MICROSOFT & XBOX ONE ANNOUNCES THE XBOX1dot2
Microsoft understands your frustration regarding our recent decisions to back-door you without so much as a reach-around and to placate we have added a patented VCR Virtual Reality Immersion Experience to the Xbox One so you can play your parent’s old VCR tapes (you should be able to find them at the bottom of a locked filing cabinet stuck in a disused bathroom with a sign on the door saying Beware of Betamax somewhere in your parent’s basement).*****
This new XBOX1dot2 tech comes complete with authentic loud-clunky-mechanical sounds playing in the background during your Dolby Stereo movie soundtrack to assist in the fully patented and immersive experience that is XBOX1dot2. Isn’t that nice of us?
We know your main concern as an astoundingly stupid consumer is how you are going to pay Microsoft and Electronic Arts for being such gracious corporations and allowing you to do continued business with us. That is why Microsoft has made it easier for you and your parents to throw your hard-earned money away on substance that used to come standard with gaming and added a built-in, ULTRA-CONVENIENT coin slot at NO ADDITIONAL CHARGE!!! That’s right folks, you heard correct, Microsoft is eating the cost of implementing this handy-dandy new hi-tech feature.*
And for just $500 more you can have the pleasure of purchasing your very own proprietary Credit Card Reader (comes with one free month of Xbox Live) to make throwing your money away that much more convenient.**
In a rather vain effort to take your needs into account and improve our product for mass consumption, the 1dot2 KINECT now comes with a nice friendly EYE to help make you feel slightly more comfortable while being watched in the privacy of your own home. This feature specifically enhances our new patented VCR Virtual Reality Immersion Experience.***
The XBOX1dot2 will be available as soon as enough XBOX ONEs have suffered the inevitable systematic failure that you have come to expect of a Microsoft product.
* Disclaimer: Additional fees will be charged to your Xbox Live account for the Microsoft employees we will be sending to collect the cash. For an even more immersive experience (at no extra cost to you) these employees will be dressed like those greasy, creepy guys that hung around the Arcades in the 70s and 80s watching kids playing games and handing out candy.****
** Disclaimer: Additional fees from credit card companies and your bank will apply. This has nothing to do with us, this is all about them. We repeat, this is all about THEM.
*** Studies have shown it makes watching your parent’s degraded porn tapes far less creepy.
**** Disclaimer: Candy available at an additional charge.
***** Disclaimer: Microsoft is not responsible for any psychiatric fees you encounter as a result of watching any tapes with your parent’s names scribbled hurriedly on them or titled ‘Summer of 69 Love Fest; the day little (insert your name here) was conceived’ or ‘Super Freaky Deaky Chocolate Love Orgy with Uncle (insert your favorite Uncle’s name here) and Auntie (insert your favorite Aunt’s name here) plus two llamas, several complete strangers & a midget’.******
****** Disclaimer: Microsoft means no offense to Little People–see how we capitalized your politically correct designation there? It’s what you were called back when VCR tapes were the thing to consume and in order to meet the legal requirements of our lawyers (who are currently coked out of their minds and laughing hysterically over the fact we had to write such disclaimers to begin with) we had to make it clear to children what such a tape could be called if their parent’s had stupidly written the tape’s contents on the label. As for the llamas, f*!k what you think, you’re llamas.
~~~
This EXCLUSIVE announcement brought to you by The Dead Console Society. Image made for FREE in GIMP. Humorous material provided graciously by Microsoft.
P.S. TDCS is back, smeggers!
Fiction: Funky Little Demons C9 P6
It is currently February 5th, 6:46 PM as I write this. I’m good as far as this blog goes till the 18th when this will post. I need a break. Then I have to work on the next chapter. The past few days has seen me spend more time at this desk and less time playing games, in fact, no time playing games. I’m a little grumpy! I haven’t exercised in over a month either. I need to get a decent writing schedule and solidify it through consistency before I tackle that beast again. Maybe in a couple more weeks I’ll add some cardio to my schedule. For now writing is more important. Need to rewrite the ending here too. I’m over this chapter for now, I’ve poured everything currently available to me into it. Inspiration currently has its sights set on the next chapter and apparently couldn’t give a flying f–k how this one ended.
FUNKY LITTLE DEMONS
A novel by AJ Beamish
copyright © 2013
CHAPTER 9: BACK FROM THE DEAD (working title)
PART: 6
Remarkably, there was still a pay phone in working order outside the husk of parks that lined Fort George Avenue. Shawn dialed. It rang only once before it was answered.
“Report.”
“It looks like him. We found the goat. Cops think it was some voodoo ritual gone wrong. I left evidence behind to throw them off the trail. We need to talk to the girl. Someone else was there.”
“That ship has sailed. The priest picked her up.”
“That shouldn’t impede a NYPD investigation.”
“It does when you have the Vatican’s seal.” There was a tapping on the phone, as if someone hitting the handset with a pen. Shawn pulled the phone away from his ear slightly. “Was the girl harmed?”
“Unclear.”
“She’s still alive. I suppose that’s a good thing.”
“Yes, but we’ve lost the target.”
A dry laugh echoed out of the receiver.
“He’ll show up. He always shows up.” There was a short pause and a deep sigh. “Thank you Shawn. The apartment they were staying in is close by. See if you can finagle your way in and have a look around. Maybe find out who this other person was.”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
Shawn wrote down the address and hung up the phone then walked to his car. He laughed to himself when he saw the tie stuck in the door. Opening the door he noticed a reflection of someone sitting under the trees across the way in its window. He turned to see but no one was there.
Fiction: Funky Little Demons C9 P5
I’ve been editing and getting this whole chapter ready for the blog for 6 hours now. I can’t think of anything relevant to say about it that I haven’t said already. I’ll just shut up and let you read…
FUNKY LITTLE DEMONS
A novel by AJ Beamish
copyright © 2013
CHAPTER 9: BACK FROM THE DEAD (working title)
PART: 5
The door to the interrogation room flung open. The cacophony and turmoil from the chaotic goings on of the police station burst in with it startling Carmen. The detective looked up from scribbling in his yellow legal pad.
The man standing in the doorway wore an ankle length, white single-breasted cassock adorned with rose colored piping and buttons. A priest, Carmen thought to herself. His head nearly reached the top of the door frame. His face, while kind, had a hint of permanent seriousness carved in it. Brown eyes peered out of slightly slanted slits over a bulbous nose that made everything else on his face appear that much smaller. Aged and colorless lips smiled at her from behind a neat snow-white goatee.
“Carmen,” he said in a voice that wasn’t as deep as one would expect from a man of such size, “I’m Monsignor Perrault. I knew your parents.”
Knew. He said knew. Past tense. With a simple slip of the tongue Carmen’s suspicions were confirmed. Her head sank and her body quivered as a wave of grief crashed through her. She was alone in this world.
Suddenly she felt arms around her. A warm embrace. Perrault was kneeling in front of her and holding her tightly.
“There, there, child.” He soothed. “It’s going to be fine,” he placed her at arms length and cupped her face, wiping the tears gently with a soft handkerchief, he smiled anew and she noticed he was crying as well. “You’re not alone,” he cooed as though he had read her mind.
He wiped her face dry then patted his own tears away and stood up. Brushing himself off he looked over to the detective. “You’re finished here.” It wasn’t a question, Carmen noted. “The girl is my charge now. Thank you detective.”
The detective’s mouth dropped and he looked to the pudgy man standing just outside the room. “Captain?” The captain shrugged his shoulders.
“Come Carmen. Lets get you something to eat and a nice hot bath.” Monsignor Perrault guided her out of the room and away from the chaos.
Fiction: Funky Little Demons C9 P4
I can see a rewrite of parts of this chapter are in order already. I’m not digging the CSI stuff. I don’t do detective novels. I’ve never been one to read them and I can’t stand detective shows. I’m starting to feel like a lot of this could have been glossed over in narrative. I suppose that’s the stuff you have to suss out on the second full draft of the novel. Writing this scenes out is not wasted time, they’ll help give you a clearer picture and direction when you rewrite them. I’ve already noticed the inconsistencies with calling the corpse “mummified”. I’ve made a note in the manuscript to deal with it later.
FUNKY LITTLE DEMONS
A novel by AJ Beamish
copyright © 2013
CHAPTER 9: BACK FROM THE DEAD (working title)
PART: 4
“Well, look who we have here, Detective Eddings. Back from the dead.” The cop said from behind the yellow tape. Hands playing pocket pool as he rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet. He threw out his chest as Shawn drew closer. A pathetic attempt at intimidation that looked more like his chest was having a contest with his gut to see who could reach out further. It was a contest his chest couldn’t possibly win.
Shawn didn’t know him but this boy in blue knew Shawn thanks to his brief stint in Internal Affairs. All cops know I.A., especially the corrupt ones. Only the guilty fear getting caught.
“Back from the dead?” Shawn inquired dryly, his eyes locked on the officer. “That wishful thinking?”
“You’re the Detective. You figure it out.” The officer spat the words at him and motioned behind him with a quick bridle. “They’re waiting for you,” he looked at him balefully then he garbled something into his walkie-talkie.
Shawn ducked under the tape and made his way down a dirt path strewn with broken glass, past the rusting carcasses of stripped cars littered with empty crack vials. Another officer met him at a copse and motioned for him to continue through a slight break in the foliage. This one kind enough to hold the overgrowth back to allow him through.
“It’s just down the hill. You can’t miss it, detective.”
“Thank you.”
“Careful,” the officer said grabbing Shawn’s arm, “it’s pretty steep.”
Shawn stopped short of the decline and sidled down, sliding most of the way. These shoes are fucked, he thought. He registered the debris almost immediately. Shattered and splintered wood, unhinged leaves, and modern refuse lay everywhere. Petering out from some central point ahead. The soil was clotted with a white substance. He knelt down and examined it. Feeling it in-between his fingers. Sand, he muttered to himself.
“THIS WAY DETECTIVE, WE DON’T HAVE ALL FUCKING DAY.” A man in a tan raincoat and Fedora called out to him from the clearing ahead. Shawn noted the faint smell of the ocean in the air. He wrote something in his notepad and walked slowly towards the man in the Fedora, not in any effort to further aggravate the man, but more so that he could carefully scrutinize the area.
“You took your time.” Fedora growled.
“Traffic.” Shawn said pointedly. Not bothering to introduce himself. “What do we have here?”
“You tell me, you’re the fucking expert.”
Shawn glared at him. He wasn’t in the mood for this. “Why don’t you spare me the testosterone filled insolence, detective, and give me the quick rundown of the events, so we can all get out of here and get on with our day.” He said in a manner much less aggravated than he felt.
“A girl, Carmen Esperanza, was kidnapped from her apartment and brought to this location. Some sort of voodoo ceremony was performed in which she was possibly raped. Somehow she managed to retrieve a gun from one of her assailants and kill them both.” Fedora rambled impatiently.
“Where is the girl now?”
“Being interrogated at the 34th.”
“Interrogated?”
“Questioned might be a better way to put it. Her story doesn’t pan out.”
“How so?”
“She claims to have obtained the gun from that guy over there,” he pointed to a small, skinny Hispanic male lying on his back. A bullet hole in his chest and a wound in his arm. “We don’t have a positive I.D. yet, we were instructed to wait for you before further investigation on our part.” Fedora motioned towards the CSI unit standing off to the side.
Hence their frustration, Shawn thought and casually acknowledged the CSI unit. “I appreciate your adherence to protocol, detective. Thank you. Continue.”
There was a pause. “Umm, well, she claims to have obtained the gun before she got to the clearing when she scuffled with her assailant,” Fedora’s tone was a little less brittle now, “but there are no signs of struggle beyond this clearing.”
Shawn scribbled in his notepad.
“Somehow she claims to have shot that guy and managed to shoot this,” Fedora stepped out of the way and waved his hand over a pitch black and very mummified corpse behind him, “whatever this is, in the back of the head. It doesn’t make sense.”
Shawn scanned the clearing as he knelt down next to the mummified corpse. He removed a pen-knife and plastic bag from his pants pocket, cut a piece of skin off the corpse and placed it in the bag.
“Should you be tampering with evidence like that? We still have jurisdiction as far as I know.”
“Need it for carbon dating.” Shawn replied absently.
“Carbon dating?”
“Don’t worry about it, detective.” He turned to the CSI team. “Search for traces of explosives as well.” They looked momentarily perplexed. “All the foliage around here is blown outward from this central point,” he pointed to a spot behind the mummified corpse, “something had to char this corpse up. Look for a goat as well.” The two CSI men scoffed loudly at him. Still kneeling next to the corpse Shawn turned on them. “You can begin your investigation now, gentlemen,” he chided and returned his attention to the corpse.
Shawn noted the bullet entry point in the back of its head and the spray of brain matter on the ground. Using a nearby stick he carefully lifted the corpse a little and examined under it. The spray pattern outlined a body. No one noticed him retrieve another baggie from his pocket and sprinkle its contents under the mummified corpse. He found the bullet lodged in the sand clotted soil about three feet above the corpse. He searched where the other assailant had been killed and discovered no telltale signs of a major struggle. This one had been marched to his death, he thought.
“Someone else was here.” He said out loud.
“That’s what we think.” Fedora took off his hat and wiped his brow. “Girl swears no one else was here.”
“She’s lying.”
Fiction: Funky Little Demons C9 P3
NARRATIVE. That’s what’s always missing from my first drafts. It’s all dialogue and basic action. It’s not until the third work through that I notice I’ve had the last three characters look up, point or all do something in pretty much the exact same way. Everyone in the chapter smiles at some point or other. Better descriptions come when I slow down and get inside the heads of the characters. Mostly, thanks to the strategic use of my Flip Dictionary!
FUNKY LITTLE DEMONS
A novel by AJ Beamish
copyright © 2013
CHAPTER 9: BACK FROM THE DEAD (working title)
PART: 3
Marley sat still with his head cocked to the side on a stone wall under the athletic field where he had watched the fireflies play yesterday afternoon. Silently he surveyed the scene across the way. At first he had intended to stay only long enough to make sure Carmen was safe. He had watched as a police officer placed a blanket around her and gently coaxed her into the patrol car and drive off. Contemplation stayed him.
He didn’t like Carmen taking the heat for him. This was his doing. His responsibility. His mother couldn’t kill him if he was behind bars, right? Besides, he was fairly sure Carmen’s story wouldn’t work. Too many holes in it. He wanted to go down and tell an officer what had really happened but he was scared. Instead he sat there and watched, hoping a cop would notice him and come over to question him. He was sure he could confess then. For now, as much as he wanted to walk over, his legs betrayed him and refused to move.
He was about to leave when the man in the red velvet vest and unkempt blond shoulder length hair showed up in a black Datsun 240Z. A blue tie hung untied around the collar of his white shirt. It got caught in the car door when he closed it and slipped off his neck as he walked away. He didn’t seem to notice. Perfectly pleated tan pants dropped down to gray alligator shoes and he carried a small notepad, like the one Marley used to write his homework assignments in, and pencil in his left hand. He dropped the pencil and pad as he mounted the curb and shook his head in self derision when he picked them up.
It wasn’t the man’s poor choice in fashion or the haggard way he carried himself despite his youth that interested Marley.
He glowed.
Marley shook his head. Rubbed his eyes. Looked away. Looked back. Shook his head anew. Squinted.
Yup, the man was definitely glowing.
It was as though there was some alien force-field protecting him. It shimmered a bright lemon yellow just inches from his body. Ebbing and appearing to flow around him like water unhindered by gravity.
The police ignored the man. Some even appeared to show a bit of disdain towards him, sneering, turning or walking away as he neared them. The glow momentarily turned a muddy red and mercurial as he exchanged words with an officer standing guard. Then he ducked under the yellow tape blocking the path that led to the woods behind the parks that lined Fort George Avenue and disappeared down it.
Marley examined the others gathered across the street, squinting at them. Forcing his vision in and out of focus on them. No one else was glowing. Strange.
Stranger still was none of the officers or detectives seemed to notice him sitting there. Granted, he was hedged back a bit and partially blocked from their immediate view by some trees and another stone wall, but he wasn’t exactly hiding. He’d been sitting there ever since Carmen had flagged down a passing patrol car, almost an hour.
Strange.
Fiction: Funky Little Demons C9 P2
I suppose the proper usage of the term ‘working title’ is to use only it when you have not decided on one. I’m using it to remind myself I’m not really happy with this chapters title and may need to change it. I try to get my chapter title from something a character in it has said. Relevance is the key. A lot of times I get them from songs. That is, part of a song. A verse or a rather poetic line that taken alone and worked into the chapter can find a deeper meaning within the story. Chapter 5, The Rugs Topography, got its title from a line in a song that, along with some personalty experiences of mine, inspired the chapter. If I didn’t fear getting sued by silver spooned little pricks like Lars Ulrich I’d be using epigraphs in my stories.
FUNKY LITTLE DEMONS
A novel by AJ Beamish
copyright © 2013
CHAPTER 9: BACK FROM THE DEAD (working title)
PART: 2
The detective sat across from Carmen with his face buried in his hands. The gun, now empty of havoc, sat on top a manilla folder in the middle of the bleak metal table between them. Forms full of chicken scratch floated around it.
“Okay, Carmen,” the detective said softly, “explain how you were able to take the gun again.” He moved his head so as to catch her eyes. “Please.” He smiled.
“I-I-I’m not sure.” Carmen was just nervous enough to inflict a stammer but consciously emphasized it for effect. “When Benny was dragging me to the clearing.”
“You said you were unconscious.” The detective interrupted.
“I was. F-for a bit. Benny was carrying me. I woke, I tried to get away. We fell, the gun fell to the ground near my hand. I pocketed it.”
“Why didn’t you use it then, Carmen?”
Carmen closed her eyes. This was not going well. Marley was right. This story has too many holes in it.
“I tried. I think the safety was on. I couldn’t squeeze the trigger. Maybe I was too weak. I don’t know. I was scared. He put the rag over my face again.” She clambered over her own words and felt herself growing more nervous. Desperate, she tried changing the subject. “Has someone checked on my father? I need to know if he’s okay. Please.”
The detective looked away. The same way he’d done last time. “Someone is checking on him now. They’ll tell me immediately.” He forced a smile but it quivered.
Tears welled up and the detective handed her another tissue. “Alright, lets skip to how you managed to shoot,” he fussed with the papers in front of him for a moment, “err, Khalid,” he pronounced it Ka-leed, not Ka-lid, she thought about correcting him and changed her mind, “in the back of the head.”
Carmen continued to sob, fearing the worse for her father and deeply regretting her last exchange with him.
Fiction: Funky Little Demons C9 P1
I could lie to you and say this is a first draft. I won’t. I’ve tried and tried to get this story out in its entirety before returning to edit it. I can’t. It’s not my style or would that be technique? In all honesty what I first put down can only be described as complete and total shit. The first paragraph of this story started something like ‘Shawn didn’t want to answer the phone but he did anyway.’ And the rest of it was little better than, ‘Jane and Dick went up the hill. Jane looked at Dick. Dick looked at Jane’ and OH my God did it suck great big elephant jobs! Now dialogue, I almost always nail that on the first go through and only have to edit for cadence or character later on. I think that’s how all my scenes develop, around the dialogue.
FUNKY LITTLE DEMONS
A novel by AJ Beamish
copyright © 2013
CHAPTER 9: BACK FROM THE DEAD (working title)
PART: 1
Shawn Eddings eyed the ringing phone. He knew who it was. How could he not? His wife wouldn’t speak to him and his friends were distant memories. No one called Shawn anymore. Except… Haltingly, he picked it up the receiver and held it to his ear.
“There’s been a murder in Washington Heights. You need to investigate. I’m faxing the report now.” The voice was calm and forceful; emotionless. Shawn once had a face in mind to go along with it, but time had faded it away.
Shawn said nothing. His voice quelled by the questions running anxiously in his mind.
“Acknowledge.” Shawn let silence sit a moment longer, then let out a deep breath, the courage to finally ask immediately shot down by the rigour of the personality on the other end of the line.
“She’s fine, detective,” the voice hit with a hint of exasperation that held a light tone of compassion hidden somewhere in it, “she is still in New York and quite safe.”
“Can I…” Shawn gathered a little more courage but was betrayed by his increasingly tremulous voice.
“Impossible.” Stern again. Forceful. Unflinching.
“It was her birthday last week.” Shawn was desperate and mumbling now, stringing his words together. “Canyou geta message toher?”
“That would be… problematic.”
Shawn staggered back and flopped into the chair next to the phone stand. Dust danced solemnly through the blades of sunlight that peeked through the half drawn curtains of his living-room. He closed his eyes in a supplication he knew would be lost over the phone lines. Any further inquiries would result in even more vague answers that would undoubtedly leave more questions in their wake. Shawn felt defeated.
“You have to trust me. Get to Washington Heights before those idiots from the 34th botch up the scene. I’ll need carbon dating done on one of the bodies. You’ll know which one.”
The fax machine started screaming in the next room. Shawn breathed slowly into the headpiece, wanting to plead his case and knowing it would do no good.
“She’s fine, Shawn. You’ll see her in time. You have a job to do.” The voice tried to sate with clemency but Shawn could detect his anxiety was cloying the presence on the other end.
Shawn sat up straight in the chair. “I’m on my way,” he affirmed and gently placed the headpiece back in its cradle. Absently grabbing clothing from various piles strewn around his apartment and without bothering to turn on a light he dressed himself and retrieved the fax.
NHL 13 Sliders: My Be A Pro Sliders Revisited
RULES____________________
| Period Length: 20 | Offsides: On | Icing: Delayed |
| Injuries: On | Tie Break: 4 on 4/shootout | Penalties: 3 |
| Post Whistle Rules: Authentic | Penalty Time Scaling: 0 | Fighting: 2 |
GAMEPLAY_________________
Skill Level: Pro Gamestyle: —
GENERAL__________________
| Tuner Set: 1.06 | CPU Aid: Hardcore | Broken Stick Freq.: 2 |
| Game Speed: 0 | Attribute Effects: 3 | |
| Fatigue Eff. Hum/CPU: 4/4 | Fatigue Rec. Hum/CPU: 2/2 | Injury Hum/CPU: 0/0 |
| Puck Control Hum/CPU: 2/1 | Acceleration Hum/CPU: 2/2 |
ARTIFICIAL INTELLIGENCE____
| Created Plays: On | ||
| A.I. Learning: 3 | CPU Difficulty: 0 | CPU Strategy Adj.: 3 |
| Be A Pro Strategy Adj.: 3 | Human Strategy Adj.: 3 | CPU Faceoff Diff.: 4 |
| Fight Difficulty: 3 | CPU Penalties: 4 | Teammate Penalties: 4 |
PASSING___________________
| Pass Assist: 4 | Manual Passing: On | |
| Pass Speed: 3 | Saucer Pass Speed: 1 | |
| Pass Acc. Hum/CPU: 3/2 | Pass Rec. Hum.CPU: 2/1 | Interceptions Hum/CPU: 4/4 |
SHOOTING_________________
| Shot Acc. Hum/CPU: 3/1 | Shot Power Hum/CPU: 3/3 | Slap Acc. Hum/CPU: 1/1 |
| Slap Power Hum/CPU: 3/3 | 1 Timer Acc. Hum /CPU: 2/1 |
CHECKING_________________
| Hit Assistance: 3 | Aggression Hum/CPU: 4/4 | Hit Power Hum/CPU: 2/2 |
| Stick Lift Hum/CPU: 2/2 | Poke Hum/CPU: 1/1 |
GOALIES___________________
| Goalie Passing: 2 | Goalie Cover Puck: 6 |
| Goalie Screen Effect Hum/CPU: 4/4 | Goalie Reaction Speed Hum/CPU: 2/2 |
Thoughts
My BaP son got drafted 1st overall to the Anaheim Ducks. Good job kid!
This threw one huge knucklepuck at my slider settings. As I suspected when I was tweaking the sliders during the LHJMQ season, getting into the NHL is a whole different stadium. These changes are based off my BaP playing 3 rather difficult games in the NHL pre-season before being happily informed he was guaranteed a place on the Ducks roster, then unceremoniously sent back to the Remparts and informed of the decision after the fact… Fucking corporations!
I’m now tweaking the difficulty with this in consideration. If it makes my LHJMQ season seem too easy, I’m going to treat it as my BaP (who was drafted first overall) is just that much more talented than his peers.
Regardless, know that any tweaks you make during a CHL season (and possibly the NHL minors as well) may need to be looked at again when you play in the NHL. It may be wiser to start an NHL Pro BaP season and play 40 odd games, tweaking the sliders, before you start working on your own pro.
ANOTHER BAP GLITCH TO CONSIDER
My BaP started his career as a 17 year old in the CHL. There is a problem with players under the age of 20. The official NHL rule is you can’t play in the AHL unless you are 20 years old, but if you are talented you can play in the NHL if you are 18 or older. The issue I faced was when my BaP played the pre-season games with the Ducks, no matter how well he did he was sent back to the Remparts after 3 games. This happened even after being assured he was guaranteed a spot on the roster. I believe the coding that dictates no player under 20 can play in the AHL overrides any coding that says the coach wants you in the NHL lineup.
If you start a BaP in the CHL make sure he’s at least 19 years old if you don’t want to spend 3 seasons in the CHL.
CHANGES AND CONSIDERATIONS
Broken Sticks: Broken sticks seem excessive some games. I lowered it down to one notch for a couple of games and I don’t remember seeing a single stick breaking. Another slider that has no happen medium between its lowest settings. It’s kind of cool watching players scramble to the bench and get handed another stick so I’m going to leave it at 2.
Injury Occurrence: Because of the BaP injured player not returning to the roster until another player is injured glitch, I lowered this to 0/0 (there are still plenty of injuries at 0). I’d rather have an unrealistic season with no injuries than run the risk of having several of my star players missing until other players get injured. This glitch is game (mode) breaking, I am considering turning injuries off altogether. To be honest, because of this egregious error in the coding, I’m losing interest in BaP mode.
Puck Control: Changed from 1/0 to 2/1. I felt that a setting of 1 does not accurately reflect a skilled puck handler’s ability to stay on the puck after being jostled a little. I raised the CPU to 1 in the interest of fairness.
Player Acceleration: I experimented with this at 3/3 for a few games and ended up back at 2/2. There is no happy medium between the two settings. Sometimes 2/2 feels too slow but at 3/3 there is too little ice resistance/physics applied to the players.
Penalties: A.I. Penalties changed to 4/4 (CPU Penalties/Teammate Penalties) from 5/4 and I experimented with the Rules penalties slider at 3, but raised it back to 4 after two games.
Some games have 10-15 minutes of penalties per team; this is entirely plausible according to this NHL chart. I tend to notice every power play and penalty kill during the game because my BaP is out on those lines. This causes me to constantly think I need to tweak the penalty sliders. Be aware of situations like this. After some experimentation and research I’m convinced these settings accurately represent the proper ratio of penalties in an NHL game. Not only in my BaP career but in my GM/Season as well.
In my sliders series I explained that you would want to set your teammates penalty slider lower than the CPU penalties slider because your BaP will also be taking penalties. In my case, my BaP is a playmaker and as such rarely takes a penalty. In the interest of fairness and difficulty I have made these sliders an even 4/4. If you are playing a tough guy, grinder, defensemen or any position more prone to taking penalties my initial wisdom is still sound.
In one game the team I was playing took 35 minutes in penalties. Again, I thought my penalties sliders needed work. Then I looked at the hits… They had something like 30-40 hits to my team’s 17 (they were on home ice). They were playing goon style hockey and the 35 minutes was probably justified. The moral of this story? Always remember to look at all the game’s stats before making a slider adjustment.
Passing: This was a difficulty tweak, I moved the CPU pass accuracy from 0 to 2 and pass reception ease to 2/1. Pass completion stats for both teams averages around 70-75% per game in the LHJMQ. Probably a little higher than I’d like. However, the few games I played in the NHL pre-season suggest this may change once my BaP is playing in the NHL and thus we are leaving it as is for now.
Shooting: Shot accuracy changed to 3/1. When I started my BaP season I was influenced by the settings of my play now/season sliders and I would use auto shot aim. I’m now using manual shot aim with my BaP and made this adjustment to better represent his shooting capabilities and my lack of. My BaP has a wrist shot accuracy of 90 and even with this slider advantage against the rookie goalies in the LHJMQ he does not score every game. In the 3 games he played in the NHL pre-season he only scored one goal, and that was a freak accident! While this may give him too much of an “advantage” in the LHJMQ, I’m residing myself to the fact that he is much more talented than his peers.
Aggression: From 4/5 to 3/3 or 4/4. Yeah, when I got to the NHL the opposing team was all over me like flies on $%#! I could barely get a shot off! I still believe this is the slider you need to look at to incrementally increase/decrease difficulty not only in your ice time, but during the simulated segments of your games as well. In the LHJMQ, 4/4 gives me the right amount of challenge, but when I reached the NHL I felt overwhelmed and had to bring it down to 3/3.
Final Words
It’s all how you look at it. I don’t find consistently thinking about and adjusting the sliders a pleasant experience. I’m only suffering through it because of my love of hockey. I really just want to turn the game on and play. Sure, it’s giving me something to blog about, and I enjoy helping the gaming community (if this can be seen as that) but I’d rather be writing my fiction. Some of my rationalization may seem silly to you but it’s what I need to do in my head to come to terms with an imperfect hockey game. You have to find your own zen.
Fiction: Funky Little Demons C8 P3
From here on there’s a lot missing of the story. All that filler material you add after the fact. The stuff you use to flesh out characters more or fill in the gaping holes in your plot structure. I plan to self- publish this novel. It makes sense to leave all that stuff out. Why would anyone want to pay for something they could read on the internet? For now it’s a work in progress. Isn’t everything?
FUNKY LITTLE DEMONS
A novel by AJ Beamish
copyright © 2013
CHAPTER 8: YOU LOST YOUR CHANCE KID
PART: 3
“You don’t remember anything?” Carmen asked.
Marley looked around the clearing. “Not really.” He walked over to Benny’s body. “I remember shooting him.” He said kicking at the corpse. “In the arm. I don’t remember shooting him in the chest.”
“How’s your headache?”
“It’s going. How’s your stomach?”
“Flat.” Carmen paused thoughtfully. “Marley.” She looked at him sadly. Marley cocked his head to one side. “He raped me.” Her eyes began to well up with tears and Marley stepped forward to embrace her.
“Sorry I didn’t get here sooner.” He held her for a moment then walked over to the corpse that was once Khalid. It was mummified, lusterless black skin clung tightly to skeletal bone like something out of a museum. He picked the gun off the floor and pocketed it. “What do we do now?” He looked at Carmen as she sat cross legged on the floor. Crying.
The clearing looked as though a bomb had hit it. There was no crater like he had seen in the photos of WW2 Liverpool his mother had shown him once. The trees and brush were all blown outward. Broken branches and leaves littered the edges of the clearing and on, the sand was all but gone, the trees above no longer formed a dome. Almost as though the sylvan oddity had never existed. Marley’s eyes began darting between the two corpses in front of him.
“Oh shit.” He said.
“What?”
“I’m gonna go to jail.” Marley fell to the ground in a sitting position. “Oh,” he said as his face grew in shock, “my Mom’s gonna fucking murder me.”
“Your mom don’t seem like the murdering type.”
“You shoulda’ seen her the first time dad left.”
Carmen squatted next to him. She wiped the tears from her eyes and smiled at him. “Give me the gun Marley.”
“Huh?”
“I’ll say it was self defense. They don’t have to know you were here. Just give me the gun and everything will be fine.”
Marley hesitated. This was his doing. He should fess up to it, accept the consequences of his actions.
“I’ll say Benny had the gun. I’ll tell them I took it from him when he wasn’t looking. It’s okay Marley. Give me the gun.”
Marley reached into his pocket and reluctantly handed her the gun.
