Ares' Blog

Another post. Finally.

2009-12-28T22:01:00.000-08:00

Yeah, I know it's been a while since I last posted, stop bugging me about it.

Anyhow, I decided that writing a whole freakin' strategy guide for Starcraft would severely kill my brain cells and my motivation, so I'm going to instead try and be funny. Not something I'm good at, mind you.

(Seriously. My "funniness" is pretty much random pictures of stupid stuff I find on the internet with a quick and witty tag-on sentence or two, like what Cracked.com does with their articles.)

So, let's begin with some completely ASININE fixer-upers I managed to dig up from the depths of the internet hell:

Who was the dumbass who tried to fix THIS? I think... I don't even know what that is. It's a computer component, for sure, but I don't know what. (Clue me in here, guys, I've got no idea.) Whatever it is, SOMETHING WAS DONE HORRIBLY WRONG.

Probably not as bad as this guy, though...

Anybody else think this guy's going to be dead in a week? Be serious, now. Who here honestly thinks Styrofoam tubing, duct tape, and a plastic container is going to last longer than a day? My prediction of doom states that this guy will be flooded out in at least three.

Moving along...

O.o

Okay, I don't have my driver's permit... but at least I can drive better than THAT. Jeez, what'd you have to do to make that happen?

Yeah, yeah, I know: What's this got to do with anything?

Well, have you heard the story of what happened to the driver?

Mum Joleen Baughman’s life is made hell by a car crash injury that left her constantly craving sex.
The smash two years ago damaged a nerve in her pelvis which controls desire, leaving it permanently switched on.
It means Joleen, 39, becomes aroused by even the slightest movement – while vacuuming, sitting on a bus, bending over or walking across a room.
She said: “It’s unbearable. Just my clothes rubbing gets me so aroused that I can hardly think straight.
“It’s very embarrassing and it’s impossible to concentrate.”

...Now who's laughing?

Ah, feels good to get back to the blog again. I might post more tomorrow, might not. Who knows? Who cares?

Nyeh-heh-heh-heh-heh!

M.O.S.D.

2009-12-08T08:06:00.000-08:00

After much bullshitting and procrastination, I bring you the prologue of my Christmas story, Memoirs of Sam Dorian!

~~~

Memoirs of Sam Dorian

By Ares Tenno

PROLOGUE
~~~~~~~~~~

With the rising sun, the darkness faded out and I saw the smooth stone placed so gently and precisely in the earth, I thought that just touching it would make it crumble and fall to pieces where it lay. Engraved on this stone were the words that I remember watching her write for so many months on a piece of paper, designing them, shaping them as a masterpiece in the hands of an artist at peace with the world and all that live in it. Those words rang out so much more clearly to me now, than they had six months ago – Here lies Amanda Renee Johansson; sister; friend; artist; May she rest in peace.

At the time, I figured she was ill with some form of deadly sickness; that she had cancer, or had come down with what medical scientists were calling “Darkeye”, a disease that took place in the eye and slowly infected the rest of the body; but it turned out, that wasn’t it at all. She was merely preparing herself for when that day – November 8, 2030 – came. She was preparing for the moment when her eyes closed and never again opened.

I was the one with my wits not about me that day.

It started during my time in the military; I was Private Dorian, Medic, one of one hundred forty-six men from the Eighth Platoon, Sixteenth Company, First Battalion, Tenth Regiment, Three Hundred First Armored Infantry Division. I was fresh from boot camp, a green recruit still sore from the punishment of basic training, sent into the war with a gun, a knife, and the clothes on my back, with the orders to kill or be killed. I, like so many other recruits who hadn’t even learned the meaning of war, was scared. Entering the haze of battle was a mouse in an electric cage that had loose wires, swinging back and forth across the borders of life and death, sparks shooting off in all directions, and one false step would be the end of me. I couldn’t focus; my mind kept flipping to images of my mother – or rather, the woman who called herself my mother. We didn’t look anything alike. She had blazing red hair, and I had a dirty-blond head of hay.

I thought about my grandfather and what he had told me of his time in the military: “We didn’t do much more than shoot and cuss at each other, or punch and kick at each other, on and off the field. This realization that the base was no better than the field terrified me; I was alone in a world full of chaos and bloodshed, with an M4A2 Carbine with added grenade launcher to protect me and my fragile self. Those times as a kid where I thought myself invincible were tired lies that I saw now as a veil full of holes. Coincidentally, crossing my line of view was a torn scarf full of bullet holes, probably from one of my now dead friends. For some unexplainable reason that I desperately sought words for, I found beauty in that scarf, an artistic quality that I thought only crazy men could achieve.

I guess I was pretty nuts.

Mike Yang had died throwing himself on a grenade to protect me; Jack Donahue had been shot in the neck by a sniper; Jordan Connery had been killed when a mortar crash-landed on the tank we had been using as a ride into the battle; Captain Raffik Shanzi had been blasted by a hailstorm of bullets; and I was hiding behind a wall, wetting myself and crying like a two-year-old. The hard-core vets who ran by and saw me would scream at me to pull myself together, get back on my feet, and fight. They didn’t know that I knew next to nothing about fighting, and that I was saving myself the trouble by not shooting and wondering how long until they dug my grave. Three seconds. No, five. Ten? It was a mystery that would only be solved when the bullet came.

I couldn’t take it anymore.

All the fighting, all the bloodshed, all the fear that was telling me I had no place to hide… it all shot down to my legs, and I bolted from my hiding spot, threw down my gun, and ran. Not towards the fight, not towards the guy I hardly knew who was bleeding out next to the fiery remains of a convoy truck. I just ran. I could hear screaming, people turning and looking at me in utter disbelief. I think a Sergeant Major might have even demanded that I return and help fight. I didn’t know because I was too scared to hear anything but the blood pumping in my ears. I kept screaming my apologies through bitter tears – sorry, ma, I couldn’t do what you did in the war; sorry, grandpa, I’m not that hard-core Spec you thought I was; sorry, Cap, I just can’t follow orders, even when I want to. That and many more as I ran.

Day turned to night, night turned to sunrise, sunrise turned to day again. By the time I finally quit running, I was miles away from wherever it was the rest of my platoon was at. I could taste sand; I guess I was at the boardwalk. I could smell sea salt and heard the rushing tide in my ears. As I woke myself from my dazed trance, I looked down to see I was still in my battered uniform, and was still carrying my weapons. Save for the knife, I threw the rest of my gear in the dirt, a strong feeling of disgust, both with myself and the war, overcoming me.

I looked far up the beach and saw a strange object; as if pulled by an unknown force, my foot took a step, and my brain followed through, moving me closer to whatever it was this object was made out to be.

~~~

Hope you enjoyed!

Special excerpt

2009-12-04T22:22:00.000-08:00

Alright, so sorry I didn't get the Protoss Unit Guide up in time for you guys. I'll make it a New Year's Resolution: Actually get something finished for once in my life.

In the meantime, I've got a special December story excerpt for you guys. Think of it like a little early Christmas/Hanukkah/Kwanzaa/whatever-holiday-you-celebrate gift. I got the inspiration to start writing this from playing Red Faction. Hopefully it isn't too much like that game.

Here goes.

~~~

"Mason Merc," the soldier said, looking the tall man in the brown overcoat over through his helmet's visor. "Ore miner. Demolitions, Class C permit. You're clear to go, report to Security Hangar 3369."

What Merc didn't like about "Blue" Sara-Marsa Sector was that the blues - The Sara-Marsa Defense Force (SMDF) - were so much like Nazis that unless you were absolutely perfect, you'd be tried for some lousy crime and put under Martial Law like a rat in a cage. And no cheese to feed it. What a rip-off.

It wasn't as if it was hard to find 3369 -- each and every hangar was very clearly marked, albeit a tad dusty, and some graffiti from the kids who decided to piss off the soldiers guarding the place. They were executed promptly.

Yet they still never learn... Just like the Guerrillas.

Merc remembered his time on Gara-Sarma B, and what had come of his affiliation with the Guerrillas. He had decided, after the war, to give up his life as a renegade and try to live as a civilian, doing honest work for modest pay. The only problem was, since he was wanted in every country on Gara-Sarma, he had to instead transfer to a job opening all the way across the cosmos on the desert planet Sara-Marsa. And it felt like a warmer and less fruitful version of Gara-Sarma to Merc: A quarantined world under the iron control of modern-age Nazis.

~~~

I know, it's not exactly what people like reading from me (But do I care?), but enjoy it anyhow, and don't give me slack about it because it doesn't meet your preferences. If I were writing to please, I'd have gone insane already.

Information + Prologue piece

2009-11-28T13:55:00.000-08:00

Sorry I haven't gotten my second part of that Protoss help guide I was writing up yet. I'm trying to write it all first, and then copy + paste + post it, unlike last time, where I wrote everything on my blog and then just edited the small parts that needed it.

Anyhow, going slightly off topic for a moment, eighteen years old is more boring than I thought. Sure, I can now buy all sorts of trivial stuff over the phone, but that's not fun.

Back on topic: I'm currently on a new project without a name, as of late. I intend to call it something sooner or later, but for now, it's just kinda' sitting in the water like a boat without a paddle. Slow going when one has a writer's block.

This story is going to be something I have never done before in my life: Secret criminal organizations, through the eyes of a new recruit to a weapons dealer black market in a place much like South America, but with a different name (I intend to make it not involved with the world we live in. I don't know why; makes me uncomfortable to write in current times). If it turns out well, I might post a snippet for you guys over on my DeviantART page to look at.

Meanwhile, if you want exclusive access to parts I don't intend to show the public (I'm secretive with my work. I do intend to become published eventually, but not until I'm absolutely sure I want people to see an entire story by me), catch me at my e-mail address, and I'll try and get back to you.

Now then, here I have the first part of the prologue to start with. Enjoy.

~~~

Prologue

Kent looked out across the mountainside through a pair of binoculars, covered in leaves and twigs and painted to look like forest camo. He normally used these when sent out on covert missions requiring him to get the goods on the Organization's enemies, but this time, he didn't have his spare set of binoculars handy, and people got mighty suspicious when they saw a minor with a high-caliber carbine rifle looking off into the distance through the scope. In one case, the police had even been called -- Kent had been lucky enough to have escaped before they caught up to him.

What Kent saw through his now-magnified vision field was what he made out to be the organization's dealers disguised as merchant traveling parties. They were riding in armored cars and trucks that carried their weapons, and the spoils of their trades with other black market organizations.

"The convoy's back, boss," Kent said quietly into his radio.

"Good. Meet them at the gate and have them come to my office."

Kent put his binoculars away, broke the barrel of his shotgun over his arm, and jogged down to the gate.

Starcraft babble: Protoss Help

2009-11-23T22:42:00.000-08:00

People have asked me why I never accidentally put a swear word in my writing while I'm writing it. It's mainly because, one, I save most of the harsh language for the stories I write, to give them a more realistic (though unwanted immaturity) effect, and two, I go back and edit out any swears I threw into the mix so that I don't have people reading my stuff and suddenly going, "SO! He's not as good at catching himself as he says!" which would really be a bad mark for my name.

Well, moving on to more pressing matters...

There is a significant number of Starcraft game players who have no understanding of the game's characters, buildings, and environments, and therefore have a dreadfully difficult time beating the game without either a billion units or god mode cheats. I've compiled a list of Protoss units and their best placements, or at least best in the situations I put them in, in hopes that somebody will read this and be able to better understand and play the game without becoming so frustrated that they just give up and quit before they give themselves a chance to have any fun with it.

Here we go...

First on my list of items is a short back story of the Protoss.

Taken from Starcraft Wiki, the Protoss are described as a sentient alien life-form native to the distant planet Aiur, wherein lies their stronghold of the Conclave. The Protoss are a race far more advanced in both technology and intelligence than Mankind, since they were chosen by an ancient race of god-like people known as the Xel'Naga, who were nearing the end of their life cycle and were in need of a race to replace them. The requirements were a purity of form, which the Protoss eventually gained. But, because of their differentiating beliefs towards the Xel'Naga, the mental connections between them broke, and wars erupted, forcing the Xel'Naga to evacuate Aiur as it fell into the Aeon of Strife. The civil war between the Protoss ended when Khas took pieces of the ancient Xel'Naga Khaydarin Crystal and re-established the mental link, creating a new basis of belief known as Khala.

The Protoss rely exclusively on their psionic link, so they erect psionic pylons in order to maintain power in their cities. You, the player, will find yourself having to create multiple Pylons in order to maintain a reign of power over your Protoss Colonies, and you will have to create multiple defenses in order to keep them active. When a Pylon is destroyed, anything within its immense sight range will be disabled until another pylon is created in its place. In some cases, destroying one Pylon won't be enough to disable anything, but it will certainly weaken defenses. Some buildings require many Pylons to be functional, such as the Protoss Forge or the Protoss Gateway.

Only two known Protoss buildings, the Protoss Nexus and Assimilator, do not require Pylon energy to function. This is because the Assimilator is basically just a gas mine, and the Nexus is the main source of Protoss Construction Unit transportation, and without a Nexus, builders can't be made, and in turn, neither can Pylons.

Now, we move on to buildings:

Nexus: This is your main building. It calls in construction units (called Probes) to help build and maintain your base of operations. It must be defended AT ALL COSTS. The upside to the Nexus is that it offers considerable ease of construction, since it requires no Pylons to be built. In most cases, it's already built for you, unless it was destroyed previously. To ensure its safety, it's best to build a Nexus somewhere discreet and away from your other buildings, behind a defensive line of turrets or Dragoons.

Pylon: The Protoss Power Source. Much like the Terran Supply Depot, or the Zerg's infected grounds(which appear after a building is built), without Pylons, the Protoss can not function. Pylons are best placed close to your buildings with a few defensive measures, like a Photon Battery, or a couple of Zealots and Dragoons. You will find that Pylons will become your top priority, as they are more needed than any other building or unit in the entire Protoss campaign.

Gateway: The Gateway is probably the third of the most important buildings in the Protoss Campaign. It is what allows you to call in ground units, and requires at least three pylons close by to function. Without the Gateway, your base will fall victim to merciless ground assaults. Defensive measures such as a Photon Battery, or some air units, if any, are readily advised. Be sure you always have a constant stream of new ground units being made until you're sure you have enough to withstand an assault.

Forge: Not as important as the other three aforementioned buildings, but it is still useful. Protoss Forges allow ground unit upgrades to the Zealot units so that they aren't completely useless in combat. (Cheers, Zealots, you're officially the weakest combat units of the game.) Forges don't require massive maintenance, and once you've upgraded your units, they're really just cannon fodder taking up space in your base of operations. Best placed close to either the Nexus or a nearby Pylon, if nothing else than to act as a shield. However, in order to make powerful units, which require much energy and resources, and their own separate buildings, it would be wise to keep a Forge around. At least until those buildings are built.

Cybernetics Core: This is also a secondary building. It offers upgrades to the Dragoon units, but after that, it serves no purpose. It is, however, vital to allowing newer and more powerful buildings to be built, but after that, it's like the Forge. There are several buildings which truly serve no purpose after they've upgraded their respective units.

Shield Battery: When you find your units and buildings running low on shield power, the Shield Battery is the main source of recharging there is available. This building IS VITAL to your buildings and units' survival, because without their shields, they're useless.

Stargate: Here's a funny little reference to all you Sci-fi geeks. But, unlike the series Stargate, this Stargate does not teleport you through time. It's actually one of a few sources of calling in Aerial units. Most, if not all, of the air units will be summoned from here, save for the dropship which is called from the Robotics Support Bay. THIS BUILDING IS VITAL. You must make absolutely sure that it survives if you want an effective strike force. Unless you think ground forces are the tough guys of the game, in which case, have fun dying repeatedly.

Arbiter buildings: I refer to this trio of buildings as the Arbiter buildings because they're all required to make ONE. UNIT. These buildings would be: The Citadel of Adun, The Templar Archives, The Arbiter Tribunal, and the Gateway. The first three are upgrades for the Arbiter unit, and some others, and the Gateway, obviously, calls them in. They are ALL VITAL if you want to be able to use the Arbiters. Personally, I never had a use for them, other than using their clone ability to spawn legions of fake Zerg against the bad guys and making Archons out of them, so I never made the other two buildings.

Fleet Beacon: This building allows you to build the Protoss version of the Terran Battlecruiser, the Carrier. The Fleet Beacon also allows you to increase the Carrier's hangar, and increase the Scout sight and speed. Other than that... it's useless, really. Takes up a lot of space.

Observatory: This building lets you create your detector unit, the Observer, which is a cloaked aircraft that acts as a mobile detector unit. Yes, there are other Protoss detectors, but I like using the Observer more. As with the Fleet Beacon, the Forge, the Cybernetics Core, and the Arbiter buildings, it is useless once its purpose has been served.

In tomorrow's post, I will move to the topic of Protoss Units.

New post - Blog under construction

2009-11-23T13:29:00.000-08:00

Hey guys!

So, for the first couple of days, I'm going to be fixing this place up to look somewhat good and not quite as boring... hang in there, it's a bit of a hassle. Currently, I'm trying to upload my playlist onto this blog, any help would be greatly appreciated.

For the moment, be sure to check out my DeviantART pages and my GaiaOnline journal for anything new, and if you have any questions, feel free to ask me.

Oh, and before you smartass types try it, the answer to life is 42. Hardy-har-har, by the way.

Well, be seeing you!