Monday, June 20, 2011

Crablantis

Last time on Crablantis!

Signor Crabbsly met his partner in rhyme, Chilleh Puss, the robotic octopus, and together they must stop the evil corporation CLAM. Word on the sand has it that a CLAM informant is staking out the local gentleman’s club, so it’s up to Crabbsly to see what he can find. Will he encounter danger? Will he catch a STI? FIND OUT RIGHT NOW!

Adventures in Crablantis
Part 1, Segment 1.7, Chapter 1
The Coral Queef

Signor Crabbsly had never been a fan of strip joints, despite the fact that he was practically raised in one. The smell of sweat and despair and the taste of salt and smoke in the room did nothing for Crabbsly’s nostalgia; in fact, it just sickened and disgusted him. His father used to tell him that all good crabs are found in strip clubs, but even as a young boy Crabbsly didn’t share that belief. He was sure that good crabs could be found anywhere; that they should be found anywhere else. But his father never understood.

---

“Excuse me, Narrator Lady, you’re doing it again”

Doing what again?

“Going off on tangents that have nothing to do with the actual story,”

Excuse me Mr Crabbsly-knows-everything-allthetime-forever I think I know what I’m doing. That paragraph was nothing but relevant.

“It’s SIGNOR Crabbsly, Miss,”

Now I remember why I left you floating in fictional limbo for so long.

“What?”

Nothing, nothing. ON WITH THE STORY!

---

With a look of apprehension on his face Signor Crabbsly approached the nasty looking bouncer.

“Can I help you, shrimp?”

“I’m sorry sir, but I’m a crab,”

“Does this look like the face of someone who cares, shrimp?”

“Oh um, no. It looks like the face of a catfish, sir,”

---

Oh good job Crabbsly. Piss off the mean looking bouncer.

---

“What do you want, punk shrimp?”

“I told you, I’m not a-“

CRABBSLY. SHUTUP SO THE STORY CAN GO SOMEWHERE

“Did you say something, shrimp? Because you’re starting to waste my time. And I don’t like having my time wasted. In fact, I’d say it’s the thing I like the least in life. That and this raging cold sore I have on my lip. So either start talking sense, or scuttle off elsewhere before I smack you with my fin,”

“I, um, /would like to please gain access to the club, please,”

“Name?”

“Signor Crabbsly”

“Signor? What are you, some type of fancy ass?”

“I am a crab, sir, not a donkey,”

“Ok, here’s what I’m going to do. I’m going to let you into the club for two reasons. 1) Because your face is starting to annoy me and 2) because it’s a Monday night and all of our good dancers are out anyway. Good luck getting a boner, Crabbassly,”

---

“Well he wasn’t very pleasant, was he?”

I don’t know. I thought Crabassly was pretty funny.

“Perhaps that’s because you wrote his lines?”

I also write yours and I don’t think you’re funny at all.

“I hate you,”

---

Crabbsly entered the strip joint and immediately began to cough up a lung. The air was so thick with smoke and stale with regret it was almost impossible to breathe.

‘How do these women work in a place like this?’ Crabbsly wondered.

Surveying the area with his keen crab eyes, he began the search for the CLAM informant. Through the haze he noticed a group of women dancing on a podium in front of a handful of men that looked half dead. But then again, so did the women. Dark circles had formed under their sad eyes and their skin had sallowed from years of bad diet and steady second hand smoke. Their fingertips were stained with (what he hoped) was Nicotine, and even their outfits, which looked like they had once been bright and colourful, had gained a tired, worn out look about them.

“Hey sugar, can I get you something?”

Crabbsly turned to the voice beside him and was stunned. The woman by his side was beautiful! She looked nothing like the worn out potato sack people on the podium.

“Oh, yes please. I’ll have a glass of water thankyou. And may I add you’re looking especially ravishing this fine evening?”

“Oh you, I bet you say that to all the ladies,” she gushed.

“No... no trust me, I don’t. Especially not to any of the ladies here,

“Excuse me?”

“What I mean to say is, um.... You look quite different from your colleagues. Younger, brighter, happier,”

---

Not nearly as covered in diseases and sperm.

“Shut.up,”

---

“Why thankyou! I’ve only been here a week, I haven’t been given the opportunity to work much. None of the men here take kindly to newcomers. They all have their favourites, you know?”

“I can’t say that I do. I don’t frequent these places much,”

“Oh? Then what are you doing here? Undercover for some secret operation?” the girl giggled.

“I could ask you the very same thing,”

“I’m definitely undercover. I’m actually a mastermind criminal, can’t you tell? All mastermind criminals wear frilly lingerie and tassels,”

“If they did my job would be a whole lot more exciting,”

The woman regarded Crabbsly for a moment and smiled. “I get off work in 20 minutes. Let me buy you a drink when I’m done,”

“A gentleman could never accept a lady’s offer to buy him a drink, I’m sorry Miss,”

“Oh, I understand...” the woman said, sadness seeping into her big green eyes.

“I can, however, buy you a drink,”

“Fantastic! I’ll meet you out the front in about half an hour!” and with that she flounced off towards the bar, the feathers stuck to her butt bouncing all the while.

---

EXCUSE ME CRABBSLY

“Yes?”

You’re putting a total hamper on the story. This isn’t a romance it’s a thrilling James Bond-esque type novella! AND YOU’RE RUINING IT.

“Ruining it, or making it better?”

No, definitely ruining it. Nobody cares about you having a drink with some stripper. They want you to find the informant!

“Actually dog, I wanna see Crabberton get some fishy tail,”

Chilleh? What the hell are you doing here? You’re not even in this segment!

“I know, yo. So I had to be changin’ that. I’m what the readers wanna see, ya dig?”

“Excuse me Mr. Puss, but she writes, she doesn’t dig. And um, my name is Crabbsly,”

“Whatever Crabalambam, just go slam that fishy fishy tail aiight? Chilleh out,”

“He wants me to hit her?!”

No Crabbsly, I think he wants you to... oh look, never mind what HE wants .I’M the narrator and I want you to DO YOUR FREAKING JOB.

“You will not come between me and that beautiful woman, do you hear me? Besides, maybe she’ll know something about the informant. People tend to be a lot more observant in their first few days on the job,”

... um.

“See, Crabbsly knows what he’s doing. Now just leave it to me for once, ok Narrator Lady? You just kick back and watch the magic unfold,”

---

Will Crabbsly get any information out of the stripper, or will it be a giant downfall? Will he buy the lady dinner as well, or is he going to be a cheapskate? Is Chilleh Puss going to interrupt my narrating again? ALL THAT AND MORE, next time on Crablantis!

“What did I say? I told you to take a break, didn’t I? STOP NARRATING!”

But I’m wrapping up the segment!

“Our readers are plainly able to see this is the end, so go on now, scat!”

But-

“I SAID SCAT!”

The End

“OI!!!”

Tuesday, May 10, 2011

Something a little different

So I haven't written anything fictional in a very long time, but today whilst I was having a very colourful Skype conversation I began doodling on my notepad and before I knew it, I'd doodled up the makings of a fantastic (yet somewhat insane) story. So from now on (when I can be bothered) I will be writing these short snippets of fiction because well, 1) I can and 2) change is good. Now hold onto your butts, because you're about to read the first part of what could be the most amazing story ever.

Adventures in Crablantis
Part 1, Segment 0.5, Chapter 1
Operation Caviar

It was a beautiful day in the city of Crablantis. Dropping his suitcase by his feet, Signor Crabbsly remarked on the stillness of the kelp and the gentle sounds of Dolphins in the distance. Although the city was surely beautiful, it didn’t mean Crabbsly wanted to be there. Who would want to leave behind what he did? Who would willingly lose what he did to be here? Who would-

---

“Ahem, excuse me Miss Narrator Lady”

Yes?

“I don’t think this story is titled “Crabbsly’s Past,”

How do you know? You’re just a crab.

“Be that as it may, but I’m a crab that can plainly see the title right there. ‘Operation Caviar’. Now shouldn’t you get back to talking about the actual story?”

...Fine. But just so you know, next week it’s going to be all about your past. And you’ll have NO IDEA WHAT’S COMING.

“Pretty sure you just told me what was coming right then.”

Shutup Crabbsly.

---

Begrudgingly Crabbsly opened the door to his new abode. For copyright reasons I cannot say it was shaped like a giant pineapple, but well... it was shaped very similarly to a spiky fruit that closely resembles a pineapple in every single way.

Kicking his suitcase into a corner, Crabbsly surveyed his new house. It was drab, it was mundane, but it held everything Crabbsly needed to fulfil his mission, and that was all that mattered right now. That was all that could matter, for if Crabbsly fell victim to distraction the whole operation would fail.

Before he could even begin unpacking his belongings there were eight knocks on his door.

“Yo bitch open yo damn door before I pop eight caps in yo crabby ass”

---

“Um, Narrator Lady? Don’t you think that’s a little bit racist? I mean, do you really want to annoy this guy?”

Why would I be worried about annoying him?

Because he sounds dangerous”

Who’s racist now, huh Crab? Now grow some balls and get the door.

“I really don’t think that my anatomy includes these things you call ba-“

JUST ANSWER THE DOOR SO THE STORY CAN CONTINUE. Oh my god. You are the worst protagonist ever!

Cripes. Sorry. Looks like a certain narrator is riding the crimson wave”

And then a bomb was dropped on Crabbsly’s house and he died. The end.

“OK, ok, I’m sorry. I’ll answer the door”

That’s what I thought. Freakin’ crab.

---

Crabbsly gingerly opened the door and gasped when he took in what he was seeing.

Floating before him was an Octopus, but no ordinary Octopus, oh no. This one had eight legs like any other, but under his translucent skin Crabbsly distinctly saw wires and electrodes instead of organs. On each of the Octopus’s legs were gold rings and bracelets, and adorning his neck was a heavy gold chain with an iceberg hanging from it. Behind him was a slab of dry wall, where it seemed the Octopus was plugged into a powerpoint.

“Yo, you Signor Crabbsten?”

“Crabbsly”

“Whatever Crabbington, just let me in. I’ve been waiting for you to get here for hours. Where the hell yo orange self been?”

“Well Turtle Trail Transport only runs so fast”

“Yeah yeah I don’t care. Listen, we’ve gotta get this operation under way you dig? That vault won’t stay closed for long, if those CLAMs have anything to do with it. It’s up to us as KELP to keep this thing from blowing open.”

“Er...what?”

“Yo dog, you weren’t even briefed before you came here? The hell those KELP offices do over in Aquarius City?”

---

Oi, Crabbsly You were so briefed on your mission before you came, remember? I spoke about it up there somewhere. About how important it is that you don’t get distracted. Remember?

Well yes, but why is he talking in acronyms? Shouldn’t that be explained? By you? In the storyline? About three paragraphs ago?”

Probably. But it wasn’t. What’s your point?

Just because we know what’s going on, doesn’t mean the readers do.”

You honestly think people are still reading this?

Can you please just explain what’s going on so that I can go relax? Geez. Being in a story with you is like putting myself through the wringer. For a job”

Don’t you make me blow your house up again

“Uh, yo bitches? I don’t mean to be rude but can we get on with this? I have a date with a fine piece of tail in an hour”

Oh, sorry Octopus. Ok, so basically CLAM = Corrupting Lives of All Mermaids. They’re the bad guys, and word has it they have some big evil plan. Crabbsly is here as a KELP agent (Kongregation and Encouragement of the Livelihood of Pscises) to put an end to whatever dastardly deeds they’re up to.

---

“What’s our first step?”

“Word on the sand has it that there’s a CLAM informant working undercover at the local strip joint; The Coral Queef. Go there for a couple of nights and find out what you can. I won’t be speaking to you until you’ve found out that information. Don’t wanna arouse suspicion or some shit, yo.”

The Octopus picked up his dry wall and made his way toward the door.

“Oh wait! Mr Octopus sir, um, you never told me your name”

“They call me Chilleh. Chilleh Puss”

And with that he was gone.

Tune in next week for more adventures of Crablantis. What will Signor Crabbsly find at The Coral Queef? Will he pick up and possibly get a lay, or get accused of being a walking STI? And just what is in that vault that he has to protect? All of those questions and more, next time on Crablantis!

Friday, April 29, 2011

All These Things I've Done (while waiting for Optus to restore my internet)

Wednesday 27th April 2011
11:29am

It’s been two whole hours since the internet originally went down. Only an hour and a half of this have I been awake for, however, having stayed up until 4am playing Final Fantasy XIV. If I had known that a catastrophe of this sort was going to hit this morning, I would have stayed up for a lot longer.

But I suppose we all think things like that. And I suppose we all think them a little too late.

You hear on the TV all the time about these things happening to people. Well, in movies, anyway. But the movies make you think that if you have a shotgun and a slightly rough-cut but very good looking main character you’re going to be fine. Pretty people with shotguns can achieve anything, says Hollywood. But what about pretty people armed with nothing? All I have here is my keyboard. My trusty keyboard, connected to my PC. But a lot of good that does me without an internet connection doesn’t it?

I just keep staring at that blinking modem light, waiting for it to stay solid. With solidity comes sanity. With solidity comes sociality. With sociality comes connection. And oh how I long to be connected once again.

I wonder if anyone has missed me yet? I wonder if my twitter buddies are wondering why it’s been over 15 minutes since my last tweet. I wonder if anyone on Facebook has noticed my absence amidst their frantic ‘liking’ of random groups that have seemingly funny titles at the beginning but then later turn out to just be stupid.

Know what the worst part is? I just know that there are people out there with internet. There are people out there blogging right now. It’s only a matter of time until they realise mine has gone down and come to rub it in my face. I don’t know what I’ll do then. I just don’t know.

2:32pm

Managed to catch a few hours of sleep, which is a wonder for me under any circumstances, but especially today. Forced myself out of bed with the hope of solidity behind me only to be met with blinking. Always blinking. I’ve always had a fear of blinking lights. Not just because they’re creepy, but because it seems as though they can never make up their mind. And the unexpected is never stable. It is never solid. Just like my modem.

I never thought he would turn on me too.

2:45pm

Ravenous. Need to eat. My last meal was yesterday, before the horror started. Searching the house the only thing I could find was a bunny. I told myself that I would never eat a poor defenceless animal, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

Caressing it’s foily skin and ringing the little bow around it’s neck I stare lovingly at the animal I am about to slaughter for my own selfish hunger. It never did anything to me. All it did was sit there, but today I was going to kill it. Nay, I was going to give it a greater purpose in life. I was going to give this bunny meaning. But not before one final goodbye.

Farewell Lindt Chocolate Bunny. I hope you find a better place in my stomach than you did in my cupboard.

4:30pm

Received a phone call from a friend saying that she still had internet. It wouldn’t last long, knowing the state of things, so I had to make a snap decision; race over there in the hopes the internet would still be there when I got there or remain in the safety of my own home waiting for the insanity of the blinking light to get to me. Easy decision I thought, so I grabbed my stuff and left as quick as I could.

7pm

Received a call from my brother who’d finally awoken from his deep slumber. It’s funny how some people do that. The technological world around him had ended, and he slept straight through it, oblivious to it all.

“Jenn, our internet seems to be back up,” he said.

For a moment I was shocked. I didn’t know what to say. All these hours without internet and suddenly, it was back. Just like that?

“Oi did you hear me? Our internet is back up!”

“I heard you Daniel, geez. Thanks for telling me”

“Now can you come home and set up our network again? I wanna play TF2 on my laptop”

9:30pm

Everything was quiet at my friend’s place; an oddity since everything is usually chaotic like a circus. We were all happily sitting watching television, grateful to have survived the technical apocalypse. My friend got off the couch and made her way to the computer to look something up, but before she could get there, a strangled cry came from the other room.

“OUR INTERNET IS DOWN!”

With fear in our eyes we all lurched towards the modem and sure enough, the light was blinking.

Blinking.

Always blinking.

Perhaps we had survived nothing at all. Perhaps this was only the beginning.

For them, anyway. I still had the internet over at my place.

End

Tuesday, April 26, 2011

Tales from the Otherside, pt2

When did I become so old and cynical? I should be enjoying the last years of my twenties, rather than waving a cane at those darned kids.

There's a certain elitism within any subculture, but taking Penny Arcade's 'Wad Theory' (normal person + anonymity + audience = total wad) online gaming can be more of a frustration than a joy. The release of the '119th or so' update for Team Fortress 2 on April 29, 2010 caused the trolls to get mighty hungry, which begged the question: when did the sense of netiquette vanish without a trace?

Innuendo, jibes and general idiocy can be fine among friends in jest, but parading around online and boasting of mighty (though ultimately superfluous) gaming deeds to a community of strangers just makes you sound like a complete arse. For example, introduce a tiny medal awarded purely on when you first started playing TF2, and the elitist trolls rise up like a foul stench as if the "achievement" has any real value at all.

Having waited patiently for that download to complete, I joined a public server and received my medal only to be greeted by someone making a crack about 'another runner-up'. I shrugged and got on with playing, but as more 'runner-up' prizes were issued, this particular person became incessantly vulgar and personal towards others.

Which makes me wonder; why? It's one thing to be proud of a particular skill, but to verbally attack people based on your own imagined superiority is needless, and detracts from the fun that gaming is supposed to bring.

When you're calm and rational, this sort of behaviour is irritating but tends to go through a personal filter; and is ultimately ignored. But how many of us boot up a game when we're feeling agitated wanting to unwind only to encounter the exact sort of behaviour we hoped to escape from? That's when it becomes a problem for the rational gamer.

Unfortunately, some trolls know no bounds. There have been those who take their vitriolic antics to extreme levels; harassing parents of teens who have committed suicide, or died because of avoidable situations. Often these are anonymous people, never having known the families or victims, adding to the pain and suffering of those left behind to deal with the loss. Situations like these are the epitome of cowardly malice, they defy all sense of empathy, reason and logic.

These personas don't always stay online, and trolls should be aware that there are consequences out in the real world. They should be mindful, however, that outside the security of their bedrooms, behaviour like this isn't met with empty threats but often with a monumental beating. Or worse if they aren't so lucky.


Wise up. It's a game, be civil and have fun.

Written by Gentil Fernandes

Thursday, April 21, 2011

My Travels Through Eorzea- Day One

Everybody I know ragged on FF14 from the very start. Everybody had high hopes, but nobody’s were fulfilled. Being the massive Final Fantasy fan that I am, I decided to pick it up and give it a go. Because who knows, I might just love it.

Day 1, Gridania City, Eorzea

Who am I? I am nobody. Well, I guess I’m somebody. Everybody has to be somebody. So I guess, in saying that, I am Lionheart, a simple Pugilist (fist fighter) from the local lands. And today I am having a simple day that is unlike any other I have had before. Except, suddenly it’s going to be unlike any other, because that’s how it always goes in Final Fantasy games isn’t it?

My first day in Eorzea was a mighty confusing one. As I was walking through the forest a meteor…ship…thing came crashing through the forests surrounding Gridania. Being the adventurous little Miqo’te (yeah, I don’t know what that is either, but I look like a cat) I am, I ran straight towards the sound and found two lifeless bodies, who of course, woke up as soon as I got there (great timing guys).

After fighting off some rather scrawny looking wolves (who were obviously attracted by my cat-like appearance) we made our way to the city of Gridania, where our adventures really began. Well, where my adventure began. Those other two got accused of wood-sin or green-stain or something. They’re wood defilers, basically (haha…oh come on you know you giggled too).

Apparently I was afflicted with this wood-sin-thing too, though I’m not sure how, since all I did was stroll through the forest, but a woman in the Adventurers Guild (who calls herself “Mother”) is a constant source of quests. The more quests I do to help out the forest, the more pure I can get my soul. These sorts of quests are called Guild Leve quests, and you do them to appease the guardians, who in turn, buff you and make you awesome (I think. They better, anyway).

After doing some of those quests for a while, I decided to proceed along with the main quest. (Yes, there’s a main quest in this MMO. Think of it, not as an MMO, but as a Final Fantasy game with some online elements). The main quest Is still all about absolving my sin from the wood, and who better to help me than a couple of kids. Kids who bribe me with candy and ask favours of me before helping me do anything. Damn children.

p.s sorry about picture quality. Had to reduce it to fit into stupid blog

So tra la la la off we travel into the forest so the kids can put some mask on some stump (evidently I’m really in tune with the storyline). Suddenly I hear a familiar “kupo” from behind me and squeal a little as a Moogle approaches me. What the moogle said to me, I have no idea, as the stupid game glitched, but from what I gather, a girl called Fae has gone missing and it’s up to me to save her. Not the five other people who bought the game, just me. Oh well. Here we go.