#which then spawned an Idea i shall be pondering for a while

[kanerallels]

For the first line game :D:

"Do you ever stop the brain to mouth connection?"

“Do you ever stop the brain to mouth connection?”

Rolling his eyes, Ezra said, “Do you ever stop the stupid to action connection?”

“You are acting like a child,” the Imperial informed him— Ezra still hadn’t gotten his name, as they were a little busy not dying.

Tugging on the cable again, he replied, “Jokes on you, I am a child. Now come check and see if this rope is gonna hold you on the way down— what?”

The man was staring at him oddly. “Nothing. I suppose I didn’t realize— nothing. We should keep moving— there’s no telling what these tentacled monsters of yours will do next.”

“And yet, that still hasn’t prevented your boss from trying to kill me,” Ezra said. “Cause. Ya know. Stupid.”

“Well you won’t hear me arguing there,” the Imperial muttered.

[uhhhhhhhhhsblogyea]

This is a surprise!

cw, attack, killing, slight demspey x richtofen, and religion, theres a good bit of that in there

[i wrote this awhile ago so theres not much of shipping material in this i was just like oh yeah this sounds cool]

[ 1 ] chapter 1 ; bump in the road 

Demspey hums a song to himself, something he heard while going through the teleporter awhile back. He wasn't sure what the name was or the lyrics, it was just a catchy tune. If he had to guess, it came from the future. The sounds in it were definitely not from the 1930's.

Rictofen laughs and looks at Dempsey, "Dempsey, what does LMG stand for?" Dempsey smirks at this, turning to look at the doctor. He knew what to say, thanks to training the recruits. Maybe he could punch Richtofen for being stupid, just like he did to the recruits. 

While Dempsey gives a minute of silence while looking over at the German, who takes out the summoning key, counting over his items before summoning the rift to their next place. “You sure you want to know?” He chuckles. 

“Why of course! Why, I wouldn’t of asked if I knew already.” Richtofen hums, confused by the American’s laughter.

"If you say so. It stands for Lick My Gibblets." Dempsey struggles to hold back his smile, knowing his foreign teammate wouldn't really understand what he meant - not to mention he’d look stupid for not knowing what it really meant. What a funny thing. 

While the two were conversing, Nikolai and Takeo had stepped into the rift, Dempsey following suit before Richtofen grabs him, "I am certain you were lying. What does it really mean?" He demands.  

Dempsey grunts, pulling Richtofen off him while saying. "Let me go, dumbass!" Dempsey sighs, walking through the portal between worlds.

Richtofen failed to specify where exactly, but, at this point the American wasn't surprised though he wasn't any less annoyed. 

"I wasn't aware it was LMGD..." The German ponders before following the bunch with a chuckle.

Tank steps out of the rift, meeting the other two, but it takes him to realize he stepped out into something he didn't expect. "What the fuck?" Dempsey is surprised, not prepared for the foot of snow on the ground. Pine trees of many kinds surround the area, being in a secluded area. Everything is covered in snow, pretty much abandoned. 

"Oh my, this is quite the surprise." Richtofen speaks up, making his presence known as the blue rift crackles and closes. 

"I wasn't prepared for this myself." Nikolai speaks up now, giving a slight shrug. "German," he addresses, "with the time traveling I'm sure you'd know where we are." He doesn't believe the legitimacy of Richtofen's surprise, Dempsey can understand why. 

Takeo chooses not to speak, fixing his pants to go over his boots so no snow falls inside of them while Dempsey watches the Russian and German grow tension.

Takeo stands upright. "Let us talk with honor." He looks at the both of them and nods.

Richtofen looks at Takeo, sighing before nodding. "If we came here there is something we need, so let's go look for it. We'll have to hurry up and find a spot to 'bunker down' before the next wave arises." The German man had done air quotes before pointing a lanky arm towards the large gothic church a-ways ahead of them.

The front of the quite beautiful church is a triangular shaped building, much like a house or meeting hall that extends into a tower that looks very much similar to a clock tower with a bell, considering there's a clock on the front.

 There's other rooms on the side of it but a lot of wires and metal rods are sticking out on the top of the tower. There's designs in the stone, stained glass of religious figures. Such a shame the full beauty was lost when the glass is cracked and broken in areas, boards nailed over any thought of entrance. 

Something's off about it though.

As they trudge through the snow, Dempsey notices the metal rods. He looks to his left to see Nikolai, the man who seems unbothered by this cold.  "Hey Nik, maybe Richtofen's right about something being here. As much as I hate to give him the benefit of a doubt, the wires and rods on the clocktower gives me the idea something's here." 

Dempsey raises his hand and points at the clock tower briefly, giving Nikolai enough time to glance it over. The Russian man follows Dempsey's hand, taking a second before seeing the same. "Perhaps, American. You do have a point." 

[ 2 ] chapter 2 ; welcome to hell, american

There's a blue beam of light, signifying the existence of the mystery box inside the church. Demspey hums, quite happy about that at least. Hopefully Samantha was nice enough to spawn some hidden ammo stashes for when they ran out or get low – he was quite notorious for being trigger happy and running out of ammo quickly. 

Hey, at least he took care of his gun when he had the time to.

They continued to make their way through the snow, had it only being less than ten minutes of arrival. Dempsey noticed that Takeo and Richtofen were colder due to not having jackets or long sleeves like he and Nikolai had. Richtofen seemed extremely cold although, compared to the headstrong Japanese man who refused to admit he was cold. Tank sighed heavily, taking off his jacket and holding it out to Richtofen. 

"Dempsey? Why are you giving me your jacket? You're-" Dempsey held up his hand, making Richtofen take it. "Doc, you're shivering more than any of us. You're also the one we have to follow here, I don't want to hear you whine about wanting some soup and your nose being stuffy." The American rolls his eyes, forcing a shiver from surfacing. 

Richtofen thanked him and put on the marine's coat. It was warm from his body heat, and quite soft on the inside. Dempsey wasn't going to lie, Richtofen looked quite cute in his coat. 

"Oh focus Tank!" He shakes his head, yelling at himself in his mind. Dempsey powered through the cold the best he could, not wanting to really show how cold he did feel in just a t-shirt. His pride wouldn't let him.

Eventually they reached the entrance, wooden planks nailed over the two doors to the church. Nikolai takes his hammer from his belt and starts to pry the nails out of the boards. Dempsey helps without speaking, pulling the bloodied planks off and stack them aside. It was kind of nice how they silently agreed for once.

Unfortunately for them, it took a good bit to clear the entrance to the church which means they had to sit in the snow and cold wind longer than they wished. Things were placed behind the doors, benches and heavy boxes filled with bibles and books, being barricaded from the inside. They moved into the hallway after forcing those things aside, Takeo giving a shiver. 

"I expected it to be... warmer." His nose wrinkles as he breathes in the stale air, looking to the side to one of his friends. Dempsey had to agree, but he took a step forward, walking down the carpeted hallway to double doors that were once barricaded. Emphasis on once. 

The items that blocked the doors were knocked and spread all over, blood that seemed old and semi-recent splattered on the ground and walls. He hummed, why was there new blood? To be honest he never saw any zombies openly bleeding and spilling their guts out randomly unless they were shot or killed. 

This was the room people would come to pray and listen to someone speak about religion, sitting on the wooden benches. 

Dempsey suspects that someone or something is here, and he's not sure what. Maybe he's not as dumb as the others say he is.

At this point, Dempsey couldn't give a damn about how Christian churches worked after contemplating it. He just wanted out. 

"Scan over this area, I'm gonna take upstairs." He says to the three who had gone and caught up with him, to which the others nod. He goes to walk towards the stairs, placing his hand on the metal railing. He halts at the third step to turn back to the group. "Richtofen." He calls. 

The German seems a bit startled at first, "Yes, Dempsey?" He strides over to Demspey on the stairs. "How about you come with me, we'll do two and two. That way none of us die for good." Demspey offers, though it sounds more like a command. 

Richtofen hums, tapping a finger on his chin before saying. "Fine Dempsey! Let's go take a look around, shall we?" Demspey nods, heading up the stairs with Richtofen behind him.

"Take that room, I'll be over here." He points to a random room on the left, it looks like a storage room. Dempsey walks down the hall a bit, getting a gut feeling to draw his pistol so he does. He pushes the door open to a room with furniture, sheets placed on top of them. 

"Right out of the horror films," He laughs a bit. He walks around the room, looking for crates, chests, anything that looks like it would stash ammo. 

There's soft footsteps behind him as he's rummaging through a box. He notices them as they stop, getting up and turning around to see who he thought was Richtofen. "Did you f-" 

Dempsey couldn't finish the sentence before getting attacked by an old woman, but she wasn't a zombie. He falls to the ground, his pistol clattering against the wooden floor. "Get off of-" Something sharp sinks into his shoulder near his neck. Her fucking teeth. 

He starts to reach for his pistol while fighting against her grip, eventually grabbing ahold of the gun and shooting the lady in the head. God, he hoped she wasn't someone important.

He begins to sit up, her blood spilled all over his shirt. He grunts, throwing her body off. Richtofen comes running in, "Dempsey! What happened?" He looks at him, getting up. 

"I'm fine Doc, I killed it. She must've just got affected by the 115, that's all." He reassures him. 

"Why don't you help me look around in here? Take these sheets and use them for bedding, might be good." Dempsey causally changes topics, stepping over the corpse and taking an already dirtied sheet to clean the blood off himself. 

Now that he thinks about it, he feels a little weird. There’s tingling around where she had bit him. Dempsey knows that isn’t a good sign, especially in his book. 

______

sorry if its super long, im on mobile !!

[fandomfic-galore]

Miracles never happen

Chapter five 

Warnings; swearing, non canon story, growling (primal kink), cockblocking, teasinng, face slapping.  

Banner @negans-lucille-tblr​

A/N all mistakes are mine and mine alone :-) This is not canon, I know its not canon but canon is canon but this is not and it will have to do for my story to work. So the story is not canon. Get it. Got it. Good. I am sorry this is a day late. 

‘So...Lucifer wants to, what exactly?’ You asked no one in particular. 

‘Use me as a Vessel and cause the end of the world’ Sam bluntly snapped at you. You rolled your arms and sat back in the chair, you kind knew that but, you didn’t want to believe it. 

‘Well there has to be a way we can stop him though?’ you queried the older hunters. 

There was a deathly silence that filled the air. Tension started to rise, what was going on you thought to yourself. Dean cleared his throat as to speak and Sam shook his head. One minute Sam was talking about being honest and now he is keeping things from you. You sighed heavily, as you tapped your pen against the table. 

‘Y/N, what have I told you about doing that.’ Sam snapped. 

‘Well maybe if you told me what was going on, I wouldn’t’ you argued back at him. 

‘Guys not this again, look Y/N, we have to get Lucifer back in the cage and the only way to do that is for Sam to become his vessel and you can figure out the rest.’ Dean tried his best to calm the situation but for some reason it only made it worse. 

You got up from your chair and stormed to your room. Slamming the door behind as hard as you could. You threw yourself onto your bed. Anger rose from the pit of your stomach to your chest, after everything you had been through with the boys and they still didn’t trust you. 

An hour or two must have passed as you just gazed up to the ceiling, thinking of ways to end this. A soft knock came to your door and brought you back to the present. ‘Y/N it's me.’ Dean whispered from the other side of the door. ‘I have a peace offering...It’s Bacon, you might wanna hurry up before I eat it, because we both know I love Ba..’ You opened the door and stole the plate from his hand and slammed the door in his face. ‘Oh come on.’ You laughed at how Dean whined. 

Opening the door again, slowly this time, you held out a piece of Bacon and waited for Dean to take it. Before he could snatch it from you though, you pushed the whole piece into your mouth and winked at him. ‘Oh I wouldn’t do that if I were you Princess.’ You raised your eyebrow at the man before you. Biting your lower lip ever so softly, ‘Who the fuck do you think you’re calling princess.’ Laughing at him, you noticed Dean lick his lips slowly, a hand came up to his face as he started to rub his chin. 

You could sense he was planning something, you looked into his eyes and his pupils widened and his eyes got darker. You gulped and smirked at him as you ate more Bacon. 

You fluttered your eyelashes at him, hoping deep down that he was going to throw you onto your bed and have his way with you. He stepped closer to you, his mouth slowly reached for your ear. ‘Do you wanna be a good girl for Daddy, baby girl?’ Dean questioned. 

You bit your bottom lip again, waiting patiently for your next instruction. His mouth never left your ear, Dean moved closer to you. A short growl escaped his lips. You let out a breath which you didn’t realise you were holding onto. Tightening your thighs together you needed some friction. The hotness between your legs grew as you could feel Dean breath on your neck. A cough from the doorway brought you around from your trance. 

‘Damn it Sammy,’ Dean said underneath his breath, for your ears only. You laughed softly and looked at the taller hunter at the door. ‘I may have found a way to kill Lucifer.’ You blinked and waited for him to continue ‘Shall we take this into the war room.’ Sam suggested. You rolled your eyes and followed him. 

-

‘So let me get this straight, if I shoot Lucifer in his current Vessel with the colt, he will go back to the cage?’ questioning Sam for the third time because you couldn’t get your head around the idea. Sam just scuffed at you, ‘For the final time yes, because you are of Samuels Colt bloodline, you can send him  back.’ Sam lifted his hand to the bridge of his nose and pinched it with his thumb and first finger. 

Yes this was frustrating but it was also confusing. You didn’t understand why Sam was getting annoyed with you. You were only trying to wrap your head around the idea. 

‘Look Y/N Lucifer is not a nice guy.’ 

‘Well done Sherlock, he is the devil after all,’ you interrupted him. His eyes narrowed at you and quickly closed your mouth shut, before you could even think of speaking again. ‘Sam and I will be there. We will help you, but you have to be the one to pull the trigger,’ Dean tried to reassure you or that’s the way he was coming across. You looked over to Sam, he just rolled his eyes ‘What he said, but remember, he will try and get into your mind. Don’t let him.’ You nodded in response and looked at Dean and he gave you a reassuring smile. ‘I need a beer’ Dean stated and got up from his seat. 

You were sitting alone with Sam and he returned his attention back to whatever book he was reading, this guy never stops you thought to yourself. You studied his Sam's features as he concentrated on the book. The way his brow slightly creased and the way he licked his lips every so often. 

‘So what's the plan batman’ you quizzed Sam. He rolled his eyes and put his book on the table. Folding his arms and leaning back on the chair he just looked at you. ‘Need to use me as bait to lure him out.’ he said smugly. 

Something didn’t sit right with you when he said that. ‘You’re not going to say yes, are you?’ you hesitated for a moment hoping to God he wasn’t. He chuckled to himself, ‘No I would never do that, but if he thinks I am, it will be easier  to get him where we need him.’ 

You pondered over Sam’s words for a while. The plan was stupid, it was surely going to get everyone killed. Lucifer would know it was a trap, he wouldn’t buy into it. Even if Sam and you didn’t get along that way, you still didn’t want him to die. 

‘What if I offered myself up as bait?’ You queried. Sam just looked at you and rolled his eyes again. ‘It wont work, you're not his vessel, remember.’ Sam grumbled at you. ‘I only want to help.’ you said defeated. ‘Stop being a little brat Y/N, we don’t have time for this.’ He snapped at you. ‘I’m not being a brat, but your plan is fucking stupid,’ you scolded towards the male hunter. ‘There has to be another way?’ 

Sam’s face grew into a smirk, ‘There isn’t another way Y/N, just as you're told for once. Or should I get Dean to tell you. You seem to listen to him...Princess.’ 

Anger roared up deep inside of you, who the hell does he think he is, calling you Princess. How dare he. You stood up and stormed over to him. Raising your hand up, you made sure it collided with his face. He laughed as he wiped his head back to look at you. ‘Was that meant to hurt?’ You raised your hand again, this time with more anger and hatred, as you brought it down Sam caught your wrist. Your breath hitched in your throat. ‘Don’t start something you can’t finish, baby girl.’ Sam released your hand and walked away. 

Taglist

Miracles Never Happen 

@akshi8278 @satans-0-spawn​  @foxyjwls007​ @cececolbert @kalesrebellion​

Everything Spn

@lovelydivs

[fairyringquotes]

John F.M. Dovaston, Magazine of Natural History: Fairy Rings, 1832

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Art. I. Fairy Rings, by John F.M. Dovaston, Esq., A.M., of Westfelton, near Shrewsbury.

    “’T’is very pregnant, The jewel that we find, we stoop and take it, Because we see it; but what we do not see, We tread upon, and never think of it." (Measure for Measure.)

Sir, The fair authoress of ‘The Mummy’ well and wisely observes that "There is an invincible feeling implanted by nature in the mind of man, which makes him shudder with disgust at anything that invades her laws." To such who study and esteem her laws, there cannot be a truth more triumphant. Yet the unthinking mind of man not only indulges in, but doats on, mysteries without meaning, and superstitions without support. Some of these, indeed, in themselves innocent, have, by the genius of poets, been made the vehicles of elegant amusement, and allegorical instruction; while others, dismal and diabolical, have, by the cunning of bigots, become predatory on society, and blasphemous to Heaven. There is a perverse propensity in unenlightened minds to embrace the incomprehensible, and reject the obvious; and millions at this moment implicitly believe in Nixon's ‘Prophecies,’ and those of Moore's ‘Almanack,’ who smile with coarse incredulity at being told of the rotatory motions of our globe, or the cause of an eclipse: doubting what is demonstrable to a child of the commonest capacity, and admitting what would stagger the soundest philosopher. Like the poor woman who, receiving her son from the West Indies, listened with satisfactory conviction to his marvelous narrations of rocks of sugar and rivers of rum, but shuddered, and gave him the flattest contradiction, when he averred that he had seen fishes that could fly; when a moment's reflection, even of her mind, would have shown as near an affinity between fowls and fishes, as between sugar and sand. But these good though simple souls, "most ignorant of what they’re most assured," whose delight is in the marvelous, did they but turn to Nature, would find her kingdom peopled and furnished with incalculably more wonders, ay, and true ones too (were that any recommendation), and each perspicuously and indubitably indicating almighty power, wisdom, and benevolence, than all the abortions that were ever spawned from the monstrous womb of Superstition; even more incongruous and copious than "the stuff which dreams are made of," — more charming, more changing, and more enchanting. What are the tricks and transformations of the most cunning necromancer, compared to the metamorphoses of millions of insects, that actually, and almost hourly, unfold before us; from the smooth and compact egg, to the rough and frightful reptile, through the curious mummy of a chrysalis, to the splendid and celestial butterfly? Look at the myriads of monadal and polypodal molluscous creatures that people every part of the multitudinous ocean! Minuteness, indeed, rather than an argument against, is an augmentation of, astonishment; equal wisdom being displayed, and wonder excited, in the articulations of an elephant or an aphis, in the ramifications of a forest or a fern, in the fructification of a melon or a moss; indeed, the last is incomparably the most intricate and interesting. Look at the fantastic and often, at first, repulsive formations, and apparent deformities, of these creatures of the waters, with limbs and organs in every place and shape but what we expect, and tentacles hundreds of times longer than themselves! Why, heraldry itself never came up to these, with all its hippogryphs, dragons, wiverns, hydras, chimeras, and amphisbaenas dire. Some flowers that are now brought from abroad are so extravagantly eccentric in composition, so magnificent in structure, and so dazzlingly glaring in colors, that the most imaginative painter would never have thought of limning such. Some parasites so expansive and ponderous, having blossoms many feet in diameter, exist on trailing plants utterly unable to support themselves. Nay, the momentary actions of nature are ceaseless successions of miracle; evaporation, condensation, suspension of odor, and vibration of sound. Even poetry is surpassed; for what fairy grotto ever equalled the feathery crystallizations of a frosted pane, glistening and sparkling in splendid brilliance? Or what sparry groves or coral caves of the Nereids, deep in the vast abysms of ocean, could ever vie with a silent frost-forest; heavily still, and candied with spikes of hoary rime, spangling and blushing in the earliest beams of the golden sun? What gigantic palace of enchantment copes in splendor with the columnar shafts of icicles congealed around a winter waterfall? or, in curious castellets, embrasures, and bastions, with the masses of powdery snow sifted fantastically through a hedge into a deep lane? Thus, though lost in the immensity of boundless space, all breathing with creation, the humble student of nature, one of the happiest of earth's creatures, may exclaim with the sublime Callias (in ‘Anacharsis’), "The insect which obtains a glimpse of infinity partakes of the greatness which overwhelms it;" and may cordially say with the philosopher,  Even to such an one as I am, an idiota, or common person, no great things, melancholizing in woods and quiet places, by rivers, the goddesse herself, Truth, has oftentimes appeared:" but on opening his eyes on the pampered and artificial world (whether civil or religious), he will feel with King Lear's honest fool, that "Truth's a dog that must to kennel; he must be whipped out, when Lady, the brach, may lie by the fire and stink." It is an unconfutable truth, that among people who have made the greatest progress in natural history, their ideas of the Deity have always been more refined, exalted, and sublime; while in the darkness of theirs where that science has slept, or been sluggish, their notions of his nature and attributes have been derogatory, detestable, and even diabolical.

But to my intention; or I shall be like Bayle, who, in his work on comets, has forgotten them, and filled his volumes with everything beside, eccentrically erratic: and so may I be herein like a stuffed toucan, all bill and no body. I was led into this lengthened preliminary by some reflections on fairy rings, for the cause of which I think I can account, without offense to that airy people, for whom I confess I have a hankering fondness, in consideration of one William Shakespeare, and his fanciful brethren, who have given them a permanent ascendency they long ere this had lost, but for the embalming power of song; so I shall proceed with all due loyalty to the jealous King Oberon, his crown and dignity: confining myself to the two prevailing opinions of their cause; the first whereof I think I shall confute, and establish the second. Let the incredulous in philosophy continue their superstition; this is a harmless one: for though the fairies have long ago left off dropping testers in our shoes, they do not pick our pockets.

It is asserted that these rings are occasioned by centrifugal fungi, which the ground is only capable of producing once; and these, dropping their seeds outwards, extend the rings, "like circles on the water." Fungi I conceive to be the effect, and not the cause, of these] rings: and ground producing fungi once, is not incapable of reproductiveness, as the possessors of old mushroom beds well know; for simply by watering, they will reproduce exuberantly, without fresh spawn, for many years. Besides, we find all these fungi without rings, plentifully; but very rarely without some visible (and never perhaps without some latent) excitement; such as dung, combustion, decomposing wood, or weeds; indeed, the seeds of fungi are so absolutely impalpable, that I have sometimes thought they are taken up with the juices into the capillary tubes of all vegetables, and so appear, when decomposition affords them a pabulum and excitement, on rotten wood and leaves: and this seed is produced in such excessive quantities, thrown off so freely, and borne about so easily, that perhaps there is hardly a particle of matter whose surface is not imbued therewith; and had these seeds the power of germinating by mere wetness alone, without some other exciting cause, all surface would be crowded with them, and pasturage impeded. Now, were these rings caused by the falling of the seeds centrifugally, they would enlarge, which they do not, but after a year or two, utterly disappear; though plenty of the seed may be seen to load the grass all around. I have brought large patches of these rings into other fields, but never found them enlarge; and the turf I have taken back to replace in the rings has never partaken of their nature. Why, too, should the grass be more rank in the rings? one would conclude the seeds of fungi would make it less so. Now, the exciting cause that occasions these fungi, and deeper verdure to come up in circles, the true, the nimble fairies —

"That do by moonshine green sour ringlets make,  Whereof the ewe not bites; whose pastime is  To make these midnight mushrooms"—  

I hold to be strokes of Electricity: and I owe you "the picking of a crow," good Mr. Loudon, for refusing, some time ago, the admission of a gentleman's Essay on Electricity, averring it incompatible with Natural History; when you very well know that no part of organized nature can go on a moment without it, and that no part of unorganized matter exists, not subject to its pervasive influence. [Footnote: Excepting glass and a very few others similar; to which, however, it may be most easily communicated by the intervention of metal, and made to retain it perfectly when the metal is removed.]

A very considerable portion of those volleyed lightnings and rolling "thunder, that deep and dreadful organ pipe," which often keep such awful coil and "pother o'er our heads," has frequently very little or nothing to do with us; for though a nimbus be heavily discharging its rain, cumuli are bagged up in different heights the lobed and thin edges of which may be often seen through the shower, tinged by the flash; as one cloud is giving or receiving the fluid, according as it is more or less disposed. This may be proved by theory: but I have very often witnessed it, safely seated on the tops of very high mountains, in the calm and quiet sunshine and sweet serenity of a blue sky: and some who read this article will remember witnessing it with me on the craggy heights of the Glissegs, and even from so low an elevation as the Balder-stone of the Wrekin. But when a column of electric fluid affects the earth, either ascending or descending (for I confidently contend, in the very face of some modern theorists, that it ascends innumerously oftener than it descends, though I must not pause to prove it here), it scorches the ground all around its edge, where there is plenty of oxygen in contact with it, and leaves the centre unscathed, where the oxygen is either expelled or destroyed, and so fertilizes the extremity: the consequence is, that the first year the grass is destroyed, and the ring appears bare and brown; but the second year, the grass re-springs with highly increased vigor and verdure, together with fungi, whose dormant seeds are so brought into vegetation, that without this exciting cause might have slept inert for centuries. These fungi are most generally of the Agáricus, Bol¡etus, or Lycopérdon, sometimes Clavària, genus; I have very rarely seen any other. The fertilization of combustion, as agriculturists well know, though violent, being of short duration, these circles soon disappear. They are, moreover, generally found in open places, on hillsides, wide fields, and broad meadows, where lightning is more likely to strike; and seldom near trees or woods, which throw off, or receive the fluid silently and imperceptibly. I have indeed sometimes seen one all round a tree, which must have been by a stroke, from which trees are by no means exempt. I confess I have never been able to produce a single spot by electricity: though a learned friend and myself one summer collected and repeatedly discharged a prodigious accumulation of battery on the grass-plot before my dining room window: but it requires, to produce a very small ring, an incalculably larger column than it is in the utmost power of man to accumulate or discharge. The following year, however, my friend was pleasingly amazed at beholding a noble fairy ring on the very spot! and was long in doubting suspense, till I informed him I had made it with what really acted on the same principles, — fresh soot.

I remember (though for relating it "I may chance have some odd quirks and remnants of wit broken on me"), when a youth at Christ-church, some Oxford wags traced with gunpowder, and fired on the short-mown grass of the Grand Quadrangle in that College, in large capitals, the short monosyllable that so much appears to puzzle poor Malvolio in the epistle forged by his Mistress Olivia's chambermaid; and to the affected indignation of the old dons, and the titillatory fun of the merry Oxonians, the little word flourished there in brown and green for two years; and may be still talked of yet in those frolicksome regions, by such humourists as,

Sir, yours, John F. M. Dovaston. Westfelton, near Shrewsbury, Dec. 30. 1831.

[liambuckleyblog-blog]

S2 W10-

Monday, March 12th- I sat in on two meetings today, in an effort to learn about enumeration and how to run my own business. Sean’s presentation sort of stole the show, but I had researched the topic as well. 

I have Articles of Organization for my company, with a name checked out from the start. My company would be hiring two experienced people and five fresh-out-of-college employees. The only way I’ll be able to afford it is on a hourly rate. Thus, the fresh employees (and myself) will be about $17 an hour, while the experienced employees will be around $23 an hour. In total, I will have to pay $148 per hour to pay myself and all of my employees. We work 8 hours a day, five days a week. So, 40 hours a week. Over 52 weeks, it would be 2,080 hours. Over fifteen years, 31,200 hours. Thus, over 15 years, assuming I give twice as much in the latter half (to account for raises throughout (which amounts to $296 per hour)), I would pay $2,308,000 the first seven and a half years, and $4,616,00 the second. In total, over fifteen years, I estimate that I would be paying roughly $7,000,000 on my employees. To make this more realistic, I will be making this 55 hours a week. Divide by eight, multiply by three, and add to the original and- huzzah! The cost skyrockets to $9,625,000.

Four of them will be artists, and in order to have them all using both Blender and Z-Brush, I will have to pay $5050 per person per three years. Multiply by four people and by five (to get 15 years), and the overall cost for those programs is $101,000 for 15 years. 

Thus far, I will need to recoup $9,726,000 by the fifteen-year mark.

I will add in $200,000 in total taxes, which may seem a bit extreme. Still, I need to get a high estimate so that the actual result is the worst-case scenario. In addition, I will state that I will need $1,000,000 for supplies and rent for my workplace. 

New Estimate: $10,726,000.

And, to make things as difficult as possible, our team will be using Unreal and a publisher that takes 20%. Thus, our game will need to pay 25% in royalties to our development. Divide total cost thus far by 4, multiply by five, and then we have my nightmarish total cost (right now): $13,410,000. 

This isn’t even the worst part. Not even close.

I will estimate that, to start this all up, I will need to take a loan of $13,500,000 from the bank. The total interest rate is a rather horrible .2 per month. This becomes absolutely disgusting really fast.

180 total months. (1.2^180) times $13,500,000. This is seriously bad. 

2.42*10E21. This amount of debt is beyond comprehension. It’s more than our national dept by over a billion times. 

So... I would instead opt for an angel investor. Which would “only” leave me with $135,000,000 in debts. 

I know that this is highly unrealistic, so I will decide to use more realistic numbers for the bank loan. 

5% interest quarterly. It’s sensible, but it will still be pretty bad. 

(1.05^60)*13500000 = around $25,250,000. Thus, this ideal bank loan would be preferable to all other options.

For fifteen years, it’s not bad. It could be much, much worse. $25,250,000 for eight employees, business security, taxes, royalties, workspace. I feel this is decently accurate. 

Tuesday, March 14th- Today, I finished writing the full version of the analysis shown above (it was previously insubstantial when it came to employee costs), and from there continued to do some writing. Our theme is- no joke- “Snoods and Fezes”. Because this theme is so absurdly wacky, I decided to try and produce a story that is similarly wacky. Lastly, due to some mild stress on my part, I added more detail to an elevator speech that I need to turn into a real game design.

Wednesday, March 15th- We had a course-wide meeting today concerning violence in video games and how it connects to violence in real life. It was a meeting in the purest sense- it was a discussion where many people offered their thoughts and opinions. Towards the end of the meeting, Mr. Compton raised the question of what each of us would never work on due to a moral basis. I had only barely thought about it in the past, and so I spent the rest of my time pondering my limits. Here’s what I found:

I want to understand where my limits stand with what I am and am not willing to work on in a video game.

This idea is, for most of the roles in game development, clear-cut and simple. There isn’t much the person can do if they encounter these other than to fight any offending decisions or to just leave. My role, as a designer, is a little different.

A game designer should never find themselves in a situation they didn’t set up. If they have, they are being micromanaged by their boss. That being the case, the options available are roughly the same as those other roles face. If that is not the case, if none of a designer’s superiors are attempting to force this idea, then the idea can be altered and changed more deliberately without worry of being fired.

Thus, if a conflict arises due to a fellow designer using a concept I refuse to associate myself with, I am more able to replace the idea altogether or discuss alternatives with the other designer in order to avoid my ethical boundaries.

Here are those limits that I find myself particularly averse to stepping over-

1. No pornographic games, in general.

2. No games that promote needless violence.

3. No games that, intentionally or otherwise, demean individuals due to race, gender, or other factors that people use to define themselves.

4. No microtransactions. I want to have a good relationship with my audience, and games with microtransactions tend to fare better in user reviews.

5. No graphic actions of a gruesome nature (such as rape, neck-slitting, child abduction)

I deem the above to be abhorrent and repulsive, and thus I shall not associate myself with any of them.

Thursday, March 16th- Today, I spent the vast majority of my time ensuring my game (thus far) could be beaten, even if the game glitches slightly. First, to make sure a doorway cannot be blocked by an enemy forever, I made a sort of “spell” that sends the enemy back to their spawn point (which is set the moment play begins). I also spent a good amount of time researching what Unreal Engine 4.19 adds (as I myself was downloading it simultaneously). After finishing the download, I made a copy of my current game for 4.19 and quickly ran through it several times to ensure the update did not destroy anything. Luckily, it didn’t seem to break anything, but there is a mildly annoying issue with my editor where it doesn’t automatically lock the mouse into the window when I start playing. I don’t really know how to fix it, but I will do some research.

Friday, March 17th- I got to work on adjusting some of my game mechanics to make the game more exciting. Primarily, I realized that the teleport feature makes a lot of tasks considerably more creative in how you can perform them. Teleporting to a location you set to dodge the first set of enemies is more than a possibility- it can work incredibly well! I had to adjust the moon puzzle to account for and include the teleportation feature, but I can firmly call it a puzzle now. Beyond this, I got some work done with preparing for next week. We have another Game Jam, and the theme is “Get Me Out Of Here!”

[limitedrevolverworks]

[>>>]

“Aaand that’s about it. What’s your verdict, Doctor Sakuramiya?”

You’ve never really been the kind of person to bite your nail nervously, but that’s what your body resorts to in a futile attempt to feel at ease during the tense pause that follows your recounting of this afternoon’s earlier events. Funny that... you’ve always found the concept of parents who feel envy towards their children nonsensical, yet here you are now, wishing you could brush off a serious talk like this on a mere whim. Wishing Tomoyo was the one talking your ear off about this super duper cute drawing of a dinosaur a kid at her kindergarten school drew or something like that, instead of silently pondering on your exposed weaknesses.

If there’s a silver lining to take solace from, it is that going over your talk with Kyouya has significantly cleared your head up. Not completely, no, but there’s a concrete difference between a tangled mess of threads and a neatly rolled yarn ball. You’re still far from coming up with an answer to the question you’ve posed yourself - what to do about Kyouya’s situation, okay, but you’ve stopped feeling like punching holes through a wall to relieve your stress. That’s gotta be something, right?

“Mmmmh! Alright, I got it.”

Calm down, woman! Sit up straight any faster and they’d have to unscrew your head from the ceiling. Aaah, can’t help it, can you? Even sitting seiza-style on the couch and all. It’d be quite a scene for anyone entering now, but fate has decided to be merciful for the first time today and let you hear your friend’s pearl of wisdom without impediments. Insert dramatic drumroll here...

“You... are definitely overthinking things.”

“Ah?”

That’s it? is what you’d be yelling at your innocent phone, if you weren’t too busy being paralyzed by sheer disbelief that the friend you trusted so much to solve your own problems for you would betray you with such nonsense.

“Himawari-chan... you always, always do that. ‘I messed up badly! It’s my fault for being selfish!’... Having thoughts like these is so like you! Worrying that you didn’t care enough just means you cared a little too much.”

Too much...? No, that made no sense at all! It was your fault! You were too caught up in your selfish projections to notice what was actually going on with your kid, right?! Otherwise you wouldn’t be so worried about what you should do or even if you should do nothing to ensure his well-being and... oh. Oh.

“See? That’s a mother for you~! Thinking of her children even while preoccupied with herself.”

“But... b-but...!”

“No buts, you big silly crybaby!”

Who’s cry---oh, you are crying. Sniffling like a real infant, at that, and you didn’t notice until someone else pointed it out for you - over the phone, to boot! Ooh, that stings even more than the tears reddening your eyes.

“Whaddo I dooden...”

“Well, you should know already! Look, the only question you should be asking yourself now is: do you love Kyouya?”

“‘Ccouse I doo!” Don’t yell just because nobody’s in the house to listen to you, Miss Lawyer.

“There you go then! Just follow your heart and tell him your honest feelings. A mother’s job is to tell her children what to do. It’s up to the children to decide whether to listen or not. Forcing your hand is a no no! But you wouldn’t do that, would you, Mawari-chan?”

“I...” Sniff! “ I guess.”

“Yep, because the Mawari-chan I know has a rough mouth, is quick to resort to her fists and overthinks simple things a lot, but she’s also kinder than an angel.

“Oh shaddap. You fogget dis angel married a debil.”

“Naturally! Who else but an angel would have done that, after all?”

It’s a good thing Tomoyo’s laugh sounds so soothing, because yours at the moment sounds like an attempt at choking your own throat. Frankly, however? You don’t give a damn. You’re alone in your living room wearing a mask made of your own tears, bu the laughter you’re sharing with your dear, dear friend is the most genuine you’ve had since what feels like forever, and it seems to last just as long.

“Feel better?”

“Mhm, yeah. Thanks, Tomo. I knew it was a good idea to bother you.”

“There’s nothing bothersome about hearing from my cherished friend Mawari-chan. Well...”

“Just a little bit, right? Sorry, I swear I’m gonna make up for it somehow. I owe you at least that much.”

It’s easy to imagine Tomoyo shaking her head with that tranquil smile of hers on the other side of the conversation. You’ve witnessed it up front too many times to miss the cue even when you’re so far apart.

“It’s fine, Mawari-chan. If you really feel like repaying this non-existent debt of yours, make it so that your next call will be to deliver some great news, okay?”

Listen to her, the woman who has the gall to call people other than herself angels. That she hasn’t married yet is just proof that nobody’s a great enough match for her. It’s only fair that you spend the long, long remainder of the call listening to whatever her brats have kept her so peppy about, and by the time you’re exchanging your heartfelt goodbyes, you feel rejuvenated. Looking in the mirror, after you’ve rinsed your face at the end of it all, you don’t see the weight of a billion doubts dragging your eyes down. It’s just you, the mother of your son, newly reminded that the world hasn’t ended just because of a difficult development in the latter’s life.

Nice timing too, because by the time you’ve gotten back to the living room, you find a portion of the floor in the middle of getting devoured by a miasmatic agglomeration from whence emit two ethereal protrusions most darkly. Your fingers curl into fists filled with empty air and determination that increase with each layer of unreality stripped away by the two shapes which, eventually, are revealed to be your Valdios VonVermillion, your husband dearest, with his pale hand placed atop the shoulder of your son Kyouya.

“A moist boon to the eyes parched by visions most dry: my beloved, I make my return to our humble abode with the dearly spawn of our bond.”

With a grandiose flourish, his mantle dissipates the tangible traces of obscurity that still cling to his gaudy suit and your child’s much more modest clothes, after which he takes a single step back that bears the significance of a thousand. That something is amiss is only made more evident by the fact that Kyouya’s cherubine visage is marred by the slightest hint of unease. Oh, how admirable your little boy seems, when he steps forward in such bold yet humble fashion! It’s obvious that, in the face of his intention to speak, you can only seal your lips and block the words that had been brewing behind them.

You squat in front of him instead: your eyes are more or less at the same level. There’s an unspoken agreement between the two of you already, as if the both of you feel aware that you spent the better portion of this afternoon reaching something resembling a mutual conclusion you can agree upon. Now, you have but to vocalize it.

“Hi, Kyouya.”

“Hello, mom. I thought a bit about that thing we talked about in the car.”

“Me too, actually.”

“I see.”

He casts his eyes down. Following them, you spot the fingers curled so tightly around the hem of his uniform, they might break their carefully painted nails anytime now. It’s a vision that speaks a lot more sincerely than the trademark smile unsupported by the gravity of his gaze. You can’t stop yourself from placing your own palms atop of his, and having a sincere smile waiting for when he raises his head again, so he can take some cues from it and reinforce his own. Looks like it worked just fine, even if his eyes seem ever so slightlty damp.

“I have decided to redefine the priorities of the group a bit. I think that it would be too dangerous to let things go back to how they were before it formed... I really do think that forming our group was a good thing! So from now on, we’ll try to steer clear of questionable activities and try to focus on stay on the clear side of things. Would... that be fine by you?”

It’s a wonder how you could have doubted for a single millisecond that your boy could have turned into a terrifying stranger all of a sudden. Why, it takes a single glance to recognize him: it’s the Kyouya you’ve raised and loved ever since you heard his first cry, the kind-hearted boy who truly, almost foolishly belives in the same justice that his mother fought to protect so, so long ago.

So, Himawari, would that be fine?

“Dammit kiddo, ‘long as you don’t make the teachers and me worry like that again, you can go blow the town for all I care. Now c’mere and give your mom a hug before she changes her mind.”

Too late to escape, Kyouya! No amounts of whiny Moooom’s will save you from this sappy ex-tomboy’s deadly Cheek-to-Cheek Smooshing Technique. Not that you look as displeased as you sound... is that a tear, perhaps? Quick, wipe it away or you’ll have suffer a killer Bear Hug Combo Climax! Mmh? What’s she whispering in your ear now?

“Also, don’t blow the town please.”

“I’ll try... unless it gets filled with crooks. In that case I’ll... nononono!”

“Why, you!”

.

..

...

....

.....

Ah, how sweetly the stomach named heart churns as it feeds on the feastful sight of the woman who holds the beating organ hostage tickling the unripe sides of your heir. The conundrums of his plane are mysterious now as they ever were, but ever fonder you feel yourself growing for quaint little moments like these, building blocks of a magnificent castle named ‘love’... yes, you are a slave to love. You, Valdios VonVermillion, can say without a shred of doubt in your wicked soul that you would renounce your former apocalyptic self thrice again, if you were granted the chance to live but a single of this and other such droplets that make up the tumultuous ocean which your life has turned into.

Smile! Grin! Indulge! Selfishly drink of this sight and rejoice that humanity shall forever be denied a happiness that is yours and none else’s! Ah, if only, if only they were granted the misfortune of awareness! To be granted knowledge of the joys which you robbed them off with your unholy matrimony! Your wife! Your children! Your life! Treasures the likes of which would make the Seven Hells burn green with the blazing flames of envy! To live for! To die for! Yes, there is great joy even in the mere act of accepting one’s seat in the sidelines instead of sharing the spotlight with the main actors of this mushy charade! To merely add your guffaw to the merry orchestra of your woman and your child’s laughter--

“Also, making a clique was totally dad’s idea.”

“Oi.”

A-ah, tempting terror! Suave ire! Five mouths agape with silent screams dot your shoulder, where your loveliest’s digits have burrowed like the spears that torment those who sinned the sin of deception. Your reflection in her gaze is a lost soul burning in flames hotter than those belched by Lord Asmoday’s throat after partaking of a smosgasboard of Hell’s finest cooking, her grip tighter than the vises that imps use tooooouch ouch ouch the pain! The pain! The world loses all sense of self as up becomes down and where once was bone is now pitch black nothing, cursed be the wicked art of Judo and its malevolent flips! Oh, to be a devil and suffer punishment! Forgiveness dies in the throes of scorned embraces! Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa not the wings! Anything but the wings! Love may be blind, but it sure knows where to press and bend to bear regret where once grew wicked delight...! Dear, please, have some mercy on your beloved half! No? Oh, okay then...

It shall be a long, blackest of nights, it would seem, to call the curtain on this tragicomedy called daily life...

[symbianosgames]

The following blog post, unless otherwise noted, was written by a member of Gamasutra’s community. The thoughts and opinions expressed are those of the writer and not Gamasutra or its parent company.

Over the course of my senior year in college, I've been hard at work on a visual novel dubbed Streams of Nurture (hence the conspicuous gap between published articles since August 2016). As both a passion project and academic piece, Streams of Nurture represents an interesting case study for transforming one of my most ancient interests, food production, into an interactive affair that combines the dramatic qualities of an entertainment title with a real-world topic characteristic of serious games. In other words, I wanted to leverage the concept of "learning through play" to create a title that felt both purposeful and engrossing.

With my project officially submitted to the Worcester Polytechnic Institute database, I can now share with you the report detailing the development cycle for the visual novel. Throughout the coming weeks, I shall be publishing a subsection of the report penned for Streams of Nurture. Each part will focus on a particular design and production aspect of the game, from the way the narrative was conceived to the iterative art process that governed the title's presentation.

This first post in a series of game development articles explains the conceptual and research phases that preceded the actual development of Streams of Nurture.

NOTE: I didn't single-handedly develop the game myself. Although I handled the narrative design, coding and writing for Streams of Nurture, my partners Liam Miller and Dave Allen were wholly responsible for the art and audio respectively. As such, the pronoun "we" will be used to acknowledge their invaluable contribution to this project.

Streams of Nurture is a kinetic visual novel that tackles the topic of salmon aquaculture (fish farming), as well as the socioeconomics and cultural factors surrounding the species and the communities who depend on it as both a food source and a symbol of their historical roots.

The game relates the fictional tale of a New Englander who relocates to Washington State to attend Labrador Institute and continue the work of their father, who mysteriously vanished when the protagonist was a toddler. One day, a salmon crisis breaks out, and the plucky Northeasterner and their new friends set out to make things right by adopting sustainable rearing practices that will preserve the wild fish stocks. Along the way, they encounter the quandaries associated with pursuing innovative but potentially beneficial ventures.

At a certain point in the game, players must choose between three different branches that correspond to the farming methods proposed by their in-game allies. Following that decision, the player proceeds through the various stages of the salmon’s life cycle in a controlled environment, learning how to take proper care of the fish with regards to feeding them and monitoring the conditions in which they are being kept.

The goal of this project was to present an important topic seldom explored by the video game medium, while weaving a dramatic and personal narrative that touches on the flaws and relationships of the game’s characters.

Conceptual origins

The idea of creating this project came about when we were contacted by Professors Brian Moriarty and Ralph Sutter in early August 2016 about designing a visual novel for our Major Qualifying Project (MQP), the possibility of which they had pitched the previous academic year (2015-16).

Around that time, we were pondering the idea of creating an educational entertainment (“edutainment”) title that covered topics which had occupied our attention for several years: food production and nutrition. As children, we had developed an interest in pursuing a healthy and varied diet, leading us to visit the supermarket as well as food processing factories in our spare time (see Figure 1).

Figure 1. Salmon curing plant (H. Forman & Son).

http://ift.tt/2p7SPcK

We had also become conscious of the wider cultural, economic, political and economic processes surrounding our dietary choices, and had begun practicing “green consumerism” by researching the food items we purchased on a daily basis, paying particular attention to the way their ingredients were harvested (see Figure 2).

Figure 2. Farm-raised Norwegian salmon for sale.

http://ift.tt/2p7VtQ0

By the time we were invited by Moriarty and Sutter to partake in their proposed project, we felt confident in our ability to do justice to our chosen topic by building a game that would inform players of the methods and practices by which our sources of sustenance are obtained.

Brainstorming

Following conversations with our Professors, we proceeded to generate potential concepts for a visual novel based on our interests in the food industry and healthy eating.

Over the course of a week, we came up with several potential premises for the project. These ranged from a jet-set adventure that would see players learn more about the various food groups anthropomorphized as eclectic deities (akin to Sheogorath from the Elder Scrolls video game series, and his obsession with cheese), to an experience that would revolve around consumers pressuring companies to seek deforestation-free sources of palm oil.

After much deliberation, however, we settled on a topic that we felt would be unique enough to stand out from similar edutainment titles. That topic was aquaculture (fish farming), more specifically the type that deals with the year-round rearing of salmon (see Figure 3), especially given that the global production of seafood has more than doubled over the past few decades.

Figure 3. Norwegian aquaculturist holding an Atlantic salmon.

http://ift.tt/2p84Vmf

There were several reasons we chose this topic from the others we brainstormed. First, the team grew up eating all kinds of seafood, and salmon happened to be one of our favorites for its beneficial omega-3 content that provide potent antioxidation, and the broad range of species that span the Pacific and Atlantic Oceans.

Second, the industry around that specific fish was the subject of much interest and criticism surrounding its practices and geographical reach, with main producing regions such as Norway, Scotland, Chile, Australia and Canada harboring farming operations dedicated solely to salmon.

Finally, salmon possess an extensive commercial and cultural history that can be traced back to numerous fishing communities around the globe. We particularly looked at native populations in the Arctic and North America, whose heavy consumption of seafood led to increased awareness of their health benefits, as well as their impact and influence on the cultures, intertribal interactions, fishing technologies, and very religions of the tribes.

Research

After deciding the topic for the project, we dedicated the latter half of August 2016 to researching the methods, socioeconomics, ethics and history of aquaculture. These ran the gamut of hatchery programs in coastal basins, salmon species, real-life fishing towns, and the various corporations that specialized in raising salmon such as Marine Harvest, Cermaq, and Greig.

For the setting, we gathered of information on coastal regions that emphasize the value of seafood to their communities such as New England, Alaska, and the Canadian Maritimes. Ultimately, though, we focused on the Pacific Northwest (see Figure 4) for its wide variety of fish stocks and farming sites, with countless rivers, creeks, and streams offering spawning beds to five salmon species.

Figure 4. Picturesque view of the Pacific Northwest.

http://ift.tt/2p7XUSo

The Pacific Coast is also the homeland of Native American populaces whose history and culture are defined by their environment and the fauna that inhabit it. These include salmon, a species prized by tribes such as the Coast Salish peoples of Puget Sound and the Strait of Georgia who once depended on the fish as a source of food, wealth, trade and identity (see Figure 5) and came to identify themselves as the ‘salmon people’. Their traditional fishing practices were deeply shaped by their reverence for salmon, which were seen as gift-bearing relatives, and were treated with great respect, since all living things were once people according to traditional Coast Salish beliefs.

Figure 5. Salmon on a stick, a time-honored Native American cooking method.

http://ift.tt/2p7Yvnl

In addition to collecting research notes, we frequented local grocery stores and restaurants, including Price Chopper and the Sole Proprietor, to purchase and assess the taste profiles of different kinds of commercially available salmon such as Atlantic and Pacific king salmon (see Figure 6). Given the impact different farming practices have on the juiciness and flavor of the fish, we believed this hands-on experience would allow us to better understand and communicate the multifaceted nature of salmon from both a commercial and gastronomical standpoint.

Figure 6. Ora King Salmon, as served by the Sole Proprietor, Worcester MA.

Original photo by Michel Sabbagh.

Design document

By the time we returned to campus to begin the 2016-17 academic year, we had completed our research on salmon aquaculture, presented our findings to Professors Sutter and Moriarty and began working on the project’s game design document (GDD). This served as an outline of the game’s storytelling aspects (synopsis, characters, themes, etc.) as well as the technical elements that would shape the project’s overall design and structure. Our experience goal, which distills the narrative and educational intent of the visual novel, was summarized as follows:

“Inform the player on the economic, environmental and sociocultural value of salmon so that they can experience, through virtual decision-making and option-weighing, the methods for harvesting the fish in a sustainable manner that will best benefit both the people that depend on it as well as nature in the long term. The emotional arc of the story will include feelings of shock/conscientiousness, perseverance/ingenuity, and pride/redemption. The player should feel as if they are on a moral and personal journey, coming to terms with both regional and personal crises in an attempt to replenish endangered salmon stocks. By the end of the experience, the player should have the knowledge needed to choose sustainable seafood, and also gain an appreciation for sustainability as an indispensable aspect of nature and the human/animal life it harbors.”

Reference items

Along with the documentation the team gathered in August 2016, we decided to get our hands on various items and publications pertaining to seafood sustainability, hoping to further educate ourselves on the details of salmon farming and sourcing.

Figure 7. Sustainably farmed and fished salmon.

Original photo by Michel Sabbagh

The first products we purchased were smoked Atlantic and canned Pacific salmon at Price Chopper (see Figure 7), with the former serving as a major inspiration for one of the routes the player may take in the final game. In fact, the Norwegian farms of Kvarøy and Selsøyvik from which Blue Circle salmon originate are at the forefront of sustainable aquaculture. Their innovative use of lumpfish allows them to keep their farming sites clean and remove deadly parasites such as sea lice without resorting to pesticides or chemicals. Their use of In the Blue fish feed, which reduces pressure on marine resources and minimizes environmental contaminants, inspired us to get our hands on a few samples of actual salmon farming equipment. We acquired a bag of feed pellets from Skretting (see Figure 8), a firm which specializes in the manufacture of high energy pelleted fish feed for commercial fish farms.

Figure 8. Fish feed pellets.

http://ift.tt/2p7XY4A

We also obtained other publications and objects pertaining to seafood to bolster the realism of our visual novel. Plush toys representing three of the most popular commercial salmon proved genuinely helpful (and cuddly) in assessing the general anatomy and physique of the different species (see Figure 9). A variety of books detailed the history, habitat and preparation of the fish, with the taste profiles and nutritional facts for each of the salmon species being explicitly described in one of the seafood handbooks. Information and inspiration from these reference items found their way into the story and dialog of our game, adding to the authenticity and “flavor” of the player experience.

Figure 9. Sockeye/Atlantic/King salmon plush toys 

Original photo by Michel Sabbagh

  Priority list

As our research notes became broader and more elaborate, we realized that we would have trouble fitting all of the aquacultural information we had scavenged into a single game. Both the potential scope of the project and various routes the player could take to learn more about the farming methods had to be taken into account to understand the implications of fitting all of our findings into the game. It became clear that we needed to prioritize some facts over others to get across the essential facts about salmon farming, or risk the story becoming obtuse or hollow.

As a result, the team decided to create a priority list with Excel to sort and color-code our research according to its relevance and importance in the game’s prologue and branching paths (see Figure 10).

Figure 10. Priority list with color-coded facts.

Original image by Michel Sabbagh

Many facts were general enough to be applied to the story regardless of which route the player took in their play-through (e.g. handling and management of Atlantic salmon brood stocks). Other details were either restricted to particular branches, or deemed too esoteric (e.g. average water temperature maintained at 15-16°C).

We eventually divided our research into primary, secondary and tertiary categories. All primary and (when possible) secondary elements were prioritized for incorporation into the story to ensure that players would understand the basic processes of raising salmon. Tertiary information was assigned to optional dialog trees or in-game reference sources. This priority list helped us manage the scope of the project, which might otherwise have become bloated with unnecessary detail that would hamper both the development and pacing of the story.

Ren’Py

Of all the design choices made before development of the project began in earnest, the choice of game engine was the most straightforward. Because we wanted Streams of Nurture to be a simple-to-navigate title that would lucidly depict its subject matter, we agreed that the Ren’Py visual novel engine would effectively suit the technical and narrative needs of the project (see Figure 11).

Figure 11. Sample Ren’Py tutorial screen.

http://ift.tt/2p7YT57

There are two reasons Ren’Py was selected as the engine for our project. Based on prior classroom experience, we knew it was one of the most forgiving and malleable game engines available for the development of visual novels. Its screenplay-like scripting syntax, combined with ample documentation and tutorials available both online and in the engine itself, would greatly ease the creation and editing of content.

The other reason we chose Ren’Py was that one of our team members, Michel Sabbagh, had gained substantial familiarity with the engine by using it to single-handedly develop an original visual novel, Make Love, Not Politics (see Figure 12) during the summer of 2015.

Figure 12. Screen shot from Make Love, Not Politics (2015).

Original image by Michel Sabbagh

Preparation

From the outset, we knew that our project was ambitious. Its complex, wide-ranging subject matter, combined with a dramatic, multi-branching storyline exploring the intimate traits and relationships of several characters, would be impossible to implement without careful planning.

Our decision to begin the brainstorming, research and documentation processes before the start of the 2016-17 academic year proved essential in solidifying a manageable structure for the project. Without this preparatory period, the project would have suffered from a lack of visionary focus that would undoubtedly have compromised the efficiency of the production phase and quality of the final delivery.

And that's all she wrote (for Part I, at least)! As I mentioned before, more parts will be posted on a weekly basis.

Let me know what you think of my article in the comments section, and feel free to ask me questions! I’ll do my best to get back to you as promptly as possible.

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