Tag: sci-fi (page 8 of 35)

First Impressions: XCOM Enemy Unknown

Courtesy Firaxis Games

The road that brought the alien defense series X-Com back to us has been a winding one. Rumors of an update or remake were never far away, and at one point, a game with that title appeared but was something more along the lines of BioShock, with first-person shooter gameplay and heavy influences from Fallout, which did not endear the previous games’ fans to the notion of a remake. However, after years of subsisting on the original UFO Defense, it appears that Firaxis games have finally gotten it right with XCOM Enemy Unknown.

A playable demo is available on Steam, and after playing it through twice, I can say this is more than likely the game fans have been waiting for. The situation is the same as the original game: aliens are invading Earth, abducting or flat-out slaughtering human civilians unchecked. To stop them, a multinational council is formed to fund and oversee XCOM, an elite paramilitary force dedicated to preventing and investigating these attacks. With a handful of rookie soldiers, very little funding to begin with, and only a single base to protect the entire world, you as the Commander of XCOM start in a very unenviable position. Oh, and if you screw up, you may lose your funding, to say nothing of letting the world get conquered by malevolent extraterrestrials.

Courtesy MicroProse
Courtesy Firaxis Games
Old vs. new.

At its heart, XCOM appears to be hewing as close to the original formula as possible: go from broad real-time base-building and research to turn-based tactical isometric combat. Technology has advanced, of course, so XCOM employs the Unreal engine for its rendering. I’m sure there will be purists who miss the stylized, cartoonish art of the original game, and while I admit that style gave the original a lot of character, the new models and animations make it clear this is an XCOM game, not just another futuristic shooter dressed up as an old favorite.

The maps and character designs are colorful and varied, tossing out the grayish-brown aesthetic of certain other action games with guns. Instead of mucking about with time units, each soldier gets two actions, which can be used either for movement or for shooting. Some weapons, like the sniper rifle, require you to not move on your turn, while others allow you to shoot then move, or move before shooting. In addition to these basic aspects, each soldier now has a specific specialization, with assault troopers being able to “run and gun” while heavy weapons guys carry rocket launchers. The engine even breaks up the turn-by-turn movement with occasional dynamic zooms and pans, giving you a very “in the thick of it” feel for the action.

Courtesy Firaxis Games
Mary the sniper lines up a shot.

The demo doesn’t show much of the new base mechanics, but instead of an overhead view, we see it from the side, with soldiers relaxing or training in the barracks while scientists consult their research in the lab. Characters now have distinct voices and personalities, and the international nature of XCOM is emphasized. The promise being made, or at least implied, is that research and fabrication between missions will remain important, as your soldiers still only begin with the most barebones of equipment.

All that said, I think the interface is a bit dodgy in places. It was difficult, at times, to adjust the map properly to see where and how to move my soldiers into better firing positions. As neat as the dynamic events are during combat, once or twice the camera didn’t seem to fit into place properly and I ended up looking at the barrel of the gun instead of at my soldier as they fired. Finally, and this is purely an aesthetic thing, I can do without the initial assault rifles of the squad being roughly the size of a Smart car. They’re just ridiculously big.

However, playing the demo has definitely brought back good memories and whet my whistle for this newest iteration of XCOM. If the promise of the base layout delivers, and combat within the game evolves as it did in the previous titles, this is a sure-fire winner. XCOM Enemy Unknown releases on October 9, and can be pre-ordered on Steam.

Flash Fiction: The Outermost Gate

Courtesy NASA

Participating in the Terribleminds Second Game of Aspects.


One hundred and fifty years of spaceflight innovation, and it’s still a pain in the ass to get a decent meal.

Commander Ellington grumbled softly as he pulled himself towards the galley. He remembered times back home when just a whiff of his mother’s home cooking would make his stomach growl like a hungry lion.

“What’s on the menu today, Slim?”

The technical expert of the construction crew was actually named Vladimir Moroshkin, but being skinny as a beanpole, Ellington had taken to calling him ‘Slim’. The physicist didn’t seem to mind.

“The same as before, Commander. Pre-cooked meats of a dubious nature and recycled water it’s best not to contemplate too long.”

“What I wouldn’t give for some decent chili.” He sighed, popping a meal in the microheater. “How’re things out there?”

Slim looked out the porthole at the in-construction Pluto gate. “Main structure is 90% complete, components are in place, and capacitors are holding charges. Crews probably need another few days to get the toll systems and registration servers talking to the relays.”

Ellington nodded. “Once it’s done we’ll have gates in orbit around Earth, Mars, Venus, Europa, Titan… am I missing any?”

“They just finished the Triton gate, sir.”

“That’s gonna make booking flights confusing. Anyway, where do we go from here, d’you think?”

“We’ll probably have to break the light barrier properly to go further. Properly, I mean. Not with artificial wormholes.”

“Does it ever bother you, ripping holes in space the way we do, just to travel more quickly from one place to another?”

“No, sir. The technology that powers the gates is completely-”

Before Slim could finish his sentence, the station shook. Supplies went flying from the galley shelves. As warning klaxons started going off, Ellington propelled himself to the main console of the small station. Slim was right behind him.

“Did something hit us?” Ellington asked as he scanned the instruments for hull breaches and other damage.

“Nothing solid. Looks like it was a shock wave. Suit comms are down.”

“A shock wave from what, Slim?”

Ellington looked up and got his answer.

In the silent, dark tapestry outside, a violet fissure had appeared. It glowed, blotting out the stars behind it. As Ellington watched, tentacles colored a green so deep it was nearly black wormed out of the fissure and began to push it wide. He glanced at the gate, seeing the men scatter. Looking back, more tentacles appeared, and within the void past the tear in space, Ellington saw piss-colored eyes. Ancient eyes. Eyes full of hunger and hate.

“Slim… tell me what I’m seeing.”

“The instruments are going haywire, sir. I need a moment.”

“Not sure you’ve got one.” As Slim watched, the thing in the fissure lashed out at the gate, swatting men and women in space suits aside as they tried to return to the station. They were unarmed, and their only means of escape was the ion-powered rocket that could get them to Triton and the gate there could get them home. The journey would be short, as Pluto’s orbit this year was closer to Neptune than it had been in decades, which was why the eggheads back home decided to move forward with building the gate.

Not that it would matter if the horror pulling itself into reality could also travel through the gates.

“Can you tell me anything about the fissure?”

“Near as I can tell, it’s putting off a frequency of radiation I’ve never seen before. Radio telescope was the first instrument to zero in on it.”

“Let’s hear it.”

Reluctantly, Slim flipped the external speaker switch. The control cabin was immediately filled with screaming. If it had been one voice screaming, it would have just been disconcerting. Instead, Slim and Ellington heard a thousand voices, all crying out at once without words, deeply in pain and endlessly, endlessly angry.

“Right. Time to get the hell out of here.”

Ellington turned and went down the central shaft of the station to where the shuttle was docked. He slid inside and did a quick check of its systems, making sure it hadn’t been damaged. He caught glimpses of the creature out the windows, but tried to ignore it. He stopped, however, when he saw the gate’s capacitors lighting up. He moved back to the shaft and kicked off of the deck, propelling himself back to the control cabin where he seized a handhold.

“What the hell are you doing, Slim?”

“If I can get the gate to generate a sympathetic counterpoint vibratory radiation pattern…”

English, Slim.”

“I think I can use the gate to close the fissure, sir.”

Ellington stared, then looked outside. The thing was even more massive than he’d thought, and it looked like it was still emerging from the fissure. It could easily reach the station with its tentacles, and Ellington feared one would collide with them any moment. He heard people in the upper reaches of the station, clamoring about, probably eager to leave. He didn’t blame them.

Slim twisted knobs, tapped in commands via keyboard, and finally pulled a lever. The gate sprang to life. Instead of the usual blue color, the capacitors glowed an angry red. Soon the entire gate was alive with that shade, and the radio telescope conveyed a sound that drowned out the screaming.

It was a single, reptilian, very pissed-off roar.

“Slim? What did you do?”

“Exactly what I said! I don’t…”

From the gate emerged a head that could have belonged to some sort of dinosaur. It was topped with ridges of horns, its scales were the color of blood, and when it exhaled (wait, exhalation in space?) plumes of fire shot from its nostrils. Seeing the abomination in the fissure, it shot out of the gate, spreading leathery wings and reaching out with talons easily as long as Slim was tall. It grappled with the tentacled monstrosity and opened its mouth. Flames washed over the fissure.

“Slim?”

“Yes, sir?”

“I have a craving for popcorn.”

Writing Weird Worlds

Courtesy Lady Victorie of DeviantArt

I have an unabashed love for science fiction and fantasy. I grew up on Star Trek (the Next Generation, mostly), and C.S. Lewis’ Chronicles of Narnia was possibly the first full book series I read start to finish. The ability of a writer to completely transport an audience, be it one reader or a million viewers, to a completely alien landscape populated with outlandish characters is one of the reasons I became a writer myself. And yet, for all of my source material and inspiration in these fields, I struggle to write science fiction and fantasy.

My problem is, I believe, twofold. It deals with world-building and pacing. The world-building aspect is not one of building the worlds themselves, no; it’s trying to build the world while also telling a story. The world, no matter how expansive or intricate its design, is merely set dressing. It’s the backdrop against which the story takes place. And what is a story without characters?

Even if there are good characters, though, the pacing problem tends to arise. There’s a habit in some writing I’ve seen in these genres where the action or conversation will stop and description will take over. Tolkien and Martin spring to mind. They’re both writers I deeply respect, but man, they can go on sometimes. While some of Tolkien’s descriptions of landscapes lead to the breathtaking vistas we see in the Lord of the Rings films, and Martin’s in-depth cataloging of grand Westros meals can be mouth-watering, it sacrifices time with characters or plot advancement for the sake of world-building.

The thing to keep in mind, as far as I’m concerned, is that these characters who inhabit these worlds do so the same way we do ours. They coexist with wonders and strangeness the same way we do with things like airplanes and the Internet. Imagine if a writer broke up the action in a tense modern thriller or a detective yarn to describe the interior layout of a 747 in detail, or explained exactly how communication between one computer and another works. I personally don’t think that story would get very far.

While some description is inevitable, especially when it comes to these strange new worlds, I have come to understand that such descriptions should be used sparingly. A quick verbal sketch of something new and interesting may be required for context; I think the description should be made as concisely and quickly as possible. And I don’t believe that in-depth descriptions should ever be used anywhere near the opening of a story.

Consider the opening of Blade Runner. The scene in which Leon is tested could take place in any modern building. The only hint of sci-fi trappings is the device on the desk. It concerns itself first and foremost with character moments and building tension. Instead of showing off how awesome its effects are, the film paces itself, only revealing as much as it needs to in order to set scenes and move the story along. Jurassic Park is another fine example. It’s around 40 minutes before we even see our first dinosaur in full, but the build-up is done so adroitly that we are just as invested in the characters as we are in the spectacle, if not moreso. It’s something I’ll be keeping in mind as I get myself together for my next large project.

How do you feel about writing weird worlds? Would you like to see more description in such tales, or less? What good examples come to mind when discussing these stories?

Writer Report: Moving Forward

Bard by BlueInkAlchemist, on Flickr

Cold Streets is a slow burner. By that, I mean it’s taking me a while to really get set on fire over it. I’m working on it, and I like what’s happening so far, I just haven’t carved out a great deal of time lately to put more words in sequence. I have a move coming up in the near future, and that’s going to eat in to my writing time. I have books and clothes to donate, old geegaws to bequeath to others, and the current place needs some sprucing.

My mind hasn’t been idle, though. What was once going to be a multi-novel fantasy series will, I believe, get compressed into one epic volume. After reading some other stories and watching a couple old favorite films, it occurs to me that not everything needs to be a serial. Not ever story needs a sequel. So Asherian and his world of Acradea will appear in a single novel. And, based on the timbre and themes of the rewrite, and how much more of the story I will be including from the very beginning, it’s getting yet another title change. For the time being, I’m calling it Godslayer.

Somewhere between the novellas of Morgan & Seth’s escapades and this fantasy epic, I want to work on a smaller novel, or perhaps novels, with a sci-fi bent. The arrival of the new version of Netrunner on my back step combined with classics like Blade Runner remind me that the future doesn’t necessarily have to be chrome-plated and shiny, or at least if it is, it need not necessarily be that way for everybody. What I like about futures with an even slightly dystopian bent is that super-advanced technologies, be they androids so life-like they act and feel like humans or faster-than-light travel or interstellar colonization, feel matter-of-fact, an aspect of everyday life that you don’t have to spend pages upon pages describing. And I’ve already written a couple of well-received short stories with this sort of bent, and I’m interested in seeing how I could expand the idea. Alien races, perhaps? Maybe a distant but superficially benevolent overlord whose dictates are at least partially responsible for the crapsack world our characters find themselves in? This bears further investigation.

More on these ideas to come. Also to come, more reviews of Cold Iron as well as some other surprises! Stay tuned.

Flash Fiction: The South Ward

The Necronomicon
Courtesy istaevan

For Terribleminds’ Flash Fiction Challenge “Sci-Fi Fantasy Open Swim“:


Terrance Palmer wasn’t a field agent. Most of his days were spent in the office, examining the profiles of perpetrators to assist the investigations of braver men than him. However, Agent Burrows had tapped him specifically to ride along to the mental hospital. With its wrought-iron fence and gate, long drive to the main building, and security measures including several checkpoints, Palmer felt it resembled a prison more than a place of healing.

“What do we know about her?” Burrows asked the question as they waited at the second checkpoint in the building.

“She is, or was, a professor of anthropology.” Palmer kept her file and notes from one of her books under his arm. “Her main area of interest was religions and cults, and she wanted to prove that there really is no difference between the two.”

“Makes sense.” The door buzzed and the two FBI agents were shown into the south ward. “How does she go from that to… what was it?”

“Paranoid delusions.” The doctor who met them supplied the answer and offered his hand. “I’m Doctor Ahmed. Thank you both for coming.”

“Has she made any more threats?”

“No, Agent Burrows, she has not. She continues to say the world is in danger and she knows the how and why.”

Palmer looked into the common area as they were lead back towards the woman’s room. One man watched them walk by, his left eye twitching in a disturbing fashion. Palmer tried to ignore it, and stay on task.

Ahmed produced a ring of keys, unlocked the deadbolt, and opened the door. “Doctor Chamberlain? The men from the FBI are here.”

She had been facing the wall, sitting at an old desk, and turned to face her visitors. Palmer had seen photos of her before, but they hadn’t captured how piercing her blue eyes were in person. Her long brown hair, normally braided or in a bun for her promotional photos, was only loosely tied back, and strands hung in her face. She stood and smoothed out her formless gray sweatsuit.

“I apologize for my attire, gentlemen, but creature comforts like appropriate clothing are hard to come by in this gulag.”

Ahmed held up his hands. “Now, Doctor Chamberlain…”

“You be quiet. Go drug up some of the others. You know, the actually crazy ones.”

Ahmed said nothing, but retreated from the room, leaving the door open. Burrows leaned against the doorframe and crossed his arms over his red tie and FBI badge.

“You said there was going to be an attack.”

“Yes, I did.” Chamberlain’s eyes were fixed on Palmer. “You’ve read my book.”

He blinked. “How did you know?”

“You have a haunted look about you. And I see a photocopied page of Worshipers of Stars in your folder, there.”

Palmer took the folder out from under his arm, and nodded. “Yeah, that’s the one. Do you really think that ancient civilizations worshiped beings from beyond the stars?”

“Is it any more fantastical than worshiping an old man in a nightshirt living in the sky?”

“Let’s stick to the facts.” Burrows did not sound at all interested in the theological discussion. “The attack. How do you know about it? When and where will it happen?”

Chamberlain blinked. “I know about it because I pay attention. You can’t see them now, but the stars are right. It will happen soon.”

Burrows narrowed his eyes. “We were told you were making threats.”

“Not threats. Predictions.”

“Ugh. Come on, Palmer, we’re wasting our time.”

“Wait a second.” Palmer studied Chamberlain’s face for a moment. “You’re not crazy.”

Burrows’ voice was incredulous. “What?”

“I study crazy people. She isn’t crazy.” Palmer kept his eyes on the professor. “Did you mean to get incarcerated here?”

Chamberlain’s eyes went wide for a moment, and she nodded. “I knew it would be here. The layers between dimensions are thin where sanity is at its most tenuous. And the candidates are ideal. Pliable, weak in mind and body due to medication and sub-standard food…”

“Wait.” Burrows stepped forward. “Candidates for what?”

A scream came out of the common area. Something grabbed Burrows by the ankle and yanked him out of the room. His badge and sidearm clattered to the ground. Palmer rushed into the common area, and stopped short at the sight of what was happening.

The man who had watched them before now stood, his left arm replaced by some sort of rubbery, squid-like appendage that now had Burrows by the ankle. Blood and ichor seeped through his gray sweats and half of his face looked melted. His good eye, the human one, swung towards Palmer.

“Help… me…”

Palmer pulled his jacket open to grab his sidearm. At the same time, the man’s right hand split open like a banana peel and another tentacle spilled out onto the floor. It whipped towards Palmer. He ducked to his right, raising his Sig and lining up the sights. He went to the range every week as a habit, but had never fired on another human being. But is it STILL a human being? The question hung in his mind.

A gunshot went off behind Palmer. He glanced to see Chamberlain, with Burrows’ gun, her grip practiced and her expression calm. Turning back to the… thing… Palmer followed suit. A few rounds later put their target out the window. Palmer holstered his sidearm and helped Burrows to his feet.

“What is the meaning of this?” Ahmed was indignant, and terrified. Palmer turned to Professor Chamberlain and put out his hand.

“The gun, please, Professor.”

“Diana.” She put the gun in his hand. “My name’s Diana.”

“I’m Terrence. People call me Terry.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Terry. I think it’s safe to leave now.”

“I demand to know…!”

“Doctor Ahmed.” Burrows rubbed his neck. “My partner and your inmate just opened fire on something terrifying. Give me the paperwork to release Doctor Chamberlain. The Bureau needs her.”

“Not just the Bureau,” Diana said. “The world.”

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