Swamp Shadow: Chapter I

Thick mists from the nearby marshlands made a stealthy invasion on the Travers residence. The musky scent of the swamp hung heavy in the air. The night was deathly quiet.

The clock on the dash of Derek Travers’ Cherokee flashed 8:35pm. The SUV fishtailed up the winding, stone-paved drive, headlamps stabbing impotently into the fog. The waxing moon peeked out occasionally from behind thin cloud cover but improved visibility only slightly.

Christ, he thought and glanced again at the clock. He was late again, much later than usual, though. Evan would already be in bed, and Heather would be pacing the floor waiting for him. His latest project was taking much more of his time than he’d intended, leaving Heather home alone with the challenge of caring for Evan. Ever since the accident that had left Evan paralyzed, Heather had become a nervous wreck. She’d been forced to quit her job and stay home to care for him. It was a full-time job to see to his needs, and it wearied Heather. She got no rest during the day and lay awake much of the night worrying that something might happen to her son while they slept. The whole thing had shattered her.

Even though his income was the only thing supporting them now, Derek still found himself feeling guilty each morning when he walked out the door to go to work. Heather would smile weakly and wave, but Derek knew underneath she was fretting over what horrible things might happen to Evan. She wasn’t used to seeing Evan so helpless. She was used to seeing him running with his friends, playing baseball, climbing trees. Now she saw him as a china doll to be locked safely inside a display case.

He fingered the button on the garage door opener as he neared the house. For the third time this week, he had to slam on the brakes and skid to a halt inches from the door because it failed to open again. He jabbed the button angrily, but the door stubbornly remained closed.

He let out an exasperated sigh, grabbed his briefcase and stomped up to the front door.

Before he could put his key in the lock, the door flew open.

“It’s almost nine,” Heather said.

“I—I know. I’m sorry,” Derek said. “The garage door wouldn’t open again.”

“It’s the fog—I told you,” she said, moving aside so he could enter. “It interferes with the signal somehow.”

As he stepped past her, he gave her a quick kiss on the cheek.

“Didn’t do that when we first had it installed. Why now all of a sudden? Is the fog getting thicker?”

“Things wear out.”

“Speaking of fog—you see it out there? Weird. Couldn’t see a damned thing coming up the drive. It was clear as can be on 363, but down here on Willow …”

Heather looked out into the night.

“Yes, it is odd, isn’t it? It’s so quiet.”

The fog around the house was like a gray wall. She couldn’t see more than a few feet beyond the porch.

“Evan asleep?”

“No,” she replied with a shake of her head, long dark hair swinging from shoulder to shoulder. “I let him lie downstairs awhile to watch a movie. It’s Hitchcock week on AMC. He’s still down there.”

Derek sighed.

“I know, I know,” she answered the unspoken complaint. “But you know how much he loves movies. It can’t hurt just this once.”

“Yes, but you shouldn’t leave him alone; you never know what might happen.”

“I just now ran up to see if you’d made it home yet.”

Heather looked tired. It was taking a lot out of her to stay home with Evan. Having to quit her job and turn her back on her career had been hard enough, but now she had a new burden. And Derek hadn’t been much help to her. The accident that left Evan wheelchair bound had drastically changed their lives.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “It’s just that I worry.”

“I know.”

Derek tossed his jacket on the banister, set his briefcase next to a small stand and walked down the hall to the basement door. Heather followed.

The family room in the basement was a small nook just large enough for a television, a sofa, an easy chair and a loveseat. The sofa faced the TV and away from the stairway. Wooden TV trays hung neatly on a rack next to the loveseat, magazine holders next to the easy chair were filled to overflowing, and the coffee table between the sofa and TV was strewn with notepads, books, magazines and TV listings.

Evan lay on his back on the sofa. Two cushions propped him up. A long straw from a glass on a TV stand allowed him to sip a soft drink while he watched TV.

“Hey, Sport, what’s on?” Derek said, walking around to the front of the sofa.

Evan’s eyes lit up.

“Hey, Dad! I’ve been watching Hitchcock on AMC. They’re showing a different movie each night this week.”

Derek sat next to his son and tousled his hair.

Heather watched with folded arms from the stairway.

“Yeah, but it’s kind of late, isn’t it?”

“It just went off. That’s not too late, is it?”

Derek laughed. It was hard to deny Evan anything, especially something this simple.

“And aren’t you a little young for Hitchcock?”

“Todd’s mom let him watch all of the Alien movies,” he protested.

“Yeah, well, that’s Todd’s parents, isn’t it? Don’t get any ideas. You’re not watching any Alien movies until you’re at least thirteen, and maybe not even then.”

Heather leaned against the back of the sofa.

“Come on, Daddy,” she said, “Hitchcock’s not so bad. By modern standards he’s pretty tame.”

“Depends on the film. Some of them are fine, but others are just inappropriate for a ten-year-old. You want him watching Psycho or Frenzy?”

Heather opened her mouth to protest, but Evan intervened.

“Tonight it was just Rear Window, Dad. That one’s not bad at all. They don’t even show the woman getting cut up.”

Derek shook his head disapprovingly.

“Up to bed with you, Mister,” he said, scooping Evan up off the sofa.

Heather folded Evan’s hands neatly across his abdomen and then followed Derek as he carried their son upstairs.

“I guess we’d better make a pit stop at the bathroom on the way up,” Derek said. “Looks like you had a lot of soda while you were watching that movie.”

Evan nodded agreement.

At the top of the stairs, Derek turned to Heather.

“You go on to bed, hon. I’ll tuck him in.”

Heather smiled thinly and kissed Evan on the cheek before walking across the hall to the master bedroom. She watched from the doorway as Derek took Evan into the bathroom and listened briefly to their chit-chat before she closed the door to get ready for bed.

Derek tucked the blankets in tightly around Evan and placed the call button on the pillow within easy reach.

“Dad?”

“Hmm?”

“Will there be more tests?”

“I don’t think so, Evan.”

“I’ll never walk again, will I?”

Derek shook his head.

“Let’s not talk about this now. The tutor will be here early, so you need to get some sleep. Shouldn’t have been up this late anyway.”

“Can you pull the blinds up so I can see out the window? I like to look at the fog in the moonlight. It’s cool. Like you see it in old movies like The Wolfman.”

“Sure.”

He kissed Evan on the head, said good night and rose to leave. At the window he pulled up the blinds and paused to peer out at the thick fog that had crept to the house. Frogs chirped loudly in the night, obviously enjoying the damp weather.

“Good night, son,” he whispered. “Get some rest.”

Evan lay for a long time after his father left the room, gazing out at the play of the fog in the moonlight. Tendrils of fog reached out into the night like the tentacles of a jellyfish groping for prey. He imagined the thick mists populated with all manner of ghosts and Hollywood monsters.

He had finally grown weary of staring out the window and started to close his eyes when he saw something else. Something was moving in the fog, something dark. It moved like the fog but faster, seemingly with purpose. It approached the house from the direction of the marshes.

Evan watched fascinated as the dark mass in the fog inched closer to the house. The darkness and fog obscured any outlines and prevented him from seeing what exactly it was.

It was soon so close to the house that he could no longer see it over the windowsill. He stared out the window and listened. The fog lay like a great blanket silencing the night.

And then he heard a rasping sound outside his window. Something was climbing the trellis.

His heart began to thump as the sound drew nearer.

He was terrified and fascinated at the same time. He was afraid of whatever was coming up the side of the house, but he also wanted to see what it was.

A dark shape eclipsed the moonlight. The window frame groaned as if an enormous weight pressed against it. Outlined by the moon, the thing was like a cloud of smoke that moved with sentience.

The latch on the window popped and the two panes swung inward. Black tendrils reached into the room and crept toward him.

Evan’s mouth began to work reflexively, but he could not summon his voice. The tendrils curled around his arms and shoulders, and the thing seemed to pull itself toward him. The whole of it was suddenly in the room, an amoeba-like, inky cloud. It used the tentacles wrapped about him to lever itself up to his face.

He gasped and whimpered trying to cry out, but his voice would not come. He found himself staring into the blackness. It wrapped around him like an oily pillow so that he could not breathe. Then he could feel it penetrating his body through his ears, nose and mouth.

He could not scream.

Diablo III: The Skeleton King

The other night Logan and I met up with an old friend from the original Diablo. No, not Deckard Cain. Well, we did meet up with him also, but he was in Diablo II as well, so it doesn't count. No, I'm talking about Leoric, the Skeleton King.

Now, I thought we'd put him to eternal rest the first time around. I guess somebody doesn't know what "eternal" means.

Maybe this time his rest will be more permanent. Anyway, here it is (Note: If you've just started and haven't gotten this far yet, you may not want to spoil it by watching the video):

Diablo III: Initial thoughts

After the launch-day obstacles were out of the way, I was finally able to log in and play last night. I had participated in the open beta, so the early parts of the game showed me nothing I didn't already know. I played co-op with my gaming buddy, he opting for the Demon Hunter while I chose the Monk. There is no doubt that DIII is fun to play and will no doubt garner it's fair share of high review ratings. That's not to say it's not lacking in some ways, but at this admittedly early point, I'd say the good outweighs the bad.

One of DIII's strong points is the atmosphere. The game manages to recapture much of the feel of the original game, which, I argue, was to some degree lost in Diablo II. One of the aspects of the original Diablo that appealed to me was the overall ambiance. Most of Diablo takes place underground in dungeon or otherwordly environments, places of darkness, mystery and deep shadows. Between the visuals and the sound effects, Diablo created a foreboding atmosphere that made players feel that doom could be waiting around any crumbling wall or through any broken archway.

The only area in Diablo II where I can remember having that same sense of atmosphere was in the tombs beneath the desert. So much of Diablo II took place above ground and just didn't have the same feel to it. As much as I enjoyed Diablo II, it didn't hold the same magic for me as the original.

I was happy to see some semblance of that ambiance back in DIII. The area around New Tristram and Old Tristram is dark, misty and full of menace. You can hear the moaning of zombies and the cries of wretched mothers and bird calls as you make your way along the winding paths, through fields and over bridges.

The cellars and dungeons below ground are also well realized and full of atmosphere. Everything from the lighting to the sounds and sense of depth combine for a strong feeling of immersion. The sense of depth is something one could easily overlook because it feels so natural in the dungeon environments. You climb up and down stairs; from balconies you can see areas below where zombies, skeletons or other denizens await—the zombies more often than not feasting on the corpse of a hapless villager.

And that's another aspect that adds to the sense of horror: You actually see the zombies crowded 'round a body, devouring it. In dungeons you pass walls where body parts dangle from chains like sides of beef. Remember the Butcher's room in the original Diablo? Yes, it's very much like that.

The first time I met the Butcher in Diablo, I was actually a little shocked at how graphically that scene was depicted. I don't think I'd seen anything like that in a computer game before. Granted, by modern standards it would seem pretty tame, but it left an impression on me.

DIII has done a good job of delivering on that same sense of horror.

The graphics are also impressive—colorful, detailed, well rendered. The blending of colors in some areas has the effect of watercolor paintings come to life. The play of light and shadow highlights the strong visual presentation. Ironically, it actually reminds me of a less cartoonish Torchlight. I also cannot help but be reminded to some degree of Dungeon Siege III. And that's not a bad thing.

The gameplay is standard action-RPG fare with primary and secondary attacks mapped to the left and right mouse buttons. Using one ability accumulates spirit, which can be spent to use the other ability. Defensive abilities are mapped to number keys and perform actions such as briefly stunning enemies surrounding the character or healing the character and party members. Slicing, firing and kicking your way through mobs in DIII feels comfortably familiar.

In addition to the spoken dialogue, the audio lore updates, journal and diary readings have been a pleasant surprise. I'm a sucker for anything that enhances the dramatic presentation of the story or the immersion. A nice touch for these is that you can continue to run around killing monsters and collecting loot while the audio plays. So when you click on a journal you've found in a study, you're not stuck watching the text scroll or frozen in place while the audio plays. You are free to roam around and do whatever you want while you listen. In this case it's don't stay awhile, just listen.

All of these factors combine for an enjoyable gaming experience, but I can't help being a little grumpy about the skill system. It seems like all of the new action RPGs—and even MMOs—have decided to take the attribute point distribution out of the equation. Skill systems are more streamlined and simplified, maybe even—dare I say it—oversimplified. Admittedly, I may be entrenched in a decidedly old-school mindset when it comes to RPG character development, but I honestly like having control over where my points go. And I would like to be able to select from a pool of skills rather than have them dictated to me. I align this to some degree with allocating skill points and choosing feats in D&D.

Part of making a character your own is having some freedom to do whatever you want with your skills and attributes. Yes, this opens the door for someone "gimping" a character, but it lends itself to creating something that is uniquely yours. The original Diablo, for example, placed no restrictions on what spells or abilities your character could use as long as the primary attribute was high enough to learn and use it. I had a friend who played a mage in Diablo. Instead of doing what you'd naturally expect someone to do with a magic-using character, he did nearly the opposite. Since he was always going to have a nice amount of mana for casting spells, he invested points in strength so he could wield swords and wear heavy armor. It was kind of an odd choice, but it worked. He relied heavily on items that boosted strength to do it, but he had mage running around in full plate who could also blast enemies with frost nova and smack them with swords.

So the character customization could be better. Yes, it's nice to be able to play a class as either gender instead of the classes being locked to a specific one, and, yes, it's nice to see the character appearance change with the items equipped and to be able to dye clothing to different colors. I can understand what this effectively does for the game. It lends more focus to the quests and the gameplay rather than the number crunching. But it's not quite the same as being able to take your character development off the beaten path if you wanted to—whether ill advised or not. The choice should be the player's.

I still have a lot of gaming ahead of me in DIII, so a final verdict will be long in coming. In the meantime, I'm impressed with a lot the game has to offer and hope it can continue to be engaging and immersive.

Diablo III: Blizzard lays an egg

In case you're a normal person leading a normal life--in other words, you work for a living, you go to bed at a decent hour, you get up early, feed your kids, get them off to school and then head off to work for a long day--here's a newsflash you may have missed: Blizzard's Diablo III launch has been a colossal failure.

Word spread quickly when players on Asian servers found they could not log in and play. The top error addressed was an issue with licenses for digital versions of the game. The Asia launch was declared a disaster. You can read all about it in the Battle.net forums.

Predictably, the US launch was just as successful. The phrase of the day is "Error 37," although a good argument could also be made for a number of other errors. To get a feel for how many unhappy gamers there are, all you have to do is drop in on the Diablo subreddit and join the error message upvoting fun. The bottom line for me is, I ain't playing.

I find myself wondering how many of those other folk occupying GameStop at midnight last night rushed home, ravaged the packaging, waited half an hour for the game to install only to find they couldn't even log in. Now I think I may understand why the game takes so long to install: All along it wasn't that there was so much data to copy; it was because Blizzard was stalling for time. "Um, here, listen to this. It's the music from the original Diablo. I'm sure you'll enjoy it! Oh, and while you're listening to that, here's the entire Diablo story told in finely drawn sketches."

Yeah, yeah, that'll work.

We're left to scratch our heads and wonder exactly what Blizzard was doing during those beta test periods and during that open beta. After all, isn't that what the open beta was all about--getting ready for the big launch? I cannot begin to express what a huge and preposterous failure this is. At this point, no game company, least of all Blizzard, can say, "Oh, we just did not anticipate ..." Not after all those other launch-day failures that should have served as great big lessons for ambitious launches.

A big point of failure in all of this is the rise in popularity of the internet-only multiplayer model. Once upon a time, LAN play was king. Companies, including Blizzard, strongly supported LAN gaming. Does anybody remember the spawn copies specifically for network gaming? The very idea would seem like utter insanity to today's gaming companies. Spawn copies? What am I, stupid?

Would we even be reading anything about this launch failure if Diablo III supported local single-player and LAN play without logging on to Battle.net servers? This would barely be a blip on the radar. Oh, Battle.net servers are down. So what? I can play locally.

I'm sure many gamers--particularly the Blizzard fanboys (you know who you are)--will shrug dismissively. Blizzard will get it ironed out. They always do. And I'm sure they will. In the meantime, I've just spent 60 bucks on what out of the box looks like a fresh, steaming nugget of excrement. In two weeks time, many will forget these hiccoughs. But I can't and won't, largely because I come from a different era of gaming, an era in which terms such as "launch failure" or "launch disaster" didn't exist in the gaming lexicon. Oh, sure, there were bugs to deal with; there have always been and always will be bugs. Some bugs are harmless, some are showstoppers.

When the original Diablo hit the shelves, I found myself in the closest thing to gaming nirvana I can remember. Before the game was released, I played the demo over and over and over again. Remember demos? Some companies still release those. I simply could not kill the Butcher too many times. I even bought the expansion pack developed by a different company. The expansion was considered so bad that few people even want to admit it existed at all. But I played it and liked it. I and my colleagues even stayed late after work one day to play Diablo on the company network. It was a huge LAN party. There's another term that will soon be gone from the gaming lexicon: LAN party. Remember those?

Eventually, I'll be playing Diablo III once the kinks are ironed out. But I can't help feeling that the good old days of gaming are gone forever. Here's to the future.

Turtle in the Backyard

Found this little guy wandering around in the back yard today.