#anyways I definitely made my industrial brick Way too big for the things I currently plan on using it for

[arolesbianism]

Ive been waiting for ages in oni for my future industrial block to be vacuumed out so I decided to doodle some furry women while I waited (it’s still not done)

[writing-prompts-for-friends]

Questions to Help World Build

I’ve realized I have a big problem with my writing. I am awful at world-building. Like, I just start writing without thinking about the world. And since I write fantasy. Well. That’s pretty no bueno and leads to all kinds of problems down the road. So I did some brainstorming with my friends and we created a list of over 100 questions to help think about our stories’ worlds and make them more concrete. Thanks to everyone who chimed in and gave me a hand! 

A traditional Japanese clock, wadokei, that counted hours from 9 to 4, starting from sunrise, and then starting once again from sunset. (1-3 were not used for religious purposes.) They’re super interesting and confusing. You should definitely check them out.

Temporal

Is your story set in the past, present, or future?

Specifically, what year(s), month(s), day(s)?

Are days 24 hours? Or does time pass differently in this world?

How many months are there in a year? Is it a seven day weekday? Does the concept of weekends exist?

Have most existing societies developed a timekeeping device?

Is there a way to communicate across long distances?

The concept of time zones is still relatively new to our world. Prior to the late nineteenth century, timekeeping was a purely local phenomenon. Each town would set their clocks to noon when the sun reached its zenith each day. Do standardized time zones exist across the world?

Geographical

From a planet perspective, is it Earth? If it is not Earth, or an alternative version of Earth, what is it like? Is gravity the same? Does it have a moon or multiple moons? Can you see other planets? Is it closer or further from the sun? If so, what impact does that have on the climate and passage of time?

What town, state, region, country, continent, planet does this story take place in? What are its bordering/nearest neighbors? Draw a world map if you want.

What kind of land is it? Landlocked? Mountainous? Along the sea? Desert? Tundra? Tropical forest? Plains? Agricultural? Industrial?

What kind of plants and animals are common to the area? Are there any that do not exist in the real world?

What are the most common crops and livestock in various regions? What geographic features influence certain regions ability to grow/raise their crops and livestock (positively and negatively)? Are the regions diets strongly influenced by what they are able to grow themselves, or do other circumstances (like strong international trade) allow them to have more varied selections? How does religion influence what is considered ‘normal’ to eat?

What, if any, natural disasters are common to the region? Earthquakes, floods, tornadoes, monsoons, blizzards?

How many seasons does it have? Are any longer than others?

What is the typical weather like for those seasons?

Does the region have any unusual geographical features that set it apart? Perhaps there is some weird thing like Devil’s Tower just chilling out. Or hot springs because of volcanic activity?

Is it easy to travel from place to place within the area? Is it difficult to travel because of terrain/technology issues, or because travel is strictly regulated?

Main Locations: Cities

Many stories take place within one city. In Neil Gaiman’s Sandman, a character remarks, “So, if a city has a personality, maybe it also has a soul. Maybe it dreams.” What personality does this city have? What soul does it have? What does it dream of when it slumbers? If your story takes place within a settlement, town, or city, give these questions some thought.

Exactly where is it located within the lands you conjured up in the above Geography questions? Does it have a bay? A river? Does it butt up against mountains? Draw a map of the city.

How big is the city? Is it compact, or sprawling?

How old is the city?

What is the history of the city? How did it come to be? What tumults and triumphs has it seen?

What is the population? Is it currently increasing, decreasing, or remaining the same?

Does the town have any claim to fame? Any tourist attractions? What are they? What’s the story behind them?

If it’s a big enough city, how many and what kind of districts does it have? Residential, Commercial, Industrial, etc. Where are they?

Are there any areas that are deemed unsafe? If so, where are they and why are they unsafe?

Is there public transportation? What kind, bus, tram, train, subway, monorail? Is it good?

How do people get around this city if not by public transportation?

Are the roads narrow or wide? Crisscrossing in a methodical grid or higgledy-piggledy?

What are the buildings like? What materials are they made of? If they’re wooden, are they new wood, old wood? If they’re painted, what colors? If they’re stone, what stone? If they’re brick, is it new red brick or blackened, crumbling brick? If they’re glass and metal, are they sparkling with new hope or dull and jaded?

Are there many skyscrapers? Or are most buildings 1-3 stories tall? What does the skyline look like?

Are there many parks?

How is the city powered? Coal? Hydroelectric? Wind? Nuclear? Has it always been so?

What is the city’s main source of revenue? Agriculture? Tourism? Manufacturing? Mining? Something else? A combination? Dive deeper into this. If it’s agriculture, what do they grow? Tourism–what is famous? etc. This will help to determine what a lot of people do for a living.

What are the demographics? Ethnicity, age distribution, distribution of upper, middle, and lower class, etc.

How many schools are there? Universities? Are any of them good? Do they specialize in anything? Do schools even exist? Perhaps there are clans that teach their children everything they need, for example, or education isn’t viewed as important.

Are there any particular landmarks within the city that standout?

How many and what kind of restaurants are there?

Are there supermarkets, open air markets, or both?

Where do young people go to spend time? What about adults?

Do people there bustle or do they amble?

What are the nights like? Does the city grow quiet, or does it grow rowdy?

What does the city smell like?

If you had to give your town a color, one that represented its personality, what color would it be?

Main Locations: Houses (or buildings, but mainly houses)

There are many stories that have a house or headquarters or hospital or some sort of building as their main setting. These questions will mostly be geared towards helping you figure out a house, but you can apply these to other buildings too probably.

Exactly where is the house located within the city or outside the city? How does your character usually get there? Draw a map. 

What year was the house built?

Was this house built by the current family or their ancestors? Who else lived in the house before the current dwellers? What were they like? Did they leave their mark on the house somehow?

What style is the house? Bungalow? Cabin? A shed? A cave? (makes the following questions mostly useless if so lol)

How many stories is it?

What is it made of? Wood? Brick? What color is it?

Does it have a lot of windows?

Are the curtains usually open or drawn? Are thee curtains at all?

What does the front door look like? 

Is there a porch?

You enter the front door. Or maybe you don’t. Maybe you use the side door because the front door is for show or something. Anyways. You enter the house. What room do you step foot into?

Draw out the floor plans for each floor. How many rooms are there? Where are they? How big are they? How are they connected? What color are they? What style of decor?

Is there a basement? Is it used or is it just a home for spiders and darkness and unwanted things? How about an attic? Crawlspace?

How many bathrooms? 

Are there any rooms that only certain people are allowed to enter? If so, why? 

What is the flooring? Carpet? Wood? Tile? Linoleum? 

What does the house smell like?

Government/Military/Economy

In other words, “the boring stuff,” if you ask me. But this is a very important aspect of any world. 

What sort of government is in place? Democracy, oligarchy, etc? Is it a just or corrupt government?

How are goods exchanged? Bartering? Money? Coins and bills? Credit cards? A specific kind of sea shell? Lol

What are the police like? Strict? Lax? Is there a curfew?

Do taxes exist? If so, do the people feel as though they are heavily or unduly taxed?

Where is the intersection between theology and law? Is it common to have religious leaders in positions of power? Are laws based around religious ideology, or is there an effort to keep them separate?

Is there an organised structure devoted to halting criminal acts? Are they corrupt? Who runs the organisation? How does their reputation change based on demographic? What is the history of the organisation, and how does that history influence how it operates today?

Regarding potentially criminal acts, what is the elgality of prostitution, sex work, ect.?

What about drugs and other illicit substances? Alcohol, illicit drugs, recreational use. Legality, festivity, age limits, etc.

Underbelly. How prevalent is crime, what sort of crime (scaled from pickpocketing to human trafficking) is there? Are there areas that have bad reputations because of it?

Regarding war, are there currently conflicts in the world? Are they international or civil wars? How common is it to have an active war? What is the history of war? What does current warfare look like (Is it dudes in metal suits swinging swords? Have longbows been invented? Gunpowder? Tanks? Missiles?) Is military service mandatory or voluntary? How is the military seen? Is there a sense of patriotism for the military, or does the common man fear it?

Is there stigma around certain genders entering the military? Are come genders regarded as better recruits than others? Is it illegal for some genders to enter the military? Does a person's sexuality affect their ability to serve?

How has religion influenced war? Have there been holy wars in the past? Do any religious institutions hold their own military forces?

Cultural/Historical

I’ve put these together because events in history lead to cultural change. You can apply these questions not only to the world/country, but also the city or even the neighborhood, workplace, or school that your story takes place in.

What is the history of the region? Who was it settled by? Was another group of people displaced? After that, did any new cultures come in? Did they get along?

Were there ever any wars or serious conflicts in the region? What was the cause and what was the outcome of the war if there was one?

In our world, the internet, social media, and film/tv are massive cultural drivers. They determine the latest fashions, jokes, topics, and expressions. What are the big cultural drivers in your world? Books? Plays? Radio? Oral tradition?

Is it a collectivistic or individualistic society?

What languages are spoken by your characters? Is multilingualism common?

What sorts of cultures can be seen? Do any clash? Do any mesh?

What sort of foods are most common?

What superstitions do people hold? Is there a version of “knock on wood” or throwing salt over your shoulder after a funeral? What are the roots of these superstitions?

Are there religions? If so, what are they? Do any conflict with each other? Are zealots or extremists an issue?

Does slavery or indentured servitude exist?

Are there any class or caste systems? If so, what are they, and what does an average day look like for a member of each class/caste?

How does a person's appearance change from country to country? Do certain countries have very distinct fashions? If so, are the fashions influenced by religion, surrounding countries, the cultural majority or international trade partners?

How does a person's clothing relate to their social standing? Is it very easy to assume someone's roll by appearance alone? Are there punishments for dressing above or below your social standing?

Does the society place a great deal of importance on a person's presentation, or is the society more lenient on such things?

Is there an emphasis on conformity to a dress code, or is individuality encouraged? How strictly is clothing regulated by gender binary? Is it commonplace to see a man and a woman walking down the street in the same cut of clothes? Is there a social stigma when a person does not conform to the most common form of dress for their gender?

How are sexual rights viewed? Does the LGBTQ community have the same rights as people outside the community? How are sex acts between people of the same sex viewed? Is it legal? Taboo? Are there cultures that encourage those relationships in some circumstances (like how the romans were down with guys with guys in the military)?

Are there any groups of people that are victims of prejudice? If so, who are they, who holds these views against them, and what views specifically are they?

In regards to gender, do certain societies hold differing beliefs? Is there a commonly accepted number of gender identities or does it change regionally? Is the most common gender spectrum a binary, or do certain racial and cultural differences allow for a wider range to be seen as the baseline?

Are children raised by their biological parents or are children considered to be in the care of the wider community? Is it common/acceptable for extended family to raise children, such as parents needing to study, work, or serve time in the military? Is adoption a common thing in society? Is there a stigma around adoption/being adopted? Do cultural or religious views impact how adoption is seen by the wider community? What is adoption like for a single perspective parent? When adopting, is interracial adoption accepted/common, or is it seen in a negative light? Are some societies more open to adopting children outside of their own race?

How is sex and virginity viewed? Does religion influence it? What is the age of consent? What is appropriate on a first, second, third date? Is sex something that is talked about openly, or something taboo? Are you supposed to wait until marriage? Do couples stay monogamous while dating? Do some regions place higher importance on virginity than others? Do some place higher importance on one gender’s virginity than others?

How is marriage viewed? Are arranged marriages a big thing, or are people free to choose? Is monogamy common? How is a marriage symbolized? A wedding ring, or something different?

How is divorce viewed? What is the divorce rate? Can people remarry?

Magic and the Supernatural

If magic or spooky stuff doesn’t exist in your story, disregard this section.

Does magic exist? If so, who can use it? What are the limitations to their magic? What things are they capable of using their magic to do? What things are they incapable of doing?

Are there laws against what kind of magic can/cannot be used? What sort of laws? Who enforces them? What are the punishments for breaking said laws if they exist?

How does the existence of magic affect religion? Are there religious institutions that infuse magic into their worship? Are there religious sects that see magic as immoral and in direct opposition to their faith? Have there been conflicts in recent or ancient history between religion and the supernatural? Do some sects employ people to hunt and/or enforce law over the supernatural?

Assuming that magic does exist, is it taught? Are there different schools of magic? Is there a system of ranking for magic users based on their skill level?

Do non-magic users look towards magic users with respect or fear?

What role does magic play in this world? Has technology not advanced because magic solves many problems? Or has technology advanced and the use of some magics has become unnecessary?

Are there any mythological creatures/monsters, such as vampires, demons, skinwalkers, dragons, or other creatures of your own creation? Are they common? Do people believe in their existence? Do people worship them? Where can they be found? Do they interact with humans? Do humans fear them or try to put up with them as they do nature?

Do the dead continue to exist in some form, such as ghosts or zombies or the like? Can the dead be summoned or brought back to life?

Are there human/supernatural hybrids? Perhaps a half-demon half-human, for example? How are these people viewed by their peoples, and by society as a whole?

How has the supernatural influenced war? Do armies tend to have a mix of regular and supernatural soldiers/weapons? Have there been wars between the supernatural/magical and those without? How does magic influence a person standing in a mixed army? Is it more likely for a magical being to be promoted than a non-magical being? Conversely, are supernatural being forced into service and seen as pawns?

The End!

Please feel free to reblog and share, and add on any questions you think should be added!

[worldcakecakecake]

On Deutschland and Italia, by Lovino Valenti

Lovino writes a series of blog entries on the relationship between Germany and Italy as he deals with a move to Hamburg, his brother’s wedding, and his budding romance (which he denies) to the infuriating Gilbert Beilschmidt.

                                                              Chapter 8

Lately they had been in a texting spree. They were wishing each other ‘Buon Giorno’ and ‘Guten Morgen’, asking about their day at work, promising to text back on a break or when done. They would strike topics on the news, what they were planning to eat, even sending each other memes that had them grinning or laughing at their phone. Feliciano had never seen his brother so tight on his phone…he had barely talked to him or even spared a word, despite how he was excited to spend some time to chat.

 They were currently purchasing Feliciano’s wedding suit, fixed with the changes they wanted and ready to take home. Feliciano moved his hands over the cover it was kept in lovingly, excited to soon feel its magic and reign him well on his wedding day. Lovino was still on his phone, grinning the entire time and now Gilbert must have written something sweet since he witnessed his brother heavily blushing, trying hard to cover it with his hands, but it was too large and Feliciano had already spotted it anyways.

 “What did he say?” He teased, leaning with a smirk, eager and expecting.

 Lovino moved the phone away from his vision. “Nothing you should be looking at.”

 “Is he already sending you nudes?”

 “Oh god, no! Just keep out of it.”

 Feliciano chuckled, Signore Ferrara arriving with documents needed to be signed on warranty and any other receipts. They found themselves conversing, the old man wondering about this coming wedding and of course Feliciano adored filling him in on it. Lovino would add his input between glances on his phone. Cards were given to pay, Lovino looking to make sure Feliciano gave him the right one. It was just as Feliciano was sent his own message, a sort of billing number…from the Dominican Republic. Feliciano looked through it quick, but in that instant, Lovino managed a side glance to notice that it was about a fulfilled payment concerning something to do with their new house surely. Lovino wouldn’t have bothered…if it wasn’t for the fact that a bank account and number that belonged to Feliciano was being used. Shouldn’t Ludwig be the one doing that? It was his company that was in charge of that move…the reason why Feliciano was even leaving with him, his own job but volunteering. Why would Feliciano have to give such a big payment? He shut his phone and focused back on Signore Ferrara, now talking on something he did for one of his ex-wife’s wedding, Feliciano looking up with a non-perturbed smile and eager to hear.

 “Have you chosen the suit for the best man?” The man wondered.

 “Gilbert and I will come one of these days to choose. We’ll surely get it here,” Lovino decided, raising his eyes from a text message he had written the albino about the plans he just told.

 The owner smiled and was eager to see them again. “Well, it’s all yours now,” he declared, handing the last of the papers, now the wrapped suit ready to be embraced, as it was now fully Feliciano’s.

 He cuddled the damn thing, like it was some sort of puppy.

 They wished their goodbyes and they were on course to Feliciano’s apartment, the younger blabbering on already wearing and strutting for their whole family to see in preparation. It was not before Lovino wrote one last message: ‘Something is going on. We definitely have to talk.’

  On Deutschland and Italia.

Trading goods.

Looking for answers.

 Trade has always been very good for Germany and Italy. We are actually Germany’s most important trade partner, with a rather large percentage at that. We give them machines, cars, iron, steel and even feed them with our food. They are the first we give our imports to, and although it is not the same for us, we still receive a just amount of their own goods in cars and machinery. German milk tends to be used for cheese manufacturing in Italy, while Germany gets half of their entire fruits and vegetables from Italy. It continues to grow and perhaps one day Germany could easily become our own best trade partner in cars, medicine or construction. It’s balanced and reciprocal.

 Sadly, we are constantly told that we have to be as productive and hardworking as our German partners. It kind of annoys me that no matter, it is never enough. Yet here we are, still thriving. Now all we need to be prepared is for a soon coming digital economy…which the Germans are already beating us at.

 But they don’t really have all the cards in the industrial world as they say they have, for many German companies are riddled with bankruptcies and corruption as much as Italy, while there are actually many singular Italian individuals succeeding and bringing glory to the companies they work in. Sometimes were so successful we might even end up paying large loans for our suspicious fiancés.

 Did I make too obvious who I’m talking about? Okay, I am not entirely sure what’s going on and it’s all just confusing, but I will get to the bottom of this, using the help of someone I never thought I would use it from and expose Ludwig’s treachery!

 There is still time to save my little brother!

  They met happily, with strong handshakes and speaking on plans for the day. They were quick in choosing and buying their suits, leaving the store in exactly two hours, with a free day that they could spend well together. They had lunch in a fine restaurant talking of music. Gilbert already made plans for dinner and so they decided on a stroll across the city, passing the time in chats and pointing the beauty on the things they passed.

 “-but Christmas will always be better in Italy for me.”

 “Really? Our Christmas markets are not festive enough for you? Do I have to bring some Pandoro or Panettone? Less Glühwein maybe?” Gilbert feigned insult.

 “No!” Lovino chuckled with a glare that didn’t hold its usual spite. The grin he had was beautiful enough that it had Gilbert falling back to their easy pace. “I’m not a fan of either of those cakes anyways…I prefer a good Struffoli.”

 “Then I’ll get you some!”

 “They never make it as good as they can do it in Naples.”

 “I’ll get a whole array of Neapolitans to make it here.”

 “Where would you even get them from?”

 “I don’t know, the black market?”

 Lovino never thought he would laugh so much with Gilbert, never thought he’d see him so beautiful, to want to be closer, hint enough in the glance he gave to his arms, as if in them was enough call.

 How Gilbert wanted him against him…out of all the moments to get nervous and let his highly boasted confidence crumble.

 “Oh um…” he raised a hand with the intention, but in the end, it was shoved in his front pockets in fear. Lovino tried to hide his disappointment. “…you mentioned wanting to talk about something…unless that something was struffoli and you just wanted to convince someone to illegally transport hundreds of boxes.”

 “It’s about Feliciano and Ludwig.”

 “What about them? …unless you have new ideas of sabotaging their wedding, but come on, I thought we decided were not going to make it worst for them anymore.”

 “No! It’s not that! It’s more specifically about a message I saw on Feliciano’s phone and how he refuses to tell me anything when I ask.”

 “Message? What message?”

 “It was from a bank, something about house money…a large amount of money that he put from his own account.”

 Gilbert was not understanding. “So…he’s…paying bills?”

 “He’s not supposed to.” Lovino stopped them to stare at the river, leaning over the brick, alone and private. “Ludwig is in charge of it. Ludwig is in charge of absolutely everything that has to do with moving to Santo Domingo. Feliciano shouldn’t be paying a single cent in it.”

 “I mean, you can’t completely let Ludwig pay for absolutely everything.”

 “Not a house payment! That was supposed to be fixed from his company. If Feliciano had to pay for it…then it means something is wrong.”

 “He could have been paying something else.”

 “I know what I saw…”

 They lay in silence as they thought it, finding reasons and then calm in the current of this river.

 “And…what do we do about it?”

 “Find out what’s going on clearly. Any ideas?”

 “Well…my genius mind has something quite clear.” Lovino raised an eye. “We could just…ask the company itself,” Gilbert shrugged, pointing in the distance to the large red and white DB. “If something is going on, they’ll know,” Gilbert instilled, determined as ever.

 Lovino was suddenly fearful, that large sign seeming to look down at him intensely.  “Do you think they’ll tell us?”

 “I can’t be one hundred percent sure, but they’ll give us something.”

 Lovino sighed and set course, Gilbert not minding on following behind.

  It was getting late, most workers were surely on their way back home, even the receptionist at the front was packing everything to leave. The timetable at the desk still mentioned these were working hours, if even only a couple of minutes were left. They both hated to be those rude visitors, but they hoped it would be quick.

 “Guten abend, how can I help you?” She introduced, doing well to hide whatever annoyance.

 “Yes, we’re hoping you can tell us about a Ludwig Beilschmidt working here,” Lovino asked.

 “Ah, he’s the one who’s bringing the company to the Dominican Republic.”

 “Yes! Is it possible you can tell us the state of that venture?”

 “That depends. Who are you to ask?”

 Lovino was left blank, but Gilbert acted quick, in his idea fulfilling his wish of holding Lovino, pulling him, an arm around his waist, proclaiming an idea. Lovino was left stunned and blushing in silence. “Sorry, my boyfriend was just asking for me, I was a bit unsure. Uh, Ludwig Beilschmidt is my brother. I’m Gilbert Beilschmidt…I just want to check something for my family, he told me himself it’s all right.”

 “All right then, let me do a quick check here then.” She focused on typing the necessary information on the computer, focused on not noticing the grimace Lovino sent, surely blaring questions, but Gilbert only smirked and winked, instilling to keep themselves this way to make things easier and get their answers. Lovino looked away, pretending he wasn’t swimming in that comfort, hiding a smile, wanting the lady to take her sweet time checking, just so he could stay in that closeness, in the held of that arm for as long as possible. Gilbert took the opportunity to lean himself into the delectable scent of his hair, liking how well he fitted in his chest. He definitely didn’t need to rub his fingers as sweetly as he did on his waist, but it got a little hum from Lovino that Gilbert grinned more to in wanting.

 “Everything is set for him to leave to the Dominican Republic. As I assume you know, he’ll be starting his own branch without the company.”

 “Danke- wait, what? Without the company?” In his surprise, Gilbert let go of Lovino, leaning more for answers.

 The receptionist was rather astounded, but she followed on, “yes. His section is filling for bankruptcy and they cannot afford to start a new base in the Caribbean. He offered to start it up himself. We’ll be giving him some help with contact and location, but the rest he’ll have to do himself.”

 “What are you offering him.”

 “Just contacts and information.”

 “No house payment? No reimbursements? Travel or aid?”

 “I’m afraid not. That will come from his own pocket and investments.”

 “Couldn’t you have offered for him to stay?” Gilbert questioned on.

 “I’m afraid he would have no position here. Everything was settled for him to leave. We really did not have anything open for him to come back to.”

 In their surprise they lay in heavy silence, fretful and agitated, remaining as they truly tried to understand what was going on. The receptionist did look like she wanted to leave, so they wished their goodbyes, now late enough to head to their dinner place, a steakhouse that Lovino didn’t bother to comment on its tackiness as his thoughts were still swimming with the recent news.

 The restaurant had low lighting, they were secluded, their table small so they could lean closer to one another, yet nothing was settled to move on to romance. They sat feeling betrayed, with questions and worries for their little brothers.

 “If I recall, Feliciano’s position is just volunteering?”

 “Yep.”

 “So, he’s not getting paid.”

 “Yep.”

 Gilbert groaned, “then how the hell are they going to work with nothing?”

 “Well,” Lovino shrugged, “Feli does have his savings from what he’s working on the hospital now, plus he paints and sells.”

 “Ludwig has his own savings, you know. I’m sure it’s enough to get started without depending heavily on what Feliciano has.”

 “There’s also the large wedding they have to pay for.” With a 10,000 budget that…they helped to place.

 Now the regret was inking heavy on them.

 “It’s still really unfair that Feliciano has to pay from his own pocket for something that was meant to be Ludwig’s.”

 “They’re getting married, isn’t this the kind of thing married couples do. Did they at least decide this together?”

 “I don’t know… Feliciano hasn’t said anything.”

 “We have to get them to talk then…I really doubt Ludwig would decide on something so brash and use somebody else’s money like that.”

 “And I don’t want to think Feliciano is dumb enough to accept a dependence so large as that.”

 “We’ll see. You go to Feli, I go to Lud, we’ll report back.” How like a mission it sounded, but Lovino agreed as obedient as a soldier. “Now, can we actually focus on our evening?” It was like an awakening that made Lovino realize where he was siting, the dim lighting that he dared say was romantic…with Gilbert. All of a sudden, he found himself reddened, nervous and without new words to say. “Oh, have I left you speechless? That’s all right, it is to be expected in my presence.”

 Lovino scoffed, “I was realizing the stupid decision I got myself in.”

 “It was one of your best decisions really.”

 How Lovino wanted to shout well to the restaurant: ‘Yes!’ But he only smirked, that charming grin that had Gilbert without a remark to Lovino’s silence, the gracious way he picked his drink and sipped. Once done, the conversation was switched on next holiday plans and locations, other chats to drown the night, turning their presence more beautiful and more of an aching each time they had to wish goodbye.

  On Deutschland and Italia.

Germany is war, Italy is love.

 With the catholic seat in Italy, the protestant movements began in Germany, creating the first division of Christianity, a long trail of divide in our continent that has cost the life of millions. Italy has had a long history of invasions from the Germans, from barbaric and creating the fall of Rome, to attacks of religion and territory, in fires, murdering, rapes and destruction. Yet with the rise of Romanticism, Italy became Germany’s inspiration with literary beauties, a show of love that perhaps give us a chance to think of peace. The faith that the world wars brought made it unlikely once again.

 There is repulsion and attraction between us, never meant to settle on a single line. Sometimes it’s like were doomed to never really have that tranquility that would be ideal for this union of Europe.

 Italy’s nature is to love, Germany’s nature is to resist, it’s not meant to mix and become something greater.

 I really wish my brother would have understood that long ago before he found himself in the situation he is in now. I hope to bring him sense, to fix any errors before it ends in something disastrous.

  “Oh, this is so pretty! It would fit Ludwig so well,” Feliciano ogled at this ring, with silver, diamonds and a black stripe.

 “It won’t fit with the wedding decorations though,” Lovino told.

 “What if it doesn’t? It would fit Ludwig, and that’s what matters,” Feliciano smiled, putting the ring back and settling on looking for others.

 Lovino only huffed, not really caring at the task at hand. “They’re really expensive here though.”

 “They do have the nicest. I though you said that price shouldn’t matter,” Feliciano reminded, now settling on a red band, smoothed with diamonds and black jewels.

 “Only if you have the budget for it.”

 “We talked about this the first day. We’re all right, you yourself suggested the budget and were still well under it.”

 And that moment hurt, Lovino realizing that his idea to try and make this wedding hard for him as selfish revenge was only bringing more pain he did not really want for his brother. He did not want to push more into it, did not want to remind more of what Feliciano was going through, but Lovino needed answers, he needed to help his brother if there was a way he could do it.

 “Are you really all right?” He asked, leaning closer, a small little area of privacy in the shop, despite being one of the only five there.

 “I…I’m fine, I really…why you would you question it like that?” There was hesitation and worry that Lovino had learned to see well on his brother, no matter how he later tried to conceal it.

 “Feliciano…” he knew now he had to be direct, or else it seemed Feliciano would move away further. “I noticed the message you got for the house in Santo Domingo.” Feliciano stiffened and looked like he had turned to stone. “Feliciano…what’s going on?”

 Feliciano’s expression was now determined on the rings, trying to make them the focus. Change the topic, a distraction, chose a damn ring. He realized that moment he didn’t like any of them for Ludwig. Lovino could see his disappointment, came ever closer, for Feliciano caging, imposing, and he was never one to resist for long.

 “I didn’t…I didn’t want to say anything,” he finally omitted and Lovino was relieved. “Ludwig and I didn’t want to talk about it with our families until everything was really settled.” He thought maybe excuse enough so Lovino could wait until then, but there was heavy wait in his expression that demanded more, and Feliciano, intimidated, sighed, and gave to be able to rid it. “I really want to keep to what Ludwig said, but…I can admit that our job positions…have changed.” Lovino tried to give surprise, but he needed more he hadn’t heard. “It’s…it’s really nothing to worry about. Ludwig and I are fine. Were just worried about…how you guys will take it.”

 “How come? Do you think we’ll react negatively?”

 “I mean, I just… I just don’t know…and I rather we can talk about it some other time.”

 “You’re going to leave me worried as hell here,” he couldn’t resist raising his voice slightly.

 “Please, please, please, don’t!” Feliciano tried to hush him, taking his arms in his ever-gentile hold. “Just wait a bit more!  The most I can tell you is that…I’m not doing a volunteer anymore.”

 “What?” Lovino outraged loud this time, Feliciano grimacing, pushing him more into their privacy, close, the other comers had now quickly gazed. Once their eyes were back on other jewelry, Feliciano went back to speaking.

 “It’s a job now, a good official job. They’ll pay me lots and I can take care of me and Ludwig.” He got excited hoping Lovino could understand the joy in it, but the elder brother continued his grimace. “However bad you think it is, it’s not. It’s honestly wonderful. Just, please…wait until Ludwig and I talk about it, it will all be clear then.” That’s when the clerk came, suggesting his help and Feliciano took it eagerly to get out of this conversation. He was attentive, no matter the demanding stare Lovino kept on him as he talked on, deciding on rings, buying, saying their farewells. Even as they made their ways back home, Feliciano refused to cave, talking on different topics, nowhere near the future Lovino was exceptionally worried about for him.

  “Ludwig…I’m going to do something I never thought I would ever do in my life,” Gilbert told, planted and spread on their parent’s sofa, Ludwig on a near table tapping away on his laptop.

 “Mhm?” He could only murmur, busy and not really wanting to engage in any kind of conversation.

 “I think I’m going to ask Lovino out.”

 Ludwig instantly stopped his tapping and gazed over to his brother, looking like a defeated soldier all splayed like that…he wondered if perhaps he had truly been fighting some intensive battle…one that lead to some kind of trauma where he thought it was okay to date what he had long considered his biggest enemy.

 “Are you okay? Do you need some water?”

 “I’m fine, really……am I?” He gazed over, Ludwig wondering so, close to calling some sort of clinical aid.

 “In my honest opinion, you are now truly and fully insane.”

 “Is it…that unexpected?”

 “Lovino Valenti, Gilbert…you want to date Lovino Valenti…think about that, analyze, consider, plan…Lovino Valenti!” He needed to make clear as much as he could.

 Gilbert turned and went silent, Ludwig sighing for now, sure that Gilbert would come into his senses.

 “I want to bang him,” he had no problem with alerting the room, Ludwig grimacing and hoping he could erase those words from ever being uttered by his brother’s mouth.

 “Oh no…you’re serious.” There was no way of getting his concentration again, his mind was now too tainted. “What…what happened?”

 “I guess we just…did what you guys always said we should have done. We talked and…kind of decided to settle our differences to help make this wedding possible, and ever since we did that…I’ve realized we actually connect a lot. He’s actually…really cool and he can say so many awesome things that makes me want to…keep letting him talk and listen…I never thought I would want that from him ever.”

 Ludwig…needed to pinch…or slap himself to truly realize this was happening, but wanting to be the attentive younger brother, he simply breathed in and let him continue.

 “…I…think about him a lot, and now…all I’m looking forward to is our next meeting…” nothing more. He breathed in a silence that was odd for him.

 “You know…that sounds exactly like how I felt when I realized…well…that I was in love with Feliciano.”

 The word love was just the shot to get Gilbert to widen and come back to reality. “Woah, woah, woah there, let’s not get carried away,” he even sat up.

 “You just said all that and you refuse to admit that it could be love?”

 “But…that’s too strong, that’s something…way beyond what we’re in right now.”

 “So?” Ludwig shrugged, “doesn’t matter. When the feeling comes, it comes, and it’s not about how long it took.”

 “Feliciano has really gotten to you.”

 “Perhaps…or more like Lovino has gotten to you.”

 Gilbert didn’t know what else to respond with, laying back down, pretending once again his brother was not there.

 Ludwig sighed, “listen…this weekend were having a dinner at Antico again…all of us together.”

 “Are you going to say you’re marrying Feliciano again?”

 “No, it’s just to meet and spend some time together before the wedding. We’re also going to send the invitations that day and Feliciano and I are going to talk about something,” Ludwig sounded his always collectable self, but that’s when Gilbert was reminded of the mission him and Lovino had set forward. Yes, he had to get information…not…sit and ogle over said Italian he had planned this with.

 “What are you going to talk about?” Was his very subtle question.

 Ludwig raised an eyebrow, “…I’m going to talk about it at the dinner.”

 “But what is it?”

 “At…the dinner…”

 “Yeah, but I want to know now.”

 “Gilbert, please, I made it clear, I’m going to talk about it at the dinner.”

 “I don’t think I can wait.”

 “Sure, you can. It’s this weekend.”

 “You know more than anyone I have no patience.”

 “Yes, I know, but I’m afraid you’ll have to wait.”

 “Tell me.”

 “No.”

 “Come on, what if I don’t even go?”

 “Now I really know you’re definitely going.”

 “What makes you think that?”

 “Lovino will be there.”

 Gilbert clicked his tongue, stuck, the effort gone and Ludwig smirked knowing well it had worked. “I still want to know now.”

 “You’re being a child. Can you stop so I can go back to focusing on this?” He leaned back to the couch, taking his laptop and continuing his work, forcing himself into the screen.

 “What are you even doing?”

 “Talking to some investors from my company.”

 “Investors? Why would you need investors?”

 “It’s for something for when Feliciano and I get to Santo Domingo.”

 “I thought your company was in charge of that.”

 “Well, uh…things have changed now.” He hoped with how focused he looked, it would be enough for Gilbert to think that he needed some peace and quiet…but this was his brother after all.

 “How have things changed to the point that you have to get investors?” He leaned close, clear suspicion.

 “It’s nothing to worry about.”

 “Investors usually mean a lot of money, Luddy.”

 “No, they don’t.”

 “Hey, I might not know the full mechanics on how company businesses work, but if I’ve learned something from Opa and TV, investors are never a good word to hear.”

 “This time it’s different.”

 “How so?”

 “None of your business.”

��“Luddy! Luddy! Luddy!”

 “Oh mein gott, stop! It’s to start my own business,” he shouted, in a fiery vengeance, a loud call that brought Gilbert back to his seating.

 For once, Ludwig got the silence he needed to keep on writing, but Gilbert’s eyes were now on him with great intensity. He sat there perturbed, startled…it was just as distracting.

 “What now?” He demanded.

 “A new business? What do you mean a new business?”

 Ludwig sighed, defeated as he lay his head back on the couch. Maybe working on these e-mails in the living room with Gilbert wasn’t a bright idea. “Look, I’m going to talk about it on the dinner.”

 “About starting a new business?”

 “Yes!” Ludwig was getting exasperated.

 “Why would you start a new business? I thought your job had it covered!”

 “Look!” He slammed his laptop, standing, “things have changed! It’s…nothing to worry about! Feliciano and I are still getting married, we’re still going to the Dominican Republic. He’ll be happy and I’ll make sure to do everything I can so he’s comfortable.”

 “Why do you feel the need to clarify that? Something is wrong! Come on, just tell me-”

 “Nothing is wrong! What were worried about is what you will think about it.”

 “Then just-”

 “The dinner, okay! The dinner!” And he was off the room before Gilbert could question any longer.

< previous chapter

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[morshtalon]

Dragon Quest II

Well, it's been a while since I wrote a review on something. I've played a number of games in the meantime, but none of them really gave me anything I felt was worth talking about or that hasn't been talked about before, so I just keep them in the backburner of my mind for possible future reference.

However, I feel like current circumstances make for a good time to dig up one of the games I wanted to share my thoughts on for a long time, and that I had beaten before even writing the first review I've ever "published". That game is Dragon Quest II.

Part of the reason why I held off on it for so long is that I don't think my review of the first game is all that great, and another part is that, again, I don't feel like I've bunched up enough good stuff to say, even though I really wanted to talk about it ever since I played it.

But hey, by far and wide my post popular post is technically related to Dragon Quest II, so why not cut to the chase and do it, right?

Anyway, to say that the first game took off in popularity is an understatement, it being the seminal harbinger of an entire genre of gaming that would soon take the world by storm. You would think that means this would be the time-old tale of "runaway success game making company executives pressure developers into slaving away at a sequel with suffocating deadlines". However, planning for DQII apparently began before DQI was released. 1986 was a different time, I guess. A time when the industry was fledgling enough that it wasn't that much more than a group of dudes banding together to bring an idea to life, and then - not a moment of hesitation after that idea comes to fruition - immediately start brainstorming ways in which they can build on it to give birth to new, more complex explorations of the concepts they had just tackled.

I believe this is why it's good to go back and play these games in their original versions, in chronological release order. Nowadays, it's virtually impossible to innovate. Back then, almost every big-time franchise was always finding ways to breathe fresh air into the structure of their games. Though Dragon Quest isn't the most innovative when compared to the likes of Final Fantasy, they were still making great strides into the codification of the type of game they had pioneered. With that knowledge in mind, one can really appreciate the evolution by going back and exploring these things as they grew with the times. And hey, Final Fantasy still wasn't around by the time DQII came out, so once again, they had to rely on ideas from western RPGs they liked.

In my opinion, II is the first jRPG that actually feels good to play, if you can put yourself into the mindset of an 80's gamer. The designers felt the 1v1 battles of the first title were boring - a sentiment which I share - and put in different groups of enemies as well as extra party members for you to find. One thing that some of these old RPGs that only let you target a group of enemies does is drawing only one enemy sprite on-screen to represent the entire group. Surprisingly, this game does not do that, even though it predates all the ones that do. It draws every enemy on-screen, which doesn't seem like much nowadays, but it's very appreciated nonetheless. Sure, it came at the cost of battle backgrounds (all fights in this game are set against pure blackness), but they did the right thing. The party itself follows what would become a typical archetype of 3-person groups: One character who is a jack-of-all-stats, balanced between physical prowess and magic, one who is focused on physical combat (in this game, this character actually has no magic capabilities whatsoever), and one who is a pure mage. Perhaps surprisingly, because these structures hadn't become tropes yet, the main character is the physical one, and he's also pretty much the most reliable party member by a reasonable margin, even though all he can do is attack normally. Balance issues aside (we'll talk about that later), I honestly sort of dig this arrangement. It's a little bit of a breath of fresh air to see the main character in an RPG rely completely on his weapons, and in the future, in any DQ title that has a reasonable degree of character customization, I always try to make the protagonist a physical powerhouse, to match the one from this game. It hardly ever works, but hey, it just goes for show that I enjoyed it while playing. Given that the other party members join you as you progress through the game at specific points, that also means the complexity of magic spells is added to your arsenal slowly, getting you used to it without feeling overwhelming. Sure, the game is simple enough that it wouldn't be overwhelming regardless of how they had set up the pacing, but I never felt like any of the times I struggled were because of insufficient knowledge of the game mechanics. So, the battles are fun enough, and they feel just right in terms of complexity vs. focus. The strategies to win are simple - really, the whole game is very simple - but it does its job well, and it allowed the developers to have near-perfect control of the game's difficulty curve. As a result, it is also - almost up to the end of the game - pretty nice, even if the whole thing is on the challenging end of things. At the end, it gets... A little special. We'll get to that later.

Let's take a step back and look at the gameplay outside battles. First of all, the story is... sparse, to say the least. Not as much as the one in the first game, and supplemented in the international version by a frankly kick-ass introduction that gives the experience a certain tone and atmosphere I appreciate a lot, but still, it's 1987. jRPGs were... not so much about the story back then, if you can believe that. In fact, they were more like an extension of a point-and-click adventure game. DQII is, essentially, a big fetch quest. In a different story, one that has enough plot points that you can sense a type of underlying narrative progression, I would not enjoy having the game interrupted by a blatant collectathon. However, the fetch quest aspect is basically the soul of this entire game. The extremely loose story paves the way for an experience that boils down to pure exploration and combat, with light elements of puzzle-solving woven in, using the fetch quest premise simply as a background to leave the developers with fertile soil to plant their little tricks and enigmas without worrying too much about how it would all connect rationally. And here, we witness an aspect of old games that could only spring about as a byproduct of limited graphics, ill-defined representations of the setting's reality, and a healthy disregard for common sense, things that were the style at the time. The puzzles, and sometimes just the exploration, violate logic quite heavily. Traversing through a monster-infested castle to get to a point that is technically outside the castle, but you can't just walk around it because most of the outside grass tiles are exit tiles that warp you back to the world map? Sure, why not? Having dedicated "teleport-room" maps that only serve the explicit purpose of housing a teleporter to another part of the world, except for one which also houses a chest with an essential item if you walk along the right border of the map, but not the identical-looking left one? Mario 2 hid a goal post inside a secret too, so yeah! Throw that in! Stairs down in a brick islet surrounded by water which brings you to a room that's... Also at water level? We hardly have enough tiles to go around, let alone a set to represent underwater or underground rooms, so whatever! Nobody cares! And, honestly, I truly don't care, either. If a game is up to, let's say, willfully forgo a bit of logic in order to formulate a creative puzzle to play around with your expectations, then all the more power to it. I honestly feel like puzzles nowadays are too sectioned-off, contained within a single room in a single dungeon, ready for the player to walk in, solve it, move on to the next point in the flowchart and never think about it twice. When puzzles are woven in so closely with the world, requiring the player to think outside the box at all times, as they're out there exploring, it makes the whole game feel like it's working together to make a point, and helps reduce that feeling one gets when playing RPGs where there are very separate elements of gameplay that... Don't really connect to each other very well. Sure, you're blatantly aware you're playing a videogame at all times, and it's not super great for immersion, but this was a time when there just... wasn't enough memory for immersion. It was a constraint that naturally gave way to challenges that capitalized on its own limitations, and therefore, created a type of immersion of its own, where the player is completely sucked into their own thoughts, holding a notebook with a rough sketch of the world map in their hand (yeah, I might have done that), taking notes and thinking where in the world could that last crest possibly be?! I think DQII hit that sweet spot of looseness vs. clarity in the narrative that helped these wild, nonsensical elements flourish. I really don't know how other people react to this sort of thing, but I don't care. I had a good time with it, and soon after this game, everything RPG started to become more focused on story. That's definitely not a bad thing, but I felt a kind of clear, developer-to-player kind of communication from these small bits of wrongness that made me more aware of the time, effort and creativity put into it by the people who were making it. I realized that, were I in the shoes of the dude who was making all this crazy stuff, I'd be stoked to see my friends trying to solve them. I'm not trying to be sentimental, that's how I honestly felt while playing that part with the teleporter and the chest. In any case, I appreciated it.

Then you get to the road to Rhone.

Though, apparently, the game was not pressured into deadlines by higher-ups, I did read something about one of the guys in the team offhandedly setting a deadline that turned out to be just that little bit too tight, requiring it to be delayed from November 1986 to January 1987. This, along with the fact that, at the time, the second title in a franchise had the habit of being designed for people who were hardcore fans of the first game in that series, might go a little ways into explaining why everything starting from the road to Rhone is absolutely fucking brutal. Every element of the game that, previously, was a tad questionable, leaving that little itch of worry in the back of your head, returns here with the express intent to make your life miserable. I have a high tolerance for difficulty, one that is even higher for RPGs where, for the most part, there are always ways to slightly circumvent it and make your life easier. The simplicity of design in DQII means that this is not the case here, and from this point on you're expected to not only have the skill and familiarity you've accrued while playing, but also a very healthy amount of luck to go with you, otherwise you will die. And rest assured, you WILL die. In fact, due to the specific way in which the player's mortality rate skyrockets in Rhone, it's almost not even a matter of the game being "hard" in the traditional sense, because it doesn't exactly require you to be strong enough or smart enough anymore, it just requires you to be patient enough to slowly trudge through the mountain of corpses of your former attempts until you figure out how to minimize your risks to the lowest degree they possibly can be minimized, then hitting that sweet spot of luck and control that finally allows you to reach the end of the game. This particular way of handling things means that, after you hit about level 30 with the main character, further leveling will only render you negligibly less likely to die, and the effects are not strong enough from level to level to even be clearly noticed. But what exactly makes it so hard? The answer is primarily RNG. When you reach the end, you will begin to notice just how much RNG there is through the whole game. Starting off, the turn order is entirely random. There is an agility stat, but I never found any evidence of it actually factoring into who goes first in battle (instead, it's a carryover from DQI that calculates your base defense). If there are more than three enemies, you're at a disadvantage, but even if there aren't, a stray run of bad luck - which is guaranteed to happen given the density of random encounters - means you're gonna have to scramble with enemy attacks, and they are perfectly capable of leaving you in such a state that it would take a miracle to put yourself back in shape, if they don't just wipe you out instantly. Now, remember, two of your three characters have magic. However, at this point in the game, enemies have a large amount of magic resistance to all kinds of different spells, and magic resistance in this game means that there is a chance the spell simply won't work. If it does, it deals full damage. If it doesn't, it deals none at all. I don't know about you, but I almost never take my chances with low-accuracy, gimmicky stuff in other games. This one renders all spells like that given enough time. If you decide to rely on physical strength, the main character is the only one who will bring you any significant results. The pure mage at this point in the game is far more efficient at support casting than direct damage, and the balanced character is - memetically, at this point - incompetent at both, and also sucks as a physical fighter, so once again, you're boned on that front. All of a sudden, running away becomes an alluring strategy. However, once again, there is an ever-prevalent random factor to it, so the pressure is on in all fronts. The game becomes a challenge of carefully planning out how to simply survive each encounter. Do you take the chance and run? If you fail, you'll be wailed on by the full force of the enemy party, and will likely be too weak to attempt mounting a resistance. Do you take the bait and unleash the full force of your attacks? What if they all target different enemies in the group? You won't deal enough damage to kill one of them, so you'll suffer heavy retaliation and waste precious MP that could be spent on healing spells. Did you win or escape successfully? You've only lost about 20% of your health, but some encounters can relieve you of the remaining 80% before you can even act, so do you spend MP healing or do you trudge on because you already don't have that many to go around? If you make the wrong decision at any of these break points - and rest assured, there won't be a shortage of them - you'll either die or get so close to death it will be almost irrelevant to keep going. And then, it's back to the last save point. Rinse and repeat many times until you clear the road and get to Rhone proper, for one final save point and one last, grueling stretch of game before the final boss. Here, the game introduces enemies that have, no joke, a move that kills your entire party and has 100% accuracy. Typing it out, it sounds like hyperbole, like i'm salty that I died so much and am exaggerating the things the game does in order to trick myself into believing that it was super impossible times infinity, but no, it's true. To be fair, there isn't a high chance the enemy will perform this move, but when they do, there's absolutely nothing you can do to save yourself. Just reset the game when the screen turns red. Other than that, the rest of the lovely cast of enemies rounding up the final waves are more than capable of just killing you the regular way, so keep your wits about you like you did back in the cave and grind yourself up until the stat bonuses start getting negligible, because now, you need to face five bosses in a row. Right, okay, technically you can go back and heal yourself right before the last one, but I didn't know that, so if you're an idiot like me, try to get ahold of a Wizard Ring, as well. It's the only way to heal MP, and can be used multiple times until - you guessed it - it randomly decides to break. After that, you just have to contend with two bosses that use a move that heals all their HP when it gets low, so you also have to roughly keep track of their state in your mind so you can unleash a full round of attack before they can get in that heal. Unless your spell doesn't hit them, of course. Or they happen to go first. Or you just barely miss the threshold of HP that will actually kill them. Oh, and be careful! One of the other bosses also knows the instant death move. He won't use it often, but 30 or so attempts in, you're likely to see it once or twice.

Then, the final boss can randomly spawn with a number of hit points between 75% and 100% of his assigned value (every enemy does that), and you're gonna deal an average of about 15% damage per turn to it. Sounds easy at first, but he will take you out in either one or two moves, and...

...Here's the motherload...

...He has a 1 in 16 chance of casting the full heal move at any point in the battle. And he WILL do that the first 2 or 3 times you get to him, sucking you dry of resources and smashing your face all the way back to the save point to try the 5 bosses again, so it's back to grinding attempts until you have another mostly hopeless shot at him.

But when you get him, man...

When you do it...

*sigh*

Anyway, this was a long, rambling, focus-shifting tangent just to correctly capture the degree of luck and randomness that constitutes the final stretch of Dragon Quest II. How does it impact the rest of the game? Well, I still appreciate it for what it did right, and there's a small, strange part of me that actually thinks the insane difficulty perfectly fits the stakes that the game set up, but it is, nevertheless, very hard. And once again, it's the kind of hard that is virtually impossible to circumvent. For any average, non-god-tier player, there is no alternate way of tackling the simple-looking, but highly controlled challenges in this game that trivializes it. You can't change your party, you can't buy extra spells, you can't really use stat-up items to change stat configurations in any significant way. You just have to keep trying and hope it works, and for the first few dozen times, it won't, so you'll just have to deal with it.

Still, it shows, even up to the end, that the DQ team has a certain grasp of consistency in design that will slowly grow and adapt as the series embraces new complexities through the years. DQII stands as somewhat of a black sheep in the series (as the second titles of old franchises often do), but I think it has its place, and it's surely a wild ride. Also, if you can get yourself into the mindset of late 80's design, I can assure you it won't ever be boring. Maddening, sure, but not boring. It's more fun in the midgame, in my opinion, as for someone who is very used to RPGs, it can be exceesingly simplistic at the start and too hopelessly uncontrollable at the end, but I feel it deserves a score of 7 out of 10. It's pure gameplay, and, for what it's worth, you WILL get an intense experience. Just be ready to shake, a lot. And pad your walls.

[birthdaylobotomy]

I Took It And I Ran

WIP                                                                                                                      Currently still very much in progress. However, I wanted to share this! 

CONTENT WARNING: Alcohol, drug use, violence, sexist/sexual language. In later parts there will be suicidal ideation, self harm, prostitution, sexual abuse,  homophobia and racist language among other thing. 

I do not share many of the ideologies my main character does. Remember- you are seeing this through the eyes of an angry kid in the early 90s. He says many things that are, in general, very bitter. 

@sec-lude, @misfitwings, @cohldhands, @smoke-the-woke and anyone else who wants to be put on/taken off the tag list let me know!!

With that out of the way, I hope you enjoy!!

CHAPTER ONE (Part One)

The first time I met Luke, I was at that house party Monica was throwing for her ugly friend Brittney. I don’t remember all of the details, mostly because I was completely and irreversibly hammered. I just know Britt was sad about something, probably her baby daddy not paying his support- he never did- and Monica, who knew everybody up and down the block, decided to throw a party. What can I say? Monica was great at making people forget their woes, until the next day and pounding hangover, of course. Monica, pretty Monica.

I remember the scene at least, the setup. Assad was ranting off to me about some dumb shit I didn’t care about, but I had to pretend to care because as long as he thought we were friends, I would get my weed cheap. Was I manipulative? Oh, for sure, but I didn’t care back then. I didn’t care about anyone.

“This bitch was all over me, I swear,” he sighed, doing the thing he always did, which was tug at my shoulder twice and clap his hands together when he caught my glare. “But, but, I knew I had a girlfriend. She knew too!”

I had already checked myself out mentally from what he was saying. It was always the same shit anyways. He would be dealing to a girl, and she would have no money, “No nothin’ but her body, and damn was her body rich!” And Assad, poor Assad, would be faced with the trial of either going ahead and having the fuck of his life, or staying loyal to his baby. His baby that he sure had the habit of cheating on.

“Yeah, yeah, this bitch- oh!” He cringed his face tight and smacked his hands together twice. “Her ass was so fucking fat, I almost had a- a seizure, just lookin’! My baby can’t find out, she won’t. I won’t let her.”

I nodded twice. I hated men who cheat, I still do. They are scumbags who deserve to be found out. Assad was no exception.

The party was packed. Monica’s parties usually were. Over 100 shady people, all squeezed into one tiny apartment. People who I had never seen, who’s scent I hadn’t even smelled yet. Everyone knew Monica though. If they hadn’t fucked her or her sister, then their boyfriend had. Despite this, everyone loved her.

The room stunk, and that was coming from a smelly punk who lived in early 90’s Detroit. Even my roomates, a former prostitute and her shithead boyfriend, smelled like a flower shop compared to the mess of people I was in. Assad didn’t seem to notice- he must’ve been high off his ass. His skin gleamed with sweat, and his afro seemed to be weighed down with gunks of stale perspiration. He wiped his face a few times and licked his lips constantly.

“Fuck, man,” Assad groaned, giving one last tug at my shoulder before swinging his head in the other direction. “I gotta go. Monica’s parties always end with someone either gettin’ cursed or killed or pregnant. I gotta go.”

I made no attempt to keep him at that party. Instead, I nodded in support of the concept. “Listen, man, if you need to leave, leave. I definitely wouldn’t blame ya,” I said, gesturing of the swarm of drunk criminals that buzzed everywhere I could see.

He bobbed his head three times, each time slower than the former. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Take care, white boy.” I sighed at his awkward goodbye- was it well meaning or an attempt at insult? I would never know or care. I nearly shoved him away, which I disguised with a rough pat on the back, and Assad quickly vanished into the crowd of rats.

Since I was alone, I decided now would probably be my only chance at a cigarette until some other phony friend would find it to be the right time to attack me with their personal crisis.

So, with nothing but a cheap pack a cigarettes and a half empty bottle of warm beer, I escape from the soup of musty kids and into the lukewarm night.

It was such a blessed night. And chilly, too. The raggedy holes in beat-up jeans soaked in the cold and made the skin on my knees prickle up underneath. I kept swinging around the bottle, my arm rubber, as I chucked it out into the street. Even my swaying, drunk eyes could see the glass explode like fireworks.

“Fuck.”

I didn’t even realize just how freezing it was until the vapor rose out of my mouth, like smoke from a dragon. I rubbed my hands against my naked arms and cursed the invention of wife-beaters.

I was mad. I had been for a long time, for a lot of different reasons. The most recent fuel to my fire was the fact that I had fallen bitterly in love with Monica. The queen of whores, sitting on a throne of the men she had fucked and left in the dirt. Pretty Monica, with her cherry red lips and big brown hair, her perky tits and squeaky voice.

I dug a cigarette out of my pocket. I didn’t know a single guy that wouldn’t get a hard on when Monica would wiggle her way into a room, spill a few tacky flirts and wiggle right back out. Something about her left guys, even ones who were damn well smart enough to know she was nothing more than polite slut, drooling after her and her tight little-

I couldn’t find my fucking lighter. My dead old jeans were ripped right through as I forced my hand through my pocket. It came out on the other side, the hole shredded and unfixable. I completely stopped for a long minute. My favorite pair of pants, torn but not in a way I could frame as being some punk bullshit.

“Oh, fuck off!” I grabbed whatever my hands could snatch- a nearly empty pack of smokes- and I flung it as hard as I could muster into the sidewalk. A few wandering crackheads were the only ones to notice as I stamped my heart out against the pack. Up and down I threw myself, until the pack was nothing but a flat stomped out pile of tobacco crumbs and mashed paper.

I stared at the ground. A pile of mediocre cigs, wasted.

Why was I so angry back then? I knew it was just more than Monica. I knew it, but it would have taken a gun or war to make me admit what it really was.

This block was a rough one. Buggy eyed homeless people, all high on dope and some other shit would always come swaying around corners, like feral dogs waiting to bite. Just walking to Monica’s apartment, only seven o’ clock, made me paranoid. The city was going through a great death those days. The auto industry had fled, racial tensions were so strung that you could cut them with a knife. I think everyone was angry, waiting to burst.

I stood there like some kind of scarecrow. I had no cigarettes and no beer. No knife either. As the sound of police sirens acted as a distant lullabye, I was reminded of that. I had left my blade at the apartment. I always did when I came to Monica’s place. The why was really dumb, but I just told anyone who would ask that if Gloria, my roommate, ever got into shit with her scumbag boyfriend, that my blade would save her life. Now that I think of it, she never used that blade, not once in her short life.

That’s when I saw- no, heard first- a man who I would come to know as Luke Evans.

It started with the pounding of his feet- an anthem against the black tar. I heard his sneakers slapping against the earth before I saw him. And when I saw him, I saw all of him.

His feet were a blur, he was running faster than anyone I had ever seen before- you know, if he had for whatever reason changed his life and poured his being into being some trackstar, he would have left Bolt in the dust.

His face- his face was filled with some primordial fear, something out of a nature documentary. His eyes distant but near, wide wide open but closed tight shut, peering. He bounced up and down as his feet touched and released the ground, and he sported an oversized jacket- like a little kid trying out his dad’s old coat. He sprinted with his arms, pumping almost as quickly as his legs did. When I made him out I stopped breathing. I wasn’t afraid of him. I don’t why I wasn’t, but for some reason, I immediately felt the urge to guard him from whatever beast he was escaping.

He ran straight, right through the center of the street. I was to his left- probably just a blur, a small mark on a large map of shadowy, red-brick row homes. But to me, Luke was something like an asteroid. A comet.

Ten more seconds. In a wild racing screech, blared honking and two blinding lights- the beast was revealed.

A truck, torn inside and out with big blocky bullet-holes, shredded to the point it could barely even be called a vehicle. What monsters in human bodies could have destroyed something so thoroughly? I began to sweat as it all came closer. Monsters that lived in each and every apartment as far as I could see.

This is when I, a twenty one year old child, brimming with rage and lust and depression, saw a decision, that I seemed destined from the day I was born to make. I saw the option more clearly that I had seen anything else up to that point. I could save this stranger, who had done something, something big and bad enough to cause that chase, and that anger. Or I could save myself. I could allow myself to continue this existence of standing to the side and nodding to get what I want. A life of putting in no effort, no care, no risk of change. A life that would keep me safe but miserable.

Of course, in that moment, it wasn’t laid out like that- I didn’t think of it that way. However, even young and dumb me knew I needed to do something.

So, in one of my few moments of selfless risk, I made the choice to save him.

It was swift- the flash of my arm thrusting out, the smudge of the darkness and Luke becoming one thing, and, of course, the look. The look we traded as this happened, as he had finally passed me on the street and I, a formerly minor distraction on the sideline, became a central figure. In that moment, I made myself almost as important as the car, with its headlights licking Luke’s heels.

As he looked at me, I swear to this day his baby blue eyes held no fear. He was confused, as anyone would be in that moment- but he wasn’t scared, at least not of me. I don’t know why.

I wonder what I looked like to him. He would never tell me. Maybe a hero. I like to think that at the very least. I fantasize and tell myself I had a manly shine and glimmer, my eyes determined and my mouth a fine line of focus. I wish I had asked him.

But in that moment, I wasn’t thinking of me. I wasn’t really thinking about Luke either, truthfully. In reality, I was thinking about the car.

The car, which screeched as it came closer, closer, a giant hulking monster that would kill me in an instant if I refused to move any longer. I sprang, my legs weak and bouncy but strong. Strong enough to leap across the small plot of grass in front of the building, my arm a leash and Luke barely connected. I spotted the bush- the bush that all of Monica’s drunk boyfriends would piss in, littered with cigarette butts and and wrappers and whatever other shit people would be too lazy to actually dispose of.

In that moment, that nasty fucking bush was a paradise- something sent from God himself to rescue me and this beautiful blonde criminal attached to my arm. I threw myself fully into it, the thin twigs popping and crackling as they snapped around us. Everything was so fast, so urgent, that the moment we sat the world came to jolting halt.

Silence.

We were as silent as two panting, terrified children could be. I could only hear the sounds of our bodies and the city then- the constant warning of police and their wail, the close hum of the party in the building right against the shrubbery, and the car. The car, wheezing and sputtering like an old man. Its engine coughed and spat below the hood. I could hear shouting- what did they say? They sounded angry, and dangerous. I put my hand instinctively over my mouth, and I tried to slow my breathing one trembling huff at a time. My eyes couldn’t help but stray to the person inches away from me.

The light of the car moved slow, slow. It winked at us, walked across our bodies, the shadows of the leaves that crossed us looking like spots of black against our persons. The glint was too powerful and in a moment of impulse, I turned my face. I saw Luke, not move, not even blink. The light gave him a holy glow, a halo. He did not look at me. He looked only at the truck.

It seemed to last a million years. When finally the shouting stopped, I heard something like a mumble, and then the tires screamed against the street, and the truck sped off and away.

Neither Luke nor I moved for a full thirty seconds. Nothing. The car was gone- it was truly gone. I had been the first to hint at our safety; I looked at him and couldn't help but smile, big, goofy and relieved. Out of the corner of his eye he assessed me cautiously, before finally turning to face me fully for the first time. When he did, the corner of his mouth was a boyish grin.

Even in the hidden darkness, his eyes twinkled like Christmas lights. I could make out his dimples that shined through his babyish cheeks. There was something so alien about that youth, and those eyes. I couldn’t help but feel myself fall in an exhausted but hearty laugh. And he started laughing too, and I remember so cleanly both us giggling and sobbing with this brilliant feeling of ease.

When we eventually were became too sore to keep dying over nothing, we fell quiet again. I noticed Luke move his head side to side, as if he were searching for something. I could only see the darkness of his silhouette. I looked at only him.

“This bush smells like urine,” he said. That brought me back to a level of reality. It did smell like piss- and drugs. And whatever nasty shit people has dumped into it.

“Fuck, let’s get out then.”

“Okay.” Both of us moved at once- Luke, not drunk like me, popped up out of the bush with a flurry of broken and dry leaves. He yanked me up without me having to ask. We both stood there, very close, the brier scratching at our waists. It took my slightly intoxicated sway to get us moving again.

When we were back in the clear, Luke looked over up and down the streets as he yanked up his pants and held his huge jacket closed. He didn’t explain anything, but instead looked to me and nodded with gratefulness. “Thanks, man. Really.” I told him no worries, and picked a few thorns out of my knees. “What’s your name?”

My head jerked up. This was the crossing of a great bridge. I hid my happiness by raking my hand through my mess of hair. “Ryder. You?”

With one hand clutching his jacket, he stuck out a small, twig-sliced hand. “Lucas Evans. My friends prefer Luke, though.”

Did I plan it? Did I do it on purpose? I like to think I didn’t, and that I either was too stupid to realize it- which is much more likely- or that it was fate somehow. The idea of me doing it consciously makes me cringe.

“Alrighty, Luke...We should probably go inside.” Without hesitation, I took and shook his offered hand.

And in that moment, I didn’t just cross the bridge, but I flew across it, not even thinking to look back. Just by changing a few minor letters and shedding an S this person, who I barely knew but had still saved, went from being a complete stranger who owed me to a friend.

I saw him look to the ground in- in what? In pleasure, embarrassment, childish joy? But when he looked back up his dimples dotted his cheeks grandly.

“You’re right. I don’t-” He peaked over his shoulder again, scratching the back of his head, “I don’t think it would be all that smart of me to go back into those streets.”

“No kiddin’,” I said, leading the way back to Monica’s cluttered party. “If you just stay here for a bit you’ll be fine.”

When I opened the door I was hit with pounding, pungent reminder of why I left in the first place. Girls caked with makeup and sweat, greasy punk boys shedding their shirts to try impress someone, anyone. I let out a heave of a sigh and turned to Luke with a flip-flopped expression. “Just so you know, be weary of everyone here. They aren’t good people.”

[johnboothus]

VinePair Podcast: American Wine Has Boundless Potential

American wine has never been in a better place. Wine is now being made in all 50 states, and the map of exceptional wine regions has expanded well beyond California. From Virginia to Michigan, New Mexico to New York, Texas to Idaho, American grape growers and winemakers are finding exciting new sites for viticulture and, in many cases, unfamiliar varieties that are greatly expanding the boundaries and potential for domestic wine.

On this week’s VinePair Podcast, Adam Teeter and Zach Geballe are joined by VinePair tastings director Keith Beavers to give an overview of the current landscape of the American wine industry in conjunction with VinePair’s American Wine Month. They discuss the emerging wine regions in Paso Robles, the Columbia Gorge, and the Great Lakes, and ponder what America’s love of wine tourism will mean for these regions and others moving forward.

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Or Check Out the Conversation Here

Adam: From the Ritz Cracker display at Publix, I’m Adam Teeter. You don’t get it? But no, really from Brooklyn, New York, I’m Adam Teeter

Keith: From Brick City, I’m Keith Beavers

Zach: And in Seattle, Washington, very confused, I’m Zach Geballe.

A: And this is the VinePair Podcast. Zach, how are you confused? They had a press conference last weekend where Rudy Giuliani came live from the Four Seasons Total Landscaping instead of the Four Seasons Hotel.

Z: I guess…

A: So I’m coming live from the Ritz Cracker display instead of the Ritz Carlton.

Z: I got you. I feel like we’re like a week and a half late on this joke, though.

A: No, I think it’s good. I still think it’s hilarious. We’ll have to wait to see what it sounds like to the listeners, but anyways guys, so this podcast is all about American Wine Month. The month at VinePair, we’re devoting to all things U.S- made wine. I really want to thank our sponsors Virginia Wine, CakeBread Cellars, Domaine Carneros, and 3 Girls.

And I’m excited to talk to both of you about wine. Keith is our guest host, VinePair’s tasting director, for this week. But before we jump into that, we’ve been doing a pretty fun segment at the top of the show every week now about what everyone’s been drinking recently. I’m assuming you guys have been drinking some dope shit as of what happened last week. So Keith, what about you first?

K: Well, some dope shit is correct, Adam. Well, you know, American Wine Month at VinePair, I’ve been deep, deep, deep into American wine. And I’m really excited. I love Virginia wine, and I’ve been tasting some seriously great Virginia wine, and a lot has been sent to us. And it was kind of great. On Saturday, after the big announcement, I sat and drank a bottle of Jefferson Cabernet Franc from the area in which Thomas Jefferson allocated vineyard space, south of Monticello, to actually try to make America a wine-growing nation. And somebody came and they bought the property and they’re doing great things, and it’s just an amazing, beautiful Cabernet Franc so it kind of made sense. And I listened to the Jimmy Hendrix “Star-Spangled Banner” while I was drinking it.

A: Sweet. Zach, what about you, man?

Z: Well, I’ve also been on the American wine train, as I often am. And I think for me this past week, it was a lot of Willamette Valley Chardonnay. So Pinot Noir in the Willamette gets a lot of press, obviously. It’s by far what’s most widely grown and made there, but I’ve been really excited about Chardonnay from the Willamette and in particular a bottle from a producer called Cooper Mountain. Their old-vines Chardonnay, which I think date back to the late ’70s, some of the oldest Chardonnay plantings in the Willamette that are still in use and it was f****** delicious. So, I didn’t pair it with any music, Keith, I’m sorry. Well, pretty much all that gets played in my house these days are the songs my 2-year-old is obsessed with. So unless you really want to know how well Willamette Valley Chardonnay pairs with songs about bucket trucks and skid-steers, that’s another podcast.

A: Please, tell us more. So for me, that Saturday was a day I busted out the top stuff. And I’d had this bottle of Champagne in my house for a while and we just said, f*** it. So I opened a bottle of 2006 Pierre Jouët Belle Epoque Blanc de Blanc and it was awesome. ‘Cause I went out into the park in Fort Greene. Spike Lee was DJing, which was amazing. There was like a crazy amount of energy. And we just sat in the park myself, my wife Naomi, and Josh, who co-founded VinePair with me.

And we just drank the wine and it was really fun to watch everyone. And then people were sharing, you know, glasses and passing stuff back and forth. We had other things, too, but that was like the bottle that we popped first. You know, and it was just, you know, really memorable. And we actually, like, we brought coupes out with us.

It’s like whatever, let’s go full agro here. Just bring the glassware. And it was awesome. I mean, it was just a lot of fun, so that was, that was the most memorable thing I drank last week. Although I will say there was one other amazing experience I had, which was earlier in the day, actually that morning before everything got called, and this is why I was with Josh because I live in Brooklyn and Josh lives in Manhattan, so we don’t normally just find ourselves together when a random event like this occurs and everyone just decides to run out to somewhere and start drinking. But we had a meeting in the morning with Brian, this amazing entrepreneur who founded the sake distillery in Brooklyn called Brooklyn Kura, which now has pretty quickly over the past few years become known as the best Sake distillery outside of Japan. Sorry, sake brewery, and I’d never been to a sake brewery before, actually.

And first of all, the sakes were really delicious, but again, what do I know? I think they were very delicious. I enjoyed them, but I very easily admit that I don’t know a lot about sake, but these pleased my palate. And it was really cool to watch the process until I go back in the back with him and sort of understand how they’re actually making sake. Have either of you ever been to a sake brewery before?

K: No.

Z: I have, yeah, there’s one down in Oregon that I’ve been to.

A: It’s so interesting to watch what they’re doing. I didn’t realize how many people now are making more artisanal styles. Like, growing more artisanal-style rices in certain parts of the country. There’s a lot of really cool rice coming out of Arkansas, which I never would have thought of, and it was cool to watch. They don’t have the machine there that actually refines the rice. They’re actually able to still take advantage of the fact that there’s a lot of commercial sake distilleries in California. He was explaining all this stuff that we’re used to as Americans that sort of turned us off of sake, like the really warm sake bomb-type stuff.

None of that’s made in Japan. That’s all being made by Japanese companies, but in California, which I also didn’t know. But they have all these facilities where they can refine the rice. So they sell them to other people. But then there’s this one guy who he said is a little nuts, out of Chicago or maybe Indiana who’s started to set up his own sake place as well. And he went and bought his own refining machine. So he’ll take some of the more artisanal stuff and then sell them back to people like Brooklyn Kura.

K: This is insane.

A: It’s crazy. But then they soak the rice forever in water which I didn’t realize. And then the thing I didn’t realize is then they cook the rice and then they let a mold grow on it, and it’s actually the mold that creates the sugars that allows the fermentation.

Z: It’s really cool, too, because it’s like this weird kind of simultaneous fermentation. Well, not really two fermentations, but the Koji is producing the sugar out of the starch of the rice at the same time as yeasts are fermenting the sugar. So as you maybe saw some in-process as I have, it absolutely does not look like something you would want to ingest. It’s horrifying.

A: No, it doesn’t. Yeah. It’s literally like they’re just letting mold grow on rice and then when they go to brew it, it then comes out the way that it is, but he also had us taste some wild stuff. So first of all, another thing I didn’t realize was that sake doesn’t really age. He said that it can, but not in a way that you would think about with wine or things like that. Once it’s basically a cold temperature, it is what it is. He said there’s some funk, there’s some people doing some stuff in Japan where they are letting it sit for years and years. And it just changes. It just may not be the thing that everyone wants to drink. I kind of think it becomes a thing where like at the same time now people have a taste for Brett and stuff. It’s like, you get a taste for that kind of like weird funk that develops after the sake gets old. There’s definitely like a small population of sake drinkers that like that, but not a huge group. But that was super interesting to understand. And then they actually dry-hopped sake. And he poured it for us. And I literally thought that I was drinking liquid grapefruit juice. It was the craziest thing I’d ever tasted. And it was pink because it pulls out the colors from the hops, which is weird because hops are green, but for whatever reason, it ends up a pinkish-orange color, and they almost sell it as a rosé. And then of course they’re doing other stuff too. Like they’re making like a Pét-Nat sake. I was like, here we go.

Z: You really were in Brooklyn.

A: Yeah. I was in Brooklyn. I was in Industry City. But yeah, just shout out to them ‘cause they’re doing really cool stuff, and I thought it was delicious.

K: What was the alcohol on the dry-hopped?

A: It was like 12 percent or something like that. 12, 14. So, I mean it’ll hit you, but not in the way that other things will, it was very tasty.

I was very impressed and they’re of course trying to make sakes that they’re not encouraging you to then use as a spirits substitute for cocktails and stuff. Their whole goal is to have you drink the sake as it is. And also their big push, too, is to take it out of the American idea that you’re supposed to have it in those little short sake glasses. They obviously serve theirs in wine glasses and in smaller ones, more like what you would think of a white wine or something at a wedding. That’s kind of the way I think of what glass size they use. But he explained to me, too, where the small sake glass comes from, and it has nothing to do with aromas or anything like that. It’s that in Japanese culture, the more you’re serving the guests, the more pleasure it gives you. And so if it’s a smaller vessel, you have to serve your guests more often. And so that’s the only reason the sake glass is small, because we would constantly be refilling your person’s glass. And so that’s you showing yourself as being a very good host. But of course, Americans, as Brian joked, we see that glass and we’re like, “Sweet! It’s a shot.” We just throw it back. But yeah.

Z: This has been super interesting and I look forward to next year’s American sake month.

A: I know. Totally. But yeah, thanks Zach. You didn’t get the Ritz Cracker joke, now you’re just hating on my sake stuff.

Z: No, no I’m just saying let’s transition.

A: Well, yeah, let’s talk about American Wine Month. So I mean, all of us, we’re from different parts of the country. I mean I lived in the South for awhile. Then went to school in the South and moved up here. Zach you’re from the Northwest and then obviously went to school in New York. Keith’s from all over. Maryland, New York. So we’ve all sort of traveled a lot. And I think what’s really interesting about the United States is that first of all, as we know, there’s bonded wineries in all 50 States. As we noted, Zach, before we started the podcast, just being a bonded winery doesn’t necessarily mean that they’re making wine from vinifera, but they are making some sort of wine. But there’s really cool stuff happening all over the country. And I think what’s so exciting about it, is that it shows it’s not just about three or four of the regions that probably everyone knows. And there’s really amazing stuff coming from everywhere. And I guess my question to both of you guys to just start this is: Is there such a thing as American wine? What do you think American wine is? If someone said to you American wine, what would you immediately think of?

K: For me, I believe American wine is wine made from grapes that are not from here, by people that are not from here. We all came from somewhere else to be here, unless you’re an indigenous culture. And I think that American wine for me is defined by the ability to grow vines that are meant for the soils in which they’re grown in. And the wine is made in such a skillful way that it represents that area, whether it’s a Viognier, whether it’s Petit Manseng, whether it’s Cab Franc, whether it’s Grüner Veltliner, it doesn’t matter. In Texas they’re doing Tempranillo, and people dig it, but they’re also making fruit wine, you know? So I see American wine as this sort of Wild West mentality, but now finally with more information about science and technology, focusing more on the soil, more on where we grow grapes, why it’s good to grow them there. And then, making good wine. So that’s how I see it. And we’re not done yet. The Petaluma Gap in Sonoma was awarded in 2017. In Washington State, I just found out two weeks ago, two more AVAs were awarded in the Columbia Valley. So we’re still working on it, but I think that’s kind of what defines it to me.

Z: Yeah. And I think Keith you capture a really important piece here, which is what I often think about as well, which is this idea of — whether you want to use the Wild West metaphor — or to me, it’s just this idea that there was no existing wine culture in this country in terms of growing or consuming until quite recently. And some of what did exist was wiped out by Prohibition and it was slow to recover. And what’s been really exciting for me about American wine is that we are now at a place with the industry where it’s so much more developed and mature than it was 10, 15, 20 years ago. So that not everyone has to feel like they have to make a wine that refers to Europe. I mean, yes, the varieties, the cultivars, the clones, and of course the species itself is European in nature, but we are not necessarily seeing wine regions in the United States feel too confined by established European styles by saying, “Oh, well in Bordeaux, they plant these X number of varieties, and so those are the only things we can plant here.” Obviously you still see a lot of that. I don’t mean that those wines have disappeared. Of course they’re still very popular and rightfully so, but you do see experimentation with all kinds of different varieties and people saying, “Well, why can’t I grow a Spanish variety and a French variety and an Austrian variety and a Croatian variety all in my vineyard? I think they’ll work here. I want to make wines that are of these various styles or from these varieties. And I can do that.” And that’s a freedom that just does not exist in most other places. Few other places in the new world have similar spirits, but here in the U.S. we have this almost endless amount of land that could be potentially converted to viticulture, should someone want to do it.

A: Yeah, I think that’s true. I think the other thing that makes American wine so interesting is that this country is just so big. Every state is almost its own country. So, what works in the Finger Lakes may not necessarily work in Texas. But that’s OK  because there’s other things that can work. And I think the thing that started to define American wine for me, which I really like, is that over the last decade, two decades even, there’s become less of a focus by a lot of the really top producers — and then everyone else has followed — of having to make a wine in America that tastes like a wine from the Old World. It’s like no, the Cabernet from Napa tastes like Cabernet from Napa. There’s less of that now. I remember even early on in my wine journey, I would go to the North Fork and the winemaker would say like, yeah, we’re really going for a Right Bank Bordeaux. And now you don’t hear that as much here. Why aren’t we saying no, this is a North Fork wine, right? This is what it is. And becoming more confident that, yes, we can take the grapes from Europe and the wines don’t have to be copies of the wines from Europe to be considered high quality and to be considered best in class and all of those things. They can be their own thing.

K: And what’s cool about that is the fact that what we did was, in trying to emulate European wine, we created our own styles. Which is really kind of cool. I mean, I know the meritage thing never really took where, you know, in California there was this word called meritage. And if you had a meritage if you used all the Bordeaux varieties and stuff, but we ended up making our own stuff and created our own style, which is really awesome.

A: Totally.

Z: Yeah. And I think actually to the point that you were making, Adam, as well, I think even more excitingly now, not only do you not hear wineries, and wine producers, wine regions say, “Oh yes, our wines are comparable to the wines of ‘pick your French region of choice.'” But even something like Napa, which is obviously an American wine region, I don’t even hear as many wineries, say, “Oh, we’re making a Cabernet like a Napa Cab.” There is a real understanding that what makes a lot of these parts of the country that are growing grapes and making wine so exciting is that they are their own thing. And yes, there’s going to always be some similarities. I mean, to some extent the character of each of these varieties or blends is going to show through, but it’s cool that whether you’re in Virginia, or Washington, or Oregon, or Texas, or Arizona, or any other place, I think the more that producers in those places can be comfortable saying, “We think we’re making a wine that’s really representative of this place and of these varieties of this place, of this vintage.” Those are the wines that I think all of us get excited about. And the wines that are harder to get excited about are someone who’s trying to make a replica of something that already exists. I mean, yeah. If you can make a wine that tastes like Château Margaux and it’s way cheaper, I guess that’s cool. But really the most exciting thing for me is to make a wine that is clearly and interestingly of the place it’s from. And this country has a lot of interesting, cool places. As you mentioned, Adam, it’s this incredibly vast country with incredibly different geology, climates. All these things that make for incredibly remarkable wine regions. And we’re just still scratching the surface. I mean, Keith, you mentioned how there’s new AVAs being awarded all over. And I mean, I was excited to see that Hawaii has now petitioned for its first AVA. The only wine I’ve ever tried from Hawaii is a pineapple wine, which was actually kind of good. But this is vinifera to be clear. But I think that’s super exciting and like, we don’t know. There’s all kinds of possibilities still out there. And the cool thing about wine is that it rewards exploration and experimentation and taking a chance. Of course, not all of them will work out, but there’s always that possibility.

A: My question to you guys is, over the last decade, we’ve seen new regions in Europe that have always existed, but have popped really big in the U.S. and more money has flooded in. So I’m thinking about, for example, like the Jura right? All of a sudden, a bunch of somms are talking about it and it was everywhere. Sicily, specifically Etna. And then all of a sudden, now you have Burgundy producers buying land there. You have Barbaresco and Barolo producers buying land there. What do you guys think? If there was a region that you think was going to pop next in the U.S. and you think, “Oh my God, this is the region that’s going to pop. And every single person is going to realize how great it is, and there’s gonna be money flooding in there.” Is there one or could you think of one?

K: Yeah. I mean, what’s cool about Washington State is it seems to be a really big — what is it, the second largest wine-producing region in the country? And there’s been some very significant investments there starting from back in the day. And I think we’re already seeing investment in Virginia. So to think of a brand new space —

A: No. I’m not saying brand new because you look and Etna existed forever, right? It just, all of a sudden, who knows what it was? It was someone saying like, “Oh my gosh, these are like Burgundy. And all of a sudden, everyone just started dumping money. Right? And it became the thing people were talking about. I’m just wondering, what are a few regions in the U.S. we think that there could be or, maybe there isn’t yet. Maybe there is, I agree with you that the thing I think is most ripe for it is Washington. And that’s honestly just because for whatever reason, Zach might think I’m kissing his a** right now. But for whatever reason, like that stage has flown under the radar for a really long time for no explainable reason.

Z: Allow me to explain why.

A: Please, because the explanation I’ve always heard is that Oregon just got there first or whatever, and people start talking about the Pinot Noirs, and people just forgot that Washington was there, but I’m sure there’s a better explanation than that.

Z: Well, I think that the biggest thing that’s changed about the wine industry in my time in it, and the way that consumers tend to think, is one of the things that worked against Washington for a long time was that it had no clear cut variety or style of wine that was the signature. And there’s certainly plenty of famous and highly priced Washington Cabernets and Cabernet-based blends. Pre-“Sideways,” there was a lot of emphasis on Merlot and I think Washington Merlot is actually really an exciting wine, for sure. But the strength of Washington is almost like the strength of the U.S. in a microcosm. It’s the diversity and it’s all the different things that can be made. And we’ve only, I think just in the last few years reached a place where in the American wine market, there’s actual interest in a lot of different kinds of wines, a lot of different varieties, a lot of different styles.

And so there are still the diehard “I only drink Pinot Noir. I only drink Cabernet. I only drink Chardonnay” folks, but most wine people that I meet these days or talk to, they’re interested in trying something new. And that’s where I think Washington has an incredible possibility, which is to say, “Hey, we are growing over a hundred different varieties.” There are people focusing on all kinds of different things in this state. There are wineries that focus exclusively on Spanish varieties. There are wineries that focus exclusively on white wines from the Rhône Valley and south of France. There are wineries that do just about everything in their own way in various different sizes. And the thing, to come to your question about a region, Adam, I actually think that one of the most exciting places in the country and a place that I think the same kind of people who got excited about the Jura are, or will be excited about, is the Columbia Gorge. And the biggest reason for that is that it is such an incredibly unusual appellation and growing region for Washington. So it’s on the border between Washington and Oregon. And unlike the vast majority of Washington, it’s actually relatively cool and a little bit more wet. So it isn’t as much of a sort of high desert environment like much of Eastern Washington. It’s much more like the Loire Valley in France in terms of its climate, but with a very different geology and a lot more elevation. And so you’re seeing people make amazing whites from both well-known varieties like Chardonnay, but also Grüner Veltliner. People are doing interesting things with Tocai Friulano and then you’re also seeing a lot of interesting cool- climate style reds, which has not been a big thing in Washington State for sure. But there’s interesting Pinot Noir there. There’s amazing Gamay, you’re seeing people do fun things with Cabernet Franc. And, and as you move to the eastern edge of the Columbia Gorge, you do get a little bit more of what we associate with the rest of Washington. So a little bit hotter, but you still have that real river influence. So it is its own area. And what’s cool is you have all the other things that I think draws people to places like the Jura is the producers are all pretty small. There’s no big wineries. So the wines are niche there, and they’re small production. And unfortunately it makes it hard to find some of those wines around the country, for sure. But for people who are interested in exploring, it’s an area where there’s a lot of interesting small- to medium-sized wineries who are doing fun things. And that’s definitely one area, again, because of my proximity is part, that I think is ripe for more discovery around the country.

K: Well, I think based on your question, Adam, this is I mean what it sounds like to me is the United States, we’re still working on it. You know, we have a lot of work to do because in 1980, the first AVA was awarded to Augusta, Mo.  And then eight months later in 1981, the first AVA in California was awarded to Napa Valley. And since then, we’ve had 224 AVAs across the country. And for a long time, like I said earlier, people were forcing vines into soils that didn’t really work so much. But I think it’s not really about what the next exciting region is. I think it’s more about how we, as an American wine drinking culture, approach the places that exist. Maybe for example, Temecula has awesome wine. No one knows Temecula. Paso Robles.

A: I was waiting for it.

K: There it is. I am in love with that AVA. I think it’s an absolute phenomenon that it kind of flies under the radar because there’s a few brand names that are jiving on the American market that you can find in supermarkets in wine shops. But there’s also stuff that you can’t really get outside of Paso. Just like there’s things you can’t get out of Temecula, and things you can’t get out of Columbia Gorge. So I think that one of the things — and again, we’re in a pandemic and it’s different, but that’s not gonna last forever.

I guess what I’m saying is, we get to go to these places and see what these skilled winemakers are making. And I think the next thing with American drinking culture is to explore the diversity of the wines in the area. Let’s get people into Long Island Grüner Veltliner. And the thing is if you can’t get it, well the DTC, the direct-to-customer thing, is getting a little bit better. I think that celebrating what’s fun, and that in doing so we can actually educate the American wine consumer on more varieties, different kinds of cultivars and stuff. Like what’s Grüner Veltliner? Well, it’s this Austrian variety and it’s really awesome in Long Island, you know? So I think that’s where we should go next.

A: Yeah, I think, what’s difficult for people and I would say, you know, the best advice I could give about American wine is, don’t be scared to take a risk. And don’t turn your nose up just because you hear of a state and you’ve never heard that it makes wine before. Because I guarantee you there’s someone in that state making really great wine. Like when I’ve heard people be like, “Oh, Connecticut, they make wine? That can’t be good. Or New Jersey, New Jersey makes wine?” I mean I literally have not, which is a shame, ’cause I’m so close to New Jersey, there’s apparently a lot of amazing wineries in South Jersey. Yeah. You’re in New Jersey in Brick City, or Pennsylvania in Lancaster County, where my wife is from. She’s from Lancaster the city, but in the county, there’s an Amish guy that ripped up his farm and planted vineyards. And honestly, he makes a Merlot that’s amazing.

Z: I think the other area to think about and I’m super excited about, Adam — I think you and I like jokingly mentioned this way back in one of our very first podcasts – but it was like a lot of the states around the Great Lakes area where I think there’s really interesting potential, whether it’s in Michigan or potentially even in Wisconsin. As things start to change climatically, and as places get a little bit warmer potentially and drier during the summer, I think one thing that America doesn’t have a lot of are classic wine regions that are near large bodies of water that are not oceans. And when you compare that to Europe, the Finger Lakes are the one exception and we think the Finger Lakes are super exciting in part because of the possibility that that kind of viticulture provides. And I think you could see some really interesting wine coming out of those States in the next 10 to 20 years. I know one of the challenges for a lot of those areas is that traditionally they get so cold over the winter that there’s only a few varieties you can really plant that are cold-hardy. But, I think you’ve seen more and more development in understanding rootstocks and, and ways to shelter vines. That’s an area that I have my eye on. I think I’ve tried a couple of Rieslings from Michigan. That’s the extent of what I’ve tried from the Great Lakes, but, I’m really excited to see if there’s more investment and interest in putting some time into those.

K: Left Foot Charley and his no-residual, no-RS, no-residual-sugar Riesling from just North of Traverse city is just incredible. And what’s awesome is his winery is located in an old asylum. They took this asylum up in Michigan and then it closed down and they were repurposing it. It’s really intense.

A: Yeah. I mean, I think there’s a lot of opportunities, right? I mean, we’ve talked about Virginia a bunch. Obviously they sponsored American wine month, but we’ve been hot on Virginia for a long time. I think there’s a potential for it to be one of the great wine regions of the country. And especially on the East Coast, there’s a lot of stuff happening there that’s really exciting. And especially as the vintners are getting more up into the mountains, into the actual Shenandoah Mountains, they’re finding the cooler temperatures. They just have to deal with more stuff, and that’s the thing that’s going to be difficult, right? As some of these wine regions expand, how much are we going to be willing to also be OK with some of the things they need to do to be able to make good wine?

So, you know, in Virginia, they have to deal with a lot. And there’s a lot of humidity and stuff like that. And so being 100 percent organic is almost impossible, whereas it’s very easy in Napa. So is “sustainable” going to be enough? Right? Are we gonna be OK if they spray once or twice a year? ‘Cause they have to. I don’t know what it’s like in Texas. I just know Texas is super hot, but maybe it’s a dry heat. I don’t remember where it becomes a dry heat. So there’s gonna be things they have to do. There’s gonna be things that they have to do if we want to be able to have some of these different wine regions succeed. I think it’s crazy that we haven’t seen more. You look at certain regions like New Mexico, right? And the success of Gruet, and how amazing those sparkling wines are. And the fact that we haven’t had others yet, or I’m sure there are, but just other people haven’t followed in a really dramatic way. It surprises me to be honest. And that’s why I asked my original question, which was, you know, where do you guys think the money is going to come from, or what region do you see your money flooding into? And I wonder if it has a lot more to do with bias, right? Because there’s this amazing sparkling wine being made in New Mexico. And yet all the brands aren’t flooding in to be like, “We should be doing that, too. Look at what they’re doing.” This is a quality of wine that we can’t believe they’re being able to produce. And at this price point. Whereas when someone says, you know, Italy and Etna and everyone is like, “Oh yeah, of course Italy! Yeah. Dump the money in.” Or all of a sudden it’s like that bias of well, of course, it’s the Old World. And so they’ve always been making wine. So yeah, we all forgot about this region, but it’s always been there and is it easier for some people to accept for whatever reason when honestly, if you can produce great wine in a region, like why does it matter how long that region has been producing wine? Especially because if you look at the Sicilian history of producing wine, for a very long time, it was very, very bad. So how did that change? And the only thing that I can think of is the bias, that European bias.

Z: And I think the other piece of this is one thing we haven’t talked about and I don��t mean to get into a long conversation about, but a part of the American wine experience also has to do with tourism and visiting wineries. And I do think that one of the reasons you’ve seen a bias towards certain parts of the country is because those are places that are convenient for tourists, that are otherwise accessible, that are beautiful. And it may be the case that the beauty of the high desert in New Mexico, I think is actually very striking, but it’s not as much of an obvious tourist destination as Napa Valley. It also doesn’t have the density of other stuff to do. So I’m not saying there’s some reason, there’s a bad reason for that. And I think sometimes it’s hard to disentangle in the U.S. the difference between regions that are great wine destinations and great wine-producing regions. And those two things can be synonymous, but they’re not always, and some of the places that I’m excited about as regions that could produce great wine may never be places that are high on anyone’s travel list.

And that is also true in Europe, to be fair. I mean, I love the wines from Emilia-Romagna and I love the food from Emilia-Romagna in Italy, but it is not a pretty place. It’s basically flat and full of pig s***. And so, not every winery, and not every wine region is going to be beautiful or easy to access. But I think what we should be asking of these regions, whether they’re new or old, is that they be focused on quality and on producing the best wine they can. And it’s our job as journalists, as drinkers, to find those wines, to talk about them when they do merit discussion and to mention if it’s a great tourist destination or not, but you know, we’re all finding obviously in this year without tourism that there are other things that matter.

K: Well, the thing is the Finger Lakes is not easy to get to. And the Niagara Escarpment is not the easiest thing. It’s seven hours from New York driving, but it has become one of the national focuses of one grape: Riesling. But I think we can do it. It’s just a matter of, like Adam said, the bias. We need people to focus on it. And that’s the thing. In Europe, Sicily was mostly known for bulk wine, but there was always a small producer making awesome shit in Sicily. There’s always somebody down in Victoria  making great wine and then one day is like, “Oh my gosh, I actually have people seeing me now.” It just takes a long time. And Gruet, it is unfortunate, but that was a very special thing where this guy from Champagne, the family comes over and sees potential there. And I wonder if they found the best spot for those, but nobody wants to compete with the amount of amazing wine they make there. Or Arizona, I mean, I had an amazing Malvasia from Arizona, and the AVAs in Arizona are not too far away from the large cities. So I think it just takes time, and we are a young nation. We’re only 240-something years old. We had 10 years of Prohibition. We weren’t really getting back into dry red wine and even white wine at all until the late 1960s. We’re still kind of figuring it out.

And I think that it makes sense that we would attach ourselves to “OK, well, Pinot Noir that’s Willamette. OK, I’m gonna do that.” “Cab that’s Napa. I’m gonna do that.” “Riesling, that’s Washington — well, now it’s New York. OK.” And we needed that. That’s kind of how the point system came across as these are things that America needed at a time when we were just trying to re-understand what we lost for 10 years. And I think that it’s just a matter of time before we really get a sense of this, but there’s an excitement that has to happen to make it happen when Virginia has been making wine for a long time. Jim Law has been there since like what, 1978? And Adam, you and I got to know Jim Law, like what, six years ago?

A: Eight years ago. I mean, before I started VinePair. Yeah I mean like eight or nine years ago, I think you’re the one who introduced me to him or somehow we found him together. And he’s highly respected, but then again he doesn’t care about being known outside of Virginia.

K: Right, but he mentored a bunch of people who do care. And you know, of course Barboursville helped, too. That’s I guess one of those investments where Barboursville was like, “OK. We see there was a family. We see what’s going on. We see we want to invest in that area.” I just think it’s going to take some time, but what’s cool about it is it’s very exciting. It’s very exciting. I think that in the future, we’re going to have more wine coming from the United States that is going to be more diverse and more fun to explore. I mean like, I’m going to go back to Paso real quick, Adam, if you’re cool with that.

A: No, please go back to Paso.

K: Paso is in this little plain area, and it used to be a place where the whole story is, outlaws could go into Paso and not be bothered ’cause it’s in this little patch of nothing. And actually, it was founded by two dudes and Jesse James’ uncle, actually. And it is this place that has always been sort of disconnected from everybody else. And when it became known to the rest of the United States, it was known mostly for Cabernet Sauvignon and Zinfandel. But when I went to Paso, I drank, there’s a grape called Clairette that is a blending varietal from France. I drank a Clairette that was 15 months on the lees, like a Muscadet. And it was absolutely delicious. I had a Picpoul de Pinet, which is another native grape from the southern part of France. I had a Falanghina that was absolutely stunning. And it was made in skin fermenting as an orange wine. My mind was blown. So I had to go there to actually enjoy it. And I’m hoping that at some point we can actually figure out, like you said, Zach, figure out this tourism thing. That’s who we are as a country. Tourism is what we do. And I hope we can figure it out because there’s so much to be had in these small little pockets of America and these little AVAs. I mean, I know Paso is huge, but I’m telling you like other places that might have stunning, amazing wine, like Malvasia from Arizona, but it’s just not on the market.

A: No, I think Zach’s point about tourism is really important, ‘cause I do think that’s what’s helped a lot of the regions, and I think that that’s what then causes your mind to be blown because you show up there and you have a great meal and every wine region needs one good restaurant, you know what I mean? Just something to tie it together, because I remember when I first went to Paso, driving down the coast, and like no winery really had a place to tell us to go to for lunch. This was eight or nine years ago. And there just wasn’t really an answer. So we wound up going to what was an OK cafe and, I was like, “Oh man, there’s such potential here.” Once they get that high-end restaurant, or once they get that place where it all goes together, because that is what Napa and Sonoma have going for them. That is what other regions have going for them, is just this ability to give you that one 360-degree experience.

K: And now Paso finally has it.

A: Exactly. And so, I think that matters, as annoying as that is. It does. But there’s just so much stuff, I mean, just talking we could talk for another 45 minutes about it, so much stuff about American wine is really exciting right now. And the best thing is to just get out there and try to drink it. And if you can’t get out there now because of the pandemic, totally understandable. So get online and just read as you were saying, Keith. Yeah. And hit up DTC, read our reviews. We try to write about a lot of different wine regions. If you’re an American wine region that we don’t write about, get in touch with us. We want to taste your wine, send it to us. Send it to Zach too, ’cause you know, he’s in Seattle. But yeah, I mean, we want to taste your wine. I mean, I think we have no bias here, and I think that’s the thing that’s most important for anyone thinking about getting into these other regions is, don’t go in with bias, because I’m promising you, there’s someone in these regions who is producing really, really great juice.

K: I’m getting a Müller-Thurgau from Oregon coming in tomorrow.

Z: There you go.

A: Crazy. Well, guys, this has been an awesome conversation. Keith, thanks for being our guest co-host this week. Zach, I’ll see you right back here next week.

Thanks so much for listening to the VinePair podcast. If you enjoy listening to us every week, please leave us a review or rating on iTunes, Spotify, or wherever it is that you get your podcasts. It really helps everyone else discover the show. Now for the credits, VinePair produced by myself and Zach. It is also mixed and edited by him. Yeah, Zach, we know you do a lot. I’d also like to thank the entire VinePair team, including my co-founder, Josh and our associate editor, Cat. Thanks so much for listening. See you next week.

Ed. note: This episode has been edited for length and clarity.

The article VinePair Podcast: American Wine Has Boundless Potential appeared first on VinePair.

Via https://vinepair.com/articles/american-wine-podcast/

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[belaborthepoint]

Coronavirus Debate Transcript

JAKE TAPPER: Let's start with you, Vice President Biden. Do you have anything constructive or helpful to say to everyone about coronavirus?

BIDEN: Well, first of all, it's bad. Second if all, go to joebiden.com, where I've laid it all out. Can't remember it right now, but I know that there's a lot of stuff written on my website. I want everyone to be able to get a test. I don't want everyone to have healthcare, but everyone can definitely know whether or not they have it. I see my time is up, but just remember to check out joshbiden.com. I mean Jonah. John. Joaquin Phoenix. What's my name again? It definitely starts with a J and has an O in there somewhere.

TAPPER: Senator Sanders, what would you do tonight to save American lives?

BERNIE: I mean, you might have heard me mention it before, but I have this little idea called 'medicare for all' that I think could be good. You know, so you can actually go to the doctor and go to the ER and go to therapy and not have crippling debt. And we need to make sure that people will be made whole if they lose their jobs.

BIDEN: Oh, good line. I'm gonna write that one down.

BERNIE: If we can put $1.5 trillion into the banking system, we can protect people's wages.

BIDEN: Look, we've done this before. Me and Barack Obama, the president under which who I was a vice president of. When the black death was happening, I mean tuberculosis, I mean chicken pox, I mean leprosy, I mean coronavirus-- wait, what's this current one called? Oh, coronavirus. Okay, when the one in Africa was happening, one that was not coronavirus, we dealt with that. EBOLA! Ebola. It was called Ebola.

DANA BASH: Vice President Biden, would you take the unprecedented step of a national lockdown?

BIDEN: I would do whatever it was that I did under the one and only president Barack W. Bush. Hoover. Adams. Jefferson. Madison. Monroe. Hold on, let me sing the Animaniacs song in my head for a second. Hmmm uhhh Obama! Barack Obama. And with all do resepct, medicare for all has nothing to do with everyone having access to healthcare. They are two completely separate issues. We should do what we did with the Ebola crisis under Barack Obama when the Ebola crisis was happening during the Ebola crisis.

BERNIE: Actually medicare for all is sort of relevant. We don't have enough doctors, ventilators, test kits, prescription drugs, or hospital beds. We have thousands of private insurance plans, we don't have a healthcare system.

BIDEN: What are you even talking about? Does anyone know what he's talking about? Stay on topic! We're talking about a global EPIDEMIC that is affecting people's HEALTH. This has NOTHING to do with HEALTHCARE. Someone reign this guy in! All we do is say, it's a crisis, you don't have to pay for anything. That simple.

BERNIE: It's not that simple though...that law has enormous loopholes and not everyone will be covered.

BIDEN: But I have a plan, and no one will have to pay for anything related to coronavirus.

BERNIE: Even if that were true, wouldn't people still need to go to the hospital for other things? If a kid broke their leg? And wouldn't people still need to go to psychologists? And wouldn't people still have all of the health problems that were happening before the pandemic that are still happening now?

BIDEN: No. People do not break legs during global crises.

BERNIE: Um...okay....also, how are we going to trust you to take on the health care industry, some of which is funding your campaign? Or the prescription drug industry, some of which is funding your campaign?

BIDEN: Look, I-- this is the Ebola crisis. I'm not going to stand here and get into a back and forth about our politics, this isn't a political debate.  

BERNIE: Uh-

BIDEN: What I'm proposing is President Barack Obama's "Obamacare," as coined by President Barack Obama, the man under what I was a vice of president.

BASH: Would you deploy the U.S. military to contain the virus?

BIDEN: Yes. Just like Barack Obama and I did with the Ebola crisis.

BERNIE: Okay but this isn't Ebola. This is way more severe. We need to figure out how to get food to the elderly people who are told to stay home. We need to help the people who are in prison right now, who are in homeless shelters. We need to pay attention to the communities who are most vulnerable.

BIDEN: I think what we need most is to pay attention to the communities who are most vulnerable.

BERNIE: Yeah, I literally just said that.

BIDEN: First things first is the first thing of is surging the capability to prevent a big bump of pain, of what is the potential of causing pain in moving in the direction of making sure we have a plan to make sure it's a plan. Look, our policies have eaten up all our seed corn. We might have brick and wheat but we don't have any sheep to trade. Back in my squaredancing days we called that a jigsaw hootenanny raw dog. We're going to have to, with Trump, he's, for example, he came along and said, I've got a great idea, let's-- well, you're going to tell me...

ILIA CALDERON: Bernie, can you say something of substance?

BERNIE: Sure thing. I think Ebola--

BIDEN: He said 'Ebola' instead of 'coronavirus!!' Hahaha!!!!!

BERNIE: Coronavirus!!! I'm sorry!!! You just said 'Ebola' so many times!!

CALDERON: Can we keep this moving please?

BIDEN: We need to make sure that people will be made whole.

CALDERON: Didn't Bernie say that earlier?

BIDEN: No.

BERNIE: Yes. Yes, I did.

BIDEN: Look. What we need is to make sure that people will be made whole. Bernie keeps acting as though our current economic collapse as a result of coronavirus is somehow related to income inequality, like it somehow disproportionately affects low-income people and like this wouldn't hurt them so much if we had a more equal distribution of wealth, but what I'm saying is...huh...well, now that I think about it, that actually makes sense and is really obvious. But it is also very wrong. We need to focus on this crisis as though it's not happening in the context of an already existing economic crisis and like people weren't already struggling to stay afloat and pay medical bills. We need to talk about this as though it's this totally isolated event that has nothing to do with anything.

BERNIE: We could do that...or we could acknowledge that in addition to helping people during this crisis we also need to help them after it ends when they continue to struggle like they were before the crisis, living paycheck to paycheck and barely making ends meet. We're going to need a healthcare system that supports people once this is over.

BIDEN: But we need to address the current situation, which is a health crisis. This has nothing to do with our healthcare system. You just keep talking about all these random unrelated things, I don't even know where you get these ideas.

CALDERON: Senator Sanders, would you support bailouts for industries being crushed by the outbreak?

BERNIE: We need to stabilize the economy but we can't do what we did in 2008. We need to do more than save the banks or the oil companies. We need to help actual working people.

BIDEN: Yeah, but guess what, Bernie? If the banks went under, everyone that you claim to care about, all those little tiny miniature humans that you're so fond of, those small itty bitty bite-size people that can fit in the palm of your hand and just coochy coochy coo who's a wittle baby!! Goo goo ga ga!! Tiny wittle baby people!! They would all die, which is why we actually still need to prioritize banks over human beings anyways.

BERNIE: We can have a bailout, we just shouldn't make working people pay for it.

BIDEN: OOOOHHHhhhh OHkay!! So you just want to do like a, a uh, a WEALTH TAX or some wacky maneuver like that?? Make the richest people in the country pay for it?? Is THAT what you want?!??

BERNIE: Um, yeah.

CALDERON: Vice President Bident, A lot of undocumented as well as legal immigrants are afraid to seek medical help. How do you ensure they feel safe enough to get treatment?

BIDEN: Illegal creatures are not human beings. I mean, no, that's not the one. That's not right. Illegal...undocumented...illegal alien monsters-- no, that's not it either. Um, PEOPLE, because I DEFINITELY believe that they are indeed human beings (!!), should get help so that they do not die. That's for sure what I think because I am progressive and have always been this way. Also, domestic violence is a bad thing too.

BERNIE: If we had medicare for all I'd make sure that undocumented people were covered so this wouldn't be happening.

BASH: Let me ask you though. You are, as previously mentioned repeatedly, extremely decrepit and about to keel over and die. You are a million years old. Do you wash your hands after you doodoo?

BERNIE: Yes. I also wash my hands after I make peepee. And I use a lotta soap.

BASH: Vice President Biden, you are also fifty trillion years old. Do you wash your hands after you go potty?

BIDEN: Yes. But back in my granddad's day, we would piss on a log in the backyard and call it a wacky doo diddly. You wipe your ass with a pine cone and call it ice cream. That's what the backyard gang always said.

TAPPER: The country is falling apart into a million pieces and is on fire. Why do we not need a revolution?

BIDEN: Because we need immediate change, we need it NOW. That's why I'm advocating for slow incremental change via moderate concessions that don't address any of our country's fundamental problems. I mean, what's a revolution going to do, ha, I mean, change things? We need a CHANGE.

TAPPER: Uh. Right. Bernie?

BERNIE: If you want to change things, if you want to take on Wall Street and the drug companies and the insurance companies and the fossil fuel industry, you don't take campaign contributions from them.

BIDEN: I talked about that 30 years ago.

BERNIE: Okay?

BIDEN: I have come up with every idea. If you have an idea, you have an idea in your head, I've already thought of it. I have thought up every idea that has ever been thought. So I think you should join me and and we can work together to accomplish my vision the way that I want it, cooperatively achieving only my goals.

BERNIE: I don't want to join you. You should join me.

BIDEN: I know you are but what am I?!?

BERNIE: What?

BIDEN: If I am leather and you are glue that what you say to me bounces, rolls off of me and then is on you and is sticky.

BERNIE: Um, okay...so how about you get rid of your SuperPACs?

BIDEN: Why don't YOU get rid of YOUR SuperPACs?!

BERNIE: Cause I don't have any.

BIDEN: Yes you do!! You have forty of them and I can name them all.

BERNIE: Okay, sure. You go ahead and do that.

BIDEN: Come ON. Do you hear this guy? Give me a break. Come on. This is ridiculous. Everything this man says is a lie! Including that I've been opposed to Social Security, which I definitely absolutely have not!! I LOVE Social Security!!

BERNIE: So you're going to look me in the eye and tell me you never stood on the Senate floor and repeatedly talked about cutting Social Security, Medicare, and veterans' programs.

BIDEN: Correct.

BERNIE: You didn't say that.

BIDEN: No, I did not.

BERNIE: Is your name Joe Biden?

BIDEN: No.

BERNIE: Is your name Joaquin Phoenix?

BIDEN: Yes.  

BERNIE: Did you star opposite Philip Seymour Hoffman in that movie about scientology?

BIDEN: Yes.

BERNIE: Are you a scientologist?

BIDEN: Yes.

BERNIE: Is your name Tom Cruise?

BIDEN: Yes.

BERNIE: Is your name Elisabeth Moss?

BIDEN: Yes.

BERNIE: Were you on the popular television show West Wing?

BIDEN: Yes.

BERNIE: Are you the daughter of the fictional president Jed Bartlet in the popular television show West Wing?

BIDEN: Yes.

BERNIE: I rest my case.

BIDEN: Go to josiahbartlet.com to view my plans.

BERNIE: Joe has come around on a lot of things but he never supported them when they were popular ideas. Leadership is about going forward even when an idea isn't popular. I've been talking about all these issues for years and he's only now deciding to support them because it's politically convenient. You're now trying to reform bills that YOU voted for. If you hadn't voted for them, we might not even have these problems. Do you remember when you hated gay people?

BIDEN: Still do. I mean sure do. Sure do remember that.

BERNIE: And when you voted for the Iraq war?

BIDEN: Yahuh.

BERNIE: So like, where's your integrity?

BIDEN: Integrity schminschmegrity. That's Yiddish. Haha just kidding. Just some Jewish humor for ya. Anyways, I might hate gay people, but I was the first person to say that I did not hate gay people on live television, and media presence is much more significant than internal values. I actually don't have any values. I'm sort of an empty shell at this point. Just goin' along for the ride. Just chuggin' along. Chugga chugga choo choo!!! Haha!!

(COMMERCIAL BREAK)

BASH: Welcome back! Here's a question from someone on the internet. How will your cabinet ensure the best advice on issues that affect women's physical and financial health?

BERNIE: My cabinet will look like America.

BIDEN: My cabinet will look like the country of America.

BERNIE: I JUST said that.

BIDEN: No you didn't. Also, I wrote all of the laws about domestic violence. I actually invented domestic violence, and then I wrote bills to stop it. If it's related to domestic violence, I'm responsible. In a good way. I know many women and I don't think that they should be shot with guns.

BERNIE: Remember when you voted to not let low-income women use Medicaid funding for an abortion?

BIDEN: Yes, but other people also voted for that.

BERNIE: And? You're just wildly inconsistent and have a bad voting record.

CALDERON: Next question: should we be deporting people?

BERNIE: No.

BIDEN: Just some people. I now believe that it is wrong to deport millions of inhuman creatures. Real human people. Human being people who are also immigrants. They are people and I believe that. I don't like slavery! You think I like slavery? You think I have a confederate flag tattooed on my back??! You think I'm a confederate soldier because we took a time machine into the civil war because I love slavery so much?!? I don't love slavery!!!!!!!!

CALDERON: But you did oppose sanctuary cities. Where do you stand now? And should undocumented immigrants be arrested and turned over to immigration officials?

BIDEN: ....no...

CALDERON:

BERNIE:

TAPPER:

BASH:

CALDERON: Okay, guess that's all we're getting on that. Bernie?

BERNIE: Obviously we shouldn't be doing that. Kids shouldn't be living in constant psychological terror, scared that their parents will be deported. We need to end ICE raids on day one. I'm the son of an immigrant and this is a country built by immigrant labor. We need to end this demonization.

BIDEN: I wrote every climate bill.

(COMMERCIAL BREAK)

TAPPER: I know we just keep rehashing the same thing, but Senator Sanders, you have praised one single program of Fidel Castro. Does this mean that you, personally, have jailed, tortured and killed thousands of Cubans? Are your hands stained with Cuban blood? Do you kill Cubans as a hobby and do you enjoy it?

BERNIE: NO. I DON'T. LIKE. AUTHORITARIANISM.

CALDERON: But dictators are dictators. Doesn't this mean that we should portray them in an overly simplistic, black and white way that erases any single good thing they might have ever done?

BERNIE: No, that's not what that means.

BIDEN: I have personally witnessed Bernie murdering thousands of Cubans for fun. He was laughing and dancing and making water balloons full of Cuban blood and drawing smiley faces on them in sharpie. One time I asked him what his favorite activity was and he said 'jailing, torturing, and killing thousands of Cubans.' It happened. Boy scout's honor.

BERNIE: Look. Y'all. Things just aren't black and white. China is an authoritarian society. I know that. But is it not true that they've also made progress in ending poverty over the last 50 years?

BIDEN: That's like saying you want to make out with Hitler and marry him and start holocausts together. That's like saying you are the reincarnation of Hitler and you're in love with yourself.

BERNIE: I mean, no.

BIDEN: Yes it is!!

BERNIE: So China has never ever done a single good thing in the history of ever?

BIDEN: Ya.

BERNIE: I...this is a lost cause.

TAPPER: Speaking of foreign policy, Mr. Vice President, what lessons did you learn from mistakenly voting for the Iraq War?

BIDEN: That I didn't know and it wasn't my fault. None of the bad things were my fault, but I am responsible for all of the good things.

TAPPER: Huh. Interesting answer. Okay, well thanks for being here tonight and not touching each other except for your elbows. This election is going to be chaos. Good luck everyone.

[ecotone99]

[SF] [HM] Case in Point

**Case in Point was written as a short story, and is also now the prologue for the SF novel I'm writing, of the same name. So feedback very much appreciated, good or bad, to help me shape & develop the novel!**

Frank Kincaid was not a happy man. He wasn’t even Frank Kincaid. At least, not the original.

It started like this: you want something done right, do it yourself. Don’t have the time? Copy yourself into a new body and send them instead. Expensive, certainly, but if the job was important enough, the payoff sufficiently high, you’d be crazy to send some other schlub. But what if the job was unpleasant? What if it was something you didn’t want to do? Well, that was easy too: you adjust the copy, tweak it a little so it won’t mind getting its hands dirty or, if it does, it’ll be stubborn enough to do it anyway. And then, assuming you’re a decent human being, you meet up afterwards, buy yourself a few beers, pat yourself on the back, and reintegrate.

Assuming. Of course, if you’re not a decent human being, then you just take the money and run. Saves having to fill your head with all those unsettling memories. And then your copy would find itself stranded somewhere – say, a sleazy bar in the cheap side of a half-finished habitat dome on Mars – with no money, some newly-acquired enemies, a head full of edited memories and personality algorithms, and one solitary certainty to cling to: that the real Them, whoever They were, whatever Their actual name might be, was an absolute, first-class, no-holds-barred, unrelenting bastard.

As small comforts go, that one was pretty tiny, but Kincaid clung to it with a tenacity that had probably cost his old self a small fortune in psychosurgery bills to acquire.

He glared up at the barman defiantly, and ordered a whisky. The barman glared back and laughed.

“Nice try. Orange juice or lemonade?”

Kincaid sighed, gesturing his meagre bank account into life in the space between them, and proffered a ¥2,000 note. “How about a coffee, and maybe you could Irish it up for me?”

The barman shook his head in disgust but took the bribe anyway. Kincaid snatched up the drink and retreated to a table in the corner where he could brood in peace.

“For the love of God, kid, read the sign. No smoking.”

Kincaid glanced guiltily at the cigar poised halfway to his mouth, and returned it unlit to his top pocket.

That was another thing. Would it have been too much to ask to give himself a fresh set of habits to go with the new body? Say, a keen interest in football, sucking his thumb, and fizzy drinks from around the solar system. As opposed to booze, tobacco, gambling and womanising – the last being particularly problematic. There was an old joke: “I wouldn’t touch any woman who’d be interested in the likes of me.” Ha. Welcome to Self Loathing, Population: 1.

He glowered into his coffee.

“Jen: Any interesting contracts available?”

Genevieve burst into glorious life in the corner of his retinal HUD and pursed ruby lips thoughtfully. “Some old lady’s offering fifty thou’ for the safe return of her missing cat?”

“Hysterical laughter. For the last time, I’m not a PI anymore, I don’t find pets. Next?”

“Halcyon have-”

“Hang on. Fifty grand? For a cat? Mark that one down as a definite maybe.”

“Sure thing. Halcyon Interplanetary Industries have a ¥150,000 bounty on one Tricia Altmann, wanted for embezzlement. Civil case, so bring her in alive. I’m flashing up her corporate ID, address, known contacts and immediate family.”

Kincaid scanned the data sourly. “A hundred and fifty. Well, aren’t they generosity incarnate. What did she do, make off with the petty cash? Don’t you have anything with a little punch? I’m not getting off this rock on cats and suits.”

That earned him a stern look from eyes the colour of molten bronze. “Cats and suits pay the bills, Frank. “Punch” gets you killed.”

“What are you, my Mum? Come on, something in seven figures, at least. Make it worth my while.”

She raised an eyebrow but let it pass. “You know I hate the ‘armed and dangerous’ file.”

“We’re not having this discussion again. I’m going back to Earth. I’m going to find the real me. I’m going to punch him for a while, and then I’m going to bodynap the bugger. Okay, maybe reverse the order on that one and switch bodies first. The important thing is, I’m getting my body back, and my life, and the real me can have this one, see how he likes it. That’s going to take money and plenty of it. And that means spraying bullets – no two ways about it.”

She gave him a Look. “It’s only because I care, Frank.”

“You’re programmed to care, don’t make it sound noble.” He regretted it instantly, but the damage was done. Synthetic hurt feelings washed over technicolour features, sculpted brows drawing together in artificial fury. “Listen, Jen-”

“Fine. You want seven figures? How about eight. The Raminov Brothers, Lev and Vadim, wanted for extortion, armed robbery and five counts of murder. Seven mil’ for Vadim, eleven for Lev, dead or alive. There’s your big score – might even cover the hospital fees. You can catch them now if you hurry, they’re all over the news, shooting up a housing fab three blocks away. Two badges dead at the scene, so – your lucky day – the reward should be going up any time now.”

“I-” The apology got no further than his throat, or its digital equivalent in his private VR, where it twisted into a grunt of annoyance. “Huh. Right then. Was that so hard? Flash me the address and let’s get going.”

She sulked all the way there. Well, he was an arsehole, right? Case in point: young Frank, two years out of New Scotland Yard Crime Academy, working traffic in South London. That’s London, Earth. As in, real air, real whisky, real coffee. There he was, admiring the congestion, when a black roadster came screaming out of a side street hotly pursued by a ’29 Ford Classique. They both swerved to avoid the gridlock, the Classique mistimed it, mounted the curb, and ran over a ten-year-old kid.

Messy. Kincaid still remembered the shock of staring down into the ruined face as he dialled the emergency services, hoping against hope the boy’s parents were among the privileged few who could afford personality backup, because it didn’t take a medical degree to see that nothing was going to be salvaged from what was left of that poor skull. The driver was stood beside Kincaid, sobbing that he was a copper in pursuit of a suspect, that he hadn’t seen the kid, oh Christ, he just came out of nowhere.

No sympathy. The man’s career was over, of course, and he didn’t try to fight it, but the higher-ups wanted to paint it as a freak accident. No Reckless Endangerment, just a blameless copper in the wrong place at the wrong time, resigning out of guilt and nothing more. Kincaid wouldn’t have it. That much speed in a built-up area, someone was going to get killed, and he testified accordingly. Two more ruined lives to add to those of the family – the kid wasn’t backed up, so it was jail for the officer, and Kincaid was drummed out of the force on a trumped-up disciplinary a few months later. Or maybe it wasn’t so trumped up; he’d had a few issues since the accident, hadn’t exactly been cooperative with the mandatory trauma counselling. So some punches were thrown, big deal.

The point was, he’d had it easy, threw it all away on a point of principle. And for what? To hammer another nail into the coffin of a man already riddled with guilt? Arsehole.

He checked the action on his Glock Needlegun, made sure the concealed armslide was unobstructed, and swung himself out of the beat-up VW that currently served his transportation needs. There were a couple of camerabots jockeying for position outside the fab’s characteristically Martian red brick frontage, but no immediate sign of trouble. He pushed past them, drawing angry electronic squawks as their live feeds filled with the back of his head.

A shot rang out from inside the building as he reached the entrance, followed by a burst of automatic fire. He flattened himself against the wall. The distant wailing of sirens gave him about a two minute lead on the police – couldn’t claim a bounty for men who were already dead or in custody. He unclasped his satchel, pushed open the door and stepped inside.

The foyer was gloomy and had the look of a rundown hotel, shoddily converted into housing after the colonial bubble burst: grubby carpet that might once have been beige, cracked plaster, and a cheap plastic reception desk made up to look like wood. Kincaid decided against using the lift and was halfway up the first flight of stairs when more automatic fire rang out, answered by a couple of single shots. Sounded like the next floor, somewhere off to the right. The bloody forms of two private police decorated the landing. No pulse.

He pushed through the door to his right and followed the gunfire down a dim corridor. Half the lighting strips were out and one in every two of the doorways had been crudely sealed up as part of the conversion, the brickwork left exposed. No one had even bothered to paint over. He peered around the corner and then ducked back hastily. Two men were taking cover beside a kicked-in door, automatic shotguns in hand, the kind of faces that betrayed a lifetime of violence – broken noses, cauliflower ears, more scar tissue than unmarred flesh. Lev and Vadim, without a doubt. There were bullet holes in the plaster behind them; someone was firing back?

The shotguns sounded out once, twice, three times. Kincaid risked a glance in time to see the pair pile through the doorway, firing as they went. He followed as stealthily as he could, pausing outside to take stock. The Russians were advancing down a short hall, weapons trained on the far door, through the tattered splinters of which could be seen the remains of a hand basin, a cramped bathtub, and fallen across it, bleeding heavily, a middle-aged woman. A handgun slipped from her grasp as Genevieve flashed up a photo ID: Tricia Altmann, formerly of Halcyon Interplanetary Industries.

Kincaid considered the Glock, but the odds of putting both men down cleanly without either twitching off a shot into Altmann’s face weren’t promising. No time to think. Shit.

“Mummy!” He broke cover and ran towards them, satchel bouncing around at his side. “Don’t hurt my mummy!”

The brothers turned in confusion, and one reached out a hand and grabbed him by the front of his school uniform, hauling him into the air. Pitiless eyes stared into his.

“Your mummy’s going to die, son. You can watch if you like.”

Kincaid reached into his top pocket. “Cigar?” he offered civilly, by way of a distraction, as his other hand found what it was looking for in the satchel and brought it out. “I’d run if I were you.”

He brought his little legs up against the Russian’s chest and kicked as the grenade hit the ground, clattering away across the tiles. He landed awkwardly, rolled into the tub next to Altmann, and covered her eyes as the flashbang detonated.

The Glock slid smoothly into his hand and he was firing blindly into the room before the flare died away. Huh. The Raminovs weren’t as stupid as they looked – there was no sign of them, which meant they’d either fled back down the hallway or else ducked into one of the side rooms. His ears were ringing too loudly to be much help on that front, but Genevieve reported the sound of running footsteps in the corridor outside.

“You okay?”

He realised the futility of the question when his own words were drowned out by the ringing, so he settled for checking her over by hand. Her shoulder was a mess and blood was seeping from a wound in her side, but she was strong enough to pull him off when he tried to lift the blouse.

“Listen-” He shook his head, and switched to virtual audio courtesy of Genevieve. “Listen, you need medical attention. Here-” He fumbled in the satchel and brought out a medical kit. He started to pantomime patching her wounds, but it seemed she’d had the same idea about virtual audio.

“Who the hell are you?”

“Kincaid. Hi. How are you? Now help me get that blouse off before you bleed to death.”

It wasn’t pretty. Buckshot might not be the most sophisticated of technologies, but the shotguns were state of the art, military-grade kit. Powerful, lethal, highly illegal, and still relatively safe to use within the confines of a hab dome. Not as safe as his needle rounds, mind, but not everyone could be the upstanding citizen he was.

He tutted and sprayed on idiot mix – a combination antiseptic, anaesthetic and fast-acting clotting agent that was usually enough to get the drunk and accident-prone to hospital before they bled out. The pock-marked flesh scabbed over and he added a layer of synthskin for good measure. It looked a god awful lumpy mess, but then it would all have to be redone when the shot was removed anyway.

She glanced at him questioningly and he shrugged. “You’ll live. Probably. Here-” He offered his hand and half-helped, half-dragged her out of the tub. “If I’m not mistaken, that’s the sound of a dozen pairs of flat feet piling out of a rapid response unit. Fancy sticking around and explaining all this? Didn’t think so. Rear exit?”

She led the way. They came out in the car park, and she unlocked a corporate dronemobile and ushered him in. There’d be some explaining to do when the police traced his VW out front, but he’d have to figure that out later.

“So what’s your story?”

The car glided out of the lot and into the Martian twilight, and Altmann eased the seat back and sprawled. Her hair was more dust than brunette, her face a patchwork of worry lines, pale with shock, but there was enough of a hint that she might be bookishly handsome underneath it all for him to want to like her. She quirked a tired grin at him. “You first, ‘son’.”

He grimaced. “You don’t want to hear all that.”

She laughed, then clutched at her shoulder. “Ow. Sure, no one ever wants to hear that story, I bet.”

“Hardly anyone at all,” he agreed dryly. “Okay, fair enough. My name may or may not be Frank Kincaid, and I’m not me. I’m a copy. If I can trust my own memories, which honestly I don’t, I was created to collect on a particularly difficult bounty here in New Beijing.”

To be fair, she was probably too tired to look especially shocked, but she still took it pretty well. “Bounty hunter, huh? That mean we’re about to take a detour to Halcyon corporate HQ?”

“The thought had crossed my mind. But I’m happy to cruise on auto while we talk things through. I was after the Russians.”

“Isn’t it against some kind of code to take out the competition?”

He snorted. “Those two, bounty hunters? Do me a favour. The pittance on your head wasn’t even enough to get my attention, never mind the Raminov Brothers.”

“Pittance? I’m positively insulted. I thought they’d at least stretch to a trifle. So if they aren’t bounty hunters, who are they?”

“Thugs. Killers. Any idea why they’d want to spray paint your home in buckshot grey?”

“Not if they weren’t after the money. That wasn’t my home, by the way. That was temporary. Trying to lie low...” Her voice tailed off and she looked for a moment like she might be sick, then she drew in a long breath and sighed it out. “So, you were telling me about this person you’re not. If I’ve got this right, you’re some kind of edited copy, sent to kill a big shot here in New Beijing. Anyone I know?”

“Wu Lao Hui.”

He smirked. No hiding her reaction to that little name drop.

“Wait, you-”

“Yep. Wu, AKA Ahmad Ben Shah, AKA The Butcher of Benghazi, AKA Theodore Valentinas. That last name you probably won't have heard before, but it’s the one he was born with. The man swapped identities like you’d swap shoes. Anyway, that was me. Unnamed government operative, my arse.”

She frowned sceptically. “The Libyans couldn’t reach him, and you took him out in that piece of shit body?”

“Appearances can be deceptive. Which was the whole point. Valentinas had a brother, lived with him in the bunker, and the brother had a family. Specifically, a wife, Lara, and their ten-year-old son, Raph. This body was custom ordered by the original me to be a perfect duplicate of Raph. I was created to occupy that body, and psychosurgically altered to suit the needs of the operation. I strolled in past security, shot Valentinas twice in the chest and once in the head, and strolled right back out again.”

She whistled. “So why-”

“-doesn’t anyone know it was me?”

“And why-”

“-am I still here? Because, firstly, killing the head of the most powerful crime family in New Beijing is one thing, living to tell the tale is another (hello, Frank Kincaid, blabbermouth, pleased to meet you), and secondly, I can’t afford transport off this rock. Frank 1.0 welched on the deal. Collected the money and disappeared. That’s assuming, of course, there ever was a version of me working as a bounty hunter on Earth, and I wasn’t cooked up in a lab by Libyan Intelligence to take care of business. Plausible deniability, all that jazz.”

“Wow. That’s a lot of uncertainty to live with, and any way you look at it-”

“-I’m buggered. Yep. Speaking of which, your career prospects aren’t looking too rosy right now either. Care to fill me in? Maybe we can work out why two hired killers with military issue hardware have taken such a dislike to you.”

She took another deep breath. “It doesn’t make any sense. Look, I work in Accounts. The pay stinks, the hours are lousy, and my boss has bad breath and wandering hands. So, I siphoned a little out of the slush fund. A couple of mil’. Just enough to tide me over till I found a new job – I didn’t think they’d even notice.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“Okay, several mil’. Nine, actually. Still, petty cash to a hypercorp.” She leaned into him, one hand on his chest, and big brown eyes bore into his. “Please help me, Frank.”

Kincaid sighed and shook his head sadly. “Just when I was starting to like you. You’re a poor helpless pencil pusher who got greedy, and now the big nasty hypercorp is trying to kill you. Good thing there’s a strong, dashing man for you to snuggle up to.” His lip curled in disgust. “You’re not a pervert, Ms Altmann, and neither am I, so drop the act. You wouldn’t be trying to manipulate me this hard unless you knew a lot more than you’re letting on.”

She recoiled as if she’d been struck, and sat watching him for a moment. “Halcyon are trying to kill me, Mr Kincaid.”

“Doesn’t wash. Why set the bounty so low if they give a damn about finding you? Try again.”

“Because licenced bounty hunters won’t kill over simple theft – it’s illegal. And Halcyon don’t want me alive, they want me dead. I took ¥100,000,000, and it’s still not about the money.”

Kincaid whistled softly. “Go on.”

“It’s about our Russian friends, in a way. And corporate espionage, corruption, false accounting, insider trading; all the happy things. A lot of big players went bust when the bubble burst, and Halcyon owns most of them now. There’s reasons for that. Dirty, shameful reasons. The kind of reasons politicians need an incentive to overlook. I was supposed to deposit the money in Governor Chou’s Swiss bank account, like I do every month. I opened one of my own instead.”

The pieces rotated in Kincaid’s mind, and clicked into place. The best way to serve a lie was with a liberal garnishing of the truth. “So they accused you of petty theft to cover up a larger one. Posted a bounty so low they hoped you’d never be found. Sent in a team of their own to make sure.”

“That’s about the size of it. What do you plan on doing, now that you know? I’ll cut you in for half if you take me someplace safe. You could get back to Earth on that kind of money, set yourself up with a whole new life.”

He would’ve taken her offer – of course he would. He didn’t get the chance, because at that moment a black van T-boned the saloon, crumpling the left rear corner like so much tin foil and sending the vehicle spinning into a wall.

It could’ve been worse. If the autodrive hadn’t swerved at the last moment, Altmann would have been crushed to a pulp and Kincaid would have found himself pinned between the van and the wall. As it was, the car’s automatic restraints protected him from the brunt of it, and he was left with a nasty case of whiplash and a stupid look on his face.

After that the shot starting flying. The rear window vanished, along with both rear headrests, followed shortly after by Kincaid’s. Fortunately, he was already huddled in the footwell by that point, nursing his Glock and trying to kick the passenger door open. It wouldn’t budge. What did budge was the window, which exploded outwards, the roof support, which was neatly severed halfway down, and finally the windscreen, which shattered in several places before giving up the ghost entirely. Then the roof fell in.

It’s hard to describe the destructive force of a fully automatic shotgun if you haven’t witnessed one in action, but if you imagine a regular machine gun and scale up appropriately, you’ll get the general idea. Kincaid got the idea and hammered desperately at the door, wishing he had bigger legs. If the top half of the door had still been present, he probably wouldn’t have managed it, but as it was the composite cracked, split in the middle, and gave way. He wriggled out with all the grace of a beached turbot, leaving an ugly wash of red in his wake.

“Kincaid?”

The firing had stopped. He reached into the footwell and fumbled out his satchel.

“You in there, Kincaid?”

He slid out the compact Heckler and Koch he kept for special occasions, extended the shoulder rest, smacked in a clip and thumbed off the safety.

“We know who you are, Mr Kincaid. We know your reputation. We work for powerful people. Wealthy people. We can pay you a great deal of money to walk away now. We can give you a new body. An adult body, Mr Kincaid, custom grown to your specifications. Combat chassis, muscle aug, the works.”

Kincaid flipped open the access port behind the HK’s tactical display and pulled out the fibre optic viewer concealed there. Bellying forward across the debris, barely aware of the agony in his back, he slid the fibre round the corner of the car and monitored the display. There was the black van, doors open, Lev and Vadim sheltering behind them, weapons trained on the car. He synced the display with his retinal HUD and painted his targets. Then he fired twice into the air.

There was a brief flare as the micromissiles took flight, a streak of light across the tactical display, and both Russians dropped, headless, to the ground.

Kincaid laughed grimly and coughed up blood.

“Jen?” Technicolour curves filled his view. “What’s the damage?”

He didn’t really need to ask. Her playful expression was gone, replaced by a mask of concern. “Multiple buckshot wounds to the back. You have liver damage, kidney damage, intestinal perforations, massive internal bleeding. I – I’m sorry, Frank. I’ve already called an ambulance.”

“ETA?”

She shook her head. “Without medical insurance? Too long. Idiot mix isn’t going to cut it this time.”

He craned his neck, tried to move, then gave up and fed the fibre optic up over the remains of the side window and into the car. There was precious little left of the driver’s seat. Some of the frame, some cushioning, fragments of fabric imbedded in Altmann’s corpse.

He sighed. “You know, that wasn’t a bad offer they made.”

“You should’ve bid them up. They probably would’ve thrown in a fancy car and a house in France.”

“When you’re right, you’re right.”

He lay there for a moment, a cosy endorphin glow starting to replace the fiery throbbing in his back. Drowsily, he said, “Would’ve been nice to get back home. Teach that bastard a lesson.”

The mask cracked. Tears welled in amber eyes.

“It’s a lie, Frank. All of it.”

He frowned, half asleep. “Hm?”

“You’re not a copy. You never were. You’re not Kincaid, but you’re not a copy either. Your name is Webber, Frank Webber.”

The officer who ran the boy over, back in London. That made no sense. That’s not how it went.

“The Met wanted to go easy on you, Frank, but you wouldn’t have it. You talked to the press, told the family exactly what happened. Pled guilty to manslaughter. You served three years in hell when you could’ve walked away, but when you got out, it still wasn’t enough. You kept saying the punishment didn’t fit the crime. You hated yourself. So very much.” She wept, electronic tears streaming down flawless cheeks.

“So you decided to run away. From yourself, from what you’d done. That wasn’t easy in the centre of a media frenzy, you were going to need a new body and fake ID, and transport to someplace far away. You already owed a fortune – the kind of fortune it takes for a child-killing copper to survive behind bars. It took you a while, but you were desperate, and you came up with a plan. You went to the Libyans, offered to solve their problem for them. They trained you, carved away those awful memories, built you a new reality. A new Frank, in a new body, living a whole new life. The punishment fit the crime, I guess.”

Thoughts tumbled through his mind. Memories clashing with facts. None of it fitted anything he knew, it made no sense, and every word of it was hideously, unquestionably true.

“Jen?”

“Sh, Frank. Rest until the ambulance gets here. Just rest now.”

“I better bloody be dying, Jen.” He laughed wildly, coughed, red foam flecking his lips. “Otherwise this was one hell of a wasted effort.”

submitted by /u/AdrianBagleyWriter [link] [comments] via Blogger https://ift.tt/31PkoZA

[burgaholic]

Royale With Cheese

Currently listening to “Couch” by Triathalon.

Detroit, Michigan. That’s where I ended up. To be completely frank, I wasn’t mad about it. This was my first time visiting this town, and believe it or not, my first time visiting this state as well. It’s been said that Detroit’s decline started in the mid 1900’s after the collapse of the auto industry, multiple riots, and when a city issued 30-day eviction notice for an “urban renewal project” was distributed to hundreds of families. More recently, crime, poverty, the city filing for bankruptcy, and literally anything that has to do with Kid Rock have all been noted as factors of the current economic failure. Call me crazy, but I do think there is a turn of tide coming soon. The Detroit I saw was prowling like a Tiger. Maybe even a Lion. It was hungry for life and wanted to be a part of what the rest of the nation is experiencing. Especially after seeing other thriving neighborhoods throughout the day, my hypothesis was solidified. Hey, even Eight Mile has an Applebee’s on it, but I don’t think Mom’s Spaghetti is on the menu. Oh, and I almost got hit by an evil old lady driving a Town Car while crossing the street by downtown. Maybe they should consider adding cataracts as a contributor to the decline of Detroit population as well.

While visiting, I was able to pop into the Motown Museum where Berry Gordy built his legacy. The tour led us through two of the houses he owned, which were converted into a 24-hour studio because “creativity never sleeps”, which I think is just code for “Stevie Wonder never really knows what time of day it is, so we need to keep the doors unlocked just in case”. It was also super rad because you can actually stand in the studio that recorded the likes of Diana Ross, Smokey Robinson, Marvin Gaye, The Temptations, Jackson 5, Gladys Knight & The Pips, and many more. After the tour, you could easily find me by The Tracks of My Beers because I was posted up at the ever so delicious Motor City Brewing. One sip of their Wolfmoon Pineapple Jalapeno Double IPA had me Dancing In The Streets yelling at every USPS worker in sight. “Please Mr. Postman, deliver this beer to me in Texas!” I would just need to somehow explain to My Girl how much money I spent to get it there. I hope she won’t be Uptight because Everything’s Alright. Anyways, we got the history out of the way, and the first installment of beer guzzling has been checked off the list. The only thing left was to stuff a tasty burg in my face hole, and that’s exactly what I did. It’s from a fun little place called Royale With Cheese. Check it out!

Royale With Cheese, as you might have guessed from the mural in the last photo, is a play off an iconic scene from the classic movie Pulp Fiction. The best news is that the sangwiches here are even better than a Big Kahuna Burger. Royale With Cheese is located in the hip Midtown area. It’s surrounded by shops, breweries, apartments, pubs, restaurants, and a record store. People were outside walking their dogs, chatting, and generally having a good time. So far, so good. As I walked though the front door, I cased the joint. The decor around the restaurant was chic and simple, which means they let the burgers do all the talking. Exposed brick and duct work with a dash of modern light fixtures and tables set the scene while I waited in line. I noticed a lot of the seats were filling up rather quickly from both young and old hungry patrons alike, and I was getting quite anxious. The smell of freshly fried potatoes filled my nose while the sizzling of the griddle filled my ears as I neared the finish line. I was next up to order. This is your big moment, man. Don’t mess this up. I walked up, stared the cashier dead in the eyes and said “Are you down with the clown!? WHOOP WHOOP!” as I set my Faygo on the counter to purchase. She didn’t know what that meant, and honestly, I don’t either. I smiled and ordered what I was really there for and the deed was done. Ladies and gentlemen, this is the Beirut Burger.

The Beirut is a monster burger loaded with an all beef patty, creamy coleslaw, seasoned french fries, Nablus pickles, seasonal tomatoes, cheese fondue, and ketchup. If I had known better, I should have bought 1,000 shares in Bounty’s paper napkin stock because I looked like Dan Aykroyd, post Marshmallow Man explosion, after I was done with this burg. Where do I even begin? The locally sourced chuck beef patty was cooked to a medium well, but not too much stood out flavor wise. The real eye (and mouth) openers were the toppings. The coleslaw added that cool cabbage crunch and provided an earthy garden aspect that every burger needs. It also contained enough oil and vinegar to help soak into the patty, which enhanced the overall flavor while keeping it moist. The creamy cheese fondue brought a unique consistency to game and made sure each bite would become a gooey delight. I loved the seasoned french fries on the burger. It added a crunchy, starchy, comforting element that was a bit unexpected. This next part might sound weird, but hear me out. I’m usually not a ketchup-on-my-burger type of guy, but once the ketchup mixed with the other ingredients I was transported back to my teenage years. It didn’t hit me until I was about half way through, but this burger oddly enough reminded me of a gourmet Big Mac. The pickles and tomato were there. The slaw became the lettuce, and when the ketchup mixed with the cheese fondue it became a thousand island like substance. Once my mind was made up, there was no convincing me otherwise. I paired the Beirut up with some delectable garlic parmesan fries as well. Oh, and that Faygo? More like Fayno. The Juggalos can have that one. All in all, I’m giving out 4 of 5 burgz for this messy, yet delicious experience.

Would I ever see myself coming back to Detroit? Absolutely. It will definitely be during the warmer months of the year, but I was really feeling the vibe and underdog culture. If you ever happen to be in town, promise me you’ll do two things. 1) Visit Royale With Cheese, either for their signature brisket sandwich, or any other killer burg on the list. 2) Walk down the street and grab a coldie at the Old Miami. It’s just divetastic. Cheers!

Royale With Cheese

4163 Cass Avenue

Detroit, MI 48201

www.royaledetroit.com