Gamebreaker - Chapter 2

This is the second chapter of my new LitRPG story - Gamebreaker. If you're interested in following along, check out my page on RoyalRoad. It's free to sign up and the site is chock full of great fiction.

I hope you'll join me on this adventure!

https://www.royalroad.com/fiction/112380/gamebreaker

Chapter 2 – This Isn’t a Game 

 

Devin grabbed the handle of the pitchfork, then yanked his hand back when more words appeared in his vision.

 

Pitchfork (Tool, Common)

This is a pitchfork. It’s made for moving hay, but it looks like you’re about to use it for a battle. That makes it an improvised weapon which is, fortunately, right in your bailiwick.

 

“What’s happening?” Devin said. He looked at the dog with wide eyes. “This is not supposed to be happening!”

“Relax,” the dog said. “This one will be easy.”

“Easy? A talking dog is telling me to kill a giant tree with a pitchfork, and I’m supposed to believe this is easy?”

“It could be worse,” the dog said.

“How?” Devin yelled.

“Well, it’s a pretty weak specimen of its kind,” the dog said.

Another branch slammed into what was left of the farmhouse’s roof. The ground shook, and one of the beams supporting the roof crashed down. Inside, a child screamed.

Devin grabbed the pitchfork out of the dog’s mouth and waved it above his head.

“Hey, ugly!” he yelled.

The tree turned towards him and roared again. Another icon appeared in his vision. This one was a ‘C,’ and it expanded on its own. This time, the words were bright red on a white background.

 

Devin’s Ability ‘Identify Opponent’ scored a critical success on ‘Corrupted Tree’.

Corrupted Tree (Magical Creation, Silver, Hostile)

A tree altered into a ghastly unliving state. These creations are often used as guardians. They hide in plain sight as normal trees until someone threatens their territory, then they spring to life, destroying everyone and everything around them. Don’t expect mercy from these unfeeling creatures of darkness.

Critical success in Ability ‘Identify Opponent’ provides a +5 bonus to Ability ‘Spot Weakness’ against this opponent.

 

Devin leaped aside as the tree smashed its three largest branches down onto the barn. The building collapsed with a sound like a train wreck.  

“Maybe weak is not the best descriptor,” the dog said.

Devin stared at the pitchfork in his hands. He couldn’t think of a less effective weapon to use against a tree.

A widow-maker branch swung at Devin at about head height. He ducked underneath and stabbed the pitchfork upwards. He expected it to bounce off, but it buried itself to the tines in the limb. The handle was jerked out of his hands as the tree roared.

Devin froze. What he’d just done was impossible. He was in good shape for his age, but there was no way he could have dodged that blow and counterattacked, let alone stick an old pitchfork that far into solid wood. It wasn’t …

Something soft crashed into him from the side. He went tumbling just before a huge branch slammed down right where he’d been standing. He rolled to a stop, tangled up with the dog.

“This isn’t a game, Devin,” the dog said. “Start taking this seriously or you’re going to die.”

“I …” Devin rolled aside as three more branches slammed down. The face of the tree glared down at him, twisted and ugly. It was outlined with bright luminescence.

More red words appeared.

 

Devin’s Ability ‘Spot Weakness’ activated on Corrupted Tree.

 

A quarter of Devin’s vision was now filled with words and symbols. They obscured his view of the tree looming over him. Oddly, the glowing luminescence around the face shone through the text.

Another beam snapped. The whole family poured out of the farmhouse as it creaked and groaned.

The baby wailed. The tree turned to look. Something snapped in Devin. He hopped to his feet with a yell and darted forward. He ducked under the swing of a smaller branch and jumped. He caught the lowest branch and chinned himself up.

The branch whipped around in an arc and tried to smash him into the ground. Devin tucked and rolled. He came to a stop several meters away from the tree near the collapsed barn. He sprinted towards it.

Roots exploded out of the ground all around him. He danced through them to reach the woodpile. A root came out of nowhere and caught the edge of his foot. He went tumbling across the hard ground  as a branch sliced through the air above him at about neck height.

He came to his feet next to the stump, pulled the axe out, then rolled to the side as a huge branch crashed down where he’d been.

 

Wood Axe (Tool, Common)

This axe is made for chopping wood. It’s still an improvised weapon, but you’re using it against a tree, so good on you!

 

“Come on,” Devin said with a snarl. He choked up on the axe like it was a baseball bat.

The tree hesitated.

Devin charged. He dodged another branch and took off in a running jump that would have been impressive for a tiger. He sailed into the trunk and buried the axe in the middle of the tree’s face.

The face caved in. Black goo flowed out of the cut. Devin’s feet swung into the trunk, and he wiggled the axe to enlarge the cut. More letters appeared, further blocking his view.

“Go away!” Devin shouted.

Every icon vanished. At the same instant, a thin branch hurtled in from the side and impaled him through the torso. It pulled him off the trunk into the air.

His whole world exploded into pain. He managed to get his hands around the branch to keep it from ripping him open as it whipped him back and forth, but he could feel his insides tearing apart. The words that appeared now pulsed red in time with his heartbeat.

 

Devin is infected with Tree Rot! This is a fatal disease.

Devin is bleeding to death! Not so lucky now.

 

The branch whipped up like a trebuchet and flung Devin into the air. He flew straight up. Everything seemed to pause when he reached the top of the arc. The entire farm was spread out below him. He could see a road to the south and an irrigation canal stretching past the fields to the north, both running east to west. In the back of his mind, he marveled that he knew what direction was what. He’d always been the guy who could get lost in a shoebox.

He fell. Below him, the tree toppled over onto the already-wrecked barn. At the same moment, the farmhouse collapsed. If he'd been in a video game or a movie, there would have been a hay cart below him, but Devin was plummeting towards nothing but solid earth. The ground raced towards him faster and faster.

At the last minute the dog ran underneath him. The last thing he heard before darkness overtook him was a crunch.

 

“Sir?”

Devin groaned. It felt like a thousand goblins were pounding his skull with jackhammers, but that was nothing compared to his stomach. It was as if someone had shoved a hot poker through his belly and poured lava into the wound.

He blinked open crusty eyes and looked around. His vision was blurry. The sun beat down from high overhead. He could hear a man and a woman arguing from the direction of the farmhouse.

One of the farmers knelt next to him. It was Lee, the youngest. In one hand he held an empty vial; in the other, a waterskin.

“What …” Devin coughed. He tried to sit up, but waves of nausea flowed over him.

“Don’t try to talk, sir,” Lee said. He helped Devin sit up and dribbled a few drops of water into his parched mouth. “I used the salve the midwife gave Maw last year when she got hurt while having the baby. There wasn’t much left, but it stopped the bleeding.”

“The dog,” Devin rasped. “Did I … did I kill the …”

Lee stared at him, then looked aside. The dog sat a few meters away, watching them. He didn’t have a scratch on him. His tail thumped the ground.

“Sir, you’ve got to get away from here,” Lee said. He looked over his shoulder at the farmhouse. “Paw’s gone to Pitmerden to get the constable.”

“I’ll wait here,” Devin said. “They can take to me a hospital.”

“I don’t know what a hospital is, sir, but the only place they’ll take you is to the gallows. After what happened here, they’ll bring some soldiers with them for sure. That’s assuming Bryce doesn’t do something stupid before Paw gets back. You’ve got to go.”

“Where would I even go?”

“You can try Horgoff,” Lee said. “The healer there can fix you up.”

“Where’s Horgoff?”

“About a day’s walk,” Lee said. “Head east through the forest until you hit that wheat field with the big tree, then turn right. There’s a path that runs north. Keep going until you hit the creek, and then …”

“I can’t remember all that,” Devin rasped. “Also, I can’t walk like this.”

“You better try, unless you want to fight my brother,” Lee said. “He’s saying he’s going to kill you before Paw gets back.”

“Why does he want to kill me?” Devin said.

“Bryce has a mean streak to him,” Lee said. “Maw told him to you fought that thing off and saved us all, but Bryce said you probably brought it here in the first place. I tried to tell him you were a knight in disguise, but he said you’re one of those Warlocks. I snuck away while he was arguing with Maw.”

“You think I’m a knight?” Devin said. “Like, an actual armor-clad knight?”

Lee flinched and looked around. He leaned close.

“You’re one of the rebels, aren’t you?” he said. “I won’t tell anybody. Just don’t hurt my brother. Please. He’s mean but he’s still my brother.”

Devin looked down at the wound in his stomach, then shook his head. “I’ll try not to hurt him.”   

Lee’s look of relief was almost painful. ”Rest a minute. I’ll bring you some more water and we can figure out how to get you …”

“Lee! Get away from him!”

Devin swiveled his head. Bryce was sprinting out from behind the farmhouse. He held a machete in his hand.

“Get back here, Bryce!” Maw yelled.

“I’ve got to finish him off while he’s down, Maw!” Bryce yelled. “He’s a Warlock!”

Lee helped Devin to his feet. Devin swayed then staggered towards the trees. Bryce overtook him and thrust the machete into his back. Devin felt the impact, but the point didn’t break his skin.

Bryce cursed and raised the machete for an overhand chop. The dog darted in between his legs, and Bryce went tumbling. The machete flew out of his hands.

Devin staggered into the trees bordering the farm and kept running.

 

It took Devin half an hour to reach the path running north. The pain kept getting worse and he had to slow to a walk lest his insides fall out. If it hadn’t been for the healing goo Lee had given him, he didn’t doubt they would have.

He came out of the woods onto a dirt path running north and south. The road looked like it had no end.

“I give up,” Devin said. He slumped against a tree and slid down to the ground. His mind wandered as he dozed.

 

“No rest for the weary,” a voice said.

Devin opened his eyes to see the dog standing in the middle of the path. In his mouth, he held the reins of the mule that had run over Devin.

“I found you a ride,” the dog said.

“Go away,” Devin said. “Just let me die.”

“Don’t be dramatic,” the dog said. “Mount up and you can rest on the way.”

“On the way to where?” Devin said.

“Horgoff, of course. To the healer.”

Devin pushed himself to his feet. He staggered over and collapsed against the mule. He managed to climb onto its back and get his arms around its neck before he passed out again.

My Newest Progression Fiction!

I've written a progressive fiction series! I will be posting this story on RoyalRoad.com

Game Breaker 

By Michael Hinton 

Chapter 1 – You Always Wanted to Be a Hero

Welcome to the Great Adventure, Devin Stringer! You have been chosen to embark upon this heroic quest to save humanity. Remember, it’s all up to you. No pressure! 

Initializing …. Initialization Complete! You were enhanced to Silver level! 

Your race is Terran Human (Stage III). This race has a greatly increased chance of gaining higher rarity Boosts and gains more achievements and better rewards than any other race. Possible rarities are common, uncommon, rare, very rare, and exceptional. This race begins without access to Magical Spheres and is limited to a maximum of two spheres. 

This race comes with three Boosts. These will be selected randomly from among Boosts for which you are eligible. 

Rolling for racial Boost (1/3). Roll complete! You gain the Boost ‘Language Starter Kit.’ 

Rolling for racial Boost (2/3). Roll complete! You gain the Boost ‘Kwaku’s Compass.’ Grats! This is a Rare Boost! 

Achievement Unlocked! Lucky Guy – Rare Boosts are ... you guessed it ... rare! Reward: You receive an extra random Boost of Rare level. 

 Rolling for extra random Boost. Roll complete! You gain the Advancement Boost ‘Skill Hound.’ Congratulations! Grats! This is a Rare Boost! 

 Returning to racial Boosts … Rolling for racial Boost (3/3). Roll complete! You gain the Boost ‘Basic Interface.’ Congratulations! This is an Exceptional Boost! 

 Achievement Unlocked! Lucky, Lucky Guy – Exceptional Boosts are as rare as lottery winners. Nobody gets them during character creation. Nobody except you, apparently. Reward: Your generated class will be improved by one rarity level. 

 Rolling for class. Roll complete! You have rolled an Exceptional level combat class – Rule Bender!

 Achievement Unlocked! Lucky, Lucky, Lucky Guy – We had to come up with a whole new reward for this. And a new rarity level. You lucky bastard. 

Reward: Your generated class will be improved to Unique! 

 Your class is improved to Game Breaker! Congratulations! This is a Unique combat class! That’s right, you’re ‘that guy.’ You roll so well it seems like cheating. GM’s hate you, but you don’t care because you just keep winning. This is a unique class that relies on Agility-based combat while focusing on unorthodox strategies, tactics … and, of course, luck. Your chances of rolling rare-and-higher-level Boosts are greatly increased. Because luck is like money – the more you have, the easier it is to get. 

This class receives the following abilities – Tactician, Strategist, Identify Opponent, Spot Weakness, Improve Weapon, and Improvise Weapon. This class is proficient in clubs, short swords, small blades, and small thrown weapons. This class is eligible to gain special luck Boosts of Rare or higher level. The class comes with 5 Boosts. These will be selected randomly from among Boosts for which you are eligible. 

Achievement Unlocked! A Unique Individual – You gained a unique class. That means nobody else has this class, and nobody else will get it. At least not while you’re alive. 

Reward: You will begin with a special luck Boost of Rare or higher level. This Boost will be selected randomly after other class Boosts. 

Generating Boost … Complete! Devin gains the Boost ‘Ninja.’ 

Generating Boost … Complete! Devin gains the Boost ‘Increase Agility +5.’ 

Generating Boost … Complete! Devin gains the Boost ‘Increase Deftness +5.’ 

Generating Boost … Complete! Devin gains the Boost ‘Steel Knuckles.’ Grats! This is a Rare Boost! Generating Boost … Complete! Devin gains the Boost ‘Tough Skin.’ 

Generating bonus luck Boost … Complete! Devin gains the Boost ‘Victorious Transmutation.’ Congratulations! This is, and I can’t believe this is happening, an Exceptional Boost! 

Achievement Unlocked! You've Got to Be Kidding – Imagine a guy buying a winning lottery ticket and winning a million dollars. When he cashes in, he buys a million more lottery tickets, and each one wins a million dollars. That guy is jealous of you. 

Reward: You receive another special luck Boost of Unique rarity! 

Generating bonus luck Boost … Complete! Devin gains the Boost ‘Ghost in the Machine.’ Congratulations! This is a Unique luck Boost available only to the Unique Game Breaker class. That means it’s available only to you. Uniquely. You are now officially the luckiest man alive. You are a luck snowball rolling down a luck hill. 

Your enhancement is complete. Welcome to the world of Senarci! 

“Yahhh!” Devin Stringer came to his senses with a kick and a jerk. His body tingled all over like he’d spent the last hour in a hot tub. 

He lay on the ground in a large building. Light leaked in from above him, casting shadows that loomed around like monsters ready to strike. 

What caught his attention was the smell. He’d grown up in a small town in Arkansas and knew what a farm smelled like. 

He tried to remember what he’d done the night before. He’d been running with his raid group through the Redeemer’s Castle, and … nothing after that, except for the crazy dream he’d just had. First, he’d been fighting off shadows, then some kind of bizarre character creation screen.

The light grew brighter. The shapes resolved into hay bales and an iron plow. He was in a barn. Above him, sunlight streamed through a few windows near the roof. A mule gazed at him from a rickety stall. 

Devin let out a breath. It’d been a nightmare after all. That still left the question of how he’d gotten into a freaking barn, but at least he hadn’t lost his mind. 

He got to his feet and rubbed his eyes. He looked around for his glasses, then realized he could see fine. 

Better than fine. He could pick out every hair on the mule’s body and see the splinters in the barn wall opposite him. When he focused, he could pick out individual sounds – water dripping, the sighing of the wind, birds calling in a distant forest. His sense of smell was working in overdrive, too. It wasn’t only that smells were strong - he could separate the smell of manure from the scent of the wood, the tang of iron, the smell of rope and hay. 

“OK, that’s weird,” he said. 

Devin felt a tingle right below his forehead, and something flashed in the corner of his vision. He looked around. The image moved with him as he turned his head. It looked like a capital ‘A’. 

He focused on it. It expanded into a dark, translucent screen that filled the lower left quarter of his vision. White words flowed onto the screen as if they were being typed. 

 Achievement Unlocked! First Things First – Well, here you are. You survived enhancement. Good work. 

Reward: You’re alive. 

“What the hell?” he yelled. A dog barked outside. Devin barely heard it. He was too busy staring at the floating text. He closed his eyes, shook his head, opened them, and looked around again. Everything was the same. 

He noticed a tiny x in the top corner. He focused on it and the box disappeared. Another flashing icon appeared. 

“The hell with this,” he said. He shoved the barn door. Something cracked and thudded to the ground and the door swung open. 

The rising sun was touching the skyline over the trees. An axe was buried in a stump next to a pile of firewood stacked along one side of the barn. A shovel stuck out of a pile of manure. A small farmhouse stood nearby. Further out was an outbuilding that looked abandoned. Its walls were half-collapsed, and a tree was growing through the broken roof. The rest of the area was fields of tall alfalfa grass bordered by trees. Devin could see birds and leaves in the tree branches from hundreds of meters away and could pick out the birds’ individual songs. He recognized a few species, but others he’d never seen before. 

 A wooden bar lay broken on the ground in front of him. One of the iron settings was bent where it’d been twisted before the bar snapped. He blinked at the sight. He’d barely pushed the door. 

A mangy Weimaraner trotted around the side of the barn. It stopped a few meters away and faced him, hackles up and teeth bared. The dog let out a series of barks before settling into a deep growl. 

“Good boy,” Devin said. “It’s OK. Good boy …” 

The door to the farmhouse banged open and three large men stomped out of the building. They were dressed in dirty tunics and pants with canvas overalls. They were shorter than Devin’s two meters, but they were built like tanks. Their features were so similar they had to be a father and his sons. Behind them stood a woman holding a baby. A little girl clung to her skirts. 

Devin raised his hand and dusted off his best Arkansas accent. “Hey, fellas. Sorry to disturb you. I seem to have gotten a bit lost.” 

“Irma, take the kids back in the house,” the oldest man said. He reached out and grabbed a pitchfork that leaned against the house. His biceps bulged as he held it up. 

Devin eased backwards. “I’ll be going now. There’s been some kind of …” 

“Why’s he dressed like that, Paw?” the older son said. He looked like he was in his 20s despite graying hair. “Where’s he from?” 

Devin looked down at himself. It was what he’d been wearing during his raid. His shirt was a gag gift from a long-time client, a mid-ranking government lawyer. It was a bright orange muscle shirt with ‘Welcome to the Gun Show’ emblazoned across the front. He never wore it out of the house. His pants were yoga pants, and he wore thick socks with no shoes. 

“He’s a runaway,” Paw said. “Grab the mutt, Lee.” 

 The younger boy grabbed the dog’s collar. Paw tossed the pitchfork to his other son and picked up an iron hoe. The two men advanced on Devin while Lee stayed back. 

“There’s no need for this, sir,” Devin said. He considered running, but he was afraid they’d sic the dog on him. “This is all a mistake.” 

“You been stealing food?” the older son said. “The law says we can kill runaway if they steal food, right Paw?” 

“Yep,” Paw said. He spat on the ground. “The constable will want to talk to him, though. Might even be a reward.” 

“The reward might be dead or alive though, right, Paw?” the older son said. 

“Maybe,” Paw said. “Maybe not. I hate to risk it, though. Jeff down the road turned in a runaway a few winters ago and they gave him a brand-new plow.” 

“Excuse me,” Devin said. “If you’re willing to take me alive, I’m fine with that. I’m sure I can explain this to the authorities.”

“You hear that Paw?” Lee said. “He’s going to explain it to the authorities. We can get us a new plow without having to fight.” 

“He looks dangerous,” the older son said. “I think we should kill him to be safe.” 

“Quiet, Bryce,” Paw said. “We’ll take him to town. Lee, get the mule saddled. We’ll …”

 A noise like an avalanche filled the air. The farmers whirled around. Devin looked over their heads to see the roof of the outbuilding split apart as the tree stood up. A face formed about three meters up on the trunk and blinked. It stretched its limbs. 

“Is that supposed to happen?” Devin said. Then he was shoved aside as the mule bolted out of the barn door and barreled into him on a mad dash towards the forest. The weight of the animal should have sent Devin flying with several broken bones, but it didn’t even knock him over. 

Another tingle in his skull, and a new icon appeared. It was a tiny capital A. Without thinking, he focused on it. 

Achievement Unlocked! Balanced – Despite not having a stability Boost, you kept your feet while being run over by a creature larger than you. You’re even more stubborn than a mule! Try to stay out of the way next time. 

Reward: 1 Matter shard. 

“What the hell is happening?” Devin yelled. He spent the next few seconds trying to close the new text window. The ‘x’ was tiny, and he had to concentrate on the right spot. 

The tree locked eyes onto him and roared. Devin’s teeth felt like they were going to shake out of his head. 

Bryce and Lee fell to the ground. Paw kept his feet and staggered into the farmhouse. His movement caught the tree’s attention. It stepped over the wall of the outbuilding and roared again. It was a ton of solid wood and branches, and it flowed towards the farmhouse on a mass of roots that moved like the legs of a centipede. 

“Are you just going to stand there?” It sounded like a refined British man. 

Devin whipped his head around. The Weimaraner stood about a meter away from him. It held the pitchfork in its mouth like a stick toy. 

“What?” Devin said. “What?” 

The tree roared again. The farmhouse shook. It swung one of its branches and cleaved off the roof like a scythe. 

“You always wanted to be a hero, didn’t you?” the dog said. It didn’t seem to have any trouble talking around the pitchfork. “Here’s your chance.”

My Review of Embrace Your Weird by Felicia Day

Embrace Your Weird: Face Your Fears and Unleash Creativity by Felicia Day
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

To be honest, this book had me at "Written by Felicia Day," - but in retrospect even if I were unfamiliar with the author, I would be giving it a five-star review. It's a gem, a must-read for anyone in a creative field. Scratch that - it's a must read for anyone.

I chose the audio book, which as an added bonus is read by the author. This medium might make doing the exercises a bit more of a challenge, although a PDF is included to help make this easier. In full disclosure, I skipped most of the exercises, but whether you do the homework or not, you'll get a lot out of this book.

The author's quirky, humorous and charming writing style is as much fun as it was in her autobiography, "You're Never Weird on the Internet (Almost)." But style is only a small part of what's great about this book.

It's obvious from the first chapter that the author took on this project with one big goal - to help readers find their creative muses. Specifically, to help creators cut through all the little voices that tell us we're not good enough, smart enough, or talented enough to succeed. And in my opinion, she more than succeeded.

It's never easy to open up about your own mistakes, quirks and neuroses. Most of us spend our lives trying to hide those parts of ourselves from others. Instead, the author uses her own experiences as teachable moments for her readers. I admit to shedding a few tears during the section on shame, when she relates what has to be a highly painful personal experience that stuck with her through the years. It hit extremely close to home for someone who has spent way too much time with regret over past actions that everyone else has forgotten. But it was a powerful moment for me. You mean other people obsess over dumb things they did years or decades ago? Even highly successful people with acting and producing careers?

Yes, they do, and the author is not afraid to use her own experiences page after page to give the rest of us hope. She will gently guide you through ways to improve your own creative process while she shares tips on how to deal with shame, regret, and many more 'enemies' of creativity.

If you read one book on creating this year, it should be this one. In fact, if you read one book at all this year, make it this one. Buy it, read it, listen to it, whatever. You won't regret it.



View all my reviews

An open letter to the sysop who banned me from CompuServe in the 1980s

Hey, brother! I hope you’ve been well the past 30 years or so.

Well, to begin, you probably don’t remember me. That’s awkward. To be honest, I’d forgotten all about you, too. At least until a recent conversation with a friend about online forum moderation tweaked my memory. Ah, the things my friends and I discuss ...

I won’t waste too much of your time. It was 1984-ish or so. Pre-Internet, or at least any version of the Internet we would recognize. I had a Commodore 64 and my parents had just bought me a CompuServe modem. You may recall that ‘getting online’ was a big thing back then. Not to mention expensive - well, for me, anyway. For one thing, CompuServe charged by the minute. That was bad enough, but the small town I lived in didn’t have a local number, so I had to pay long distance charges in addition to that.

Exhibit A

Ugh. Now I have to explain long distance charges. You know what? I don’t. I’m sure you remember them as well as I do. Many a young lad in a long distance relationship spent all night talking to their boo, only to have the hammer of parental justice descend upon them when the bill came the next month.

And that bill would come. But before that - sometime after I got my modem but before my parents took my privileges away for running up long distance and service charges - we had our fated meeting, you and I.

Actually, it wasn’t me you talked to, not for the first half hour. Sure, it was my modem and my account. I’d had the modem for about a week, and had been messing around on different forums - or chat boards or whatever they were called back then. That’s really was all there was to do on CompuServe. I was getting a little burned out on the whole thing but still addicted to that beep-boop-booooo dial-up noise.

But no, this was my friend you were talking to. We’ll call him R, to protect his identity. I’m sure he’d confirm the story if I asked him, but since nothing is riding on it I’d prefer not to drag up his juvenile antics. He’s a very important person these days.

"R" and your author in an undisclosed location several years after the event in question.

R was visiting and wanted to try out my new stuff. So we fired up the old beep-boop-boooo and logged on.

One thing you should know before we go further is that R knew a lot about Eddie Van Halen. A lot. Probably enough to win an Eddie-themed Jeopardy round easily, even if he was playing against Eddie himself.

It didn’t take R long to find your channel - rockchat, or #rock, or rockytalk, or whatever name these things had back then. His eyes lit up and he dove right in.

In full disclosure, I wasn’t really paying attention, since I was eating Doritos or playing with Stretch Armstrong or whatever pre-Teens did in the early 80s when their friends were using their Commodore 64s. I was more of a go-along type kid, anyway. But he’s typing and typing and he’s like “hey, I’m gonna tell these guys I’m Eddie Van Halen!”

(Another thing about R is that, from time to time, he enjoyed messing with people.)

“Cool,” I said. Whatever. Dream your dreams, my friend.

Little did I know how big R was dreaming. Over a series of rapid-fire chats, he convinced everyone in the chatroom - a half-dozen or so Rock-n-Roll loving geeks - that he was, in fact, Eddie Van Halen. Eddie was bored with the long stretch of road between gigs and had decided to log on from his tour bus.

"Who makes your guitars?" "I do, of course."

They were skeptical at first, but R answered every question that they come up with (remember - no Google in those days) until they bought into it completely. By now, I’d gotten into it, and we were huddled around the keyboard, laughing and spinning wilder and wilder tales involving Eddie, David and the whole crew. At some point it occurred to us - to me, anyway - that we couldn’t ride this tiger much longer. The smart thing to do would be log off and just laugh about it. Maybe even come back a few more times for some more chuckles.

But I was starting to feel bad about it all. As a kid, I had a sort of always-turned-on guilty conscience that followed me around everywhere. I felt like whatever I was doing at the time was vaguely wrong - so when doing something that was actually wrong, like now … well, you get the picture.

I kicked R off the keyboard and was like “Hey, guys, my friend was pulling your leg, he isn’t Eddie Van Halen, he just knows a lot about him. Just a joke. Ha ha, pretty funny, right?”

Boy, were ya’ll mad.

OK, I get it. Kind of a dick move. You and your online buddies had every right to be mad. And honestly, you had every right to block me as you did. What we did was clearly ‘trolling,’ even though no one knew what that was back then, and probably a violation of your CompuServe forum rules as well. So, no hard feelings there. Not even for the many insults you hurled my way until R convinced me to log off and go do something else.

That’s the background. And I’m not here to judge or rehash old grievances - just wanted to say two things. First, and most important, you should know that I felt really bad about the whole thing. Not as bad as I felt the time I stole candy from that store and spent the next two weeks waiting for the police to come get me - but yeah, pretty bad. I was convinced I’d done something awful and was in capital-t Trouble.

Being banned from your group - as little as that meant in real terms, since I never wanted to talk about Eddie Van Halen again after a half hour - was like trying to play a game with an Intellivision controller with one busted keypad button. It was hard to get past it. That feeling of having done something wrong lingered on and off until the next phone bill came, at which point my parents made sure I had other things to feel bad about.

I never really got closure on this. And after all these years, I wanted to reach out and bury the hatchet. So! This is me showing remorse. I’ve learned a lot in the past 30 years, and one of the things I’ve learned is that you should never toy with people’s emotions the way we did. Actually I learned that pretty early - probably should have done this sooner, come to think of it. Oh, well.

The second thing I wanted to say. Dude - you got punked. You got punked by a couple of 13 year olds. This was 20 years before MTV came out with Punk’d, but you could have been on the first episode.

Pre-Mila. Pre-Demi, even?

I mean, really. Do you think a rock star was just going to show up on your message board randomly, on his way from one show to another? That Eddie was down with the message boards? That he wanted to spend his time in a chat room with eight people instead of pounding beers with Michael Anthony? Did you think that they had computers on buses back then - even Van Halen tour buses? At what point during this online chat did all this become believable to you?

You were a systems operator! A sysop, man! You were vested the weighty responsibility of managing this channel full of aspiring young rock and roll fans. You were supposed to be their mother hen, their protection against the cold, hard world outside, not letting foxes into your hen house. This was your dining room - and you let two pre-teens come right in, sit down at your table and make you look like a fool in front of your whole family.

Come on, man. What happened?

I’m sorry. Here I go again. You know what? This is on me, not you. You were the victim. We were the perpetrators. Well, mostly R. But, you know … I was there. So, again. Let me say I’m sorry.

Wait, did I not say that yet? Hmph. Well, I’m saying it now. I’m sorry for punking you and your crew. I hope you’ve had a full life, a career in the music biz or wherever your passion turned out to be, have a beautiful family and everything you ever wanted, and are looking forward to a long and well-deserved retirement in the Bahamas somewhere.

And don’t forget to catch that magic moment, and do it right now.

Stay chill, dude.

Love,

User MH4972a

In memory of Grace the ferret, April 2018-August 2018

I wasn't interested in getting a ferret. It was my girlfriend Rose who wanted one - and I just agreed to make her happy, really.

Pretty much my only experience with ferrets was a friend in college who had two. The only thing I knew about them was that they liked to escape places when someone left the door open. Since my friend lived in a trailer, and a lot of us smoked, there was a lot of going in and out, a lot of open doors, and a lot of ferret escapes. They seemed more of an annoyance to me than anything else.

 All of that changed when Rose brought Grace home.

You'd have to have a heart ten sizes too small not to fall in love with this.

What can I say about Grace? She was adorable, hilarious, and happy. She hopped around like a little spring (ferrets are often referred to as 'slinkies' or 'noodles.')

Gracie was our summer ferret. We got her in June and she was gone in August. She didn't even make it to four months. When she got sick, she fought for a week with every spark in her little body. We took her to three different vets, and none of them could figure out what was wrong with her. All they could do was keep her hydrated, give her antibiotics and run tests. Eventually, she just couldn't fight anymore.

Ferrets love shoes.

She liked to chase everyone around the house. It didn't matter if you were a cat or a person, if you ran, she'd chase you. Rose's cat Milo would play with her all the time. My cats, not so much. Theirs was more of a terrified 'arghhh what is this wee beastie chasing me' type of running.

Grace and Milo taking a nap.

Someone I recently talked to about Grace told me, "I never thought I'd care about ferrets until my boyfriend talked me into getting one. I fell in love instantly." Which is so much like my own experience, it makes me think that this is pretty common among first-time ferret owners.

 A few quick facts that I didn't know when we first got her, if you're curious. If you're not, you can just skip ahead.

Ferrets are exotic pets - which really just means they're not a dog, cat, or goldfish - but they also have some very specialized needs. Not all vets know how to deal with ferrets, and some won't take them at all. Find a good vet near you that knows ferrets.

Consider getting your ferret from a local breeder rather than a big chain. The big guys churn out ferrets by the truckload, and there are some concerns about their breeding, neutering and de-scenting practices that I won't go into here. If you're interested, the information is out there. 

No ferret should be exposed to temperatures above about 80 degrees. So if you live in the South, you'll probably have to keep your ferret indoors most of the summer. 

Ferrets seem to do better in pairs than on their own, although Grace seemed happy by herself. 

Ferrets have been domesticated for thousands of years, which means they're a lot like dogs in that they really bond with their people. 

They can eat a wide variety of foods, but they are obligate carnivores like cats. Don't try to turn your ferret into a vegan.

You have to be careful with ferrets. They get into everything. They like to chew things, and they are naturally attracted to more valuable items. Grace preferred electrical cords, the mask to my sleep breathing device, and my headphones.

Ferrets love headphones.

There's plenty more to learn about ferrets. I'd recommend starting with a basic book like Ferrets for Dummies and going from there.

The joy that Grace brought us in her short time was worth the sorrow. Yes, we'd love to have had her for another 10 years. But it wasn't meant to be. She taught us so much. She taught me that I could fall deeply in love with a pet after only a few weeks.

Losing a pet you've had for that time can hurt just as much as one you've had for more than a decade. I've lost pets before, but never so soon, and - with the exception of a sick kitten when I was kid who died after less than a day - never one who was just a baby.

Maybe it was the intensity of Grace's sickness that made the loss so painful. After watching her fight so hard for so long, it was hard to let her go. It might have been easier had it been quicker, and there certainly would have been less tears had she never come into our lives at all.

One of the last moments I got to spend with Grace.

But I wouldn't trade the memory of her for anything. And I just hope she's bouncing around in Heaven or Valhalla or the Happy Hunting Ground or wherever it is ferrets go, squeaking and chewing up everything in sight.

Goodbye, Grace. We love you.

My review of The Civil War, Volume 1 by Shelby Foote

The Civil War, Vol. 1: Fort Sumter to Perryville by Shelby Foote
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

This is a fantastic book. It brings to life the battles of the Civil War and keeps the reader's interest. The problem with many historical books about large and complicated wars is that they either jump around too much and confuse the reader or get bogged down in the details of endless battles. This book strikes a balance that is unique in my experience. Highly recommend and can't wait to read the second one.

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My review of Spy: The Inside Story of How the FBI's Robert Hanssen Betrayed America by David Wise

Spy: The Inside Story of How the FBI's Robert Hanssen Betrayed America by David Wise
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

An insightful look into the career of one of the most damaging spies in our nation's history. What made Robert Hanssen spy for the Soviets, and how did he get away with it for so long? The author's detailed and well-researched account goes a long way towards answering these questions. If you're interested in espionage and the FBI, this book is well worth your time.

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