94

The first long-term role playing campaign I game mastered used the Star Wars Saga Edition ruleset, based off of Dungeons & Dragons 3.5 editon. One of the players saw I had brought the rulebook and dice to a role playing camp (with the intention of reading it and looking cool, rather than actually playing it) and asked if we could play it for a bit. As soon as we'd made some copies of the character sheet we got to character creation. The group's Jedi was a Kel Dor named Kel-Moran. Our pilot was a Human named Wedge. The firepower of the group was brought by the infamous Galak Sempti (which I made according to the player's wishes (namely shoot fast and shoot a lot)). Lastly the group's technical expertise came from the Kel Dor scoundrel, Torin-Dol.

The party first met in a tavern, or rather a cantina on Tatooine (which is basically the same thing). The first roll of the game was an Acrobatics roll used to resolve whether or not Torin-Dol's dancing was good enough to impress the Twi'lek girls. He rolled a crit. The second roll of the game was against Torin-dol's fortitude defence, to determine if the would catch an STD or not. He didn't. And so the rivalry between an inexperienced GM and a character who had really lucky rolls begun.

Later on in their adventures the group picked up several one off companions as friends wanted to try out role playing and left after they decided that it wasn't for them. Two more players stuck with us, Katrina 'Kat' Revkin the human hacker and Corran the Bothan security chief, while Wedge slowly left the group.

The group had several daring escapades. Kel-Moran, together with Kat and Torin-Dol, investigated a dark side cult on a far off moon and encountered the dark Jedi Harkos Jund (during which Kat's player coined the phrase "Yo" which still haunts me today for it's potent ability to interupt any and all dramatic dialogues regarding the nature of good and evil).

During another adventure the group was tasked with transporting a packet that (unknowingly to them) contained an old lightsaber belonging to Kel-Moran's master. Their ship was boarded by pirates who proceeded to steal the package and leave the crew seemingly in peace. It was here that I crafted my best ever cliff-hanger by having a hidden bomb go off while they travelled in hyperspace just as the session ended, leaving them with a broken-down control system to fix before the ship imploded.

They once took a brief 'vacation' of sorts on a civilian space cruiser when their ship needed repairs. Galak Sempti, being the stubborn bastard that he was, refused to leave the sauna at one point and it took the whole group as well as the Jedi's force powers to be able to stand the heat for long enough to have a conversation about leaving. This is a pretty good example of one-half of Galak's talents (the other being having no hesitation when it came to firing off his repeating blaster).

Eventually the group decided to take on the pirates who had stolen the old lightsaber. They found out where the pirate base was and made an attempt at storming it head on. Once inside they were captured and had their equipment stripped away. They staged an escape that got them back their gear and then headed for the control bridge of the space station. They got in the elevator and pushed the button. When the doors opened again the pirates unloaded everything they had at the elevators and killed the party.

All in all it was a fun campaign that ran for at least four years, but with play sessions being confined to a few dates roughly half a year apart. I learnt a lot about preparing for games and that the D20 line of systems is a bit too heavy for my style of game mastering.

============================================

Three weeks ago we heard from Torin-Dol's player that he couldn't bear life any more and that he was saying goodbye. That Thursday we got word that he had passed away.

His departure has left me with an odd feeling. People around me have died before, but this was the first time a friend had gone. Despite not being anywhere near as close to him as I were when we played Star Wars together I've been carrying the odd feeling with me, occasionally 'picking it up' to examine when I have some time to spare that isn't occupied by work or other stuff.

I didn't visit the funeral because I didn't see the point. I'm not religious, or particularly spiritual. Funerals are for the living, in my mind, and I didn't feel like I needed one.

============================================

I wrote this, not to garner sympathy or comfort from people around me. I don't think I'm in mourning as one would typically think of it, with tears and struggles to go on. I wrote this because I guess I wanted to do some final send off. Which, come to think of it, is likely my way of mourning. He's gone and that's that.

I hope you, the reader enjoyed this little piece. If not, well, bummer.

Good bye Torin-Dol.

93

Today was the day. Arthur walked through the door and let the heavy bags fall with a thump onto the wooden floor of the cabin. Outside the low sun of a summer afternoon lit up the spaces between the woodland trees. Inside a few streams of light slipped through the old and heavy curtains. The room had few adornments, just an old pair of antlers that hung above the fireplace and had been there since before he got the cabin. There was a bed with crumpled sheets along the left-hand wall and opposite that was a counter and an old cupboard. The whole place carried a faint scent of rotting wood.
   Arthur left the door hang open behind him, letting in more sunlight, as he strode over to the chair and table that occupied the back wall of the cabin. He sat down and stared intently at what he had in front of him: a gnarled log that he had picked out specifically after the snow melted away some months ago.
   He leaned down and picked up the worn bag that was resting against the leg of the table, brushed off some of the dust that had gathered on it, and opened the clasp. From the bag he produced leather bundle. Unrolling the bundle on the table revealed a set of old woodworking chisels. Slowly his hand wandered along the blades and handles of the tools before settling on one of them. He took a firm grasp of the piece of wood and started working on it. Arthur could feel how, despite how long it had been since last time, his hands quickly got reacquainted with the tools and the material.
   Hours passed. As the last light of the sun were about to vanish he set down the piece on the table in front of him: a wooden sculpture portraying a woman wearing a wedding gown. In her long hair was a string of pearls holding up a rose to the back of her head. Her facial expression was one of a bittersweet smile.
   Arthur leaned back in the chair with a content smile on his face. A few droplets went down his cheek from under his glasses. He put the chisel back with the rest of the tools and returned the bundle to the bag.

Inspiration

92

I find it increasingly more difficult to write musings. Usually I do one of these when I get really upset about something, but the things that upset me nowadays aren't worth mentioning.
   I feel upset because someone else is chosen over me to hang out with. This isn't something I should whine or complain about however, as I wish happiness for those I care about and I can't assure that the time spent with me would be better than it would've been with someone else. We forge our own happiness best with the happiness of those around us. If I force myself onto other then neither of us will be as happy as we could've been otherwise.
   When others ask me if anything's wrong I don't feel I can let them in on what's bugging me. "They preferred someone else over me" doesn't really have a solution other than to let it be and eventually it'll stop being an issue. I don't think I would want pity in these moments either, as I am well aware already that I am well liked and people enjoy my company.

Sometimes I get called out for being cold and too analytical. I can see why.

Until next time.

91

I don't know why, but I feel an urge to write about my current state. I'll leave it for later to see if I get around to publishing this as I believe thag these thoughts are temporary and will pass with time.

It is currently 6:35 am on January 1st 2016. I am in my bed and have just turned of my computer.
   My New Year's Eve was not what I would call enjoyable. I got out of bed well after 2:00 pm and didn't eat until dinner was served. After eating and playing a couple of rounds of Geoguessr with my family I retreated to my room to play video games.
   As time approached midnight I realised I had missed the traditional broadcast of Dinner for One on the TV. This New Years wouldn't really be celebrated by me, and I realised I had barely lent Christmas a thought either.
   As I saw the wishes of a happy new year beginning to pour into my Facebook feed Incouldn't help but feel a bit jelous (or perhaps envious) of how happy everyone else seemed with their gatherings. It is my seclusion however, my self-imposed exile, that left me alone by the computer without anyone to talk to.
   Sometimes it's rather difficult.

Until next time.

Addendum: As was to be expected I feel much better after sleeping. I still don't know why I've felt especially cynical during this holiday season. Oh well. Here's to 2016.

90

I awoke in the middle of the night. Next to me I could hear my tentmate snoring and fast asleep. I rose up and put on a pair of trousers, feeling I needed to escape the tent for a moment to relieve myself.
   Outside was gloomy with the climbing full moon being the sole source of light. Its image could be seen reflected on the calm lake we'd set up camp by the evening before. A slow chill blew across from the water, encouraging me to hurry up my pace. I moseyed off behind a bush and some reed and unzipped. Everything was silent.
   Suddenly I heard a sound far off, coming from the other side of the lake. It sounded like a shriek, somewhere between a spinning car-wheel and a young woman. As I peered out for the source a tiny speck of light appeared on the opposite beach. I tried to focus and distinguish what it was and noticed it growing. It grew and grew, seemingly moving across the lake towards me. The light turned into the shape of a woman, wearing a white dress with her dark hair flapping in the wind behind her. Her face was twisted and contorted into gaping maw.
   I immediately ran back to the tent, screaming for my friend to wake up so we could leave. They awoke as I were shaking their sleeping bag and wondered what the fuss was about. I tried to explain what I had seen while at the same time ensuring them that there was no time. We had to leave, now! They got up and peeked out the tent flap and sighed. They said there was nothing out there, I had just been dreaming.
   We laid down again to sleep and my friend soon began snoring. As I closed my eyes I could hear a familiar shriek from outside the tent.

89

I awoke to the ringing of their communications panel. The green light of the chronometer showed 4:12 am, far too early for any sensible person to be calling. I dragged myself out of bed and tapped to open the comm-line.
   "Aisha Hanna speaking." I said.
   "Heeey Aisha. It's Emma, Emma Davies?"
   I let out a heavy sigh. "What do you want?"
   "Well, you see..." Emma seemed hesitant. "I might have run into a bit of trouble."
   "Troubling enough to wake me up at four in the morning? I have a day job, you know."
   "I might have, you know, 'borrowed' a little something from the Clan."
   My eyes sprung open. "Are you saying you stole from Sunbeam!? What's wrong with you!"
   "I only copied a couple of files, no biggie. Everything's still on their computers; it's not like I erased anything." Emma's voice had turned into a mumble. "Anyway, I need an extraction."
   "Are you serious?" I was dumbfounded. "You wake me up at night to tell me you've stolen from the biggest astrotech manufacturer in the system, and then you have the gall to ask for a ride?"
   There was a silence. "So can you do it?"
   I scratched an eye with my thumb and sighed heavily. "Triple rate. Where are you?"
   "Thanks! I'm still at the lab. You can get me from the roof of building F. You won't regret this."
   "I'll be the one to decide." I said and closed the channel.
   The lights of the flat flickered on as I started to get dressed.

Elements generated using tables found in the Stars Without Number: Core Edition Rulebook.

88

Sometimes I enjoy staying up late just listening to sombre music. I can't put my finger on why that is though.

87

At the risk of sounding pretentious I am currently going through emotions that are difficult to put to word. I have tried on several occasions to write up something, anything, but as you can probably see I've come up empty. Hopefully this drought will come to an end soon, as I really do enjoy writing the pieces that end up here, no matter the quality.

86

Imagine yourself walking through a mall. It's probably during a weekned because it's crowded with people going inand out of shops. While you are heading for your destination you are stopped by a stranger. They look like any other seller with dark trousers, nice shirt, and an inoffensive haircut.
   In front of them is a pedestal with a red button on it. They offer you the chance to press it once, calmly telling you that doing so will kill someone, somewhere. You'd probably just give them a strange look, maybe berate them a little, and walk away.
   Now, what if they told you pressing the button would kill a criminal. It could be anyone from a young shoplifter to an aged mass-murderer. I'd argue most would still not do it, unless you have vey conservative views on crime and punnishment.
   This time pressing the button would end the life of a murderer, a person who has unlawfuly killed a least one other person. Some might press the button here while proclaiming that "the death of this person will save the life of others," while others may still walk away thinking "killing someone for killing is ridiculus."
   Here's where it gets interesting; What if the button kills a person who will be the cause for more evil than anyone else, past, present, or future? Would you press it? You are all that stands between suffering and happiness for millions if not billions of people. I bet the trigger-finger's starting to itch for even the most hardcore of pacifists. Would you?

Why do you trust the stranger that pressing the button won't kill yourself, or someone you love?
What right do you have to control the fate of someone you don't know or have even heard of?
What right do you have to completely alter the life of the people involved, innocent or not?
What right do you have to press the button?
Why do you press the button?

85

I had meant to write another short story before the end of the year, but it seems I've run out of time.
   This year has been incredible successful for this blog in the sense that I've written more on it than ever before, and that's including the very first year of teenage-angst posts. All in all I've written a total of 25 posts (not counting this one), 17 are tagged "Short story" and four are tagged "Poem".
   I am incredibly proud of what I've been able to accomplish in creative writing this year, and would like to thank any and all who have taken the time to read anything that I've written, and I hope that all of you have a great ending to this year and an even greater beginning of the next.

See you in 2015.

84

Harry was a young teen with his whole life ahead.
He felt unloved.
He felt unwanted.
He felt as if the entire world existed to cause him misery.
He decided to find a solution.
Susie was a young teen and very shy.
She never got the chance to tell him.

83

A few droplets of rain fell softly to the ground. The morning's pouring of rain had left a slight overcast and a scent of wet soil lingering over the graveyard.
   Walking across the narrow pathway was Millie Saunders, wearing a black jacket and a dark pink scarf. In her hand she held a bouquet of lilies with a single red rose placed in the middle. She turned when she reached a row and started walking along it before stopping at a headstone. The bouquet was placed leaning against the grey rock.
   "I thought about you the other day," Millie spoke, partly to herself. "I was looking through some photos from Friday's night-out and remembered that one time we were at the club with your friends. You had left to get a drink at the bar when some guy sat down next to me and started chatting. I can't remember anything of what he said, but I remember that I asked if you were jealous about it when you got back. You weren't, because you were sure that I would never leave you for someone else like that. I smiled and continued drinking. You meant well, but had a tendency to put your foot in your mouth. I still can't shake the feeling that I ruined that evening for you by feeling ill and forcing us to leave early, even though you kept saying how you were bored already."
   She sat down in front of the headstone, just of the path, and took of her gloves. It was cold out, but she didn't really like the feeling of wearing gloves, too confined.
   "Anyway, I just wanted to let you know I miss you." She snivelled, holding back the tears as best she could. "Everyone keeps telling me I couldn't have done anything, but I don't believe them. There must have been something I could've done. If I hadn't left during our fight I could've called an ambulance, and they would've been able to resuscitate you and you wouldn't have died alone in the flat. I'm sorry. I'm so, so very sorry!"
   She curled up as a tear left her cheek and fell to the ground. Fell like a droplet of rain.

82

The creation of the Idea Square was one of the greatest contribution to the politics of the city. They had built it on a central lot, with crystallised terminal-walls to collect the ideas of the citizenry.
   Adding to a terminal was easily done with just a few simple gestures of a hand, and then the AI would group the addition together with the notes already added by others. No subject was taboo except for those that violated the Codes of Ethics, of course, and every opinion was open to argumentation. The city had gotten a new focal point.
   The Square had changed the way politics worked completely. At the end of each PoliTerm the AI sifted through all the additions made and found which topics had gotten enough attention to go through a vote, organised them into propositions, and then put them on the public Voters' Board. If a proposition passed the people most suited for the implementation were put to work by the mainframe.

81

I've seen you at the café for some time now. My workmates and I walk past every Thursday on our way to the burger place for lunch.
   Sometimes you're on a computer, typing on and on about something. Sometimes you're reading a book, or the newspaper, and sometimes you're just sitting there with music plugged in your ears. The constants seems to be that you always have a cup of coffee, a half-eaten cupcake, and no company.
   At times I wonder what would happen if I walked up to you, told you my name. Perhaps you'd smile because someone finally wanted to liberate you from your loneliness. Maybe you have seen me walk past for months and kept hoping that I'd notice you. Perchance you'd think I was a creep. I mean, who pays attention to the behaviour of some stranger they've seen on the way to lunch? I must be a disgusting stalker who obsesses over people. Why would I ever have anything in common with anyone like you?
   It's probably for the best if I keep walking...

80

The following text is a translation of an essay I wrote in my last year of High School. The assignment was to write about one of several topics and discuss a few specific points. My topic ended up being about growing up and rites of passage.

Something that more and more people talk about and discuss these days is how and when you become an adult. Does the transformation occur when during confirmation at 15, when you are of legal age at 18, or when you can purchase alcohol in stores at [20], or at an even later milestone that slips my mind? The only answer I can provide to that question is that I am 18 years old, confirmed, and not an adult.

   Only a few years ago I would probably had said that you become adult when you body stops developing. As you can probably see from that small comment I used to look on problems through a black/white natural science lens even when that had nothing to do with it, but at least I had an answer.

   Nowadays I sit and observe my close friends and family via their status updates on Facebook. I have a hard time feeling anything other than that I've fallen behind on the growing-adult bit when I compare myself to friends my age. One of my friends has a flat with their boyfriend of four years, while I sit alone in my untidy room where I've lived for all of my life. One of my friends has during the time I've known them gone through more than five relationships while I've barely had contact with the outside world. But when I really think about it I don't think they are more adult than I am. I think the reason they seem adult in my eyes is that I don't know what they think about during the days, while I keep almost 100% check on my own "childish" thoughts of the day. To be an adult probably lies very much in how others see you. Few probably feel [they take] a definite step to adulthood before 40, but a lot of people have probably found a way to give the illusion of being an adult long before that.

   We've all probably heard about how no one wants to feel adult, and there's probably something to it. De images I conjure when imagining an adult person is often someone who sits in traffic on their way to a grey office where they work for eight hours before they go back through traffic home, and I don't think I'm alone with that image. Who looks forward to being a being a dry old man (or woman) who just sits and is grouchy on the way to the office, at the office, and on the way from the office? If the majority share my perhaps a bit exaggerated and almost antique image of what it is to be an adult then perhaps it's not that weird that few want to feel adult.

   Jonas Cramby wrote a chronicle for the journal Café in which he mentions how humans throughout history has had numerous different rites that a boy has to complete to become a man. These rites were important points in the young man's life and gave a predetermined path to become an adult. Without these rites we wander around in the dark while at the same time trying to find others who've gotten a bit further to imitate. On the one hand we are not bound by tradition and rules, while on the other we have no idea of how or what we need to do to be adult in the eyes of both us and the world at large. Maybe it wouldn't be that bad to reintroduce old, or perhaps new, rites. It could be a test or a little game to end childhood with, and we could use those adult points that so many are talking about for something concrete: "Gather ten adult points and achieve adulthood." That'd be something.

79

My footsteps echoed against the marble walls as I made my way towards the back of the church. I knelt down as I got close to the altar and started feeling around beneath the top of it. The informant had said I should search here, this was supposed to be the place, and yet I couldn't-
   "Aha!" I whispered as the button let loose a soft 'click'.
   The altar began to rumble silently and the ground trembled under my feet. I took a few steps back as the stone cracked open and revealed a stair leading down deeper into the earth.
   Before I had a chance to take a single step further a dark, shadowy figure appeared from the tunnel and towered above me. I could feel my heartbeat stop for a second. Even though I had been told about this I felt completely unprepared as the creature stood staring. I licked my lips and try to recall what the informant had told me. There was a codephrase I was supposed to utter. I cleared my throat.
   "Mr. Smythe, I presume?"
   I could feel a single drop of sweat run down my forehead. The shadow took a bow and stepped aside, allowing me passage to the stairs. The first challenge had been passed, now awaited the second.

78

Last summer me and some friends spent an evening out by the jetty. We brought a charcoal grill, food, and drinks with us to keep our bellies full as we sat and talked about all things big and small. As time went by it would soon be an hour past midnight and we decided to pack our things. Two of us carried the grill, two brought the chairs and blankets, and I was left carrying the trash we'd assembled.
   We walked along a path that took us through a cluster of trees thick enough to hide us from the starlight sky above us. It was here that my attention left the jolly conversation we were having, and instead looked up at the tree crowns above us. I saw a tiny light, barely bright enough to light up branch it seemed to be resting on. My pace slowed as I tried deciding on what it was that peered down on us from above. Suddenly the light started moving, soaring down from the tree and hovering just a few feet from the ground. I'm still not certain, but at the time I could swear that it was twinkling at me, like the stars had done earlier, and then started moving away from the path. I dropped the bags of trash at my feet and cautiously followed it through the undergrowth.
   The little speck of light continued floating away, yet still beckoning for me to follow. Through bushes, over streams, and beneath fallen trees. I don't know for how long I followed it, but eventually we ended up in a clearing with tall grass and a mirror-like pond in the centre. My curiosity had long since overcome my sense of caution and I walked over to peer into the water. The reflections of the stars lay calmly in the water and then started floating up into the air, joining the speck of light that I had followed. The multitude of lights started twirling around my body, up and down, as if in a dance. I felt how I was pulled up by some unseen force and closed my eyes. In the darkness I could feel how the lights lifted me above the trees and higher still. How to be so far up and still feel completely safe is difficult to explain. I opened my eyes.
   My friends were packing up our things on the jetty. They laughed and said that I had fallen asleep an hour ago, but I was just in time to carry the bags of trash back to the cars. As we passed through the tree cluster I searched for the little speck but was unsuccessful in finding it. We made our way to the cars and drove home.
   I know you won't believe my story. That's all right. You don't have to believe it. I know it happened, and that's good enough for me.

77

I had my chance at glory once; to mingle with the upper crust of society at their fancy parties, and to wear fine jewellery and fine robes.
   Instead I chose the path of the common man; I turned away from my friends and found new kinsmen among the gutter-folk. There I toiled for years greasing the gears of our community, making sure everything worked as it was supposed to. Frequently I would get yelled at whenever anything was ever so slightly off, even if it made no practical difference.
   I saw my old friends the other day. They were walking down the street in their riches, with servants following suit. I pondered whether I had made the right choice all those years ago...

76

Lysinne stood gazing on her balcony, her vision carried far and wide by the winds of magic. In the far east she could see as her workers toiled in the mines, making sure her armies would get their gold. In the west stretched endless fields of grass and greenery dotted with the farms that fed the people of her empire.
   "The Kingslayer has arrived." One of her servants interrupted, bowing deeply before the sorceress.
   Lysinne left her state of meditation and her eyes turned back to their natural blue. "Do let him in." She entered the chamber behind her and walked over to a large circular table with different figurines representing both her and her enemies' forces.
   "M'lady."
   "Arbak! What news from the front-lines?" She greeted her draconian general.
   "We have crushed the forces of the heathen wizard." He said, while taking out a sack from beneath his cloak. He emptied a bearded head onto the floor. "He should be of no more trouble to us."
   The sorceress smiled and waved her arm over the table, making some of the enemy figurines disappear into nothingness. The two of them stood and looked over situation depicted on the table.
   For the past six years the empire had been in a state of constant war. Lysinne has claimed the throne of her empire after defeating the neighbouring magicians and warlords who opposed her rule. Arbak had been the first to recognize her leadership and powers and in doing so saved his draconian tribe from what would've been sure destruction, and instead made them the finest front line soldiers of Lysinne's magical empire. Together they had defeated nation after nation, slaying warlords and kings alike. Now all that was standing between them and domination of the known world was the underground dwarfish city states.
   "Prepare your armies. March them towards the Deep Gate and into the land of the dwarfs." The sorceress eventually said.
   "As you wish m'lady." Arbak bowed and left the chambers.
   Left alone Lysinne turned to the balcony again. She grasped her staff and raised it towards the skies. A bolt of lightning pierced upwards through the clouds, and far away to the south, where the mountains ran deep into the earth, the ground cracked open revealing the towers of dwarfs.

75

What do you do when you realise you're the bad guy. When you find yourself opposite those advocating personal freedoms seemingly despite a lack of rational thought. Do you stand fast in your belief and argue against their cause, or do you simply slip away into the shadows and leave it all behind.