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Sunlight Through The Shadows 1995 03
Sunlight Through The Shadows
Volume III, Issue 2 Mar 1995
Editorial: The Internet........................Joe DeRouen
Staff of STTS.............................................
Special Survey for STTS Readers...........................
>> --------------- Monthly Columns ---------------------<<
>> --------------- Feature Articles --------------------<<
>> ------------------- Reviews -------------------------<<
>> ------------------- Fiction -------------------------<<
>> ------------------- Poetry --------------------------<<
>> ------------------- Humour --------------------------<<
>> --------------- Advertisements ----------------------<<
>> ----------------- Information -----------------------<<
End Notes......................................Joe DeRouen
Editorial: The Internet . . .
Copyright (c) 1995, Joe DeRouen
All rights reserved
STTS has been exploring the Internet. There are worlds of information,
news, games, and even oddities among the many, many parts of the
Internet. Soon, STTS will join them.
We're working on setting up a World Wide Web home page for Sunlight
Through The Shadows Magazine. From there, you'll be able to download
the current (and past issues!) of the magazine, send comments to some of
the authors, and visit other links of interest. It should be great!
Watch for more news as it develops!
And speaking of Internet news, your editor just just become a level 60
immortal on The Farside MUD. (telnet to zeus.atinc.com 3000 to check it
out) I've begun writing a newsletter for the MUD and have included a
copy in this issue. It's in the Feature Articles section. Let me know
what you think of it, and, if you stop by the MUD, be sure to tell
AsaMaro hello. It's good for one free level, if you're a new player. :)
If you're currently reading this in the Readroom or ASCII version, check
out our new NeoBook version! Look for the file SUN9503N.ZIP and
download it. It's chock full of exciting graphics, great sound, and all
sorts of cool features. Kudos to Asst. Ed. Shawn Aiken for doing
excellent work with this!
That's all for now. See you at the races!
Joe DeRouen
March 1995
The Staff and Contributing Writers of Sunlight Through The Shadows
------------------------------------------------------------------
The Staff
---------
Joe DeRouen............................Publisher and Editor
L. Shawn Aiken.........................Assistant Editor
Heather DeRouen........................Book Reviews
Bruce Diamond..........................Movie Reviews
Tamara.................................House Poet
Thomas Van Hook........................Poetry Editor
Joe DeRouen publishes, edits, and writes for STTS magazine. He's had
poetry and fiction published in several on-line magazines and a few
paper publications as well. He's written exactly 1.5 novels, none of
which, alas, have seen the light of publication. He attends college
part-time in search of that always-elusive english degree. In his
spare time, he enjoys reading, running his BBS, collecting music,
playing with his five cats, singing opera, hunting pseudopods, and
most importantly spending time with his beautiful wife Heather.
L. Shawn Aiken dropped out of college when he realized that they
couldn't teach him the two things he wanted to do; live successfully,
and write. He had to find out these things all by himself on the
road. Thus he became a road scholar. After spending his life hopping
country to country, state to state, he now feels confident in his
abilities and is working on his literary career. His main endevour is
to become successful in the speculative fiction area, but he enjoys
writing all forms of literary art.
Heather DeRouen writes software for the healthcare industry, CoSysOps
Sunlight Through The Shadows BBS, enjoys playing with her five cats,
cross-stitching, and reading. Most of all, she enjoys spending time
with her dapper, charming, witty, and handsome (not to mention modest)
husband Joe. Heather's help towards editing and proofreading this
magazine has been immeasurable.
Bruce Diamond, part-time pseudopod and ruler of a small island chain
off the coast of Chil, spends his time imitating desk lamps when he
isn't watching and critiquing movies for LIGHTS OUT, his BBS movie
review publication (now syndicated to over 20 boards). Recently,
Bruce became the monthly movie critic for VALLEY REVIEW MAGAZINE,
published out of Pennsylvania. LIGHTS OUT, now two years old, is
available through the Rime or P&B Networks by dropping a note to
Joe DeRouen, courtesy of Sunlight Through The Shadows BBS. The
magazine will soon be available through Fido file request and
Internet FTP. In the Dallas area, Bruce's distributor is Jay
Gaines' BBS AMERICA (214-994-0093). Bruce is a freelance writer
and video producer in the Dallas/Fort Worth area.
There is very little known about Tamara, and she prefers to let it
remain that way. She's a woman of mystery and prefers to remain hidden
in the shadows of the BBS world. (Enigmatic, don't you think?)
Thomas Van Hook resides in Dallas, where he works as a contract
employee for the Federal Reserve Automation Services. Having served
eight years in the USAF, he is happy to finally be free and able to
pursue the dreams of his heart. At the age of 29, he is looking
forward to many new adventures and experiences within the realms of
the Elven kind. He enjoys reading, writing, sports of all kinds, his
son Corey and the attentions of any Elven women that seem interested
(not necessarily in that order). Recently divorced, he is trying to
restore order and balance to his life without losing what little is
left of his sanity.
Contributing Writers
--------------------
Ed Davis...............................Fiction
Albert Johnston........................Poetry
Seth A. Robinson.......................Essay
Daniel Sendecki........................Fiction, Poetry
Ed Davis has been scribbling seriously or has at least enjoyed the
electronic equivalent, since 1981. Prior to that, his literary efforts
were confined to whatever scrap paper he could find on a work bench at
break or lunch time, since he was spending his working hours making
chips and money in the guise of a Journeyman Machinist. Married to
the same lady for 26 years and with two children still hovering
uncomfortably close to the nest, Ed continues to write down his
thoughts electronically. Check out the file NEWBOOK.ZIP, available
from STTS BBS, for more of his work.
Daniel Sendecki is a young, emerging, Canadian writer who lives
in Burlington, Ontario. Currently, Daniel is pursuing his writing
interests at home but intends to study literature at McGill
University, in Montreal, Quebec.
Seth A. Robinson is the author of the bestselling BBS door games
Legend of the Red Dragon and Planets: The Exploration of Space.
STTS Survey
Copyright (c) 1994, Joe DeRouen
All rights reserved
Please fill out the following survey. This article is duplicated in the
ZIP archive as SURVEY.TXT. If you're reading this on-line and haven't
access to that file, please do a screen capture of this article and
fill it out that way. If all else fails, just write your answers down
(on paper or in an ASCII file) and include the question's number beside
your answer.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
1. Name: _____________________________________________________________
2. Mailing address: __________________________________________________
__________________________________________________
__________________________________________________
__________________________________________________
3. Date of birth: (Mm/Dd/YYyy) _______________________________________
4. Sex: ______________________________________________________________
5. Where did you read/download this copy of STTS Magazine? (Include BBS
and BBS number, please)
___________________________________________________________________
___________________________________________________________________
___________________________________________________________________
6. Do you prefer to read STTS while on-line or download it to read
at your own convenience? ( ) On-Line ( ) Download
7. Are you a SysOp? ( ) Yes ( ) No (if "No", skip to 10)
8. If so, what is your BBS name, number, baud rate?
___________________________________________________________________
___________________________________________________________________
___________________________________________________________________
9. Do you currently carry STTS Mag?
( ) Yes ( ) No ( ) I don't carry it, but I want to
I carry STTS: ( ) On-Line, ( ) For Download, ( ) or Both
10. What do you enjoy the MOST about STTS Mag?
___________________________________________________________________
___________________________________________________________________
___________________________________________________________________
11. What do you enjoy LEAST about STTS Mag?
___________________________________________________________________
___________________________________________________________________
___________________________________________________________________
12. Please rate the following parts of STTS on a scale of 1-10, 10 being
excellent and 1 being awful. (if no opinion, X)
Fiction ___ Poetry ___ Movie reviews ___
Book reviews ___ CD Reviews ___ Feature Articles ___
Software reviews --- Humour --- Top Ten List ---
Question&Answers ___ Editorial ___ ANSI Coverart ___
The Sports Page --- My View --- STTS BBS News ---
RIP Coverart ___ Misc. Info ---
13. What would you like to see (or see more of) in future issues
of STTS Mag?
___________________________________________________________________
___________________________________________________________________
___________________________________________________________________
___________________________________________________________________
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Return the survey to me via any of the following options:
A) Pen & Brush Net - A PRIVATE, ROUTED message to JOE DEROUEN at site
->5320, in any conference.
B) RIME Net - A PRIVATE, ROUTED message to JOE DEROUEN at site ->5320,
in either the COMMON or SUNLIGHT THROUGH THE SHADOWS MAGAZINE
conference.
C) WME Net - A PRIVATE message to JOE DEROUEN in the NET CHAT
conference.
D) Internet - Send a message containing your complete survey to
Joe.DeRouen@Chrysalis.org
E) My BBS - (214) 629-8793 24 hrs. a day 1200-14,000 baud. Upload the
file SURVEY.TXT (change the name first! Change it to something like
the first eight digits of your last name (or less, if your name
doesn't have eight digits) and the ext of .SUR) Immediate access is
gained to my system via filling out the new user questionnaire.
F) U.S. Postal Service - Send the survey either printed out or on a disk
to: Joe DeRouen
3910 Farmville Dr. # 144
Addison, Tx. 75244
ÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ
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°±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²² Monthly Columns ²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±°
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°±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±°
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ÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ
STTS Mailbag
Copyright (c) 1995, Joe DeRouen
All rights reserved
Dear Joe,
Have had trouble finding STTS lately. It's seems to have gotten off
schedule. What's the deal?
Sue Thomson
Dallas, Texas
<Exactly that - that's it's gotten off schedule. We're trying to put it
back into the schedule it so rightly deserves. Thanks for your patience
and happy reading! -jd>
========================================================================
Dear Sunlight Through The Shadows,
Really, really love the new (NeoBook -jd) version of the magazine!
It was really nice to be able to print out that survey from directly in
the program. You've done an excellent job on this! The graphics and
sounds are a vast improvement over the old ANSI/RIP graphics. Keep up
the great work!
Dell Littleton
Chicago, Illinois
========================================================================
QUICK TIPS AND FIXES
Copyright (c) 1995, Joe DeRouen
All rights reserved
[Originally published in March issue of Computer Currents Magazine]
If you're having a problem you just can't seem to solve, a question you
want answered, or just an inherent need to bend a lonely writer's ear,
you've come to the right place. While we can't print all questions, we
do read them and will reply personally when the situation warrants it.
Keep those cards and letters coming, folks. But, please, don't try this
at home.
Q: Dear Joe,
I recently purchased a new 14.4K modem, and something really strange
happened. I get television reception via antenna rather than cable,
and, upon installing my modem, I discovered that I no longer was able
to receive Channel 4. When I turn the power off on my computer,
Channel 4 comes in fine, but, when the power is on, I cannot receive
it no matter how much I fool with the antenna. Do you have any idea
why this is?
Sincerely,
Jean Sanders
via Internet
A: Dear Jean,
As I'm sure you're aware, all electronic devices contain magnetic
fields, and what is probably happening is that the magnetic field
contained by your modem is on the same frequency on which Channel 4
is broadcast. There is not a whole lot that can be done - either get
a different modem (which, by statistical probability, will contain a
field with a different frequency), just turn off the computer when
you want to watch Channel 4, get cable, or increase the shielding
around your computer (make sure that all the vacant slots in your
chassis contain metal tabs, etc.). These disturbances can also be
caused by electrical appliances, stereos, or any other item that
emits a magnetic field, so if any of you encounter a similar problem,
just go around the house unplugging items until you find what is
causing the disruption. They can also be caused by "sunspots", so
there's a possibility that none of this will work. (Grin) Good
luck!
Q: Joe,
Several months ago, you printed the telnet address to a MUD called
The Farside. [Oct. '94 issue. JD] Now that I finally have full
internet access, the address doesn't seem to work. What gives? Was
the address printed wrong, or did it change? Or am I doing something
wrong?
Thanks,
Luis Salvadore
Arlington, Tx.
A: Luis,
No, you're not doing anything wrong. And no, the address wasn't
printed wrong. As can happen all too frequently in the world of the
internet, the address to The Farside MUD (Multi-User Dungeon)
changed. The new address is ZEUS.ATINC.COM and the port number is
3000. Remember, when entering a telnet address you'll need to put
the address and port together. Thus, you'd enter the telnet section
and "Open ZEUS.ATINC.COM 3000" to reach The Farside MUD. If you'd
rather visit Farside's new World Wide Web site, start up Mosaic or
Netscape and go to http://zeus.atinc.com/mud.html.
For those of you that didn't read the column to which Mr. Salvadore
is referring, a MUD is a text-based multiple-player gaming
environment found on the Internet. Much like Dungeons and Dragons or
Zork computer games in it's execution, a MUD involves users playing
the role of a (usually) fantasy character in the game. You can be an
elven warrior, for example, or a dwarf magic-user. On some MUDs, the
possibilities are almost endless. Your goals in these games range
from simply killing monsters for experience points (to gain levels)
to questing after hidden treasure and rescuing maidens fair.
Certainly a far cry from HERETIC or other such graphic game fare.
MUDs aren't for everyone, but The Farside is one of the best I've
found out there and you should give it a try.
MUDS you might check out include:
The Farside ZEUS.ATINC.COM 3000 (Fantasy)
Another MUD SPIDER.COMPART.FI 4000 (Fantasy)
Thunder Dome II TDOME.MONTANA.COM 5555 (Futuristic)
Dark Gift SNAKE.LIBRARY.CMU.EDU 6250 (Vampire)
Whatever your role-playing interest might be, chances are that
there's a MUD out there to fit your personality. Oh, and if you hook
up to The Farside look me up. Names AsaMaro, and I'm an Immortal
on there now . . .
Are you having a problem with your computer? Write to Joe at Computer
Currents or via Sunlight Through The Shadows BBS at 214/620-8793.
(c) 1995 Joe DeRouen. All rights reserved.
ÚÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ¿
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Essay
Copyright (c) 1994, Seth A. Robinson
All Rights Reserved
Equality - Whats so equal about it?
an essay by Seth A. Robinson
12/28/94
Today, it's popular to believe all people are created equal.
This might be true - but all people are NOT equal.
At birth, we are all the same. Screaming babies with ugly puffy red faces.
A few hours later, we begin to show some of our emotional characteristics.
From this point on we go our seperate paths. Are some people 'better' than
other people? Yes. How are they better? How can a person be measured?
These are not socially acceptable questions; these thoughts are taboo.
Yet, everytime we look around us, we silently measure people. The shaggy
faced teenage gas attendent you try not to make eye contact with - when you
do you are greeted by a blank stare. The greasy hair and yellow teeth say
"I don't take care of my body", the lack of communication skills combined
with an extremely poor command of the english language (much less others)
denote a resistance to learning. A failure to apply ones self. No self
respect.
Two weeks later, you read about this 'misguided youth' in the paper.
Killed in a car crash. The paper fails to mention it was the boys fault, who
ran a stop sign going 120 mph, thus totally demolishing his one and only
true love, his hot rod - a piece of trash not worth the money to haul it
away. The thing he and his 'buds' talked about one hundred percent of
the time they felt like talking in what barely passes as legible english.
Am I beastly because I feel no remorse for him, but for the mother and
three children that were killed in the collision instead? I think not.
You see, if this lad was not killed at the age of 19, things would NOT
have been better. At 19, he already been arrested thrice. At 22 he would
be convincted of manslaughter, possion of illegal narcotics and be sentenced
to a ten year jail term. When parolled at 26, he would only be on the
street 5 months before going to prison.
He was destined to fail at whatever he tried. The reason? He was never
going to try something RIGHT. He had no honor, no dignity and most
definatly the correct frame of mind.
Moving on, I want to make it clear I am not suggesting we enable some sort
of euthinasia and start judging who should live or die - Not at all. I am
suggesting that we understand the people we live with. We will be better
able to cope with the homeless, drug, violence and abuse problems.
There ARE born leaders, there ARE born followers. You can know which one
you are by which one makes you happy.
There are bad seeds. The phrase 'If he hits you once, he'll do it again'
is a true one. People don't often change inside. When a boy becomes a man,
he is who he is. The age that this happens is different for each of us.
If you know a bad seed, drop him/her. Get away while you can, it's going
to be a minus on your life.
I urge all of you: Start judging people by what they do. Not by their
parents, not by their friends.
And lastly, expect to BE judged.
Farside Gazette Vol II, No. 5
Copyright (c) 1995, Joe DeRouen
All Rights Reserved
======================================================================
The Farside Gazette Vol II, No. 5 Mar. 19th 1995
======================================================================
-------------------------------------------------------------------
The Farside Gazette is published twice a month by AsaMaro in
conjunction with (and full permission of) The Farside Staff
The Gazette is written in 100% pure ASCII to assure maximum
compatibility for all readers using whatever system they use
Subscribe by writing to jderouen@crl.com and including just one
word - Subscribe - in the body of your text
Telnet to Farside at: mud.atinc.com 3000
-------------------------------------------------------------------
Table of Contents
-----------------
Page 1 Introduction
Page 1 Table of Contents
Page 1 AsaMaro's Editorial
Page 2 Back Issue Notice
Page 2 Player Bio: Leorick
Page 3 Immortal Bio: Reflection
Page 4 Building An Area by Draeger
Page 8 Museum Field Trip by Marat
Page 10 Interviewed by the Vampire by Dizzy
Page 11 Interview With Two Clerics by Arundel
Page 13 Top Ten List by Draeger
Page 13 Additions to Farside by AsaMaro
Page 13 Farside Birthdays by Ambrosia
Page 14 Farside News
------------------------------------------------------------------------
*
* We Have a Winner *
*
Draeger won The Farside Gazette's "The Future of Farside" contest with a
group of proposed ranger spells. His prize was a level. As fate would
have it, the won level took him to level 51, hero. Congratulations,
Draeger!
Terrapin took second place with his idea for an improved Flee command
while Arundel took third with a suggested Thank/Herothank modification.
Each won (or will be awarded, when I find then) an item or their choice
and cash, respectively. Congrats, guys, and thanks for entering!
* * *
"A Helpful Guide to Building An Area", a collaborative effort by Crom
and myself, has been released. The guide gives clear, concise
instructions on building an area and should be helpful to novice and
expert alike.
You can request the guide by sending e-mail to AsaMaro at
jderouen@crl.com. Include in the body of your text:
get builder.txt <mud name> <real name>
Let me know what you think of it! As always, suggestions and comments
are very welcomed and desired.
* * *
This issue is a tad bit late due to the personal life of Joe DeRouen
interferring with the MUD life of AsaMaro. My apologies to anyone who
was inconvenienced by the lateness of this issue.
* * *
Special thanks this issue to Arundel, Marat, Dizzy, and Draeger for
their contributions! (And for making this issue win the title for
Gazette With Most Interviews In It! <grin>)
And thanks to all of you for reading,
--AsaMaro
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Back Issues of The Farside Gazette
Back issues of the Gazette are now available for FTP at atinc.com in
/pub/mud/gazette . While you're scuttling about the internet, check out
Farside's new WWW page at http://zeus.atinc.com/mud.html .
------------------------------------------------------------------------
* Farside Player Bio *
Name: Leorick RL: Michael Orr Age: 77 (RL) 18
Race: Half-Orc Class: Warrior Current level: 45
Interests and Background:
"After moving around so often (well, at least in his opinion), Leorick,
when asked where he's from, usually just replies 'The Maritimes'. For
those unfamiliar with the area, the Maritimes comprise the three
provinces (of Canada, of course) north of Maine (PEI, New Brunswick, and
Nove Scotia). He is presently going to the University of Prince Edward
Island, in (you guessed it!) Prince Edward Island. He has been playing
since about late October of 1994, when a friend (Alamar) first
introduced him to the Farside, and hasn't left since. After several
unsuccessful starts with various classes, he finally settled on the
warrior class after watching Alamar race through the levels very
quickly, while he was having trouble levelling as a ranger."
Advice to Other Players:
"Leorick's advice: Group. I just can't emphasize the importance of
grouping. If you're a warrior (like me) groups like you because you
have the 'rescue' skill. Warriors: practice that skill right away. It
keeps people alive, and can sometimes save your life too. In case you
didn't know warriors, you have the track skill as well, and no, you
don't have to practice it. This skill (although it often leads you to
your destination the longest way possible :) is very useful. For
example, if you're trying to find the Tower of High Sorcery. Before
someone told me that I had the track skill, I would wander around,
getting myself quite frustrated, looking for the Tower. But with the
track skill, I just go to the Shadow Grove, and track the adventurer.
Leads me right to it. If you know the name of a mob in an area, but
don't know the exact directions, try the track skill.
Also, you can use the 'where' command to locate a mob in the area you
are in, but you have to know the name of the mob. If you're locked in
Midgaard, try a 'where mayor' to find him and hunt him down! This can
also be useful in quests like the greased pig, and you want to know
where the mob is."
------------------------------------------------------------------------
* Farside Immortal Bio *
Name: Reflection RL Name: Sara Wisking Age: (Game) Old (RL) 16
Race: Elf Class: Cleric Current level: 60
Real Life Interests and Background:
Reflection lives in Ottawa, Canada and enjoys reading, writing, and
spending time with her friends. She's been playing Farside for eleven
months. When asked to describe herself, she said: "I'm 5'7", have long,
light brown (almost blond) hair, dark brown eyes, and an average build.
I'm very enthusiastic, and very optimistic as well."
Advice to Players:
"The best advice i can give you guys, is to GROUP! Each class was made
so it would go well with the other classes. So be friendly, and people
will be glad to group with you, and they'll be helping you just as much
as you're helping them. Farside is full of friendly people, who will all
be GLAD to help you out, so be nice to them! Also, remember that mudding
takes patience. In general, a patient mudder is a succesful mudder. If
things are getting you frustrated, take a break! Everything will be
there when you get back. Most of all though, have fun out there! That's
what Farside is for."
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Building An Area
by Draeger
FOREWARD
Writing an area for your favorite mud can be an enjoyable process. The
thrill one gets from the successful completion of an area is much like
the one achieved by doing a job well done. Sometimes, however, little
things can mar the overall greatness of a completed area. Many times
these detractors are things that could have been avoided by careful
planning and design before work even commenced on the area. In this
guide, one can find information on how to write a creative, themed
area. Not all good areas abide by these general rules; Indeed, many is
the time that the author himself has broken them. Nevertheless, a firm
understanding and utilization of these guidelines will help one to
design, construct, and debug one's own area. A final note is that this
guide will not attempt to teach the reader how to create mobiles,
rooms, etc. It is assumed that you have mastered those skills. If that
is not the case, please refer to AsaMaro and Crom's excellent
builder.txt for instructions first.
Design : The Missing Link
Design is a crucial component of a good area. Design is largely what
will let you transform the vague, misty images and ideas in your mind
into a specific, concrete area. Sadly, this step is often skipped or
minimized, resulting in confusing, odd, or boring areas. There are
several aspects of the successful creation of an area design. Some may
not apply to a particular theme or idea, but they are all good
guidelines to start by.
Acquiring a medieval viewpoint
This step is one that is almost never used by the typical area
builder. However, if one wants to create a successful unique
area, it is an important step. It is very hard to successfully
plan and write a medieval-based area while surrounded by and
absorbed into a twentieth century world. The solution used by
the author is simple. Typically, before starting planning an
area, he will sit down and read a chapter of JRR Tolkien's "The
Lord of the Rings". This proves to be a good "mindlink" to a
fantasy/medieval outlook. Other good ideas would include any
other fantasy/medieval author, perhaps some medieval music, or
sitting in the woods or wilderness for a time. All these will
help to shape your thoughts, and provoke ideas and images that
otherwise would remain hidden. Some have found that modern
music will have the same affect for area building, but the
author's experiments are to the contrary. Listening to
industrial, rock, or pop-style music is not the best way to
drop into a fantasy mindset! Classical music or "soft" rock
would work however.
Create a history
This guideline is much less obvious than one would think. Most
people, when creating an original area, will think up a area
theme, draw a map, then get started. Despite being the most
used method, however, it has some drawbacks, namely the lack of
any background or historical involvement in the area.
Therefore, it is important to create a story that fits into
your area. If the area is set within a large castle, for
instance, the area will be much more interesting and exciting
if it has a background, rather than just another generic
castle. An area lacking a story or background is easily
visible, by the somewhat generic feel to the place. The best
areas will look and feel almost like a novel, with respect to
the overall involvement in the area.
Creating a convincing area map
Drawing a map for one's area is, thankfully, a given. Without
an area map, it is exceedingly difficult to create a
consistent, realistic area. Therefore, this step is paramount
to the success or failure of an area. To plan out an area map
is simple. Most people will use a blank sheet of paper and a
pen or pencil, though graph paper would probably be better. The
author typically starts with a very rough sketch of the
hallways, passages, rooms, etc, disregarding any details like
room numbers. Then, the actual buildings and scenery is
sketched in, even that which is beyond the rooms. This allows
one to get a better grasp of one's own area. Usually after
several refinements of the design, the final draft is crafted.
Make sure to label all the important rooms, and to mark clearly
where each "room" will be in your passageways, wilderness, etc.
When it is completed, then carefully mark where each important,
non-moving mob will be. Also, the author will usually make a
short list of what each mob will carry, so as to make creating
resets simpler.
Creative Writing : The Heart and Soul of an Area
The most memorable part of an area is usually the setting and/or theme
that the area is built upon. While design gives the content of the
area, the writing element is the tool used to convey one's ideas to
the players. As such, special emphasis should be placed on creating
especially evocative images, sounds, and smells in the player's mind.
These basic rules of creative area writing are based and drawn from
the rules of a short story. Any who have taken even a high-school
freshman English course should be familiar with the concepts presented
herein. Nevertheless, even a moderately proficient writer should
review these simple rules.
Writing Style
The writing style of the creator of the area greatly influences
the final quality of the area. Writing style is a relatively
nebulous thing. Every individual has their own opinions about
different modes of writing, and each individual is right and
wrong. Therefore, the best guideline is to stay consistent
within the area. Changing from a poetic, light style to a
gloomier, naturalistic style will destroy whatever realism you
are attempting to create.
Atmosphere and Descriptive Language
A critical part of writing a well developed area is imaginative
and invocative imagery. Ideally, the player should almost see
in his mind the vision you are projecting. In reality, this is
seldom achieved, but that should not discourage one from
trying. The area should have an overall "feel", one that will
become apparent to one reading the document. For example,
consider the following passage from one of the author's areas:
Stretched out before you is a forest of immense proportions. The
blustery sun of a midsummer's day makes you seek comfort beneath the
cool leaves of the tall trees. The buzzing of insects and the
twittery chirping of birds is in the warm air. You travel into the
shadows of the forest, feeling the heat of the day evaporate as you
enter the cool dampness under the canopy. You may leave into the
forest in any direction.
Disregarding the style used, this represents a fairly good
representation on the balance between terseness and
descriptiveness. In other rooms in that same area, the same
summer-forest atmosphere is carried along. A general tone and
mood is set for the whole area, which, when explored in,
creates a powerful experience for the player.
Plot
Plot in an area is unusual, for a good reason. The players on a
mud are usually expected to create their own plot by
adventuring. This is usually the case. However, in some
situations, a storyline or plot can enhance the enjoyment of an
area. A good example would be to include in the mobile
descriptions bits of conversation. "Talking" to an old pirate,
for instance, might clue the player in to the location of a
secret room or passage. This can also be extended to rooms and
objects; For example, looking at a note smeared with blood
might reveal the will and testament of a powerful king. The
will could then clue the player in to where a specific mobile
is. Another way to involve the player is to write a custom
spec_fun for the mobiles in your area. However, this method is
generally frowned upon by upper management, because it
introduces complexities into the already complex mud code.
Tricks and Technique for Area Construction
The best design and writing will create a fun and exciting area, but
there remains still the finishing touches that all areas should
receive. This category is not a guideline for a well written area.
Rather, it is a list of the many and varied ideas that can be used to
heighten the drama, create interest, and more.
Death Traps
While hardly new, death traps can introduce tension into one's
area. A deathtrap is defined as "unescapable" death, and is
usually triggered by a player walking into a room with no
exits. While the recall command has reduced the potency of
deathtraps, a no-recall flag can be set on the worst
deathtraps. The main problem with deathtraps is that players
will often blunder into them completely unawares. The area
author must therefor be careful to give strong clues and hints
as to the nature of the deathtrap in the rooms around it. This
will ensure that the player is given fair warning, if he or she
is reading the room descriptions.
Secret Doors and Items
While somewhat similar, secret doors and items are created much
differently. Secret doors are made by constructing a normal
door, but not giving any clues to its existence in the room
description. Since this is a true secret door, one that is not
likely to be ever found, most authors take a "semi-secret"
approach. That is, they give hints to its existence through the
room description. For example, this excerpt is from one of the
author's areas:
You are creeping down a long hallway. Your footsteps seem to echo
everywhere, disturbing the fragile silence with every step. The
eastern and western walls are decorated with many tapestries,
depicting a fierce battle between mages and clerics.
The description hints of the existence of the secret exits without
being obvious about it. Secret items are made much differently.
There are several ways of creating them. The simplest is to
make the item invisible. This will make it unaccessible by all
without detect invisibility. To be fair, if this method is
used, a short-duration potion of see invisible should be
located somewhere in the area to give non-mages and their ilk a
fair chance. The other method only makes semi-secret items. To
use the second method, one has only to place the item on a
mobile, or in a room, that is unaccessible without a special
condition or key. An example would be a secret laboratory
outside the main house, accessed only by entering a secret
trapdoor in the woods.
Adding Extra Item and Room Descriptions
Again, this technique is not so much new as under utilized. The
ability to add extra descriptions to items and rooms is a
fantastic plot and storyline device. These descriptions add to
the atmosphere of the mud, helping to fulfill the vision of the
area in the mind of the creator. The primary usage of
item-extra descriptions is to give the player a better
understanding of the nature of the item. For example, this
excerpt is again from one of the author's areas.
You see a small, ornately carved ring. Beautiful golden mosaics are
carved in bas-relief into the sides of the ring, and a sparkling,
glittery sea-green emerald is carefully placed in the center of the
jewel's golden palace.
The second, less used usage of item descriptions is as a plot device.
An example of this type of description is the sword Excalibur
in Camelot. By advancing the plot with items held by mobiles,
control can be placed over when the player acquires information
on secret rooms, etc.
Conclusion
As a final note, remember that these are guidelines, not rules set
into stone. Following these guidelines to the letter does not
guarantee a good area. The decisive factor in an area is the
creativity and patience of the area designer. Only with those two
traits can a writer successfully combine the many important
components, and develop a grand, exciting, and fun area.
PS: If you have any suggestions, comments, or additions, please
contact Draeger.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Museum Field Trip
by Marat
My editor was clamoring for another interview. But, who should I talk to?
What do the readers want to see? With a heavy sigh and tired faerie toes
(that were really not twinkling by the end of a long day) I wandered
around Cobblestone Square. I found myself on a picturesque stone bridge.
I listened to the grumblings of a troll under that bridge. He was
mumbling nasty things about the museum just north of me. That troll has a
real attitude problem; he hates the visitors, the guards and all
the exhibits at the museum. Just to spite him, I decided to pay a visit
to the Museum myself.
Having created the place, I was familiar with all involved; yet, I
wondered how the museum monsters were getting along. Were they happy I
had brought them into being? I walked north along the stone path,
stopping to watch a pretty bird play in the bird bath, then walked up the
broad marble steps to the impressive bronze doors that formed the entrance.
I smiled at the two stern-looking Museum Guards who stood stiffly before
the door. They nodded in my direction as one of the guards took a sip
from his canteen.
Marat: Hello, How do the two of you enjoy your job? (One guard motioned
that the other should answer for the two of them.)
Museum Guard: 'S okay. Can't complain.
M: Have you found anything interesting about guarding the doors of a Museum?
MG: (The guard paused for a minute, looked up at the sky, then down at
his feet.) Not really. Pretty much like guarding anything. We stand here.
Visitors go in and out. (Both guards shrugged.)
I grew bored and impatient at this point, so after a mumbled 'thank you'
I opened the heavy doors and walked into the hushed confines of the
museum. I was nearly knocked down by a pair of visitors. The female of
the pair was chattering inanely at the male. They rushed past me before I
could ask a question.
I checked my timepiece, discovered I would be late for a meditation
lesson with Wu Tak if I didn't hurry. I decided to get a true feeling for
the progress of the museum by talking to the Curator. I found his office
off the Weaving exhibit. I knocked on the door and heard a cultured voice
invite me to enter.
Marat: Greetings, Curator. May I ask you a few questions?
The Curator: (He smiled and settled into the large chair behind his even
larger desk. I sat in an uncomfortable chair across from him.) Of course,
but I have only a few moments before I must meet some patrons. Funding is
always a problem for a museum.
M: I understand. I also have a pressing appointment. I only had a chance
for a cursory peek, but I think the exhibitions here are very attractive
and instructive. Do you feel good about them?
TC: I am relatively happy. If I could I would change a few things. (The
curator rolls his eyes.) That suit of armor who wanders is a bit much. I
would have preferred he stay in his place. And the velvet dress is
glowing pink! That is just not aesthetically pleasing. I blame it on my
assistant.
M: Assistant? I didn't notice one.
TC: And you won't!. (The curator bellowed, startling me. He then seemed
to calm himself settling farther back into his chair and steepling his
fingers.) Even one mistake in an expensive exhibition cannot be
tolerated. I dismissed my former assistant before the opening. I am
however, quite happy about the majority of the displays and the things
displayed. (I hear a tap at the door, the curator stands and welcomes in
two patrons. I smile at them, realizing I am intruding on an important
meeting.)
M: I can see you are quite busy, Curator. Perhaps another day when you
can squeeze me into your schedule.
TC: (The curator looks distractedly at me, already dismissing my
presence.) Yes, yes. Of course. Farewell.
I hastily exit his office and walk through the museum admiring a passing
bronze statue. My visit was brief, but there will be other days to
expand my mind. Other days to wool-gather among lovely art and
artifacts. I hurry down the marble steps and run to my lesson with Wu
Tak. He gets so irritated when I am late.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
INTERVIEWED BY THE VAMPIRE
by Dizzy
Dissatisfied with life, repulsed by death, feeling bored and reckless I
listened for the ten thousandth time as another nameless mob loosed yet
another piercing cry. The protracted death rattle was the only
remarkable feature I'd noted about its otherwise squalid existence. A
chilling wind quickly froze the blood of my latest kill, effectively
cementing the corpse to the stone that comprised the pavement of an
otherwise uninteresting avenue.
While I'm usually possesed of a cheerful disposition and winsome way,
the dismal weather and witless mobs had conspired to lower my spirits to
one notch above comtemplation of a Hemlock Cocktail, and this was *not*
a party town. That last kill gave me the usual, "earned 0 exp", I was
hungry, thirsty, low on hp, mana and love for my fellow man.
Leaning against the pommel of my sword, and contemplating exactly
why.....just WHY; I turned my head and found that I was no longer
enjoying a moment of peaceful reflection in solitude. Considering my
foul mood, I'm still not sure why I reacted as I did. But, and you'd
have to experience it to fully appreciate it, I was drawn to the
fastidious man seated next to me. Simply stated, his presence was
magnetic. Strangely, no thought of lifting my sword and taking his head
occured to me. Even in my dour mood I found myself smiling and eager to
please this person I'd yet to speak a word to.
The moment was crystalline. I could no more break the silence than
shatter my gleaming crystal statuette of Dizzy. Then, slowly and
deliberately, he turned toward me. I was captivated by the golden color
of his eyes. When I say "captivated", you must realize that I cannot
express the quality of that unwavering stare. It was hypnotic.
Literally.
I'm unsure how long we sat there. I don't recall how or when we left
that dismal street and ended up here in this wretched house. There are
blood stains everywhere, but no corpses. The Master, Tiersten is his
name, requires me to stand watch over his repose all during the day and
I greatly fear that I am enslaved. But I am even more greatly afraid of
Tiersten. I marvel as I scramble to obey his slightest whim. I'm
sickened as I lure innocent adventurers into this house of death. And
yet...I find that I'm no longer bored, or hungry, or unfulfilled. I'm
not my own man anymore, but this isn't bad at all....
Why not come in out of that nasty wind.....you could catch your death
out there. Besides, I have a friend who would enjoy having you for
dinner.....
>From recall to Tiersten:
2N,4E,2N,E,N,E,S,8E,2N,4E,N,3W,U,N,E,U,S
>From Tiersten to recall:
N,D,W,S,D,3E,S,4W,2S,8W,N,W,S,W,2S,4W,2S
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Interview with Two Clerics
--by Arundel
Clerics. No group is really complete without one, and any group with
two is doubly blessed. Some consider the Cleric to be the most powerful
class on Farside. It's the only class which can fight well, protect the
people in the group, AND heal everything in sight. However, a lot of
people have also grouped with the inexperienced Cleric. I myself lost
over 300hp mid-combat because the Cleric I was with cast a 'heal' spell
while I was still fully pumped up by my +hp equipment. With this in
mind, I hunted down two relatively high-level Clerics to see how they
handled healing, fighting, and protecting, the triple role of their
class.
Both Mistyblue and Lem were kind enough to come to the Temple of Dizzy
to sit with me and talk. I remember running into Mistyblue in Gangland
when that was THE place to be for leveling, and Lem, whom I had never
heard of, has only been coming to the Farside for a month. Mistyblue is
in her 40s, and Lem is in his 30s, which makes them the perfect couple
to interview for a feature on their class. In the following interview,
I have presented their words just as they were typed. My own words,
however, I have changed quite a bit.
-Arundel: Warriors like me don't even put mana in our prompts. It is
totally alien to us. First of all, how do you manage your mana?
-Mistyblue: I learned that, if it is a very hard mob, to only faerie
fire it, and save my mana for healing and let my weapons do the rest.
-Lem : I usually don't worry about mana. I just go crazy till I'm out,
but that doesn't happen in a battle. It depends on if I'm grouped or
not. If I'm grouped, I just heal. If not, I'll cast offensive spells too.
-Arundel: What spells do you usually cast on the people in your group?
-Mistyblue: [I] always cast armor, protection, fly and bless if nothing
else. I cast sanc to the tanker always and frenzy everyone else.
-Lem: I haven't been grouping much, but when I do, I cast sanctuary and
all armor spells and bless, especially on tank. Then heal when needed.
-Arundel: Mistyblue, you mentioned two spells, fly and frenzy. Are they
important?
-Mistyblue: *YES!!!* Fly is extremely important for everyone. It keeps
you from bing tripped. If you are tripped, you lose two times to hit the
mob. Those two times to hit that mob could be crucial.
-Arundel: Two times?
-Lem: Really?
-Mistyblue: Frenzy puts the person in a rage, they fight better with it,
BUT it kills their AC. It raises the hit and damroll.
-Arundel: Kills their AC? Could be dangerous if the tanker flees.
-Mistyblue: Yep. (shrugs)
-Arundel: OK, now how do you handle your tanker?
-Mistyblue: I constantly type gr to make sure his/her [or it's, Arundel
thinks] hp are ok, if not then I start healing. I try not to let it fall
below the 200 hp mark.
-Lem: I constantly type gr and see if whoever is tanking is below 100hp
from his max. and hope heal goes through the lag fast enough.
-Arundel: Great. Ok, now, another part of the game is healing, or down
time. Just sitting around waiting for the clicks to pass. What do you do
between fights?
-Mistyblue: My mana shoots right up, so then I heal everyone then sleep
again.
-Lem: I either talk to others or change windows and read the usenet news.
-Arundel: That just about covers it. I have one more question. What pet
peeve do you have as a cleric?
-Mistyblue: I don't like it when people demand sanc and they aren't the
tanker.
-Lem: I hate it when people don't wait to get sancted, then get hit
really hard and wonder why I didn't heal them.
-Arundel: Well, thank you both for your time.
-Mistyblue: Thank YOU. I'm honored.
-Lem: Sure. No problem
Mistyblue leaves north.
Lem leaves north.
Arundel has left the game.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Top Ten Things to do While Healing
by Draeger (Written while healing)
-=-=-=-=-=-=-====-=-=-=-=-=-=-
10. Compose real-time poetry for the enjoyment(?) of all.
9. Listen to a group member's life story.
8. Tell any who will listen your life story.
7. Music all the lyrics to any song you can think of.
6. Healing? Healing is for wimps. REAL mudders never heal!
5. Explain the finer points of leveling to a newbie.
4. Take a Coke(tm) break.
3. Write a top ten list like this one.
2. Write your term paper while also doing any of the above.
1. Do absolutely nothing! Your supposed to be healing!
get back to bed! :)
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Additions to Farside
by AsaMaro
Several new areas have been added to Farside. Check the area list for
details or ask around. Areas include Marat's Museum, Crom's House of
the Brother's Grimm and Draeger's The Labyrinth of Silmavar.
Several other areas are also in the process of being tested.
The THANK command has been changed back to the social and a new command,
HEROTHANK, has been instituted.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Farside Birthdays*
Compiled by Ambrosia
March
-----
Silk..................................March 1st
Wish..................................March 3rd
Aegis.................................March 6th
Zipper................................March 9th
Alamar................................March 10th
Marat.................................March 16th
Malad.................................March 25th
Cult..................................March 28th
* There are a *Lot* of names to be added to the list. Send birthdays
as well as your character name to Ambrosia via a note in Farside or
internet e-mail at Ambrosia@escape.com
------------------------------------------------------------------------
*
* News *
*
Lone reached the ranks of hero shortly after the last issue. Congrats,
Lone! Lone wanted to thank the following people for their help: Kariya,
Adso, Chops, Marmot, Dazed, and Lax.
Draeger became a hero when he won the "Future of Farside" contest.
Congrats, Draeger! He wanted to thank for following people for their
help: Johnus, Zaknafein, Lurch, Chops Marat, Diamante, Balthazar, Samson,
Maverick, Mega, and Dazed.
Chops left mortal life and ascended into the ranks of the gods.
Congratulations, Chops, and welcome!
Hustler finally joined the ranks of heroes. He couldn't have done it
without help from the following people: Lurch, Lone, Chops, Balthazar,
Dazed, and Reflection. Congrats Hustler!
Wish, Leorick, and Fuzzy also heroed around the same time Hustler did.
Congrats, guys, and good luck in gaining levels!
Ryu married Flute shortly after Darkyn wed Tiamat. Good luck with your
marriages, and try not to die too quickly Darkyn. :)
Kylara joined the increasing ranks of women heroes! She wanted to thank
Hustler, Lurch, Chops, Rackhir, Fuzzy, Beauford, and Marmot for helping
her get there. Congrats, Kylara!
Shelby heroed shortly before this issue went to press. Congrats Shelby,
and good luck!
------------------------------------------------------------------------
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Þ þ Exec-PC BBS is the largest LAN and microcomputer based BBS in the world! Ý
Þ þ 280+ dedicated phone lines - NO busy signals - 24-Hour access Ý
Þ þ Over 650,000 files and programs - DOS, Windows, OS/2, Mac, Unix, Amiga Ý
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ÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ
Computer Software Reviews
Copyright (c) 1995, Louis Turbeville
All rights reserved
Green Explorer
Requires: Windows 3.1
Commercial Program - List Price: $59.95
MicroBase Publishing, Inc.
(800)897-3637
If there is something you wanted to know about recycling, but were afraid to
ask, then this is a program you definitely want to check out. This program
will teach you most of what you will need to know about recycling and what you
can do to help preserve our environment.
There is no fancy video or stunning audio, but this program is loaded with
useful information that can be found and read in a easy manner. The
information is concise, yet accurate and informative.
There are two sections of this program in which everyone will find some useful
information. The first area is the house tour. In this section you are given
a display of a house with which you can travel from room to room. In each room
there is information on how to make that room a little more environmentally
sound. Every room in the house is covered, from the kitchen to the bathroom
to the home office. You will learn what components of your house are not very
'green' and what you can do to improve the situation.
The second area of interest is called the Projects section. In this section
there are numerous educational projects that make the environment a little
safer. All of these projects can be done around the home; and a couple of
these projects would be a great group or classroom project. There is a project
here for everyone above the age of six. The projects in this section are just
a few of the many great ideas for environmental protection that exit throughout
the program.
The other areas of the program include:
- a Multiple Choice Quiz Section to test your environmental knowledge.
- a History Overview Section; this gives some background information on why
recycling is important and some of the major developments concerning recycling
and the green way of thinking.
- an Address Base Section that provides contact information on various
companies and groups that are involved in the recycling movement, from
companies that use recycled products in their manufacturing process to
publications that cover environmental issues.
- an Index to asist you in quickly finding information on a topic of interest
to you.
The only real drawback I had was the price. Sixty dollars seems a little
pricy for a program that gives you the same information you could get in a
book for half that price. However, the volumes of information are easily
accessable.
If you are interested in learning about recycling and ways you can make a
difference, than this program is worth a look. MicroBase has a reputation for
making its products easy to use and loaded with information, and this program
is vintage Microbase.
Software Review
Copyright (c) 1995, L. Shawn Aiken
All Rights Reserved
Software Review:
NeoBook and NeoBook Professional
Reviewed by
L. Shawn Aiken
For some years now I've been looking for a good way to present text and
graphics files. I've seen some programs that do this, some quite
expensive ones, in fact, but they never quite did what I wanted. But
then I picked up NeoBook Professional.
NeoSoft touts NeoBook as "The latest in state-of-the-art electronic
publishing." I may not know state-of-the-art, but I know what I like.
With this program one can create interactive multimedia presentations,
such as books, newsletters, magazines, or just about any type of
publication you can imagine, spiced up with graphics, buttons, and even
sound.
For those of you familiar with NeoSoft's DOS graphics program NeoPaint,
NeoBook Professional will look familiar. It has the same easy to use
feel. No strange new language to learn, just point and click with the
mouse. NeoBook works on pages. A page can have a number of things on
it, and be in just about any graphics mode, up to SVGA 1024x768
resolution.
After picking the resolution, you can put scrolling windows anywhere on
the page that display text files, captions, buttons that do a variety of
function, simple stand alone graphics, and display a .gif or .pcx file.
The buttons are one of the really neat things about NeoBook. Buttons
can be any size, shape or color and be put anywhere on the page.
They can be assigned many different functions, such as turning to
another page, displaying text balloons or files in a variety of fonts,
displaying graphics, and playing sounds on the PC speaker. Buttons or
even playing high quality sound files. The main difference between
NeoBook and NeoBook Professional is the extra sound abilities.
There are many more button functions, and the functions can be combined
in each button to create beeps, delays, play music and play FLC or FLI
animation files. There is even a DOSCommand function that allows you to
operate an external program from within the book.
With NeoBook you can make a very visually stunning publication and
easily see run it from the editor. You can also go into other editors
to edit or create text, sound, and graphics files without having to exit
the program.
And there are still more little gadgets and tools, such as one of the
button functions being allowing one to print a prepared file (such as an
order form). But all of that is icing on the cake compared to when you
compile your book. Even on my somewhat archaic 386, with the punch of a
button NeoBook Professional compiles a 600K program in less than a
minute. And the finished product is a stand alone .exe file, ready to
be shipped off by disk or modem.
There are a few problems with the program. My big irk is a floating
menu that hangs around the screen constantly. You have to get at the
menu to get at the functions, and it makes them really easy to access,
but the gol dern thing just sits there and I have as yet found a way to
close it or minimize it. It gets in the way of working on the
publication, especially if you are dealing with something that fills a
large portion of the screen.
Another is the size of the finished programs. The run module is some
200K, and if you put a good deal of graphics in, you can get HUGE files.
If you are planning to make a photo album, don't expect a 3.5" disk to
handle it. NeoBook compiled programs do, however, compress well with
Pkzip.
Overwhelmingly, NeoBook Professional is the best program I have seen for
creating publications with text and graphics. It's so easy to use that
I created a publication two hours after I unzipped it, without reading
the manual. And it's abilities are so impressive that Joe DeRouen, the
publisher of Sunlight Through the Shadows, and I, the Assistant Editor,
have started to use it to publish our our NeoBook version of the
magazine.
NeoBook and NeoBook Professional ar shareware and available for download
on many local bbses. To order them, or for information, call NeoSoft at
(503) 389-5489.
Book Review
Copyright (c) 1995, Tommy Van Hook
All rights reserved
Red Dwarf: Better Than Life by Grant-Naylor
Penguin Books, Copyright 1990
ISBN 0-451-45231-3
Pages: 302
This is the second book in the Red Dwarf series, and by far by the most
bizarre. But then, what do you expect from the former head writers of
"The Spitting Image"?
Once again, we join the characters of Dave Lister (the last living
human), Arnold Rimmer (the insecure hologram of one of Lister's former
crewmates), Kryten (the ultra-clean, ultra-weird Robot), The Cat (an
erect species of feline), and Holly (the schizophrenic ship's computer)
for some of the zaniest misadventures from this side of the galaxy. But
wait! Just before you thought that you had had enough, Grant-Naylor add
another character into the mix: Talkie Toaster. This one character is
the most ridiculous creation they have devised yet, which makes it one
of the best ever.
While the writing style is kept simple, the gags come at a mile per
minute. If you are looking for good, simple, yet strange entertainment,
then look no further. You've found it in the universe of Red Dwarf.
Grade: A-
Book Review
Copyright (c) 1995, Tommy Van Hook
All rights reserved
Elvendude by Mark Shepherd
Baen Books, Copyright 1994
ISBN 0-671-87630-9
Pages: 312
Mark Shepherd is probably best known as being the secretary for Fantasy
writer Mercedes Lackey. With this book, he should break out of that
shadow and start to prove what he's really worth as a solo writer.
"Elvendude" is set in Dallas, Texas, which brought some really good
visual feeling on my part (especially since I live very near some of the
areas that he describes and uses for background in this novel). The
Elvish aspect of the book is handled very well, even better than the
manner that Mercedes Lackey handles it in her books. Mr. Shepherd
carries this genre way beyond the realm of a Fantasy setting. He almost
makes you feel like you are a part of the story. The drug aspects of
the novel are very well depicted, sometimes with frightening detail.
In short, this is an excellent novel, that is not being very well
promoted by Baen Books. It's a shame too, since it has the possibility
of outselling anything that Mercedes Lackey has put out.
Grade: A+
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...and more coming!
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ÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ
The Sapphire Affair: Part One
Copyright (c) 1994, L. Shawn Aiken
All Rights Reserved
The Sapphire Affair: Part One
by L. Shawn Aiken
A muffled slap resounded from the creature's furry cheek. Adriana
snatched the golden brush from it's slender fingers and dug out several
curly red strands.
"Look! Look what you have done, you awful thing!" she dangled hair
in front of the lithe creature's noseless face. An infinite amount of
Adrianas repeated the action in the mirrors surrounding them in her dressing
room. Unnoticed, a black face emerged from behind the door, its eyes darting
about to focus in on the real woman.
"I do apologize, Miss Adriana," the tiny voice said as it's huge
golden pupils turned a hazy blue.
"What's going on?" the baron walked in and casually stepped between
the lady and her servant. Adriana's cheeks were flushed and she was still
breathing hard. He looked at the hair in her clenched fist and smirked.
"Oh . . ." her eyes darted away from his and she looked at her own
reflection. "You know what is wrong. *He* is coming."
Baron Mauswa's teeth flickered in a brief grin. "You could have
told Lord Breakman 'no'."
Adriana fidgeted in her chair. "'Johnni' Breakman doesn't deserve
that title. He's a self-centered, egotistical, boorish, troll-faced buffoon.
And he's coming here, *here*, of all places." She threw the brush at the
mirror, but it bounced of the high density polymer.
Another grin flashed on the baron's dark face. "I'm glad I'm not
your cousin - just your lowly husband."
A sorrowful scream echoed from the hall into their ears. Adriana
huffed.
"The wretch is at it again. She won't shut up." she said.
"Perhaps I should go see if she is all right."
"No," Adriana shook her head. "Ignore her. We must go over the
plans for the ball tonight."
Baron Mauswa sighed and looked down at the orange furred, floppy
eared servant. "Goolatoo, please go see to Lady Doogail. Try to console
her. I'll try to console the red haired one who has little real to complain
about."
* * *
The wind played about in Johnni's long golden hair as he looked out
over the immaculate grounds bursting with red and yellow flowers. Their
sweet scent mingled in his nose and brought a smile to his perfectly
chiseled featured. The afternoon son glinted off of his teeth.
"This is great," he said to Davies, who was struggling to get the
luggage out of the limousine, "Finally, a little rest and relaxation."
"Yes sir," the portly man grunted. "And don't forget tomorrow is
the meeting."
"Ah yes," Johnni's steel blue eyes drifted to the cacophonous
mansion. "That would be Thursday?"
"Today is Tuesday, sir." Davies' pot-marked face frowned. With the
heap of luggage extricated from the trunk, he tapped the car on the back and
it speed off down the circular driveway. He turned and noticed a gayly
dressed figure coming from the building.
"Ah yes." Johnni nodded absent-mindedly. The mansion was a
horrendous sight. Strange spires sticking up in a random fashion from a
lumpy structure that seemed to be designed after the shape of cow dung.
Atop the spires were gargantuan rainbow colored wheels that spun in the wind.
"Greeting to Hwaht Toogahkee, Lord Breakman," the black man in the
bright yellow robe bounded down the cobblestone walkway and began pumping
Johnni's hand. "It means 'House of the Creaky Knees' in Eshlu. I'm
terribly happy to see you."
"Eshlu?" Johnni looked at the strange man, not sure what to think
of him. He was far shorter than Johnni's two meters, but he seemed to look
Johnni in the eye.
"The little furry people. They're all over the place. Good
workers. They built the house a few hundred years ago. Of course it's
been refurbished. Ceilings too small, you see. Had to knock out some
floors."
"And you are?" Johnni asked.
"Why, I'm Baron Gebal Mauswa," he shook Johnni's hand again. "Your
cousin's husband. Might I say how pleased I am to meet you?"
"Well hello," Johnni smiled, shaking the baron's hand again, who
seemed reluctant to let it go. "How is old Stinky-Drawers?"
"Stinky-Drawers?" the baron cocked his head.
"Childhood name. To get the wind up her."
"Was it indeed," the Baron's eyes widened and his grin expanded
until he looked like a gibbous moon on a dark night.
Johnni glanced to Davies, who seemed to be swaying under the weight
of the luggage. "We didn't expect to see you until we were inside."
"I just had to come to meet you as soon as possible. Adriana has
been climbing the walls ever since your grandfather told us you were coming.
She hates you, you know."
The sun's light stopped reflecting off of Johnni's teeth as hi
s smile collapsed. "I thought surely ten years was enough time for her to
forgive and forget."
The baron began pumping Johnni's arm again. "Might I again say how
pleased I am to see you?" He put his arm around Johnni and led him up the
walkway. "So tell me what Adriana was like as a child. Was she fat? Did
she have any diseases?"
* * *
Davies opened the window, letting the sunlight shine on his cratered
face and into the rest of the room. Miles and miles of hedges blooming with
yellow and red flowers could be observed, and in the distance a thin blue
ribbon of river. He allowed himself a brief smile and then steeled himself
before turning back to view Johnni and the baron.
"This will be your room," the baron's arm swept over the spacious
apartment. "You man-servant's quarters are adjoining." Johnni looked
around and nodded with a smile.
The baron grabbed his hand and pumped it again. "I must be off.
The old ball and chain wants me to help prepare for the ball. Oh, I forgot
to tell you, we are having a ball tonight. Informal. A few hundred guests.
I must be off. I'll sent a servant to see to your needs." And with that
the only thing left of the baron was the after image of his yellow robes
burnt into Johnni's retina.
"I do say," Johnni looked at Davies as the door slammed shut. "What
an energetic fellow."
"Yes sir," Davies muttered and went to the luggage. "I wished they
would have warned us before we arrived on this planet that there would be a
ball. I'm not sure you have anything to wear."
Johnni waved the thought off with his hand. "I'm sure my uniform
will do. One look at that, and the girls will be wobbling at the knees."
"Indeed," Davies replied. The door opened, and a small furry Eshlu
walked in carrying a vase full of flowers.
"Pardons, my lords," it curtseyed, "I am Goolatoo and will be
serving your needs for your stay." Goolatoo curtseyed again and placed the
flowers on a desk. "Can I get you anything?"
Davies grabbed the flowers and crammed them back in Goolatoo's
hands. "We will have no need of mutilated flowers in here when there are
live ones outside." The creature's golden eyes shifted to blue and it
looked at the floor. What might have been a sniff sounded from it's nose
holes.
"Krike, Davies," Johnni walked up to them and knelt before the
Eshlu. "Davies can be a bit gruff about killing flowers sometimes," he told
it. "No need to be sad. A pretty young girl like you shouldn't be all
upset now."
"I'm not a girl," Goolatoo said, sniffing again.
"Oh, well, a butch young boy like you shouldn't get all upset
over . . ."
"I'm not a boy," it said.
"Oh dear. Did you have an accident and something come off?"
"We are hermaphrodites. I have both a penis and a vagina."
Johnni's face went red and his bolted up. "Er, well, I, er . . ."
* * *
As the baron collected Johnni to see Adriana, Davies once again
reminded him of his meeting to following day. Johnni nodded vigorously and
tilted his head as the sobbing reached his ears.
"Who is that?" he asked the baron as they walked down a tall towards
a twisting staircase.
Baron Mauswa's face dimmed. "That is Lady Doogail. She used to be
a neighbor. A dreadful thing. Her father has disappeared. She'll be at
the ball tonight."
"Can anything be done for her?" Johnni asked.
"Hopefully the ball will lift her spirits," he said as they walked
down the staircase. This lead them to a grand ball room filled with drink
stands and flowers and well-attired servants dashing about. In the center
of the maelstrom stood Adriana, her arms pointing this way and that, barking
single word orders.
She slowly turned and looked up at Johnni, her fiery hair piled on
top of her head and her green eyes given added force by her blue dress. The
red slash beneath her mouth smirked.
"How pleased I am to see you," she reached out and hugged him. "I
trust you are doing well?"
"Yes, just peachy," he hugged her back, then stepped away. "And
you?"
"Just fine. I do hope you are okay. We heard so little about you
during the war, didn't we, darling? We waited with baited breath until you
were released from that mental hospital."
"Uh, it wasn't really a mental hospital. Not a hospital at all,
really. I was just under observation."
"Oh and we worried so when Uncle Breakman had to intervene and break
all of those rules to rescue you from those doctors with their nasty
machines." Her eyes glimmered.
"Really, it was nothing. You know father blows everything out of
proportion." Johnni gulped, a sinking feeling in his guts.
The baron grabbed him by the arm. "Come, Johnni. Let's not bother
Adriana just now. She has a good deal of work to do. Don't you,
Stinky-Drawers?"
Adriana clutched her chest and inhaled noisily. "What?" she
coughed, eyes bulging.
"Stee-in-key-Draw-wus," the baron slowly sounded out with a grin.
She hit him with a piercing look that made him instinctively rub his neck.
"Nonsense." she said through gritted teeth. "I'd love to help show
our dear Johnni around your collection. Shall we start with the rings?"
"I suppose so." the baron replied.
They made their way through several garish hallways, filled with a
virtually random array of very expensive, if somewhat tasteless, object
d'art. Then they came to one wing cram-packed with well lit display cases.
"This is my ring collection," Baron Mauswa smiled as he patted one
of the cases. "There are rings here from every culture and race that have
an appendage to put one on."
"Most impressive," Johnni nodded, strolling before them with his
hands behind his back.
"But not impressive as my only part of the collection," Adriana
motioned to one of the cases. "Come." Johnni walked to it. A single ring
sat in the case. It was cut from pure diamond and engraved with a platinum
inscription on what would have been the gem-front.
"Can I touch it?" Johnni asked with a wide smile on his face. The
baron looked at him curiously and lifted the lid.
"It's just her great-grandfather's old ring." the baron shrugged.
Johnni picked it up and stroked it.
"And it's mine, mine, mine," Adriana crossed her arms with a smug
expression on her face. "Great-grandfather left it to me. Only me. No one
else."
"He was my great grandfather too," Johnni muttered, still gazing at
the ring.
"What's so special about it?" The baron looked at it with renewed
interest. "It certainly can't be all that expensive."
Johnni glanced up from the ring, the light from the case shining
under his face. "The Emperor gave him this ring after great grandfather
foiled a coup attempt. He was also awarded the Duchy of Mellfield. Its
because of him that we are all titled nobility. He was the founder of the
house. A brave man."
"Yes," Adriana nodded. "And it's mine."
Johnni looked at her. "May I wear it tonight? It'd be awfully nice
of you."
"No, you may not," the crimson gash under her nose widened. "Most
certainly not."
"But it'd be awfully nice," Johnni pleaded.
"Come on," the Baron suddenly smiled. "Let him wear it. For
tonight only. Just this once. It would mean so much to old Johnni here."
*Exactly* Adriana's eyes said. "Sorry, Johnni. It's not insured
for that. I can't allow it. I've got to thing of great grandfather."
"Dear," the Baron's tone changed.
She stared at him with a twinkle in her eye.
"Dear, let Johnni wear the ring."
She continued to stare.
"Let him wear the ring this instant!"
"How dare you raise your voice to me!" she bellowed, turning white.
"I shall and I will! Let Johnni wear the ring!"
Johnni's eyes widened. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to . . ."
"No." she smiled and looked at the wall.
"I'll cut off your allowance!"
"No." she began to sway back in forth, singing 'no' softly.
"I'll revoke your traveling privileges!"
"No. No. No," she sang.
"Must I bring up ELSBURY!"
She stopped.
He stared at her.
She stared at him.
She threw her scarf to the floor.
"Very well, Johnni," she turned to her cousin. "You may wear the
ring tonight."
* * *
Johnni wasn't sure what to tell Davies when he asked how things when
with his cousin. Luckily, Davies wasn't listening to his reply. He was to
busy trying to make his white dress uniform look presentable.
"I think I should wear the gold cuff-links grandfather bought me,"
Johnni said while inspecting himself in front of the full length mirror.
"Sir, those are not military code. If there are any military
personnel at the ball, they will notice," Davies drug a comb through
Johnni's hair.
"Krike, Davies, no one is going to be wanting to discuss things like
that tonight."
* * *
The ball was going particularly well. Plenty of young women had
ganged up to coo and fawn over him. For some reason, Adriana kept on
pulling him away to meet other people. Much older people. Ancient, grumpy
men and women. But finally the dried up people seemed to have run out.
"And this is Mr. Henry Clypse and his wife Pricilla," Adriana
introduced them. Mr. Clypse was a few fingers taller than Johnni, had an
expensive suit on, but was strangely not of noble blood. His wife was
wearing a diamond tiara, however. Not that it meant much. "Mr. Clypse
owns the Clypse Bank and Trust."
"And what do you do," Mr. Clypse asked after shaking his hand. He
seemed not to be looking at him; rather, he was looking over the top of his
head as if scanning the party-goes behind him.
"Well, I tour," Johnni nodded, trying to peek around to see what he
was looking at.
"Tour? What are you, some sort of artist? A lay-about musician,
perhaps?"
"Oh I love musicians," Mrs. Clypse winked at him. A chill went up
and down Johnni's spine.
"Uh, no, I just tour and look about," Johnni averted his eyes away
from Mrs. Clypse, who was licking her lips in a strange manner.
"A tourist? You get paid for that?" Mr. Clypse said disdainfully.
"Oh," Johnni shook his head, "No, I actually do things. I inspect.
For my grandfather. Inspect things of his. Look at them. And tell him.
About the things. That he owns."
"My word," Mr. Clypse rubbed his chin. "I'm expecting one of your
grandfather's inspectors tomorrow. He owns half of the Pweeth Power Plant
downtown. My bank owns the other half of it."
Johnni nodded slowly, then a gear clicked. "I think that's the
place I am supposed to see. Yes, I am. Thursday."
"I was told the inspection was to be tomorrow," Mr. Clypse' eyebrow
lifted. Then eyes focused in the distance as if he had spotted something.
"You are probably right," Johnni nodded, trying to mentally figure
when exactly his appointment was.
Adriana laughed at his side, "Johnni never was good with figures.
Or names. Or even remembering how to breath." Suddenly Mr. Clypse began to
drift away.
"If you'll excuse me," he said. "I must be off. Money doesn't grow
in idle chatter."
His wife watched with a stern expression as Mr. Clypse disappeared
into the crowd, then followed after him.
"Those aren't military issue, are they, boy," a grey-mustached man
in the bright red battle coat motioned to Johnni's arm with his drink.
"Uh, no," Johnni held up his arm to get a better look at the
swirling gold dragons now attached to his arm for the duration of the night.
The old man's uniform told that he was, or had been, a general.
"Lord Ritt Johnni Breakman," Adriana smiled, sipping from her wine
glass, "You must meet Lord Ritt Andrucletious Puphinston and Lady
Cruenellette."
Lord Puphinston looked like the perfect picture of a modern major
general. Lady Cruenelltte, however, looked like a cannonball with arms and
legs, wearing a conch shell for a dress.
"A Ritt, are you boy?" the old man eyed him with what appeared to be
his only good one, "So you earned that in combat?"
"Well, for doing my job," Johnni nodded slowly.
Adriana tittered. "Our dear Johnni was in the Kartikan Conflict."
"I feel sorry for you, boy," Puphinston downed his glass of brandy.
Johnni glanced at the floor and began to rub his cuff links. "What
battalion were you in."
"Several. Here and there. Most of the time in the 1st Rescue
Battalion."
"Rescue?" Puphinston shook his head. "Not a very honorable
position."
"Come now," Lady Puphinston piped up, "let's not talk of such boring
things. Let's talk about current events. I know, the scandal!"
"Cruenellette," Puphinston turned to his wife. "If we are going to
talk about something different, I'd rather talk about the boat racing at the
marina."
"Scandal?" Adriana asked. "What scandal?"
Johnni sighed and watched the woman's lips move. They flapped about
as if some strange marine creature was trying to invent locomotion. His
eyes drifted further about. There was Baron Mauswa dancing, flailing his
yellow sheathed arms about, looking like a bird. Near the door was a short
necked man who looked like a tortoise. They all seemed like clouds somehow.
Across the room he spotted the very tall Mr. Clypse. His back was
to Johnni. The man was talking to someone, hands shaking a bit. Was he
angry? Who was he talking to? Johnni stealthily rose to his tiptoes. The
other party came into view.
It was a woman. Young. Blonde. Pretty. Blue eyes downcast.
Definitely *not* his wife. They were both away from the main crowd in a
darkened corner.
"Adriana?" Johnni interrupted. "Who is that woman over there?"
Adriana stared at him angrily, finished her sentence, then stood up
on tiptoes and peered over.
"Oh, that's our dreadful guest Sapphy. Quite a bore. Anyway," she
turned back to Lady Puphinston, "I don't see anything wrong with it."
Mrs. Puphinston shook her head violently. "Andru dear, tell her.
Explain." She jabbed him in the ribs with her pudgy elbow.
He cleared his throat and his eyes gave off a far away look, as if
he was speaking to an audience. "Illegal indenture strikes at the heart of
what has stitched our civilization together for these three centuries.
Without rules on who may and may not be enslaved, why, might not you or I be
subject to these illegal acts?"
Adriana laughed. "Well, I'm not likely to be frequenting seedy bars
on the waterfront."
"Want to bet," the baron suddenly stuck his dark face between
Adriana and Johnni. "What are we talking about." Adriana stared hatefully
at him.
"We are talking about that cargo ship full of illegal indenturees
confiscated a month ago up in orbit," the rotund Mrs. Puphinston said.
"They said they were all pressed into service while inebriated in bars along
the waterfront.
Johnni cleared his throat. "I don't think anyone should be
indentured, illegal or legally."
"Quite right," the baron put his arm around Johnni's shoulders.
"All of this slavery leaves a bad taste in my mouth. It should all be
banned."
"But Johnni," Adriana's eyes flickered, "Isn't your servant Davies
indentured. In fact, hasn't his family been indentured for the last three
generations?"
"Well yes," Johnni jammed his finger in his collar in an attempt to
loosen it. "But I don't hold the indenture papers. Grandfather does.
Davies is simply working off something his grandfather broke or stole or
something."
"But boy," Lord Puphinston shook his head. "That's what an
indenture is. A person, or family, or multiple generations working off past
debts. Surely you must see that it's necessary. Why, we can't go back to
the way it was. People getting out of their debts by declaring bankruptcy?
That's stealing!"
Baron Mauswa shook his black fist at Puphinston, "But how many
countless planets have we fought war with, then doomed them to eternal
indenture to pay off their so-called war crimes debt?"
Lord Puphinston smiled, "How many indentures do you have working
for you?"
"Well," the baron crossed his arms. "I have to work from within the
system. With what free servants charge I can only afford a handful of them.
The rest I *have* to make up with indentured servants. I couldn't run this
house, my other estates, or my businesses without them!"
As the volume level raised, Johnni carefully snuck out of the throng
that was growing around them. Politics was a terribly dull subject that
often brought out the worst and loudest in people.
But there was something interesting about. Adriana had said her
name. What was it? Her sobs had been echoing through the halls earlier.
Something about her father. Johnni knew he could help. He was trained to
help.
He stood up on tip toes and looked where she had been. She wasn't
there any more. That corner had been vacated of people. Mr. Clypse was
gone as well. Perhaps they had gone somewhere?
Johnni made his way through the empty hors d'oeuvres tables. It was
like a pack of mad scavenger had hit them. Bits of trodden on food littered
the floor. Broken wine glasses. The crowd had moved on. Johnni looked
around to find them.
There was a large cluster of people nearer the kitchens. The
servants had put out more food there. Johnni stood on tip-toe. Aha.
Mr. Clypse was standing there, waving his arms about. He was
talking to someone shorter than he who was also waving their arms about.
Johnni made his way closer. He gulped. It was the wife. The one who had
given him that funny look. Johnni turned around and walked as fast as he
could away.
But where was the girl? Maybe she had left. Johnni sighed and
began to wander about, eventually lighting on a sofa in the corner. No one
was here to bother him. He sat his empty glass on a coffee table and leaned
back.
A blonde woman in a diaphanous gown sat next to him. Johnni looked
at her. It was the woman!
"Hello there," he smiled at her, "You must be . . ."
"Lady Sapphire Doogail, but everyone calls me Sapphy. You are Lord
Breakman?" she smiled, but it seemed to be empty of warmth.
"Call me Johnni," he stood up and shook her hand. "How are you.
I've heard that there has been some trouble."
Her eyes darted around. "What trouble?"
"Your father. The baron told me," he sat down again.
"Oh," she sighed. "I . . ."
"I see the two most useless people here have met," Adriana's voice
waffed from behind.
"Hello Baroness," Sapphy around looked glumly at her. "Your ball is
magnificent, as usual."
Adriana walked around the and sat on the sofa across from them.
"You and your proletariat behavior caused quite a stir back there."
"Me?" Johnni asked.
"All that talk of freeing the indentured servants. You didn't put
much thought in it before you said it. But then again, you were always like
that. You'll find that out about him, Sapphy. He's awfully stupid."
Sapphy looked at Adriana, then looked to Johnni.
"What's this all about, 'Driana?" Johnni asked. "We haven't seen
each other for ten years, and you have been acting . . ."
"It's just a little time, Johnni. Do you think that time alone can
change anything. Do you think just the movement of a watch can make thing
s different?" Adriana stood up.
"Well, I . . ."
"Ask good old Bertha if time makes anything better," she said with a
grin and a glimmer and glided away.
Sapphy watched her go. "What was that about?" She turned to
Johnni. "Why . . . are you crying?"
"No, no," Johnni sat up from his hunched over position and blinked
his eyes several times. "It was the smoke from her cigarette."
"But she wasn't smoking."
"I . . ."
"Oh, I hate that wicked woman," Sapphy sniffed. Then with a sob she
leapt up and ran through a side door.
"Sapphy . . ." Johnni quickly wiped his eyes and ran after her. The
hallway beyond the door was long and had several doors. He stopped. One
was closing. He ran to it.
"Sapphy?" he said as he walked in. It was a small, dim drawing room
with a divan and a fireplace. She was laying on the rug before it sobbing.
"What's the matter?" he asked, kneeling next to her. Sapphy's dress
splayed out on the floor like a ruffled bedspread. "Is it about your
father?"
She sobbed louder. Her head was moving. Perhaps that was an
affirmative. Johnni carefully touched her shoulder.
"Oh Johnni!" she threw her arms around his neck and sobbed. He
could feel wetness seeping through the fabric on his shoulder. Johnni's
hands were outstretched. He didn't know quite what to do with them.
"What has happened to your father?" he asked. She clutched him
tighter. He tentatively began stroking her golden hair. It was much like
his.
"He's been kidnapped," she wailed with her face deep in his
shoulder.
"By thunder!" he jumped to his feet, his fists clenched. Sapphy
fell to the floor. "I'll thrash the fiend who has done this! What do the
police have to say?"
"The police don't know," she wailed from his feet. His eyes widened
and he grabbed the phone from the table. Sapphy shrieked.
"No! You mustn't! He said if the police were told, he would kill
my father!"
"Who? Who said that?"
"A man named Whiskers," she cried.
"Ooh, sounds like a nasty, hairy man who picks at his and other
people's scabs," Johnni shivered. "What does he want?"
"A ton of cash, which I don't have!" she sniffed.
"Hold on," Johnni jabbed his finger at buttons on the phone.
"Davies. Sorry. How much money do I have. What? Really? Oh dear. Are
you sure? Positive? Krike." He set down the phone and knelt next to her.
"It appears I'm tapped out. But, by thunder, I vow to you that I will not
let this crime go unpunished."
"You'll help?" she looked up at him with her big, blue eyes.
"On my honor," he leapt up again, fist clenched and chin out.
"Where is your father?"
* * *
It was a dank and nasty street corner. Cardboard huts lined the
sidewalk, illuminated by lewd holographic advertisements showing loose women
doing loose thing. Johnni also caught the whiff of his incontinent
grandmother, but was sure that she would not be in the vicinity.
Sapphy had no idea where her father was. Or the Whiskers fellow.
Apparently he had left a message for her at her net address.
"The Friggin Fat Fish Bar and All Night Orgy Palace," read the
flashing sign above his head. Yes, this looked like the place. Johnni was
certain that he could find the Whiskers fellow here. Or somewhere nearby.
Perhaps. Maybe he could find information. Scummy people frequented scummy
places, and this Whisker person sounded very scummy indeed. He opened the
door to hoots and hollers.
Smoke clogged his eyes. Eventually they adjusted to the dim light.
There was raised boxing ring in the center of the dark room. Two scantily
clad women were doing something in the ring. Johnni couldn't understand
what they were doing, but it looked like they were giving each other a
massage. Grimy men in grimy suits were shouting things at them. Yes.
These were the types of characters that could aid him.
Sapphy had know little about what had happened to her father. Unti
l recently, her father, Lord Doogail, had owned the estate next door. Ten
kilometers next door, Sapphy had explained. She had grown up there. A
dismal place, she described, sitting smack dab on a rotting swamp. Her
father had run aground financially, and the bank foreclosed on the estate.
Shortly thereafter, her father disappeared. Now this Whiskers fellow was
threatening to kill him on Friday. Or was it Thursday?
He walked closer to the ring, having to push by several people. At
closer inspection, the women where not giving each other a massage. The one
with the out of proportion upper feminine region had the smaller bosomed one
by the hair and was punching her in the face. Johnni's eyes widened and he
shoved through the crowd and leapt up in the ring.
"Shame on you!" he batted the woman's hand that held the hair.
"Stop that this instant."
Both women stared at him with jaws agape. There were a few
indecipherable shouts from the audience.
"Whatever she did to you, it's not enough to fight over. And in
public, of all places," Johnni shook his head disparagingly.
The women looked at him, looked at each other, and did a combination
karate kick in Johnni's important place and he collapsed on the canvas. The
crowd cheered.
Johnni struggled up. One of the woman kicked him in the face and he
flew back. The big breasted one leapt on him.
"Give it to him, Helga!" came a cry from the audience.
Johnni struggled as a giant breast covered his face, suffocating
him. She gave him repeatedly blows about the ears. He struggled to get her
off, but only managed to get on top of her. Her arms flapped. He grabbed
them, yanked off her bikini top, and tied them behind her back.
"I must apologize for this . . ." he muttered as the other one leapt
on top of him. The audience was howling in laughter. She punched him in
the kidneys.
"Please, miss," he cried and crawled about the ring with her on his
back. She grabbed his hair and yanked. He reared up and bucked her off,
loosing two handfuls of hair. With a scream she flew into the audience.
"Krike," he muttered and stood up. Everything had gone silent. The
audience was staring at him.
"Good," he dusted his white uniform off. "May I have your
attention. I am looking for a most despicable person who calls himself
Whiskers. I have a score to settle with him. Do any of you know where I
might find him?"
The audience responded with laughter. A short man pulled himself up
on the canvas and pointed a stubby finger at Johnni.
"How dare you interrupt my fight!" spittle flew from his mouth.
"Nibor, remove this idiot from the premises." Johnni blinked as another man
came up on the ring. A big man. He removed his shirt. Muscles leapt out
in all directions. He began circling Johnni, waving his fists about.
"I have no fight with you," Johnni said, and received a belt in the
jaw. Johnni sighed and hunkered down, circling Nibor with his fists out.
"This isn't really necessary," Johnni dodged a punch. Nibor's eyes
widened and he gave Johnni a strong left to the jaw. Johnni's mouth filled
with blood, but he didn't quite know where to spit it.
Nibor punched again, this time in the gut. Bloody spittle
splattered his face.
"So sorry," Johnni apologized. Nibor's face turned redder that the
blood covering it and charged. Johnni gave him an uppercut to the chin.
Nibor collapsed. He lifted his head, then fell back.
"I do apologize," Johnni turned back to the crowd. "I just want to
know of a man named Whiskers. If anybody can tell me . . . "
The little short man was jumping up and down. "God damn bastard!
Nibor, you are fired! Mooga, take this upper class fairy out of here!"
An entity came up on the ring. It was short, covered with golden
fur, and had great big ears. Johnni squinted at it.
"My word, you are one of those Eshlu creatures." Mooga did not
respond. It set it's feet in a peculiar manner and began circling.
"You know," Johnni knelt down to look it in the eye. "You might
want to leave before you get hurt. I'd hate to have to hit you."
Mooga's tiny fist shot out like lightning and impacted on Johnni's
chest. There was a crack.
"Krike," Johnni said as the air rushed out of him. Mooga struck
again, this time in the solar plexus. Johnni doubled over.
"I don't think . . ." Mooga kicked him in the back of the head.
Johnni saw pretty little stars, then darkness.
* * *
Johnni's eyes peeled open and slowly focused in on the glowplate
above him. It flickered. His head throbbed. His back ached.
He peeled himself up from the cold, aluminium floor. There were
bars before him. Strong, tough, unyielding. Johnni yanked at them to no
avail.
The cell was like a coffin, with barely enough room for him to sit
up. A dark hallway was beyond the bars, and he seemed to be at least a
meter or two above the hall floor.
"Krike," he muttered. The tiny room wasn't even fit for a dog. A
particularly bad dog, in fact, who had become attached to a new
acquaintance's leg. He laid back down and rubbed his hand over his face.
Something was missing. Something bad. Johnni tried to recall. His
hand! The ring! His great grandfather's ring which had been given to him
by the Emperor! It was gone. It wasn't on the ring finger. Or the pinkie.
Or even the thumb. What had happened?
Adriana's blistering stare formed in his mind. How was to he
explain. He didn't quite remember where it had gone himself. His stomach
knotted. Then suddenly released. Nothing was amiss. The ring would be on
his other hand, of course.
He slowly brought his other hand into view. Not there. He turned
it around to see the other side. Still not there. Oh dear. Adriana would
have him shot. If, of course, she could find him.
But could he find himself? Where was he? What evil mastermind had
done this to him?
Aha. Whiskers. The fiendish mastermind who had kidnapped poor
Sapphy's father. Obviously, Whiskers had kidnapped Johnni as well. Then
sequestered him beneath the catacombs of his hilltop castle.
All fiendish masterminds had hilltop castles. Well, most. Johnni
had met a few fiendish masterminds that lurked in one bedroom suburban
flats. But this was obviously not in a suburban flat. Well, perhaps it
*was* a suburban flat. Thus the ever so small jail cell slash torture
chamber.
Whatever the case, torture would be the order of the day. So he had
to escape. Johnni knelt up close to the bars and stuck his hands through.
Good. They fit between the openings and would allow him to strangle the
fiendish mastermind's henchmen. Then he would grab the keycard and escape,
rescue the father, and bring him safely back to Sapphy.
Luckily, his appointment wasn't till Thursday. It must have been
Wednesday by now. No time to wander through some enormous power plant for
his grandfather.
Footsteps. A henchman was coming. Johnni tensed up and made his
hands ready to shoot out at the fiend.
The fiend appeared. Johnni's hands shot through the bars. His
fingers dangled in mid-air. The fiend watched him calmly from beyond a
little yellow line on the floor.
"If you would move your blamin' hands, I could open the blamin'
door," he said. Johnni began to suspect something. The fiend was curiously
dressed up just like a police officer. Behind him were Davies and Sapphy.
"So sorry," Johnni drew his hands back in and the police officer
swiped a card across the bars, opening them. Johnni jumped out.
"Sir," Davies shook his head, "I do wish you would confer with me
before venturing out on your own."
"Well you see, Davies, I had a job to do," Johnni said as they
walked down the hall into a room brimming with other policemen, desks,
computers, big ugly thugs, and strangely dressed women.
"Yes, Miss Sapphy has confessed her part in all of this to me,"
Davies glanced at her. Sapphy's head was wrapped up in a scarf and
sunglasses covered her eyes. Johnni couldn't fail to notice that the light
in the room wasn't very bright. "I have arranged your bail. However, you
must appear in court in two weeks."
"For what?" Johnni stopped walking.
"Sir, you are charged with four counts of assault."
"But they started it!"
"Two of them women?"
"Well," Johnni stammered. "Those women did in fact start the entire
mess. If I weren't a gentlemen, I might think of charging them myself. And
anyway, I really only assaulted the one big man. I never touched the tiny
one who knocked me . . ." he glanced at Sapphy. "The small furry person
seemed to get the jump on me."
"I shouldn't wonder," Davies said. "The Eshlu have a highly ferric
bone structure."
"What does that mean?"
"Their bones are made of steel." At the entryway, Davies turned to
Sapphy. "Miss Sapphy, I must again ask you to inform the authorities here
of your circumstances."
Sapphy backed up against the wall, looking from side to side like a
hunted marmoset. "No! They said I mustn't tell anyone. *Anyone,* Davies,
or they'd hurt father."
"Those vicious miscreants," Johnni gnashed his teeth and clenched
his fists. "So you see the problem, Davies. I'm her only hope."
"God help her," Davies muttered.
"Oh, and God too, of course. While the bad guys only have Satan and
his little wizards behind them."
"Indeed, sir." Davies said. "Miss Sapphy, you do realize that if
you do not inform the police, Lord Breakman here will be the only thing
standing between your father and death?"
"Yes," she said, and kissed Johnni on the cheek. "I'm sure that he
will perform spectacularly." Johnni blushed.
"Sapphy," Johnni smiled from ear to ear, "We will do everything in
our power to rescue your father."
"We?" asked Davies.
"We. You and me. We're a team. We've done tremendous feat of
goodness. Who rescued that young girl on the Herikan Bridge?"
"Lord Highwater, sir."
"Oh. Then who bested the evil racketeers on Thobos?"
"The Thobian police, sir."
"Oh. Then who retrieved the Diamond Chandelier of Duke Markosie
with only a few broken bits and cracks?"
"We did, sir, but half of it was destroyed. When you dropped it,
sir."
"There you go," Johnni smiled. "We have done tremendous feats of
goodness together. Let's be off!"
* * *
Johnny changed clothes in back of the limousine with the screen up
to prevent Sapphy from seeing any indecent bits. As he pulled the screen
down, he saw that Sapphy was crouched down in the seat and Davies was
looking out the back.
"They're back," she whined, hands over her face.
"What is up?" Johnni tugged at his freshly starched collar. Davies
loved starch. Gobs of it.
"Sir," Davies turned back around. "When Miss Sapphy and I came to
retrieve you from jail, a black vehicle started following us. I picked up
the phone and dialed the police - then suddenly they vanished. But they
appear to be back again."
Johnni looked back at the traffic. Plenty of cars. Red ones, green
ones, blue ones. Then he saw a black car far behind.
"Shall I inform the police, sir?"
"No. We can't risk the life of Sapphy's father. But I have a plan.
Tell the driver to proceed normally.
"Sir, the driver is proceeding normally."
"Oh, well tell him to continue doing so until we get back home."
They continued
on slightly normally until they ventured out of the
city and drove into Baron Mauswa's grounds. Sapphy was still hunkered down,
and Johnni was watching them with binoculars.
"Davies, both the driver and the passenger appear to be wearing
funny hats. Wide brims," Johnni said.
"Sir, those would be fedoras. And if that is so, they are probably
Marcabian hit men. The most dangerous criminals around."
"Good," Johnni said as they pulled into the driveway and got out.
Sapphy hit behind the other side of the car.
"What was your plan, sir?" Davies asked.
"This," Johnni pulled the driver from the limousine and jumped in
the seat.
"Sir, if you plan on following them, I must remind you that you have
an appointment today at three."
"I thought that was on Wednesday?"
"Today *is* Wednesday, sir. The meeting is at the Pweeth Power
Plant. Starting in Mr. Clypse's office."
"I'll try to be there." Johnni nodded, watching as the black car
turned and sped off from grounds. Suddenly Sapphy pulled a pistol from her
handbag and crammed it in Johnni's hands.
"I can't take this," Johnni handed it back to her.
"But you'll need it," she told him. He shook his head.
"Nonsense. Someone might get hurt!" he slammed the door and floored
the accelerator, sending the seven meter long limousine careening off after
the sleek black sports car.
* * *
Wheels whined and left a long, black streak of polymer on the road
as Johnni skidded onto the wide motorway. The villains were far ahead of
him, somehow besting him through the winding dirt roads on the baron's
estate.
The limousine raced past several trucks. The traffic was getting
thicker. He swerved between two sedans and raced toward the sports car.
Johnni could see the two men in fedoras. One was moving. Climbing
into the back seat. With something long in his hand.
"Speed, speed!" Johnni yelled. "I've go to get closer." But luck
was on his side. The sports car was slowing down.
Suddenly the Marcabian in the back seat began kicking at the rear
window. It popped out, and he stuck the long thing through the hole. It
was a gun.
"Krike!" A stream of pencil-thin laser blasts ricocheted off the
windows. Sensor lights erupted all over the dashboard, indicating that the
limousine's armor was under assault. Obviously the baron had spent a good
deal of cash on the car.
Suddenly the sports car swerved into another lane. The fedoraed
Marcabian hung out of the window, aiming at the tires.
"No!" Johnni yelled, hitting the accelerator and turning the wheel.
The front corner of the behemoth slammed into the sports cars rear end and
the gun flew out of the Marcabians hands, clattering under Johnni's tires.
The lights flashed again. The car was telling him that a foreign
object had punctured and wedged itself into, what it considered, a vital
portion of the vehicle.
"Ooops," Johnni muttered. The sports car accelerated and the
dangling Marcabian dragged himself back inside. It changed several lanes
and raced off the freeway. Johnni followed, spewing dechlorinated water
from behind. The laser weapon had ripped open a hole into the jacuzzi near
the trunk.
They sped along city streets lined with skyscrapers, dodging cabs
and an occasional cyclists. The sports car was gaining. Johnni slammed the
accelerator harder, but to no avail. They turned sharply, and he took out a
fire hydrant in the same move.
He glanced at the newly created fountain in his rear view mirror and
shrugged. Then he turned his attention in front of him. Bad.
Traffic. Lots of it. All stopped at a red light. The Marcabians
had stopped, wedged between two trucks. The limo screamed as Johnni tried
to stop it. It stopped barely in time, just touching a red convertible's
bumper.
"Gotcha," Johnni opened the door. The Marcabians were only ten
meters away and they weren't going anywhere. But then the noise started.
A terrible whine followed by a furnace blast of wind hit Johnni.
Suddenly the sports car lifted up into the air, wobbled a bit, sailed over
the traffic, and set down beyond the intersection.
"I *hate* jump jets!" Johnni lamented and hurled himself back in the
limousine. He slammed the gears in reverse and floored it. He barely
avoided compacting an already compact car and mounted the sidewalk.
He accelerated down the sidewalk, smashing newspaper stands,
crushing kiosks, and leaving a red hot trail of sparks where the right side
of the limousine met the sides of the buildings. By the time two more fire
hydrants were demolished, he had a clean view of the villain. They were a
quarter of a kilometer down the street.
Johnni gulped. He would never catch them. But he had to try.
They turned down another street. At full acceleration, he made the
turn. Almost. There was a terrible rending and crashing noise from behind
him and he began to spin. He noticed a slight draft.
The limousine came out of the spin and he was moving in their
direction. And catching up with them. He was going faster. Johnni
smiled. He looked back to see what had made the terrible noise and the
smile disappeared.
The slight draft was explained by what he could see at the corner.
A mangled light post lay in the middle of the road, wrapped up in what
appeared to be the back half of the vehicle. The truck, the jacuzzi, the
seats, the wet bar, the refrigerator, and several other accommodations
littered the road. Including the rear axle. Luckily the car had ten sets
of wheels.
He was gaining on them. So much so, in fact, that he slammed into
them. The little sports car swerved away and turned down another street.
Johnni grinned and turned the corner.
There was a little old lady crossing the street up ahead, arms laden
with groceries and wrapped up with twenty leashes connected to twenty
yapping dogs. The Marcabians were barreling straight for her.
"Vile . . . evil . . ." Johnni muttered when he saw their
intentions. He raced up along side them and yanked the wheel. One side of
the sports car collapsed and it flipped over, smashing into a building.
"Ha," Johnni laughed, then eyes widened as he saw the little old
lady straight in front of him. He slammed on the brakes, turned the wheel,
and flipped the now five meter long limousine. Smash. It was airborne.
Smash. It was bouncing.
The limousine bounced over the little old lady and her dogs and
sailed sideways into a dumptruck, knocking it over on its side. Johnni hung
upside down for a moment, then looked around.
The lady finished crossing the street, completely unaware that
anything had happened. The sports car was in a mangled heap, halfway inside
of a department store. A confused little man in a grey jumpsuit stumbled
out of the dumptruck and scratched his head.
Johnni extricated himself from the baron's very expensive wreckage
and ran to the sports car. There was no way they could have survived. He
peered inside. They were gone. But he saw a white card in the floorboard
and picked it up.
Screams pierced his ears. They were from inside the store. He
squeezed through the aperture and saw the men, one armed, running through
the aisles knocking over customers.
"Come back here and fight like men!" Johnni screamed at them. The
armed one whipped around and level a volley of laser fire at him.
Johnni jumped behind a hat display, which was promptly incinerated.
Flaming bits of woolen caps fell on him. There were more screams.
Johnni poked his head above the wreckage. They were running into
the "Girls: 12-16" region. He raced after them.
They ran through a door. He followed. More screams. It was
brightly lit and there were tons of mirrors. Girls in bras and panties were
throwing things at him.
"So sorry, excuse me, so sorry, I do apologize," he ran through the
dressing room. An emergency door was closing. He raced through it and came
out into an alley.
Two figures disappeared around a corner. He chased after them and
saw them running down steps into a subway station.
Johnni had them now. All he had to do was . . .
He leapt on the banister and slid down, down past the two
Marcabians, down past the end of the rail, straight into a turnstile.
Sprawled on the floor, he watched the two evil men race by and go into a
subway car. The doors swished close behind them.
The car began to move. Johnni leapt on it's side, his fingernails
gouged into it's metallic casing. He pulled himself up higher and laid
prone on the roof.
The acceleration increased. Johnni started to slide back. His foot
caught on a cable and he slid off the car.
All the breath in his lungs spewed out as the cable yanked his leg,
then slammed him into the back of the subway car. And slammed him again as
it stopped.
In a haze he saw the two Marcabians exit the car and run into the
new station. He pulled himself up, released his leg from the cable, and
crashed into the tracks below.
Johnni struggled to his feet and looked around. They were running
up the steps to the surface.
He bolted after them. His leg throbbed. His stomach was in knots.
His eyes couldn't quite focus. But he still ran.
Air. Fresh air hit him. Sunlight. Large buildings. Squat.
Warehouses. Industrial buildings. A low throbbing sound that vibrated his
bones. The street was empty. He knelt and breathed deeply.
"Krike," he gasped. He had lost them. If only . . .
A door to a building was closing. That must be it. He ran. His
lungs burned. Sweat poured into his eyes. He yanked the door open.
Huge pipes spewed steam everywhere. The bone vibrating sound was
coming from here. Big metal things moved up and down and sideways. Two
figures disappeared into the mist. He yelled. They fired. He ducked.
They missed.
He raced off into the cloud and up metal steps that were immediately
in front of him. He could here the Marcabians metallic footsteps clanging
up beyond. He came to a door that was closing and threw himself in.
"Lord Breakman . . ." Davies stood up from a blue couch. Three
other men were sitting next to him with briefcases and business suits.
Beyond them a secretary sat at a desk. ". . . you are five minutes late,
sir. Mr. Clypse is eager to have us tour the power plant as soon as
possible."
Johnni blinked. "I think I just toured it," he blinked again. Just
great. He had lost the kidnappers, he had lost Adriana's ring, and now he
was going to actually have to do what he was paid for - i.e., work.
END OF PART ONE
Born a Bastard
Copyright (c) 1995, Ed Davis
All Rights Reserved
BORN A BASTARD
by Ed Davis
The labor pains were growing in intensity and were closer together
now. The slender red head with the sprinkle of freckles dusting her
nose and cheeks clenched her hands even tighter and tried very hard not
to cry out again. Looking between her upraised and wide spread knees
she saw that the doctor shook his head each time an anguished cry
escaped the control she had been battling to maintain. Through the red
veil of agony that had become her world, old memories returned to carry
her back along her own trail of tears. Pain was not new to the
nineteen year old. Her mother's departure for greener pastures
thirteen years earlier had been the beginning.
Life slid downward for the family and finally crashed to the bottom
when her father had placed them all with The Children's Home Society
for adoption. She was the eldest and kept her memories of how things
had been. She also kept the child like hope that each dawn would bring
her father, like a gallant knight, to rescue them. Her hopes died a
slow death and she finally abandoned them when her brother and sister
were adopted. She was totally alone, her family destroyed.
The old pain faded to the background as the unstoppable power of
nature and the baby's will to be born pushed the small head through her
pelvis. She felt as if someone was pulling on each of her knees and
she prayed silently that they would soon stop. Her narrow hips were
aching from the hours of spread eagled captivity and labor agony.
Suddenly, as if from another room, she heard the wail of a baby.
Someone has had her baby, she thought. Her mind had finally retreated
from the pain.
She opened her eyes and was surprised to see the doctor, standing
now, holding a blood covered form of a baby. She looked more closely
and realized that the infant still had a cord protruding from its
middle. My baby is here, she realized. She moved her hands to her
suddenly deflated belly and her senses caught up with the reality that
had occurred without her conscious participation. It was over.
The doctor plopped the new born down on her flattened stomach and
began tying the umbilical cord. Three deft moves and the baby was an
independent human, no longer kept alive by the slender lifeline
attached to its tiny body.
"It's a boy." The voice belonged to the nurse with the pleasant
eyes and friendly smile. The white delivery room costumes robbed the
medical people of their identity but their voices gave them away. The
doctor nodded his affirmation and resumed his out of sight position
between the new mother's knees. He was nearly done and the night would
soon become day. He detested having to be on call, but in a time when
people had very little money they had even less for doctors. His
position with The Salvation Army Home was to be envied, not looked down
upon. He just hated the idea of bringing nothing but bastards into the
world.
The morning sun filled the drab room with yellow light and woke the
new mother. She slid her hands across the unaccustomed flatness of her
stomach and smiled. He really is here. Now I have someone of my own,
and he will always love me. No matter what all the stuffed shirts
around here think, we will stay together.
She turned to watch one of the grey and white nurses glide down the
long ward. They all moved with the same motion. They did not walk,
they moved more like they were ice skating.
From her position at the end of the long room she could watch the
long skirted nurse for a long time, as she moved gracefully down the
isle between the beds. Some of the beds were occupied, supporting a
burden of pregnancy swollen young woman. The sleeping figures remained
motionless while the passing nurse went on her way.
Most of the beds were empty but there were still too many full, the
nurse reflected, as she passed through the swinging doors at the end of
the ward. Kids never learn.
The passage of the nurse brought the new mother back to the sharp
edged reality of her dilemma. Now that her baby was here, in the stark
world of missed meals and cold nights and no longer safely hidden,
decisions had to be made. A place to stay, a job, someone to care for
Him, and a whole world of problems faced her. She was too confused and
exhausted to battle the world. Must be the stuff the doctor gave me,
she rationalized, as a form of sleep embraced her and carried her to a
less pressing world. The world of dreams.
Her first remembrance, as always, was the warmth and joy of her
first encounter with the baby's father. She basked in the warm feeling
again and recalled the happiness she felt when he would arrive at her
foster parent's home to take her out. They usually went to a movie and
then had a coke. Later, before he returned her to her house, they
would drive to one of the out of the way spots frequented by their
generation. Gentle touches and unsure caresses gave way, over the
weeks, to more assured and more daring explorations. Finally, the
familiarity became intimacy and a new and strange pleasure was added to
her limited experience.
Three months later, with her monthly periods stopped and her heart
thudding in her chest, she listened while the sober faced doctor told
her she was pregnant. Suddenly the weekly minutes of pleasure carried
a new and more expensive price tag. She returned to her job at the
tobacco processing plant and waited impatiently for Friday.
That Friday, the last one in September, ended more than a month.
Her stolen months of affection and its accompanying warmth and
closeness were shattered when her young lover told her that he still
had four years of college to attend before he could even think about
marriage and he was not even thinking about changing those plans. She
was once again on her own. Since she had broached the subject prior to
their customary arrival in their quiet place, she did not even have one
last memory to carry back with her. She was not sure she wanted the
last time, but she ached for the suddenly lost closeness. Her world
was suddenly just like it used to be, only now she was pregnant. She
watched her first love drive away into the cold darkness and felt a
part of her life depart as well.
The world of dreams was invaded by the confusion of reality. Time
to feed the baby.
The small form, less wrinkled now that his skin was dried and
lightly oiled, lay in her arm and wrapped his small lips around the
brown nipple of her breast and filled her being with a new and totally
different feeling.
As the infant fed, she watched and renewed her pledge to herself
that some how they would stay together. She would not abandon her
baby. Not like her mother had done.
Six months later, the reality of being a mother and not a wife began
to overwhelm the new mother. She returned to the only source of hope
and help she knew, The Children's Home Society. She was determined
that her baby would have a home and knew she could not provide that
home. She had come to the decision to give her baby up for adoption.
One small bag carried the infant's meager possessions, when his
mother handed him over to a uniformed nurse who would place him in a
foster home until his adoption was arranged. The nurse carried the
slim child in one arm and managed the small bag easily with her other
hand. "He'll be better off, now."
The words were intended to comfort but they demolished what was left
of the young mother's resolve and the tears flooded out. She retreated
from the home, vowing to return and get her baby back one day, like a
knight arriving in the nick of time.
At six foot three and nearly two hundred and twenty pounds, the man
towered over the nine month old infant tugging at his pant leg. For
the fourth time the giant man bent down and pulled the small fingers
loose from his cuff. He handed the small, blonde child to the waiting
matron again.
For the fourth time the matron tired of the wriggling burden and
released him back to the less confining plateau like flatness of the
floor. The child rolled from his padded bottom and attacked the
distance separating him from the towering man. What had worked before,
worked again. The exhilaration of the ascent to the towering heights
was the same, but the result was different. This time the strong hands
continued to hold him, he was not summarily delivered to the matron.
The sensations were pleasing, even to a child who knew nothing about
the intellectual aspect of sensations or pleasure.
Soon the child felt himself being returned to the matron. The man
was leaving. He wanted a new born baby, and none were available. The
tall man and his wife left.
The couple shared their disappointment in silence as they started
the sixty mile trip to their home. The miles slipped past in the
gathering darkness, and the couples thoughts were still behind them,
the distance growing with each minute.
"He's not a baby," she opened the conversation.
"I know... Let's go back and get him."
"Let's."
The adoption proceeded. The small boy went to live with the tall
man and his wife. The faint memories, sensations really, of a freckled
breast and the warmth of another woman's touch faded into the back of
the child's mind with the flood of new and pleasing sensations.
The boy prospered. His mother would have been pleased with the
stability and security of his new home.
Years passed swiftly for the tall man and his family. The secret of
the child's slightly tainted origin held and its importance faded.
The kitchen was still the same. The formica topped table and the
red plastic chairs were exactly where they were a few seconds earlier.
The only difference was the conversation that had just taken place.
That conversation had flipped the world for the twelve year old boy.
Everything and everyone who had made his world stable was suddenly
changed. He had just discovered he was adopted.
"That's how we got you." Those words destroyed all of the boy's
reality and he instantly felt totally alone. All relatives and family
friends were suddenly strangers. If he was adopted, all his relatives
were elsewhere. The woman standing before him was just that, and
definitely not his mother. Besides that, he reasoned, she's been
living a lie for years.
The woman who eleven years earlier had returned to arrange for the
adoption of a small child who liked to climb pant legs, knew she had
made a radical mistake. She had been given little advice by The
Children's Home Society on how to deal with this situation. The wisdom
of the time was that adoptees were never to be informed, denial was
better than truth. Now when she was without the presence of her
husband and faced with a bewildered child she was lost.
Years of reflection have brought a tentative peace to the boy and
have left many questions unresolved.
How many other children have been treated the same way, over the
years?
How many agencies are still using the same wisdom today?
How many mothers of relinquished children wish things were
different?
The list of questions is as endless as the list of adoptees would
be, if all adoptees were known.
Or if all adoptees knew.
ÚÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ¿
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ÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ
The Veil
Copyright (c) 1995, Tamara
All Rights Reserved
The Veil
sacrificial three part harmony
a destiny of twisted lives
braided in a silver chain
a testament of matrimony
taken cross the threshold
of a never ending mind
The illusion speaks of golden mists
of silver cords, of wedded bliss
but down thru ages long foretold
a glimpse through veils that cant be sold
our lives are intertwined by chance
a testament of circumstance
Though the veil is all I see
By chance? Or synchronicity?
Written 9/5/92 by Tamara (c)
Farmer's Market
Copyright (c) 1994, Albert Johnston
All rights reserved
Farmer's Market
The child of eight
strains to lift
the heavy crates.
While his father
who drives
the truck talks to us
of the last woman
he had.
Gertrude Offered Herself
Copyright (c) 1994, Daniel Sendecki
All rights reserved
Gertrude Offered Herself
------------------------
He and Gertrude
Thought it would be romantic
to take on the lassitude of the Autumn
fell on each other
laughing - left no
leaf unturned
Morbidity As a Friend
Copyright (c) 1989, Tommy Van Hook
All rights reserved
Morbidity As A Friend
By Tommy Van Hook, 9/7/89
Copyright 1989, Birchleaf Productions Ltd.
The blade
The bullet
The rope
My friends these are
Give me life ending - never-ending
Show me darkness eternal
Slow my heartbeat quickly
Capture my lifeblood
Spill my blood
Scatter my brain
Steal my breath
Be my friend
Handcuff me with death
It's a hard life to love
°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°
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Lets go MUdding - Online Feb 15th - Call (214) 373-6732
MUD
Multi-User-Dungeon
Become a Wizard and build you own Zone in the MUD.
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èèèèèè DreamTide éïØè
ððððððððð
Takes you to a future Ice Age!
Text, Ansi, RIP154, RIP 2.0
The Blue Event Horizon - the "first" BBS MUD site.
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Top Ten List
Copyright (c) 1995, Joe DeRouen
All rights reserved
Top Ten Most Frequently Used Pick-Up Lines In E-Mail
10. "People are always telling me I could be Brad Pitt's twin."
9. "I'm such a baaaaad girl!"
8. "I'm not wearing anything but a smiley face . . . "
7. "I've got to go to cheerleading practice."
6. "My wife just doesn't understand me!"
5. "Wanna come play in the MUD with me?"
4. "Let's download each other's GIFs."
3. "Your home page makes me soooo hot!"
2. "I write for Computer Currents Magazine."
1. "I'm female."
(c) 1995 Joe DeRouen. All rights reserved.
ÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ
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Contact me via any of the addresses listed in CONTACT POINTS listed
elsewhere in this issue. Just drop me a note telling me your name,
city, state, your BBS's name, it's phone number and it's baud rate, and
where you'll be getting STTS from each month. If your BBS carries RIME,
Pen & Brush Network, or you have access to the InterNet, I can put you
on the STTS mailing list to receive the magazine free of charge each
month. If you have access to FIDO, you can file request the magazine.
If you don't have access to any of these services - or do but don't
wish to use this option - you can call any of the BBS's listed in
DISTRIBUTION SITES and download the new issue each month. In either
case contact me so that I can put your BBS in the dist. site list for
the next issue of the magazine.
(Refer to DISTRIBUTION VIA NETWORKS for more detailed information about
the nets)
Users:
You can download STTS each month from any of the BBS's mentioned in
DISTRIBUTION SITES elsewhere in this issue. If your local BBS isn't
listed, pester and cajole your SysOp to "subscribe" to STTS for you.
(the subscription, of course, is free)
If you haven't any other way of receiving the magazine each month, a
monthly disk subscription (sent out via US Mail) is available for
$ 20.00 per year. Foreign subscriptions are $ 25.00 (american dollars).
Subscriptions should be mailed to:
Joe DeRouen
3910 Farmville Dr. # 144
Addison, Tx. 75244
U.S.A.
Submission Information
----------------------
We're looking for a few good writers.
Actually, we're looking for as many good writers as we can find. We're
interested in fiction, poetry, reviews, feature articles (about most
anything, as long as it's well-written), humour, essays, ANSI art,
and RIP art.
STTS is dedicated to showcasing as many talents as it can, in all forms
and genres. We have no general "theme" aside from good writing,
innovative concepts, and unique execution of those concepts.
As of January 1st 1994, we've been PAYING for accepted submissions!
In a bold move, STTS has decided to offer an incentive for writers to
submit their works. For each accepted submission, an honorarium fee
will be paid upon publication. Premium access to STTS BBS is also
given to staff and contributing writers.
In addition to the monthly payments, STTS will hold a yearly "best of"
contest, where the best published stories and articles in three
categories will receive substantial cash prizes.
These changes took effect in January of 1994, and the first yearly
awards were presented in the July 1994 issue.
Honorariums, yearly cash awards, award winners selection processes, and
Contributor BBS access is explained below:
HONORARIUM
Each and every article and story accepted for publication in STTS will
received a cash honorarium. The payment is small and is meant as more
of a token than something to reflect the value of the submission.
As the magazine grows and brings in more money, the honorariums will
increase, as will the yearly award amounts.
Fiction pieces pay an honorarium of $2.00 each.
Poetry pieces pay an honorarium of $1.00 each
Non-fiction* pieces pay an honorarium of $1.00 each
You have the option of refusing your honorarium. Refused funds will be
donated to the American Cancer Society.
Staff members ARE eligible for honorariums.
* Non-fiction includes any feature articles, humor, reviews, and
anything else that doesn't fit into the fiction or poetry category.
YEARLY CASH AWARD
Once a year, In July, the staff of STTS magazine will meet and vote on
the stories, poems, and articles that have appeared in the last six
issues of the magazine. Each staff member (the publisher included) gets
one vote, and can use that vote on only one entry in each category.
In the unlikely event of a tie, the winners will split the cash award.
Winners will be announced in the July issue of the magazine.
Yearly prize amounts
--------------------
Fiction $50.00
Non-fiction 25.00
Poetry 25.00
The winner in each category does have the option of refusing his cash
award. In the event of such a refusal, the entire sum of the refused
cash awards will be donated to the American Cancer Society.
STTS BBS
Staff members and contributing writers will also receive level 40
access on Sunlight Through The Shadows BBS. Such access consists of 2
hrs. a day, unlimited download bytes per day, and no download/upload
ratio. A regular user receives 1 hr. a day and has an download/upload
ratio of 10:1.
Staff and contributing writers also receive access to a special
private STTS Staff conference on the BBS.
LIMITATIONS
STTS will still accept previously published stories and articles for
publication. However, previously published submissions do NOT qualify
for contention in the yearly awards.
Furthermore, previously published stories and articles will be paid at
a 50% honorarium of the normal honorarium fee.
RIGHTS
The copyright of said material, of course, remains the sole property
of the author. STTS has the right to present it once in a "showcase"
format and in an annual "best of" issue. (a paper version as well
as the elec. version)
Acceptance of submitted material does NOT necessarily mean that it
will appear in STTS.
Submissions should be in 100% pure ASCII format, formatted for 80
columns. There are no limitations in terms of lengths of articles, but
keep in mind it's a magazine, not a novel. <Grin>
Fiction and poetry will be handled on a pure submission basis, except
in the case of any round-robin stories or continuing stories that might
develop.
Reviews will also be handled on a submission basis. If you're
interested in doing a particular review medium (ie: books) on a
full-time basis, let me know and we'll talk.
ANSI art should be under 10k and can be about any subject as long as
it's not pornographic. We'll feature ANSI art from time to time,
as well as featuring a different ANSI "cover" for our magazine each
month.
In terms of articles, we're looking for just about anything that's
of fairly general interest to the BBSing world at large. An article
comparing several new high-speed modems would be appropriate, for
example, whereas an article describing in detail how to build your
own such modem really wouldn't be.
Articles needn't be contained to the world of computing, either.
Movies, politics, ecology, literature, entertainment, fiction,
non-fiction, reviews - it's all fair game for STTS.
Articles, again, will be handled on a submission basis. If anyone has
an idea or two for a regular column, let me know. If it works, we'll
incorporate it into STTS.
Writers interested in contributing to Sunlight Through The Shadows can
reach me through any of the following methods:
Contact Points
--------------
CompuServe - My E_Mail address is: 73654,1732
The Internet - My E_Mail address is: jderouen@crl.com
RIME - My NODE ID is SUNLIGHT or 5320. Send all files to
this address. (you'll have to ask your SysOp who's
carrying RIME to send it for you) Alternately, you
can simply post it in either the Sunlight Through
The Shadows Magazine, Common, Writers, or Poetry
Corner conference to: Joe Derouen. If you put a
->5320 or ->SUNLIGHT in the top-most upper left-hand
corner, it'll be routed directly to my BBS.
Pen & Brush Net - Leave me a note or submission in either the Sunlight
Through The Shadows Magazine conference, the Poetry
Corner conference, or the Writers Conference. If
your P&BNet contact is using PostLink, you can route
the message to me automatically via the same way as
described above for RIME. In either case, address
all correspondence to: Joe derouen.
WME Net - Leave me a note or submission in the Net Chat
conference. Address all correspondence to:
Joe Derouen.
My BBS - Sunlight Through The Shadows. 12/24/96/14.4k baud.
(214) 620-8793. You can upload submissions to the
STTS Magazine file area, comment to the SysOp, or
just about any other method you choose. Address all
correspondence to: Joe Derouen.
US Mail - Send disks (any size, IBM format ONLY) containing
submissions to:
Joe DeRouen
3910 Farmville Dr. # 144
Addison, Tx. 75244
U.S.A.
Advertising
-----------
Currently, STTS Mag is being "officially" carried by over 90 BBS's
across the United States. It's also being carried by BBS's in the
United Kingdom, Canada, Portugal, and Finland.
Unofficially (which means that the SysOps haven't yet notifed me that
they carry it) it's popped up on literally hundreds of BBS's across the
USA as well as in other countries including the UK, Canada, Portugal,
Ireland, Japan, The Netherlands, Scotland, and Saudi Arabia.
It's also available via Internet, FIDO, RIME, and
Pen & Brush Networks.
Currently, STTS has about 10,000 readers worldwide and is available
to literally millions of BBSers through the internet and other
networks and BBS's.
If you or your company want to expose your product to a variety of
people all across the world, this is your opportunity!
Advertising in Sunlight Through The Shadows Magazine is available
in four different formats:
1) Personal Advertisements (NON-Business)
-----------------------
Personal advertisements run $5.00 for 4 lines of advertising, with each
additional line $1.00. Five lines is the minimum length. Your ad can be
as little as one line, but the cost is still $5.00.
Advertisements should be in ASCII and formatted for 80 columns. They
should include whatever you're trying to sell (or buy) as well as a
price and a method of contacting you.
ANSI or RIP ads at this level will NOT be accepted.
Business ads will NOT be accepted here. These ads are for non-business
readers to advertise something they wish to sell or buy, or to
advertise a non-profit event.
BBS ads are considered business ads.
2) Regular Advertisement (Business or Personal)
---------------------
We're accepting business advertisements in STTS. If you're interested
in advertising in STTS, a full-page (ASCII or ASCII and ANSI) is
$25.00/issue. Those interested can contact me by any of the means
listed under Contact Points.
If you purchase 5 months of advertising ($125.00) the sixth month is
free.
3) Feature Advertisement (Business or Personal)
---------------------
We'll include one feature ad per issue. The feature ad will pop up
right after the magazine's ANSI cover, when the user first begins to
read the magazine. This ad will also appear within the body of the
magazine, for further perusement by the reader.
A feature ad will run $50.00 per issue, and should be created in
both ANSI and ASCII formats.
If you purchase 5 months of advertising ($250.00) the sixth month is
free.
4) BBS Advertisement (Business or Personal)
-----------------
Many BBS SysOps and users call STTS BBS each month to get the current
issue of STTS Magazine. These callers are from all over the USA as well
as Canada, Portugal, the UK, and various other countries.
Advertising is now available for the logoff screen of the BBS. The
rates are $100.00 per month. Ads should be in both ASCII and ANSI
format. We're accepting RIP ads as well, but only for the this
advertising option.
If you purchase 5 months of advertising ($500.00) the sixth month is
free.
Advertisement Specifications
----------------------------
Ads may be in as many as three formats. They MUST be in ascii text and
may also be in ANSI and/or RIP Graphics formats.
Ads should be no larger than 24 lines (ie: one screen/page) and ANSI
ads should not use extensive animation.
If you cannot make your own ad or do not have the time to make your
own ad, we can make it for you. However, there is a one-time charge of
$10.00 for this service. We will create ads in ASCII and ANSI only. If
you absolutely need RIP ads and cannot create your own, we'll attempt
to put you into contact with someone who can.
Contact Points
--------------
You can contact me through any of the following addresses.
Sunlight Through The Shadows BBS
(214) 620-8793 12/24/96/14,400 Baud
CompuServe: 73654,1732
InterNet: jderouen@crl.com
Pen & Brush Net: ->SUNLIGHT
P&BNet Conferences: Sunlight Through The Shadows Conference
or any other conference
WME Net: Net Chat conference
PcRelay/RIME: ->SUNLIGHT
RIME Conferences: Common, Writers, or Poetry Corner
US Mail: Joe DeRouen
3910 Farmville Dr. # 144
Addison, Tx. 75244
U.S.A.
You can always find STTS Magazine on the following BBS's.
BBS's have STTS available for both on-line viewing and
downloading unless otherwise marked.
* = On-Line Only
# = Download Only
United States
-------------
BBS Name ........... Sunlight Through The Shadows
Location ........... Addison, Texas (in the Dallas area)
SysOp(s) ........... Joe and Heather DeRouen
Phone ........... (214) 620-8793 (14.4k baud)
(Sorted by area code, then alphabetically)
BBS Name ........... ModemNews
Location ........... Stamford, Connecticut
SysOp(s) ........... Jeff Green
Phone ........... (203) 359-2299 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... Party Line, The
Location ........... Birmingham, Alabama
SysOp(s) ........... Anita Abney
Phone ........... (205) 856-1336 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... Left-Hand Path, The
Location ........... Seattle, Washington
SysOp(s) ........... Mark Pruitt
Phone ........... (206) 783-4668 (14.4k baud)
# BBS Name ........... Lobster Buoy
Location ........... Bangor, Maine
SysOp(s) ........... Mark Goodwin
Phone ........... (207) 941-0805 (14.4k baud)
Phone ........... (207) 945-9346 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... Northern Maine BBS
Location ........... Caribou, Maine
SysOp(s) ........... David Collins
Phone ........... (207) 496-2391 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... File-Link BBS
Location ........... Manhattan, New York
SysOp(s) ........... Bill Marcy
Phone ........... (212) 777-8282 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... Poetry In Motion
Location ........... New York, New York
SysOp(s) ........... Inez Harrison
Phone ........... (212) 666-6927 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... Wamblyville
Location ........... Los Angeles, California
SysOp(s) ........... John Borowski
Phone ........... (213) 380-8090 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... Aaron's Beard BBS
Location ........... Dallas, Texas
SysOp(s) ........... Troy Wade
Phone ........... (214) 557-2642 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... Archives On-line
Location ........... Dallas, Texas
SysOp(s) ........... David Pellecchia
Phone ........... (214) 247-6512 (14.4k baud)
Phone ........... (214) 406-8394 (14.4k baud)
# BBS Name ........... BBS America
Location ........... Dallas, Texas
SysOp(s) ........... Jay Gaines
Phone ........... (214) 680-3406 (9600 baud)
Phone ........... (214) 680-1451 (9600 baud)
BBS Name ........... Blue Banner BBS
Location ........... Rowlett, Texas
SysOp(s) ........... Richard Bacon
Phone ........... (214) 475-8393 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... Blue Moon
Location ........... Plano, Texas
SysOp(s) ........... Roger Koppang
Phone ........... (214) 985-1453 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... Bucket Bored!
Location ........... Sachse, Texas
SysOp(s) ........... Tim Bellomy
Phone ........... (214) 414-6913 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... Chrysalis BBS
Location ........... Dallas, Texas
SysOp(s) ........... Garry Grosse
Phone ........... (214) 690-9295 (2400 baud)
Phone ........... (214) 783-5477 (9600 baud)
# BBS Name ........... Collector's Edition
Location ........... Dallas, Texas
SysOp(s) ........... Len Hult
Phone ........... (214) 351-9871 (14.4k baud)
Phone ........... (214) 351-9871 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... Foreplay Online
Location ........... Dallas, Texas
SysOp(s) ........... Sean Goldsberry
Phone ........... (214) 306-7493 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... Online Syndication Services BBS
Location ........... Plano, Texas
SysOp(s) ........... Don Lokke
Phone ........... (214) 424-8425 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... Opa's Mini-BBS (open 11pm-7am CST)
Location ........... Plano, Texas
SysOp(s) ........... David Marshall
Phone ........... (214) 424-0153 (2400 baud)
# BBS Name ........... User-2-User
Location ........... Dallas, Texas
SysOp(s) ........... William Pendergast and Kevin Carr
Phone ........... (214) 393-4768 (14.4k baud)
Phone ........... (214) 393-4736 (2400 baud)
BBS Name ........... Wild Fire BBS
Location ........... Dallas, Texas
SysOp(s) ........... Archie Parker
Phone ........... (214) 272-3748 (28.8k baud)
BBS Name ........... Deep 13 - MST3K
Location ........... Levittown, Pennsylvania
SysOp(s) ........... Mike Slusher
Phone ........... (215) 943-9526 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... Beta Connection, The
Location ........... Elkhart, Indiana
SysOp(s) ........... David Reynolds
Phone ........... (219) 293-6465 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... Bill & Hilary's BBS
Location ........... Elkhart, Indiana
SysOp(s) ........... Nancy VanWormer
Phone ........... (219) 295-6206 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... FTB's Passport BBS
Location ........... Frederick, Maryland
SysOp(s) ........... Karina Wright
Phone ........... (301) 662-9134 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... The "us" Project
Location ........... Wilmington, Delaware
SysOp(s) ........... Walt Mateja, PhD
Phone ........... (302) 529-1650 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... Hole In the Wall, The
Location ........... Parker, Colorado
SysOp(s) ........... Mike Fergione
Phone ........... (303) 841-5515 (16.8k baud)
BBS Name ........... Right Angle BBS
Location ........... Aurora, Colorado
SysOp(s) ........... Bill Roark
Phone ........... (303) 337-0219 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... Ruby's Joint
Location ........... Miami, Florida
SysOp(s) ........... David and Del Freeman
Phone ........... (305) 856-4897 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... PUB Desktop Publishing BBS, The
Location ........... Chicago, Illinois
SysOp(s) ........... Steve Gjondla
Phone ........... (312) 767-5787 (9600 baud)
BBS Name ........... O & E Online
Location ........... Livoign, Michigan
SysOp(s) ........... Greg Day
Phone ........... (313) 591-0903 (14.4 k baud)
BBS Name ........... Family Connection, The
Location ........... St. Louis, Missouri
SysOp(s) ........... John Askew
Phone ........... (314) 544-4628 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... PsychoBABBLE BBS
Location ........... Massena, New York
SysOp(s) ........... Doug LaGarry
Phone ........... (315) 764-719 (28.8k baud)
BBS Name ........... Pegasus BBS
Location ........... Owensboro, Kentucky
SysOp(s) ........... Raymond Clements
Phone ........... (317) 651-0234 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... Puma Wildcat BBS
Location ........... Alexandria, Louisiana
SysOp(s) ........... Chuck McMillin
Phone ........... (318) 443-1065 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... Badger's "BYTE", The
Location ........... Valentine, Nebraska
SysOp(s) ........... Dick Roosa
Phone ........... (402) 376-3120 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... Megabyte Mansion, The
Location ........... Omaha, Nebraska
SysOp(s) ........... Todd Robbins
Phone ........... (402) 551-8681 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... College Board, The
Location ........... West Palm Beach, Florida
SysOp(s) ........... Charles Bell
Phone ........... (407) 731-1675 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... Treasures
Location ........... Longwood, Florida
SysOp(s) ........... Jim Daly
Phone ........... (407) 831-9130 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... Flying Dutchman, The
Location ........... San Jose, California
SysOp(s)
........... Chris Von Motz
Phone ........... (408) 294-3065 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... Matrix Online Service
Location ........... San Jose, California
SysOp(s) ........... Daryl Perry
Phone ........... (408) 265-4660 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... Aries Knowledge Systems
Location ........... Baltimore, Maryland
SysOp(s) ........... Waddell Robey
Phone ........... (410) 625-0109 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... Doppler Base BBS
Location ........... Baltimore, Maryland
SysOp(s) ........... Dan Myers
Phone ........... (410) 922-1352 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... Port EINSTEIN
Location ........... Catonsville, Maryland
SysOp(s) ........... John P. Lynch
Phone ........... (410) 744-4692 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... Puffin's Nest, The
Location ........... Pasadena, Maryland
SysOp(s) ........... Dave Bealer
Phone ........... (410) 437-3463 (16.8k baud)
BBS Name ........... Robin's Nest BBS
Location ........... Glen Burnie, Maryland
SysOp(s) ........... Robin Kirkey
Phone ........... (410) 766-9756 (2400 baud)
BBS Name ........... Chatterbox Lounge and Hotel, The
Location ........... Penn Hills, Pennsylvania
SysOp(s) ........... James Robert Lunsford
Phone ........... (412) 795-4454 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... Signal Hill BBS
Location ........... Springfield, Massachusettes
SysOp(s) ........... Edwin Thompson
Phone ........... (413) 782-2158 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... Exec-PC
Location ........... Elm Grove, Wisconsin
SysOp(s) ........... Bob Mahoney
Phone ........... (414) 789-4210 (2400 baud)
Phone ........... (414) 789-4315 (9600 baud)
Phone ........... (414) 789-4360 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... First Step BBS, The
Location ........... Green Bay, Wisconsin
SysOp(s) ........... Mark Phillips
Phone ........... (414) 499-6646 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... Lincoln's Cabin BBS
Location ........... San Francisco, California
SysOp(s) ........... Steve Pomerantz
Phone ........... (415) 752-4490 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... Uncle "D"s Discovery
Location ........... Redwood City, California
SysOp(s) ........... Dave Spensley
Phone ........... (415) 364-3001 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... File Cabinet BBS, The
Location ........... White Hall, Arkansas
SysOp(s) ........... Bob Harmon
Phone ........... (501) 247-1141 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... Starting Gate, The
Location ........... Louisville, Kentucky
SysOp(s) ........... Ed Clifford
Phone ........... (502) 423-9629 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... Darkside BBS, The
Location ........... Independence, Oregon
SysOp(s) ........... Seth Able Robinson
Phone ........... (503) 838-6171 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... Last Byte, The
Location ........... Alamogordo, New Mexico
SysOp(s) ........... Robert Sheffield
Phone ........... (505) 437-0060 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... Leisure Time BBS
Location ........... Alamogordo, New Mexico
SysOp(s) ........... Bob Riddell
Phone ........... (505) 434-6940 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... Base Line BBS
Location ........... Peabody, Massachusettes
SysOp(s) ........... Steve Keith
Phone ........... (508) 535-0446 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... High Society BBS
Location ........... Beverly, Massachusettes
SysOp(s) ........... Chuck Frieser
Phone ........... (508) 927-3757 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... High Water Mark, The
Location ........... Wareham, Massachusettes
SysOp(s) ........... Joseph Leggett
Phone ........... (508) 295-6557 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... PandA's Den BBS
Location ........... Danvers, Massachusettes
SysOp(s) ........... Patrick Rosenheim
Phone ........... (508) 750-0250 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... SoftWare Creations
Location ........... Clinton, Massachusettes
SysOp(s) ........... Dan Linton
Phone ........... (508) 368-7036 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... Extreme OnLine
Location ........... Spokane, Washington
SysOp(s) ........... Jim Holderman
Phone ........... (509) 487-5303 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... Silicon Garden, The
Location ........... Selden, New York
SysOp(s) ........... Andy Keeves
Phone ........... (516) 736-6662 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... Appomattox BBS, The
Location ........... New Lebanon, New York
SysOp(s) ........... Dan Everette
Phone ........... (518) 766-5144 (14.4k baud dual standard)
BBS Name ........... Integrity Online
Location ........... Schenectady, New York
SysOp(s) ........... Dan Ginsburg, Jordan Feinman, Dave Garvey
Phone ........... (518) 370-8758 (14.4k baud)
Phone ........... (518) 370-8756 (2400 baud)
BBS Name ........... Tidal Wave BBS
Location ........... Altamont, New York
SysOp(s) ........... Josh Perfetto
Phone ........... (518) 861-6645 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... Mission Control BBS
Location ........... Flagstaff, Arizona
SysOp(s) ........... Kevin Echstenkamper
Phone ........... (602) 527-1854 (14.4k baud)
Phone ........... (602) 527-1863 (28.8k baud)
BBS Name ........... Chopping Block, The
Location ........... Claremont, New Hampshire
SysOp(s) ........... Dana Richmond
Phone ........... (603) 543-0865 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... Casino Bulletin Board, The
Location ........... Atlantic City, New Jersey
SysOp(s) ........... Dave Schubert
Phone ........... (609) 561-3377 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... Princessland BBS
Location ........... Wenonah, New Jersey
SysOp(s) ........... Pamela & Rick Forsythe
Phone ........... (609) 464-1421 (2400 baud)
BBS Name ........... Revision Systems
Location ........... Lawrenceville, New Jersey
SysOp(s) ........... Paul Lauda
Phone ........... (609) 896-3256 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... Hangar 18
Location ........... Columbus, Ohio
SysOp(s) ........... Bob Dunlap
Phone ........... (614) 488-2314 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... Channel 1
Location ........... Cambridge, Massachusettes
SysOp(s) ........... Brian Miller
Phone ........... (617) 354-3230 (14.4k baud)
Phone ........... (617) 354-3137 (16.8k HST)
# BBS Name ........... Arts Place BBS, The
Location ........... Arlington, Virginia
SysOp(s) ........... Ron Fitzherbert
Phone ........... (703) 528-8467 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... Bubba Systems One
Location ........... Manassas, Virginia
SysOp(s) ........... Mark Mosko
Phone ........... (703) 335-1253 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... Market Hotline, The
Location ........... Rodford, Virginia
SysOp(s) ........... Steve Mintun
Phone ........... (703) 633-2178 (28.8k baud)
BBS Name ........... Pen and Brush BBS
Location ........... Burke, Virginia
SysOp(s) ........... Lucia and John Chambers
Phone ........... (703) 644-6730 (300-12.0k baud)
Phone ........... (703) 644-5196 (14.4k baud)
# BBS Name ........... Sidewayz BBS
Location ........... Fairfax, Virginia
SysOp(s) ........... Paul Cutrona
Phone ........... (703) 352-5412 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... Virginia Connection, The
Location ........... Washington, District of Columbia
SysOp(s) ........... Tony McClenny
Phone ........... (703) 648-1841 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... Vivid Images Press Syndicate
Location ........... Wise, Virginia
SysOp(s) ........... David Allio
Phone ........... (703) 328-6915 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... Imperial Palace, The
Location ........... Augusta, Georiga
SysOp(s) ........... Michael Deutsch
Phone ........... (706) 592-1344 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... Zarno Board
Location ........... Martinez, Georiga
SysOp(s) ........... Tim Saari
Phone ........... (706) 860-7927 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... Anathema Downs
Location ........... Sonoma County, California
SysOp(s) ........... Sadie Jane
Phone ........... (707) 792-1555 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... Happy Trails
Location ........... Orange, California
SysOp(s) ........... Don Inglehart
Phone ........... (714) 547-0719 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... InfoMat BBS
Location ........... San Clemente, California
SysOp(s) ........... Michael Gibbs
Phone ........... (714) 492-8727 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... Cool Baby BBS
Location ........... York, Pennsylvania
SysOp(s) ........... Mark Krieg
Phone ........... (717) 751-0855 (19.2k baud)
BBS Name ........... T&J Software BBS
Location ........... Jim Thorpe, Pennsylvania
SysOp(s) ........... Tom Wildoner
Phone ........... (717) 325-9481 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... Ice Box BBS, The
Location ........... Kew Gardens Hills, New York
SysOp(s) ........... Darren Klein
Phone ........... (718) 793-8548 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... Systemic BBS
Location ........... Bronx, New York
SysOp(s) ........... Mufutau Towobola
Phone ........... (718) 716-6198 (14.4k baud)
Phone ........... (718) 716-6341 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... Paradise City BBS
Location ........... St. George, Utah
SysOp(s) ........... Steve & Marva Cutler
Phone ........... (801) 628-4212 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... Regulator, The
Location ........... Charleston, South Carolina
SysOp(s) ........... Steve Coker
Phone ........... (803) 571-1100 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... Straight Board, The
Location ........... Virginia Beach, Virginia
SysOp(s) ........... Ray Sulich
Phone ........... (804) 468-6454 (14.4k baud)
Phone ........... (804) 468-6528 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... TDOR#2
Location ........... Charlottesville, Virginia
SysOp(s) ........... David Short
Phone ........... (804) 973-5639 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... Valley BBS, The
Location ........... Myakka City, Florida
SysOp(s) ........... Larry Daymon
Phone ........... (813) 322-2589 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... Syllables
Location ........... Fort Myers, Florida
SysOp(s) ........... Jackie Jones
Phone ........... (813) 482-5276 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... Nightline I & II
Location ........... Crystal Lake, Illinois
SysOp(s) ........... Ron Pena
Phone ........... (815) 356-7061 (14.4k baud)
Phone ........... (815) 356-7062 (14.4k baud)
# BBS Name ........... Renaissance BBS
Location ........... Arlington, Texas
SysOp(s) ........... David Pollard
Phone ........... (817) 467-7322 (9600 baud)
# BBS Name ........... Second Sanctum
Location ........... Arlington, Texas
SysOp(s) ........... Mark Robbins
Phone ........... (817) 784-1178 (2400 baud)
Phone ........... (817) 784-1179 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... Dream Land BBS
Location ........... Destin, Florida
SysOp(s) ........... Ron James
Phone ........... (904) 837-2567 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... Hurry No Mo BBS
Location ........... Citra, Florida
SysOp(s) ........... Roy Fralick
Phone ........... (904) 595-5057 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... Star Fire
Location ........... Jacksonville, Florida
SysOp(s) ........... Bruce Allan
Phone ........... (904) 260-8825 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... Tree BBS, The
Location ........... Ocala, Florida
SysOp(s) ........... Frank Fowler
Phone ........... (904) 732-0866 (14.4k baud)
Phone ........... (904) 732-8273 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... Outlands, The
Location ........... Ketchikan, Alaska
SysOp(s) ........... Mike Gates
Phone ........... (907) 225-1219 (14.4k baud)
Phone ........... (907) 225-1220 (14.4k baud)
Phone ........... (907) 247-4733 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... Moonbase Alpha BBS
Location ........... Bahama, North Carolina
SysOp(s) ........... Steven Wright
Phone ........... (919) 471-4547 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... Outlands, The
Location ........... Ketchikan, Alaska
SysOp(s) ........... Mike Gates
Phone ........... (907) 247-4733 (14.4k baud)
Phone ........... (907) 225-1219 (14.4k baud)
Phone ........... (907) 225-1220 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... Legend Graphics OnLine
Location ........... Riverside, California
SysOp(s) ........... Joe Marquez
Phone ........... (909) 689-9229 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... Locksoft BBS
Location ........... San Jacinto, California
SysOp(s) ........... Carl Curling
Phone ........... (909) 654-LOCK (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... Image Center, The
Location ........... Ardsley, New York
SysOp(s) ........... Larry Clive
Phone ........... (914) 693-9100 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... SB Online, Inc.
Location ........... Larchmont, New York
SysOp(s) ........... Eric Speer
Phone ........... (914) 723-4010 (14.4k baud)
Canada
------
BBS Name ........... Canada Remote Systems Online
Location ........... Toronto Ontario, Canada
SysOp(s) ........... Rick Munro
Phone ........... (416) 213-6002 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... Source-Online
Location ........... British Columbia, Canada
SysOp(s) ........... Chris Barrett
Phone ........... (604) 758-4643 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... Encode Online
Location ........... Orillia Ontario, Canada
SysOp(s) ........... Peter Ellis
Phone ........... (705) 327-7629 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... Beasley's Den
Location ........... Mississauga Ontario, Canada
SysOp(s) ........... Keith Gulik
Phone ........... (905) 949-1587 (9600 baud)
United Kingdom
--------------
BBS Name ........... Hangar BBS, The
Location ........... Avon, England, United Kingdom
SysOp(s) ........... Jason Hyland
Phone ........... +44-934-511751 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... Pandora's Box BBS
Location ........... Brookmans Park, England, United Kingdom
SysOp(s) ........... Dorothy Gibbs
Phone ........... +44-707-664778 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... Almac BBS
Location ........... Grangemouth, Scotland, United Kingdom
SysOp(s) ........... Alastair McIntyre
Phone ........... +44-324-665371 (14.4k baud)
Finland
-------
BBS Name ........... Niflheim BBS
Location ........... Mariehamn, Aaland Islands, Finland
SysOp(s) ........... Kurtis Lindqvist
Phone ........... +358-28-17924 (16.8k baud)
Phone ........... +358-28-17424 (14.4k baud)
Portugal
--------
BBS Name .......... Intriga Internacional
Location .......... Queluz, Portugal
SysOp(s) .......... Afonso Vicente
Phone .......... +351-1-4352629 (16.8k baud)
BBS Name .......... B-Link BBS
Location .......... Lisbon, Portugal
SysOp(s) .......... Antonio Jorge
Phone .......... +351-1-4919755 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... Mailhouse
Location ........... Loures, Portugal
SysOp(s) ........... Carlos Santos
Phone ........... +351-1-9890140 (14.4k baud)
South America
-------------
BBS Name ........... Message Centre, The (Open 18:00 - 06:00 local)
Location ........... Itaugua, Paraguay
SysOp(s) ........... Prof. Michael Slater
Phone ........... +011-595-28-2154 (2400 baud)
Saudi Arabia
------------
BBS Name ........... Sahara BBS
Location ........... Dammam City
SysOp(s) ........... Kais Al-Essa
Phone ........... +966-3-833-2082 (16.8k baud)
SysOp: To have *your* BBS listed here, write me via one of the
many ways listed under CONTACT POINTS elsewhere in this
issue.
STTS Net Report
Copyright (c) 1995, Joe DeRouen
All rights reserved
Sunlight Through The Shadows Magazine is available through FIDO,
INTERNET, RIME, and PEN & BRUSH NET. Check below for information on how
to request the current issue of the magazine or be put on the monthly
mailing list.
FIDO
To get the newest issue of the magazine via FIDO, you'll need to
do a file request from Fido Node 1:124/8010 using the "magic" name
of SUNLIGHT.
INTERNET
To get on the STTS mailing list, do the following:
Send internet mail message to:
JDeRouen@CRL.COM
And ask to be put on the list.
RIME
To request the magazine via RIME, ask your RIME SysOp to do a file
request from node # 5320 for the current issue (eg: sun9502.ZIP, or
whatever month you happen to be in) Better yet, ask your SysOp to
request to be put on the monthly mailing list and receive STTS
automatically.
PEN & BRUSH NET
To request via P&BNet, follow the instructions for RIME above. They're
both ran on Postlink and operate exactly the same way in terms of file
requests and transfers.
