Spreading the Love(craft)

A coworker who I thought was pretty "normal" (ie. not interested in nerdy things like discussions of how to survive the zombie apocalypse) recently revealed that she is, indeed, a bit nerdy. In fact, she did this by commenting on my copy of the Zombie Survival Guide that waits on my desk in case of emergency, and starting up a conversation about how to survive the zombie apocalypse.

A couple days ago she asked if I knew the name of that one author... she'd heard him recommended as a good horror writer, but couldn't remember the name. He wrote like weird stories or something. Like Cthulhu or something like that?

LOVECRAFT!

So, I just finished typing up an email and sending it off to her so she can dabble in HPL. Hopefully I suggested some good ones to cut her teeth on and not get turned off by Howie's occasionally archaic writing.

Here's the list I sent:

My Favorites (in no particular order)
Pickman's Model - nice quick short story, super creepy, and the ending is great
The Rats in the Walls - man moves into his family's ancestral estate, discovers rats in the walls and ...
The Statement of Randolph Carter - This is a good one, too. I also did an audio drama version of it with some internet friends, but you have to find that on your own if you want to embarrass me by listening to it ;-)
The Cats of Ulthar - be nice to cats ... or else!
Herbert West: Reanimator - HPL's spoof of Mary Shelley's Frankenstein (which he did not think very highly of). There's also a super super cheesy 1980's movie adaptation of this story, but it's not that great.

Canonical works - these are ones true devotees and Lovecraft scholars insist are the best examples of his work.
The Call of Cthulhu - considered by many to be the epitomy of Lovecraft's work. It's a good story, but not my absolute favorite
Dagon - quick story, has a great ending that always gives me chills
Nyarlathotep - very bizarre. Like many stories, based off of Lovecraft's dreams
The Shadow Over Innsmouth - Longer story, but pretty good
The Dunwich Horror - don't tell the Lovecraft people I haven't read this one yet!
At the Mountains of Madness - a novella and kind of a long read. It's a great antarctic horror story full of mystery, exploration, and bizarre horror. I'd only recommend this one if you read

It's exciting to be able to share my favorite author with someone.

Storytelling Assignment: Your Own Story

For next session we are to write and prepare to tell a story of our own. It is supposed to be a story about us, featuring us, or a friend, a relative, a family story. I wonder if I could use one or some of my dad's stories about George the Squirrel. Probably not, since I'm supposed to write the story myself. But maybe I could do a story in the style of George? That's just one idea.

Our professor gave us several prompts. Many of them sparked memories that would make for great stories, I think.

I'll have to give this assignment some thought. There are so many possible stories about myself and others that I could tell, and I want to pick the best one.

Creative Writing Prompt #46

Writing prompt #46: In 200 words, describe a hot day
(From http://creativewritingprompts.com/)

Attempt #1: fiction. 212 words.
It’s the kind of heat that sticks to you like the tar softening in the streets. The humid, damp, soaking grip of Minnesota summer. Sure, it’s not as hot as summers further south, but like we say, “it’s not the heat, it’s the humidity.”

But what I’m really thinking right now is who the hell gets married outside in this kind of weather? What bride says “I want to wilt in the sun front of my friends and family”? At least she gets to wear white – she doesn’t care if they talk – the groom is wearing a black wool suit. I don’t know if I pity him more for having to suffer through the heat or the years to come.

Dark, solid, heavy rainclouds taunt us from the edge of the horizon. The relief that rain would bring is far away, and “just skirting around the metro area.” I hate weathermen. I swear if you just put them outside to do the forecast on days like this their pretty little plastic smiles would melt and drip down their face.

It’s too hot to be this angry. I fan myself with the wedding program, dreaming of the indoor, open-bar, reception. “Two gin and tonics, please.” I can already tasty the icy pine tree.

Attempt #2: embellished non-fiction. 203 words.
We were gathered around the great bonfire in our full uniforms. Each Boy Scout adorned with his merit badge sash, proudly displaying his accomplishes. The ripples of the lake lapping at the shore just beyond the clearing were the only sounds. We, the newest initiates into the Order of the Arrow, had sworn ourselves to silence for the duration of our induction weekend. Now that weekend was coming to a close.

Our fellow scouts, senior members of the Order, had taken on the traditional garb of American Indian tribes from our region and marched slowly past the many concentric rings of initiates towards the raging flames.

My uniform clung to me tightly, stuck in place by the glue that was the sheets of sweat pouring out of my body after digging post holes and building fences in the blazing sun. As I stared into the fire I couldn’t help wondering what it felt like to pass out from heat stroke. What it would look like to others as I dropped to my knees. What it might feel like when my head started to spin and I barely managed to get my arms in front of my face before it collided with the ground.

Great Morning

First: Last night's dream

I don't remember much, except that I was on an archaeological expedition in Egypt when I suddenly found myself hiding in a very narrow cave. It was quite wide, but so short that I had to lay flat on my stomach. Hiding in the cave with me was an older man and his daughter who was blind. I started talking to the girl in French, Hebrew, Arabic, Spanish, and German. In real life I'd only be able to hold a decent conversation in French, use minimal halting Hebrew, and say "hello" in any of the other languages. Somehow in this dream I was fluent in all of them.

The next scene I can remember was the girl leading me into an underground complex as we fled from the Black Wind avatar of Nyarlathotep. We were fleeing underground in search of the Dark Mother (Shub Niggurath) to seek her aid in defeating Nyarlathotep and prevent the end of the world. The only other inhabitants of the cave were strange hulking monstrosities with huge mining drills as arms.

We found Shub Niggurath on a metal catwalk spanning a deep lava-filled chasm. She was an old wizened woman, stooped over, and looking very feeble. Yet when we intoned the proper prayer (I wish I could remember the words!) she grew to an immense height, filling the cavern with her presence. We felt, rather than saw, Nyarlathotep's avatar fleeing from the power of Shub Niggurath, racing for the exit of the cave. As the girl and I also fled, fearing a collapse of the cave, we sealed Nyarlathotep inside. The last image before I woke up was one of an invisible fist desperately clawing at the cave walls, only managing to strike twice before Shub Niggurath dispelled the evil.

Where did this dream come from? Most likely a combination of things. Nyarlathotep likely appeared because I've been listening to the Yog Radio podcast audio game of "Masks of Nyarlathotep." Shub Niggurath was probably conjured from my reading HPL's "The Whisperer in Darkness." The drill-bit monsters seemed remarkably similar to the "Big Daddys" in BioShock on the Xbox 360. But where did the girl come from? And my polyglot abilities? And the thematic good v. evil elements of the dream?

It was truly a great adventure of a dream, very exciting and enjoyable and it left me in a good mood when I awoke.

Then, this morning I found out that one of the captions I had submitted in the Pelgrane Press Caption Competition made it to the final four! So vote for #3 Here.

Terrible dreams, night of 5/19/2008

Maybe it was too much rootbeer at our tasting. Maybe it was a half-empty bed. Maybe I was nervous and excited for Kelcie's interview, too. Maybe there was a thunderstorm. In any case, last night's dreams made it nearly impossible to get any rest.

The first dream I remember began with me working at the University Book Store. I was watching myself from a third-person perspective as I went about my normal tasks. The scene faded out and was replaced with a view of the sky as thick black ominous clouds roiled and rolled over each other, plowing across the entire skyline. In that way that dreams have of offering more information than the senses can perceive, I knew that this was the end.

The skies roared and unleashed their fury on the land. Back inside the bookstore people were running around frantically as the water level began to rise. I remember seeing a basement store room afloat with boxes and debris, and seeing someone floating face down, unmoving.

When the storm finally passed, we began to gauge the damage. Everything was destroyed. To call it "devestation" would be putting it lightly. Then, as if watching from the lens of a television news camera, I saw myself talking to Duane. Instead of being the manager of the bookstore, he was my supervisor at some sort of mechanical shop. He kept smiling, but his eyes were full of tears. He said that instead of trying to rebuild this business, he would give it up for lost and start a new business in a new trade in a new town. I don't know why, but there was something in that scene that suggested everyone was adopting this policy. And it made me feel incredibly sad and indefinably disappointed; everyone was giving up, discarding their old life in the meek hope that there would be something better. Or something at all.

I spent an hour awake after that dream confused, upset, and oddly terrified.

The second disturbing dream of the night is now almost humorous to me. I don't remember the entire dream, only one scene. In it my vision was filled with an impenetrable blackness and the face of Adele [one of our good friends]. But this image was twisted and distorted, shrouded in red, consumed with evil. Were there horns on her head or am I "remembering" that into the dream? One thing I am sure of was the overwhelming sense of menace and terror in that scene. But now that I think back on it, I almost laugh. After all, Adele as the face of evil? That's ridiculous.

Dream, night of 3/31/2008

The Dream:
I don't remember a lot about this dream except that it was of the extra-confusing sort. The kind in which I went through a number of levels of sleep, dreaming, and wakefulness all while still physically asleep. I shall try to give some of the flashes that I remember.

At some point in my dream I was surrounded by strange faces speaking a language I could not understand. Later I was standing with several other children - we were all teens - talking about something frightful in hushed voices. It seems that all of us were cursed with nocturnal unconscious teleportation. I wish I could remember the term they used, for it conveyed a mystical and saintly ability. It was then that the faces and odd languages made sense. In my sleep I had teleported to somewhere in Russia and was greeted and believed to be a saint.

When I looked around next, the children were all gone, and I was standing in the entryway of a great cyclopean building of stone construction. I got the distinct impression that it was a sort of temple long since passed into disuse. Around me were my family, my paternal grandparents, and my girlfriend. We all boarded a large pontoon boat and sailed out onto a vast black lake.

Reflections:
I don't know what could have triggered this dream or where these images came from. Looking back at dreams for meaning is rather chancy, since there is a tendency to reverse impose images, thoughts, and concepts that weren't there initially.

For example: when I think back on the temple now, I think of an image in the Trail of Cthulhu RPG. However, I know that's not what the temple in my dream really looked like. I know that something happened on the pontoon boat that involved my grandfather, but I don't remember it, and when I try to recall it I get the distinct impression I'm imagining something that wasn't there to begin with.

Scary Dream, Night of 3/13/08

I don't remember the details, just the overall feeling.

I know it began with Kelcie and I walking down a forest road. As we came to an intersection I was almost knocked over by a passing biker. Enraged, I yelled after him, shaking my fist. Kelcie looked at me, worry written on her face.

"What?"

"Who are you yelling at?"

"That biker. He almost knocked me over!"

"Sam, there's no one there."

Of course when I looked, she was right. There hadn't been any biker.

This theme repeated itself again and again. I would get almost violently angry with someone, almost coming to blows, and Kelcie, increasingly disturbed by my actions, would show me that there was no one there.

I remember at one point trying to convince her, or perhaps it was some sort of official (a policeman perhaps?) that I wasn't just seeing things, that these people were there. I remember arguing with them, desperately trying to show them I was right, I was sane. Of course, that's when I realized the official wasn't really there. Neither was Kelcie. I was all alone. With hundreds of people around me who weren't really there either.

Dark Days 2: The Evening

Thanks to DST ending, my morning walks to the bus are now well lit! It's great. I love it.

But now my evening walk home is very dark. Darker than the mornings were.

I kinda like it.

Unlike the morning, when I'm still sleepy and my mind has only mostly pulled itself out of the dream realm of slumber, I have energy and am excited about getting home. There are also more people out and about in the evening, which makes the walk less lonely. It's the lonely walk in the dark that made the mornings scary.

So... in conclusion: I like DST right now.

Algernon Blackwood

I really liked this opening line from Algernon Blackwood's The Insanity of Jones.

Adventures come to the adventurous, and mysterious things fall in the way of those who, with wonder and imagination, are on the watch for them; but the majority of people go past the doors that are half ajar, thinking them closed, and fail to notice the faint stirrings of the great curtain that hangs ever in the form of appearances between them and the world of causes behind.

I think I'm one of "those who, with wonder and imagination, are on the watch." I walk past a house in the dark of the evening see a window, high up in a lonely house, whose soft orange glow is suddenly extinguished when the curtains are drawn and I try to imagine what is going on behind the shades.

Even simple things like doors marked "Authorized Personnel" spark my curiosity and sense of adventure. As if by opening that door I'd stumble across some sort of mystery begging for me to solve it!

Saturday Night's Alright for Frightening

This past Saturday I had the opportunity to play in a one-off RPG hosted by Dan Bayn. The scenario was titled "Project Blackwood" and was introduced as "Four college students go into the Virginia woods to shoot a movie. A year later, their footage was found. (Maybe also their mangled corpses. We'll see how it goes.)" Sound familiar?

Yes. The premise was quite similar to that of The Blair Witch Project, but with a significant twist. Instead of a ghostly-horror witch thing, the scares came from a couple different directions.

The first element of horror came from, as Dan put it, the "multiple layers of reality." Our characters were college students producing a fake documentary, but each character had a role to play in said film. For example: my 'mormon boyscout with wilderness survival skills' played the role of 'the arrogant frat boy who gets himself killed' in the film. Already there is a difference between who I am, who my character is, and who his role is. It offered some excellent role playing opportunities.

The horror in those layers came from trying to distinguish the scares created by the director of the film (i.e. "fake" scares), and threats from outside forces ("real" scares). Early in the game we attributed most of the surprises to the director, even though in a few cases we were wrong. Later in the game, everything was real whether the director had anything to do with it or not.

For example: on the first night, when my character saw the words "go away" burning brightly on the side of a hill he assumed it was the director (wrong). The next day when the characters entered the cave and saw that the walls were red and wet, Becky tasted some of the wet liquid on the floor and discovered it was blood. The characters assumed the blood on the walls was not the director's doing (wrong, it was). Later it turned out that the blood on the floor that Becky had tasted was really the Director's blood, that he had been murdered.

So the layers added to the horror at the end, when we were able to see them all at once.

The other source of excellent terror was the monster of the night: the Mi-Go! It's too bad it's a few months late for the HPLHS competition which asked the question "What are the Mi-Go up to in the hills of West Virginia?"

In any case, it was a lot of fun to see how the final scene played out. My character, having gone from pretending to be the leader to the now survival-driven boyscout, saw the Brain Case as the only hope of escape - especially after both of his arms were clipped off at the elbow by the Mi-Go. Becky fought to the end, getting scissored in half by the giant claws. Zack similarly fought to the death.

The ending scene was great. Fade out on the cave of carnage and fade in an off-colour, grainy image of the Mi-Go adjusting something like it's leaning over you. Then the Mi-Go turns and walks away, while my character's voice screams "no! Wait! Come back!" The camera pulls back, revealing a brain cylinder, newly plugged-in, and the monster walking away down a corridor lined with similar objects.

Notes for Halloween LARP

I know. The term LARP scares a lot of people. But in this case it's really more of a murder-mystery party with a group of people a little more excited about getting into character.

The theme is Hasturian (my favorite!) and the title is "Last Night in Carcosa." Which I assume means the last night in Carcosa, not what happened last night.

So far, this is what I know about my character:
Name: Vega
Occupation: Executioner
From Dan, the Host:

"You've got a lot of wiggle room when it comes to characterization. His thing is that he's fed up with being a tool of oppression and he's turned to the occult in his quest to restore some sanity to the throne. His schedule for the evening includes a human sacrifice; he's just trying to decide who it's gonna be.

There are a lot of directions you could take Vega. At Gen Con, I gave him to a guy with a big, Erron Flynn style, feathered cap and he was the most effeminate executioner ever... but it made him really, really creepy :)"

I didn't want to play Vega as the stereotypical isolated executioner in a black hood, so I did some research. On wikipedia I found the perfect character: Giovanni Battista Bugatti. "When not carrying out his official duties, Bugatti and his wife sold painted umbrellas and other souvenirs to tourists."

So I'll take that and add in an element of sadism and depravity. A source of inspiration came from wikipedia's list of methods of execution. Although, this did lead to the discovery of a very disturbing bit of writing. Using my initial impression of Vega as a socio- or psycho-path, mixed with Bugatti, I think I will end up with an excellent character.

Borrowing a bit from last year's LARP in which a Blue Sun engineer handed out mysterious mints throughout the evening, I might bring a bag of black rocks as my "business card." Then let everyone know that my favorite method of execution is stoning or crushing by stones. (Although for sickness sake, I think sawing would make the character a bit more frightening).

Since there is the bit about Vega trying to figure out who his human sacrifice will be, perhaps I will use the stones to decide who will be my victim. If I give a stone to everyone, then the victim will be the person who does not get a stone or the person from whom I reclaim the stone I gave them. Or perhaps I will simply give stones only to those people I am considering for the sacrifice.

In the past few days I have been listening to Acting with an Accent to develop an Italian accent. So far it has been a lot of fun. However, if I don't feel that I have a good enough accent by the time of the game, I won't use it. Better to have no accent than to have a bad one that detracts from the character. I think a good Italian accent would make the character seem intriguing and friendly up front, which would allow the appetite for torture to stand out in stark contrast and have a greater impact.

As for costume:
I still need to get a mask. Any suggestions for style or specific masks?
I would like to get a couple umbrellas that I could bring with me to sell or use as props.
I need to find a pouch and rocks.
Since the wikipedia article describes Bugatti as well-dressed, I am considering wearing my suit. Although finding some fancy robes or something similar might be fun too.

In case you couldn't tell from the long post, I'm very excited about this upcoming party/game. I'll post a game recap/review after all is said and done.

Dream, evening of 10/16/2007

I was riding the bus home from work. I only fell asleep for a few minutes at most, but I had a very vivid and intense dream.

I dreamt that I was standing in a hallway eating a small circular graham cracker with some sort of mallow-like fluff on top of it. Three people approached me from the opposite end of the hall. Something in the way they were dressed and carried themselves made me know them as angels. As they drew nearer, I remember one of them standing only a few feet in front of me and smiling gently.

It was then that I noticed I was standing on a circular wooden platform. I clearly recall thinking that it was very similar in color and shape to the crackers I had just been eating. Slowly the platform lifted into the air, and I knew it was by the angels' doing. They were lifting me to heaven! I was filled with an ecstatic panicking terror so intense that it woke me from the dream with a start.

I often wonder if the other passengers on the bus notice when, after briefly nodding off, my body convulses in a quick spasm as I wake up. The sudden jerk feels so violent and intense to me, and yet I have had people say they did not see it, even when I feel as if I've leapt up out of my seat.

Morning Encounter on 10/12/2007

It's not the type of weather where I'd stop walking until I reached my destination.
But a car approaches with a lady out the window. Does she want directions?
Her Southern accented voice is high-pitched for a woman her size.
"You look like you're on your way to work. Would like something to read?"
She leans further out the window, offering me a pamphlet.
"No thanks."
"Well that's O.K.," she says, emphasizing each syllable. "You have yourself a good day, then."
"You too."
Then they drive away with their pamphlet,
And I wonder what it was.

Haven't posted in a while... at least nothing of substance.

But I was thinking: how do they do it? The "good" writers. Even the unpublished and those writing just as a hobby. What I want to know is how they take a feeling and translate it onto the page.

When I come in from taking out the trash and shut the back door of our fourplex, there is an inexplicable wave of fear that rushes over me. I want to put down in words on a page the way the fear builds as I step inside, grows as I lean against the door to shut it, and piques as I turn away from the door and take the few panicked paces back to our apartment.

I just don't think I could do it justice. Or that someone reading it would think "...and he's scared, why?" That the feelings just wouldn't translate, or that I'd use the wrong words.

Or is it confidence that I lack? Hm...

PBwiki

A while back I got an email from pbwiki.com saying that if I offered a seminar I could get a bunch of free goodies. That was pretty sweet! I immediately passed on the information to the Technology teacher at the elementary school where I work. I'm hoping to run a seminar sometime this summer to encourage the teachers to use wikis in their education. I really think it's a great way to help kids learn about technology and the things it can do.

But then about a month later, the folks at PBwiki notified me that all ads were removed from educational wikis. I didn't mind the ads so much before, but now that they're gone that's even better!

I got started using wikis in my Reference and Online Information class. My professor used it to help organize assignments and lesson plans. She told me how she also used it to organize papers and projects she was working on. I thought that was such a neat idea, I used it on my next paper! Needless to say, I got an "A"!

So, thanks for the free goodies, pbwiki

Dread

I played my first game of Dread last night. I was host and ran the plot "Beneath a Metal Sky" found in the back of the book. The first surprise came when I found out that not everyone in my gaming group had seen the movie Alien. But the biggest surprise was how much fun it was.

I never had any doubts that I would enjoy the game. I was, however, concerned that others might find the game mechanic (Jenga tower) too gimicky. On the contrary, at the end of the game one player remarked cleverly "The game mechanic is such that the terror actually builds." As host I tried to narrate what challenges the character was trying to overcome while the player was pulling a block. I did this primarily for two reasons. It filled the time and provided a link between the time it took to pull a block and the time it would take to accomplish the task. For the few pulls where I didn't narrate, other players interrupted with humor. I didn't bother to try to stop them, because I wanted a fun game. If that meant the game wasn't as 'scary' I was ok with that.

One thing that definitely did not surprise me was how much the plot changed from what was written. I want to let my players do what they want as long as it makes sense. It made sense for them to shoot the one man who could operate the escape pods on the Auerbach. After all, he had just shot and killed a member of their crew. They didn't really uncover the whole truth, but that was partly my fault. I wasn't very clear on how much information I should give them and where.

There were a few good answers on the questionnaires. The first one made me go "oh cool" right off the bat when I read it. One player decided that the thing his character feared most was "hallucinations" or a general loss of the ability to believe his senses. This was perfect, as the radiation levels on the Auerbach would tend to cause that to happen if the group were exposed to the elements. Unfortunately, the crew came well-equipped with exploratory suits. Another memorable answer did not become apparent until late in the game. On the captain's questionnaire it asks "what food that most people like can't you stand?" The player intimated that the captain had survived a ship-wreck that left most people turning to cannibalism to survive. So the food he couldn't tolerate was ribs. At first I thought it was mere silliness and almost made him change his answers. But I wanted to let my players do what they want as long as it made sense. He explained it. It made sense. Then later when the crew encountered one of the strange zombie-like monsters, the fear of cannibalism and disgust with ribs came into play. The tower almost fell as the captain tried to maintain his composure.

I hope that the players would be willing to play another session of Dread, this time with a home-brewed plot line. I know that I'm hooked. The only trouble I foresee is the lack of continuing characters from session to session. Perhaps if I were to adopt a more consistent time-line or plan a more longterm storyline. Depending on how characters exited the game, they could be brought back in another session. Hmm....

Getting Nerdlier

Lately I've been getting even more nerdly. If that is possible. Perhaps it is my nigh-constant self-exposure to YSDC. I keep listening to their podcasts and wanting to make something like it. I think my nerdly heart knows no satiety. I am always longing for ten more minutes of nerditude. One more post on the forums. One more session of gaming. One more chance to write a great story.

Perhaps I will someday... soooooon!