Brain dump: Tangled

I've been working on developing a universe that plays well with the real world, something I can combine easily with my photography or whatever. While exploring these ideas, I discovered it can also do a lot of great stuff with characters and interaction, which is also something I've been itching to focus on! Anyhow, here's just a brain dump of ideas and framework for it.

Tangled

In the tangled universe, everything is connected, and everything revolves around connections. People are connected to other people via relationships, connected to gravity through the laws of physics, connected to our world by presence, etc. Every connection can be cut, and when that connection is cut, influence ceases to flow through them.

The fewer common tethers you have with another person, the less you are able to observe, or interact with that person. If enough connections are cut, they simply fade away from the world they used to be bound to. This gives a cost/benefit to cutting too many connects, should you have the ability to do so. Someone who separates himself from too many things will no longer be able to influence the things he hoped to gain an advantage over. It can also be a cruel, cruel punishment for your enemies.

There are a few ways to separate connections, the first and most obvious is simply by interacting in the correct fashion, destroying an object, killing a friendship, that connection vanishes from the world. Weavers are another possibility, the unfathomable creatures that wander the web of the universe, eating connections at random. Once in a while, weavers can be influenced, captured, controlled, but such a task is tricky, risky, and prone to failure or disaster. Surgeons are an uncommon race, massacred and scattered from their homeworld due to their unique ability to manipulate connections. Skilled Surgeons are difficult to find, and highly prized. The ceiling on their powers is often un-discernible.

Here are a few ideas for people or things that might exist in this world:

Weavers are creatures that feed on the threads of connection, they wander through the universe, and eat the tastiest, most unusual morsels that they find. Not many things can sever a connection, which makes this creature a prized ally, and a feared opponent. Their motivations are rarely categorized as good or evil, if they can even be called motivations at all.

Wanderers are not connected to any specific worlds, they simply explore. Here one day, gone the next. Given their tenuous connection to the world, normal people can rarely see them. Only those that are also somewhat disconnected will notice them, though Wanderers often don't stand out all that much. A wanderer that frequents a world may grow a tenuous connection to it, allowing him to interact with a wider number of its inhabitants.

Knots are a social construct, primarily. The longer a connection lasts, the stronger it becomes, and the longer it remains in the presence of another connection, the more likely it is to get tangled or knotted. Knots make connections harder to cut or even step away from, and often convey extra information or amplify the strength of those connections.

Psychopaths have their connections to empathy or emotion cut. These connections are often found to be delicious, and are among the most common threads for Weavers to snack on for general sustenance. Cut connections rarely go one at a time however, so many psychopaths will also have other connections cut, making them often quite dangerous people indeed.

Teleporters are not simply able to move from one location to another, they actually ignore the concept of distance entirely. There is no need to walk across a room to pick something up, they can simply put it in their hand, regardless of distance. This is a very rare and powerful disconnect, as separating someone from the concept of distance but not separating them also from the concept of location is extremely difficult, and not something that happens by accident.

Surgeons are people that are skilled in the separation of threads. Those wishing to gain advantageous disconnects will often come to them to undergo risky operations. While no separations are impossible, many are implausible, such as the Teleporters. Only the most legendary of Surgeons could even hope to accomplish such a task.

Surgeons:

The Surgeons were discovered by Wanderers early on in their cultural development. Any later, and the Surgeons would have been a completely unstoppable force. As it was, many Surgeons had attained truly godlike states. After a long and complicated war of control, all those surgeons that could not be harnessed were killed, or cut away from the universe. Much of their surgical knowledge was lost, and the few remaining Surgeons fled throughout the web of the universe, hiding themselves as best they could.

Surgeons still crop up on occasions, sometimes as linchpins of remote locations, sometimes as the tools of ambitious puppeteers, sometimes as obscure Surgeons for hire, or just simply hiding out and avoiding unwanted attention. The life of a Surgeon is a difficult one at best.

Review of 2013

2013 went by in a flash. Not all years do that for me, but this one certainly did. Usually, that's an indication that memorable things didn't happen, or I fell too deep into a routine, or something of that nature; but I don't think it was necessarily anything that bad. It was all just laying the groundwork of things to come later.

A year is a very long time, and I always have trouble remembering things over such a length period. Fortunately, there's an archaeological record I can dig through: Facebook! It might not have everything, but I'm enough of an addict to get a pretty good picture, or at least ring some bells.

The first thing that stood out to me was the tail end of my photography project! 2012 was the year my photography really took off, and I did my 1 pic a day project. I guess it kinda culminated with one of my photos ending up in the CPCC student gallery. It was a testament to the power of a well implemented and executed new year's resolution. It seems they can do some good after all. I barely touched my camera this year, and it shows in the few pictures I have actually taken. I'd like to fix that, but it's not on my priority list.

Perhaps more notably, it's now been a full year since I quit teaching! After 5 years at CPCC, I really needed a change, and so I left. I don't really miss it. I liked being around the people everyday, coworkers and students, and giving presentations. I can still do that elsewhere too, I just need to learn how to present on less technical stuff, it has a remarkably limited audience. I don't know if it's changed much though, I'm still around all the same people, working with the same students, just in a different context. I guess I was hoping to be out of here by now.

First year at the GDC (and ECGC) as a volunteer as well! And here's to hoping it'll happen again. I met a lot of good people there, and I hope that going back again will help solidify, or truly establish those relationships. I also hope to get a real in-person glimpse into the indie community there, I never really saw it the way I have since witnessing it on Twitter.

I picked up a job working on Breach & Clear not too far into the year. It was a fun job, and it gave me some important insight about larger projects. I could write forever about the things I learned there, but that's for another time. I also left them towards the end of the year as well, and I'm happy about that too. I needed the time back to really focus on making other things a reality.

SIGGRAPH was also pretty great! First time in LA. It was a great reminder that volunteering at a conference is far more interesting than simply attending one. It was also a good reminder that I really want to talk at an event like SIGGRAPH or GDC. I'll make sure that's on my list for this year. More talks at conferences. But it was nice to dive back into some hardcore computer graphics again, re-exploring my roots.

In 2013, I also participated in at least 4 or 5 game jams? Those are keepers. The 10 Second Sextants, Sharkagachi, One Way Trip to Calida, Snipe Arena, and Mineshaft. This year, it's on my list to actually submit 'em, market them, and participate in the community instead of just watching.

And Twitter! I picked up tweeting, and I really wish I had done so sooner. It provides me with the community that I can't find here in Charlotte. Real game developers, doing game developer-ey things. I finally am starting to feel in the loop here. I need to keep creating stuff on there.

Ferr2D Terrain was a massive success, probably one that I've really undervalued thus far, but it truly is a big deal! It's a nice reminder that I really could live without a formal job, if I didn't have to support anything. I have so many ideas for it in the future, and a lot of other extension ideas that could also work quite well. I just need to find the time for all of 'em. An interesting note here, the core of Ferr2D Terrain only took a few days, while overall development for it took about a month. That's pretty darned fast!

But probably the most important thing from this year for me has been Simbryo. It really kicked into high gear in November. We now have 26 games out on both Windows 8 and Windows 8 Phone (52 total =D) which is completely and absurdly awesome! We've still got a ways to go on our Centurion project, but I think we should be able to make it, and when we do... it'll be amazing! Of course, that'll all be over just by the first half of the year, so I really have no idea what to expect for the second half. Hopefully a big project or two of our own =D

So, yeah, a lot of groundwork. I expect good things in 2014, much better things. And even though my 2013 resolution completely flopped, (1 'project' a month) I don't think I really needed it much. My resolution for this year though, is to write something at least once a week. I think that helps tie in to a lot of my community building, presentation, and creativity goals that I'd like to hit. It's also not that hard =D (read, very realistic). So, here's to a good 2014!

Tumble

a kiss, stolen in the hallway, away from casual eyes
it lingers in my memories
wet lips, a thin frame, pressed close against the wall

the world still spins, thinking about it
it was never quite real
or perhaps it was, but only for the briefest instant

i had dreamt of this moment, wishing for it to be real
and it was
it was more real than I could have hoped

and in that soft embrace, i was changed
i tumbled freely
i didn't care which way was up, only forward

but when our lips parted, and my eyes opened
all that was left was sand
she went away, and left me on the cold ocean shore

we parted ways that day, each in our own directions
i wish i had known

Time Killer

The portal shimmered, and Chron stepped through. The cool, tingling sensation washed over him, as though he had immersed himself in a pool of electrified water. He couldn't help but shiver at the evil magics that coursed around him, throwing him into the future, into a world destroyed by a powerful madman.

He fell a short distance onto a marble floor, the temperature difference caught him by surprise. He landed awkwardly, but righted himself quickly, assessing his surroundings, fearful of discovery.

He was in the hall outside of the throne room, a dark and shattered shadow of the halls he walked in his own time. He hurried nervously to the throne room door, hoping he had enough time. His hand, clenched tightly around a poisoned dagger trembled... he might never even make it back.

After a brief moment to calm himself, he shoved the double wooden doors wide open, and strode down the faded golden carpet. The room became suddenly quiet, and a hundred faces hooded in grey robes turned to face him. Their passionless expressions opened in a pantomime of suprise and quiet discussion. He sprinted straight towards the regal figure at the end of the room, shoving a startled ambassador out of his way.

The knife flew from his hand, arcing swiftly through the air. The throw drifted to the side, but still found its mark, releasing deadly poisons into the king's veins.

As guards rushed towards him, the king began to laugh, a sad laugh tinged with shades of irony.

"I knew this day, one day would come. I was a fool to think I might avoid it." He walked towards Chron, now pinned to the ground by a pair of armored pawns. "Do you not recognize me?"

Chron gasped as the king's familiar features suddenly hit home. The scar, there, above the eyebrow... The world spun, colors blending together like a water painting. The blurred king bent over and slumped to the floor. The world vanished, and Time found himself lying on the floor of his own room once again.

He had just killed himself.

Alone, without you

You said you had to leave,
For something you believed in.
There’s something wrong with this place:
something you needed to fix.

But I can’t do it with you,
I think that you’re wrong.
I love this place
and the people we trust in!

Why couldn’t you stay?
Put your concerns away.
Stay here with me,
and share in my feelings.

But you’ve gone now,
Gone far away,
Far, far beyond my reach.
I’m all alone...
Without you...

Fanatic

Thoughts seethed through his mind. Wrongs, slights, faces, words, they all jeered at him from the corners of his mind. He listened to them, let them wash over him... he indulged himself with with a brief moment of their powerful song. Their message of hate and vengeance gave him purpose.

He cleared his mind, emptying himself of emotion and bias; a fight was no place for a clouded mind. The trap was laid, his plans had started into motion already. Nivea wouldn't... no, couldn't relinquish control. Her position was her breeding, her purpose, her entire race... not something that could change hands like a gift. This was the only possible way.

It wasn't the way he wanted, Nivea held his utmost respect, even admiration, but this could not be denied.

He felt her approaching; the air chilled, the still breeze shifted gently. His breath misted before him, crystallizing into the tiniest flecks of ice. The corner of his mouth twitched upwards, and he leaned forward, relinquishing his grasp from the tree's rugged surface.

He shifted to the middle of the path as he fell; not a power drawn from magic, but one drawn from the sheer will and determination of his mind. His cloudy form slowly regained a more solid shape, and he pulled a long, slender blade from his back, letting it hang loosely in his right hand.

She was there... a radiant white, a stark contrast against the sparse evergreen background. Her escort came to a halt, immediately forming up around her and drawing their weapons. Four ice wraiths, her finest. He had trained alongside them for a time, an abnormal honor for one from his race, but an honor no longer.

There was no surprise in her delicate face, merely a sad understanding. He twisted his face into a hateful sneer, her perception and intelligence were legendary, but he desired no empathy, no sympathy, no comprehension. No words needed to be spoken here.

He let out a ragged scream of intense purpose, and shifted into the midst of them, swinging his delicate blade with inhuman speed and precision. Shadowy figures fell from the trees, and rushed in towards the circle of defenders.

The air froze, and the detritus covered floor turned to a slick, icy surface as the four powerful ice wraiths put up their defensive wards. Cold steel upon even colder steel sang out a perfectly choreographed melody as the shadows danced with the frozen warriors. A snap in the tune, a hissing cry, the defenders fell one after another.

He pressed against her, his swift flurries of blows combined with a constant shifting left Nivea breathless on the defensive. She used her hands to defend herself, carefully picking the slender blade out of the air, pushing it gently out of harm's way each time. Her eyes were closed, frowning in intense concentration, anticipating the angle he would come from next.

The last of the ice wraiths fell under the swords of the shadowy band, and brought their attention to Nivea herself. She stepped back, and he relinquished his onslaught. She was cornered.

"I wish that I could dissuade you, Umbra", her smooth, soft voice drifted gently through the sharp, cold air, lilting with distress.

His harsh laugh cracked across the scene, and he swung his sword in a powerful arc. Her white dress folded around the sweeping stroke, leaving behind a flurry of snowflakes. They settled to the ground for a moment, and then drifted slowly off into the sky, pulled along on an invisible breeze.

He threw his head back towards the sky, "This is my declaration Nivea! Heed it!"

He then slipped back into the stormy ocean of emotion and vengeance that swelled in his mind, searching for the advice and guidance that would lead him to his purpose.

Black Letter

The wind howled at the sky, whipping through the narrow streets and tugging at the assassin's tightly wrapped cloak. The heavy shadows of the dark night consumed his figure as he stalked down the narrow path between buildings.

This is a good night.

His family would be pleased. The night's objective would be easy. The docks were just in view, and he could see the rigging flailing wildly in the wind, hear the protest of the creaking wooden ships. He was like smoke, flowing swiftly and silently under the torrent of the wind.

A doorway opened, and a figure hesitated from within its threshold, the imposing weather threatening and wild. A resigned posture, and his characteristic hat was removed from his head, clenched tightly in his hands. Its long slender feather whipped wildly to and fro. He foraged out into the harsh night.

Comfort in consistency. The assassin recited one of his rules of behavior, and detached himself from the shadows to pursue the receding figure.

A turn, a twist, a double back, he's being careful. Normal for the target, but fruitless. He was a god of urban stalking.

A vacant alley, he positioned himself around a corner, leaning casually against the wall. His target walked past. The jacket tail whipped nervously in the wind.

As he passed, "Every?". His target spun slowly, surprised. A whirl of motion, the grinding of boots on the cobblestone street. Open hand, edge of palm, the soft yielding of flesh. He fell to the floor, a pile of clothes and twitching flesh.

The assassin knelt, and felt Every's pulse. Adrenaline, slowing, still alive. He rifled through the jacket's inside pockets, and pulled out a sealed letter. A sharp smile, a triumphant sensation. The assassin paused to let the feeling linger, and then backed slowly into the shadows.

The war would be any day now.