StanleyWheeler

   Les Freres Corses finally completed the level--I forget the number, but it was the one with the dragons and glitches. Unfortunately, the time traveling DeLorean was killed in combat with a dragon or some other mean beastie and our heroes had to be rescued. Darth Vader was hors de combat with a plethora of wounds. Even though the transportation was too kaput to travel, there remained enough power to send a signal to another ship for rescue. The dice rolls proved favorable and the signal was sent; there was a ship in the area; and it was able to respond in time. I suggested that we roll for the possibility that the responding ship could be an enemy or slaver ship, but the objections prevented checking on that possibility. As seen in the picture above, they all piled into the rescue ship (some had to be carried) and blasted off to the next level where the DeLorean undergoes repairs while they gather some valuable metal necessary to complete the resurrection of the time trav...

 Sometimes things don't go as planned:   The bugmageddon novel isn't complete, but I did get it nearly finished on Saturday as my fingers danced over the keys while episodes of Magnum P.I. (the good old one) played in the background.  Excerpt from Bugs in the System: Doot triggered the carbine. A bullet pierced the chitinous belly and exploded from the back of the rising centipede. The gun spoke no more. The last magazine was empty. The pede shot forward. Doot swung the gun like a bat, knocking back the crawler. The monster’s many legs held its lower body in place and it thrust again, head and upper body darting toward its prey. Doot took the pitch to the inside and smashed it wide. The novel is deep in the gobsmacking wonderclash. The hammerschlag falls and the streams are crossing. A couple evenings or another Saturday writing session will have it complete for my Skirmish Team's review. Speaking of wonderclashes, hammerschlags, and crossing streams, that reminds me...

  I saddled up and loaded the steel steed with requisite equipment and bags, including a sandwich for the road. We passed the first brief leg of the trip racked with doubt and trepidation. If everything went as planned, it would be our longest ride together. Of course, if things went other than as planned, the ride could be our last. We both took fuel, burdening the visa and lightening the lunchbox. With a half sandwich to fortify my commitment to a potentially rash decision. I revved my buttercup Rocinante onto the open road. Although all the apps augured sunshine, the dark clouds foretold differently and with greater authority. We discovered rain within the hour. It was but a taste of the adventure to come and barely wet my helm. When we left the busy thoroughfare for the mountain passes, our course attracted nature's eye. On the ascending trails it seemed the storm had already passed, but when we mounted to the high plateau we rode straight into nature's wrath. She struck wi...

  Who can foresee the future or weave it from the past? Who knows what a man will speak or when he'll breath his last? The future lies hidden in impenetrable cloud, while the past, with each expiring second, passes beneath a shroud. The present rests precariously--yet perpetually--on the horns of fugacious dilemma. Where can today's video screen connect with tomorrow's antenna? Show me the pavilion wherein lies futurity's looking glass. Who'll march victorious from the field, and who'll remain cold upon the grass? Murky night obscures the way, so we seldom see beyond today. Tomorrow neither reveals itself nor deigns its secrets to betray.  I may be a mess, but I do shower--that's where the first lines of that mess above came to me. Wouldn't decisions be easier if we could see how they're going to work out? That reminds me, Iago, Atu, and Alex have a discussion about that very idea and the problem of unintended consequences in Truth in Flames , Book ...