai, "suspicion" is probably no longer the right word. The Vahnatai did it. Who else? :rolleyes: Although remember that while Jeff Vogel evidently has at least semi-endorsed Drakey's theories on the Vahnatai, we don't know if that extends to Creationism. Are they actually the oldest creatures in the game canon itself? quote:Thank Goodness. quote:I have the strong feeling that I'm going to disagree once the game is out. [ Monday, November 21, 2005 15:41: Message edited by: NaNoWriMo ] -------------------- Encyclopaedia Ermariana • Forum Archives • Forum Statistics • RSS [Topic / Forum] My Blog • Polaris • I eat novels for breakfast. Polaris is dead, long live Polaris. Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair. Posts: 8752 | Registered: Wednesday, May 14 2003 07:00 |
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Law Bringer
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written Monday, November 21 2005 11:54
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Did she collect them, or something? I wonder if haloes are the equivalent of a doctorate title. Perhaps you can be a saint honoris causa (St. h.c.)? :D -------------------- Encyclopaedia Ermariana • Forum Archives • Forum Statistics • RSS [Topic / Forum] My Blog • Polaris • I eat novels for breakfast. Polaris is dead, long live Polaris. Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair. Posts: 8752 | Registered: Wednesday, May 14 2003 07:00 |
| My Nanowrimo Novel - Vahnatai stuff! in Blades of Avernum | |
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Law Bringer
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written Monday, November 21 2005 11:51
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quote:It's tidbits, and the other spelling can lead to embarassment. ^___^ And I need 4000 words today. -------------------- Encyclopaedia • Archives • Members • RSS [Topic / Forum] • Blog • Polaris • NaNoWriMo Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair. I have a love of woodwind instruments. Posts: 8752 | Registered: Wednesday, May 14 2003 07:00 |
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Law Bringer
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written Monday, November 21 2005 07:03
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Yes, I'd figured as much. To have a wall around it, you need this kind of square as the smallest unit: What does the script do when it finds a smaller pit? Wall it improperly, return an error, or just leave it alone? -------------------- Encyclopaedia • Archives • Members • RSS [Topic / Forum] • Blog • Polaris • NaNoWriMo Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair. I have a love of woodwind instruments. Posts: 8752 | Registered: Wednesday, May 14 2003 07:00 |
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Law Bringer
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written Monday, November 21 2005 06:47
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quote:It's similar to arguing "Who the hell thinks fire is an important invention? Everyone has fire!" :P -------------------- Encyclopaedia Ermariana • Forum Archives • Forum Statistics • RSS [Topic / Forum] My Blog • Polaris • I eat novels for breakfast. Polaris is dead, long live Polaris. Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair. Posts: 8752 | Registered: Wednesday, May 14 2003 07:00 |
| My Nanowrimo Novel - Vahnatai stuff! in Blades of Avernum | |
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Law Bringer
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written Monday, November 21 2005 06:43
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I'm at 26200 something, and my job appears to have caught up with me - numerics homework due tomorrow, luckily finished, a PHP project awaiting completion, and about 3 weeks worth of first year's homework to correct (voluntary assignment for credit...). I hope to get to 30k tonight though. -------------------- Encyclopaedia • Archives • Members • RSS [Topic / Forum] • Blog • Polaris • NaNoWriMo Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair. I have a love of woodwind instruments. Posts: 8752 | Registered: Wednesday, May 14 2003 07:00 |
| My Nanowrimo Novel - Vahnatai stuff! in Blades of Avernum | |
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Law Bringer
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written Sunday, November 20 2005 13:17
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I am glad I could be of help in terms of motivation. Back when you were at 17k and I was struggling around 12k, I could say the same. :P And the next chapter should be done today. Won't, probably, though. I seemingly can't work on two days in a row... Still, the nearly 5k yesterday made it possible to be lazy today. Ha. -------------------- Encyclopaedia • Archives • Members • RSS [Topic / Forum] • Blog • Polaris • NaNoWriMo Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair. I have a love of woodwind instruments. Posts: 8752 | Registered: Wednesday, May 14 2003 07:00 |
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Law Bringer
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written Sunday, November 20 2005 13:07
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Since the forum is gaining a new meaning as a place for actual discussion about games - eg Lost Souls - do you think this means the end of the White Cult? Or can insanity and semi-sanity and mediocrity co-exist peacefully? -------------------- Encyclopaedia • Archives • Members • RSS [Topic / Forum] • Blog • Polaris • NaNoWriMo Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair. I have a love of woodwind instruments. Posts: 8752 | Registered: Wednesday, May 14 2003 07:00 |
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Law Bringer
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written Sunday, November 20 2005 13:04
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I haven't had a chance to try it, and won't for the next few days, but that looks awesome! :) quote:One square pits shouldn't be an issue really - after all, they really don't occur that often in everyday town designs, and when they do, they rarely need to be walled in. Many thanks for that code! -------------------- Encyclopaedia • Archives • Members • RSS [Topic / Forum] • Blog • Polaris • NaNoWriMo Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair. I have a love of woodwind instruments. Posts: 8752 | Registered: Wednesday, May 14 2003 07:00 |
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Law Bringer
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written Sunday, November 20 2005 11:03
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quote:RWG? You are not referring to that dreadful horror from beyond space and time, the Richard White Games forum? Edit: Icshi, isn't it funny that the only word in there that distinguishes the adventurers from ruthless villains is the classification "evil" for the creatures who they kill and whose lairs they rob? :D [ Sunday, November 20, 2005 11:04: Message edited by: NaNoWriMo ] -------------------- Encyclopaedia Ermariana • Forum Archives • Forum Statistics • RSS [Topic / Forum] My Blog • Polaris • I eat novels for breakfast. Polaris is dead, long live Polaris. Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair. Posts: 8752 | Registered: Wednesday, May 14 2003 07:00 |
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Law Bringer
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written Sunday, November 20 2005 08:12
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If Jeff put up his development to a democratic vote, a whole lot of things would be very different. :P -------------------- Encyclopaedia Ermariana • Forum Archives • Forum Statistics • RSS [Topic / Forum] My Blog • Polaris • I eat novels for breakfast. Polaris is dead, long live Polaris. Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair. Posts: 8752 | Registered: Wednesday, May 14 2003 07:00 |
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Law Bringer
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written Sunday, November 20 2005 03:10
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This thread has merely outlived its usefulness; it is not yet an offense in the eyes of gods and men. As such, it merits a small goat.  -------------------- Encyclopaedia Ermariana • Forum Archives • Forum Statistics • RSS [Topic / Forum] My Blog • Polaris • I eat novels for breakfast. Polaris is dead, long live Polaris. Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair. Posts: 8752 | Registered: Wednesday, May 14 2003 07:00 |
| Resetting the automap? in Blades of Avernum Editor | |
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Law Bringer
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written Sunday, November 20 2005 01:53
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The idea is to have the levels change both ways - going up, and going down, the level is regenerated anew every time. Even after reloading from a saved game, the levels would be generated differently. -------------------- Encyclopaedia • Archives • Members • RSS [Topic / Forum] • Blog • Polaris • NaNoWriMo Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair. I have a love of woodwind instruments. Posts: 8752 | Registered: Wednesday, May 14 2003 07:00 |
| My Nanowrimo Novel - Vahnatai stuff! in Blades of Avernum | |
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Law Bringer
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written Sunday, November 20 2005 01:12
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Actually, the dual objective of finishing a story AND having it go beyond a certain length causes a strange kind of balance. It stops me from stretching out a single chapter in an attempt to get the word count, and from rushing through the story in a few hundred words to finish the plot. And yeah, the idea is mostly to remove the inhibitions that are often a problem for beginners in creative writing. Which I definitely am, the countless RPs notwithstanding. -------------------- Encyclopaedia • Archives • Members • RSS [Topic / Forum] • Blog • Polaris • NaNoWriMo Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair. I have a love of woodwind instruments. Posts: 8752 | Registered: Wednesday, May 14 2003 07:00 |
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Law Bringer
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written Saturday, November 19 2005 17:42
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quote:What music, specifically? -------------------- Encyclopaedia Ermariana • Forum Archives • Forum Statistics • RSS [Topic / Forum] My Blog • Polaris • I eat novels for breakfast. Polaris is dead, long live Polaris. Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair. Posts: 8752 | Registered: Wednesday, May 14 2003 07:00 |
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Law Bringer
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written Saturday, November 19 2005 17:39
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You can't. Eldibs said so very clearly, I believe. -------------------- Encyclopaedia Ermariana • Forum Archives • Forum Statistics • RSS [Topic / Forum] My Blog • Polaris • I eat novels for breakfast. Polaris is dead, long live Polaris. Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair. Posts: 8752 | Registered: Wednesday, May 14 2003 07:00 |
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Law Bringer
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written Saturday, November 19 2005 17:29
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quote:I saw you online earlier, messaged you, waited a few minutes and then had to leave again. I figure that with almost 5000 words today, I can indulge in some timewasting. You didn't answer though. :P -------------------- Encyclopaedia Ermariana • Forum Archives • Forum Statistics • RSS [Topic / Forum] My Blog • Polaris • I eat novels for breakfast. Polaris is dead, long live Polaris. Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair. Posts: 8752 | Registered: Wednesday, May 14 2003 07:00 |
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Law Bringer
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written Saturday, November 19 2005 17:18
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If he means any kind of program, then it's usually a little X-labelled button in the top right corner of the window. Perhaps he just means the door though. We all know how tricky those doorknobs can be to handle without a manual, right? -------------------- Encyclopaedia Ermariana • Forum Archives • Forum Statistics • RSS [Topic / Forum] My Blog • Polaris • I eat novels for breakfast. Polaris is dead, long live Polaris. Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair. Posts: 8752 | Registered: Wednesday, May 14 2003 07:00 |
| Resetting the automap? in Blades of Avernum Editor | |
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Law Bringer
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written Saturday, November 19 2005 16:27
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With infinite variety for the cave design, a small cave would not be a problem. Even the 48*48 (that's the minimum for BoA, right? There were smaller ones in BoE, though) square would be big enough for a few rooms and tunnels, and a couple of monsters placed strategically. Add to that a bit of fancy stuff to randomly generate monsters - this could be called while the player explores, which should move it out of the initial thread of commands - and the level is done... Of course, it sounds way easier than it would be. Still, after November is out I might fiddle around a little with the editor and try out some of these concepts. -------------------- Encyclopaedia • Archives • Members • RSS [Topic / Forum] • Blog • Polaris • NaNoWriMo Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair. I have a love of woodwind instruments. Posts: 8752 | Registered: Wednesday, May 14 2003 07:00 |