Sunday, 11 January 2015

The monthly whatnot~

I'm going back to the basics. Better to finish one simple game than spend years on a bigger one.

That's it. That's all I'm going to say.

I shall update again sometime. Maybe with an update log and screenshots :P

Saturday, 22 November 2014

Sevencore Goodbye!

Not exactly something game-creation-related, but here's a goodbye to a world I grew in love with, but left after I had discovered all there seemed to be. ;-;

From the deep forests... the peaceful towns...

...with my red-haired maiden Erza, leader of Inadar's (now-lost) guild: Fairy Tail...

...and other toons such as Pellen (he had tiny feet :3)...

...I gratefully explored the vast landscapes of Inadar... 

...meeting exotic creatures in the desert...

...and facing off against the "evil" Amaad with help from the Goldians...

...I cruised along in vechicles, which through glitch I was able to keep till I logged off...

...I will miss it, as the first (and last) MMO I had ever devoted my time too. Here's to SCore's future, for however long it may be. I shall never see my reality of a fluid game with loads of features and working mechanics...but that's fine. I have my memories of defeating Simurgh with a two-man party, battling with 'the love doctor' to create the strongest guild, my first toon, Zenith, to my last, Jon (ironically, the one named after me is the last). I recall trying my best to win races against bots in the racetrack, but always wishing to race against players...I remember Tera and Aqua, and other brave GMs of IgnitedGames, and all the fun we had (mostly with Tera, mind you, she was the best). While you all at WEBZEN are different people, I can't help but feel nostalgic. I remember the hours I spent grinding on Lost Island, trying to reach level 60 so I could perhaps take on the 94 water monsters with a friend. So I must at last look out to the horizon and wonder where I'm headed next...goodbye, perhaps forever, Sevencore. :)

Friday, 31 October 2014

Smith Chief vs. the Robotrax! (A short story by me)

To be brief, Smith Chief and the brawniest of his team, Kidd Thunder, the man with the iron thighs, America Jones, crusader of bacon-fueled freedom, Broseph Maximus, whose giant guns are only matched by his heavy weaponry, and Matt Boom, demolitions, pyrotechnics, and balloon animal expert, set out to Mars to fight a threat known only as the Robotrax. In the base of the Robotrax, the team lost Broseph down a bottomless chasm and was forced to leave him behind. Now, they are surrounded by hordes of Robotrax- how will our heroes survive?!?!?!?!?!
Thick sweat flies through the air as America Jones’ meaty mitt plunges into the Robotrax’s crunchy skull, penetrating the metallic bone with ease.
“Captain Major General Smith Chief, I’m running out of bacon to fuel my body, sir,” shouts America, his heavy, bulging arm protruding from the Robotrax’s head. Smith Chief acknowledges America, and heaves a thick hunk of meat towards him with one of his arms, the other mighty gun holding back nothing short of thirty aliens with an awesome flex. Kidd Thunder swings his legs in a fierce sweep, knocking down a dozen Robo-freaks to the floor, which is smothered in blood, sweat, and other bodily fluids. Each Robotrax, upon landing, falls backwards onto the moist floor.
Kidd stands back and laughs heartily. “These Robotrax are nothing! They have less manliness than our effeminate friends in France!” He leaps high, striking poses while singing a round of ‘Roast Beef of Old England’, and lands, creating a massive shockwave causing Robotrax to slip backwards and snap their necks. Matt Boom, never one to be overshadowed by his ‘bros’, steps up, swinging seven live sticks of dynamite in each hand, and clenching down on three grenades by the key in his jowls. Yelling, he pitches the dynamite into conglomeration after conglomeration of Robotrax, and as the grenades drop from his gaping mouth, he kicks each high in the air. Taking his hand-crafted shotgun from his well-equipped tool belt, he shoots each grenade, each taking their toll on the ceiling. Rubble falls, crushing the altered aliens like flies under a slipper (a concrete slipper). The result is glorious: explosions light up the once dank hall; the wall is redecorated with Robotrax guts.
Matt leans against a wall and lights a cigar: “That seems to be the last of those bony bastards. What now?”
“I’m sure a challenge still awaits us- we need to find answers on what these beasts actually are.” Smith Chief wipes the last of the entrails out of his golden pectoral hair, and glances around for a sign of the shirt he had earlier tossed aside.
“Why does it matter what they are,” asked Ash, her dark hair almost hiding her spectacles.
“Men, prepare yourselves. We venture inward to the true depths of this Martian hellhole.” The group strikes a montage upon reassembly. Smith Chief takes center, fists firmly placed on his waist. America Jones stands to the left, his arms crossing in a crude manner, and Kidd Thunder squats deeply on the right. Matt stands nonchalantly behind Kidd brandishing a fist of Molotov cocktails and a second cigar. The space usually occupied by Broseph is empty, due to he having fallen down a pit. Ash releases doves from a cage behind the beefy posing men. The still is held for an approximate 108 seconds; Smith breaks rank and orders them forward.
“Ash, retrieve the birds. We fight for Earth!” The room erupts with shouts of men, thirsty for action.
In a secluded room, a man sits behind a dark mahogany desk (the evilest looking wood available): “Each of you shall face your greatest trial, men of Earth,” he says (even though he was verily human), “let us see how confident you are when you are all alone.”
Smith’s group, having left the room they had recently cleared, traverse down a grand hall. The footsteps of the men create a vibrant chorus off the walls. They reach a pair of gigantic doors, richly embezzled with jewels. Smith accepts his own challenge and heaves them open. Beyond the doors is a large room with five different tunnels. The doors close behind the group as they step in.
In about three hours, Ash has forced every dove back into the cage they had emerged from. She believed this to be a personal record: sometimes the doves flew into extremely obscure places, and Ash would have to trouble to find them, as she didn’t have enough pocket money for another dove. Ash picks up the cage and heads towards the ship, which is lodged in the wall of the cavern thanks to Broseph's reckless driving. Ash was always taken to be an ill-fated bystander instead of a part of Smith Chief’s sausage fest, due to a comparatively weaker body and poor eyesight, and she seemed to always be stuck with the menial tasks instead of being able to join the fight. Indeed, she is alone in the body-strewn lair of the Robotrax (each of whom seemed to be all but alive now), and searches for the ship keys within the various deep pockets of her cargo pants. The keys are in one of the last pockets checked, and Ash pulls them out and opens the door to the ship. She steps inside, and finds Broseph Maximus (in all his glory) sitting back in the captain's chair, a mandolin in his lap and a beer to his side. Ash drops the cage, disturbing the doves inside.
Broseph responds in his own signature way, “Don' tell me this is the last beer.”
“Mr. Chief...what a surprise. I'd never have expected you to undertake this mission, if I hadn't assigned it to you myself with the intention of luring you into such an obvious trap.” says Var Tybalt. Smith, who is trapped inside a cylindrical fish tank among some very ferocious guppies, bangs the reinforced glass. He and his comrades had each chosen a separate tunnel, and Smith's path had led straight into the mastermind's trap; Var was now sitting back laughing at nothing in particular (which was rule number 49 in the book entitled 'How to be an evil genius for dummies', a personal favorite of Var's). Smith Chief knows his time is running out: if he doesn't escape, he will either die of drowning or become prey to the guppies...
As exciting as this story might be if the author were to craft a genius escape for Smith, or show the trials of the others in his team, it would be a waste of time because they aren't about to do anything spectacular.
For time's sake, here is a brief history leading up to this event: Smith destroys Var's business on impulse, Var is upset and files a lawsuit. Smith punches the lawsuit, and it goes home crying. Var now out of a home and work, flees to his space station and turns a harmless alien race into a less-harmless alien race and tricks Smith's team into storming the base and falling into his elaborate traps.
Now that all the twists and turns of this story are spoiled, let's repair the fourth wall and return to the characters that actually matter in this story.
Ash nods, “So that's how you escaped that pit of death. What a feat of unimaginable genius and awesomeness.” Broseph takes another sip of beer. “I need your help now, Maximus. Smith Chief and everyone else have gone in to find the person behind this.”
“Already gone in before me- figgers. C'mon little dude, let's go and crush this evil-doer once an' for all.” Broseph stands, and crushes the beer can in his fist. The duo head down the path that Smith Chief has blazed. They reach the doors, and Broseph pushes them open with a mite of Ash's help. There is only one path remaining, the rest are blocked in some way or another. Ash takes the lead, and heads into the darkness. Ash feels her arms get grabbed, then suddenly her ankles are similarly constrained. Letting out a yell, she is lifted as the constraints get tighter. Broseph swoops into action, pulling out a laser sword, and dis-arms the robot, setting Ash free. Broseph sheathes the sword, and adjusts his sunglasses. He stands still for a moment, then decides that he's too intoxicated to think of an appropriate one-liner. Turning to Ash, he helps her up.
“A trap set for me. If I'd been caught, I wouldn'tve been able to use any of my weapons; it would've broken my limbs too,” he says. Ash shivers, and walks ahead once again, her stride half as wide as it was before. Broseph sighs and puts his hands behind his head. “So if you're aware that Smith don' allow girls on th' team, why'd you join in the first place?”
Ash freezes. “How did you. I thought I-”
“Little girl-dude, anyone that screams that high, an' wears makeup to look more like a male-dude has gotta be a girl. You got black running down your face.” Ash feels her face, realizing that a stream of mascara was indeed emerging from under her glasses. She had been prepared for her glasses falling off, not her crying off her guard.
“I guess that means this is my last mission,” she says. She wipes her stained cheeks, a thick deal of foundation being removed. The moment of impuissance has passed; Ash takes off the glasses and places them in a pocket. “No point in wearing those anymore.”
“You could always head back to th' ship and pretend this never happened. I'm too drunk to remember this.”
“Last thing I want is pity, Maximus. I'm going to finish this job whether Smith kicks me or not.” Broseph shrugs and follows Ash to the end of the passage. The end is blocked off by a grate, and Ash leans towards it, peering though the holes. Inside is a man she doesn't recognize and a large fish tank with another man inside.
“That's Smith!” Broseph whispers loudly. Ash jumps at the sudden proclamation, and lands hard on the grate; Ash falls through to the ground below. Var looks to her sharply.
“A girl?” Var doesn't have time to say anything else as Broseph falls beside Ash and guns him down. Ash stands and brushes herself off.
“That was extremely anti-climactic,” Broseph complains, “At least have a few more explosions...or something.”
“Fools. You arrived too late. All your comrades have died already,” Var squeezes out his last words between coughs of blood, “But seriously, I trapped them over half an hour ago. What took you so long?” Var Tybalt breathes his last breath. Ash and Broseph look at each other.
“I guess we saved Earth,” Ash said, squirming. The two look back at the vicarious scene and vow to not speak of this incident ever again. They head back to the ship and fly back to Earth.
A hand reaches out from a mucilaginous black goo, and Kidd Thunder pulls himself out from the depths.
“No one ever underestimates my thighs,” he says, alone among the stars.


So that's the story, hope you enjoyed, and feel free to leave your thoughts in the comments. This is not intended to be a serious story, more a pile of action-heavy drivel inspired by movies such as Pacific Rim. Updates to the story may come at a later date. :)


So I decided to write a story based on Portal...and a song

    I take a writing class, and every month we have due a writing assignment. I may post some short stories on here, including the one I recently finished, named "Smith Chief versus the Robotrax"; what I want to talk about is the final project. For this project, I take inspiration from the games of Portal, and is (in my opinion) so far looking like a viable story idea if Portal 3 were ever made.    And so I shall post the first excerpt from my story (which is so far the main antagonist speaking to you in the first scene (where you aren't Chell, probably, for reasons I shan't disclose). If you would like to make comments on it, go right ahead, but I'm not expecting anything knowing my page viewcount (88 so far, at time of writing).


“Oh! You're awake! Fantastic. I'll admit I was beginning to get bored of counting the ways of your body if you started to rot. My name is C.Y.P.H.E.R., but you can call me Master. Is that not doing it for you? Very well, just give me a nanosecond to think up a good one...ooh, I got one: how about Supreme Overlord? Nonononono, I have the absolute perfect name. I think you're going to like this one: Cake Boss. I just get shivers thinking how brilliant it is- Cake Boss. Really, you must feel so honoured to be in the presence of a master of etymology such as myself.
“You really aren't one for speaking, are you? Here I am, spouting on and on about myself, yet I can't tell if you're moronly mute, or just plainly dumbfounded that I should even grace you with my company. It's like I'm talking to a fleshy, squishy wall. At least hop out of bed, we'vn't all day.
“Ah, that's it! You're learning! You're one step closer to becoming competent. We really should celebrate- oh! I've got the perfect idea. I'll just go bake a cake and place it outside. What type of cake would you like? We've got Black Forest, Black Ocean, Black Mesa...ignore that last one. Any of those strike your fancy? Stand still once for yes, twice for no.
“I'll take whatever that was as a yes. Follow the sound of my voice to this door over here. That's it. Behind this door is a double-layered black forest cake a-la mode, made just for you, just for the occasion of you getting out of bed this artificially rendered morning, and your first sign of any intelligence you hold in that puny brain of yours. Just open the door.
“Disappointed, are we? Obviously not competent enough to realize that not only can AI stuck inside a computer screen not bake a cake, we don't even have cake mix in the building. Don't even get me started on how expensive it is to drive a shipment of cake mix from civilization to here. Money we should be using on science. I must say, I thought we were making so much progress. Until you pulled that complete bonehead move and opened that door. We have a long, metaphorical road ahead of us, so it would be best if you stopped thinking for yourself, and left all the comprehension to me. For now, just follow those pretty green lights down this hall and try not to do anything, stupid.

EDIT: I forgot- I'm also creating a song for the 'end credits', which is really awesome so far (look forward to it!). :)

Wednesday, 29 October 2014

A month, and I'm deviating?

So let's just say someone is reading this blog a month prior to this post, and thinking: This dude has it figured out; he's gonna have constant updates, think of amazing idea, draw pretty pictures.

Too bad. I'm a bum.

I say this because it's been a month (and two days) since my last post, and I'm not doing anything past what you see on my game yet. I have a concept in mind, and will probably start writing a script soon, but my attention has been diverted by an older project of mine.

This project (since it's near All Hallow's Eve) is a horror game, resurfacing with a bold new idea.

Here's the basic idea: The protagonist enters a mansion with the goal of setting up a fake ghost scene for a magazine he works for to avoid getting fired. Inside he finds true terror (and romantic horror?), and yada yada complicated psychological horror, plus one or two well-planned jumpscares.

Here's the gimmick: Your only light is the light of your camera. The game (planned to be in third person most the time) will switch to first person at the touch of a button, and your goal is to get nice pictures of the beasties you encounter...without dying. You will be able to search around with the mouse in first person, and spooky stuff could appear at any moment. (the creepy subtle stuff)

Anyways, that's the update.


Saturday, 27 September 2014

I drew some stuff

Please forgive the terrible camera

These are concepts for the two main characters (sorry, you can only play as the male one most of the time...I think...idk, this game is still very rough)


-Female missing left ear (protagonist cut it off?)
-While male has strong sense of justice and fatalism, female was raised to be a wife, and was quite proper (no, she won't be boring or some obedient dog- don't think I look down on females because I'm trying to create a setting!), but lost all emotions after first kill (?)
-I'm thinking of adding a colourful antagonist who stands on the other side of "justice"
-If anyone has an idea for the pattern of the female's kimono, feel free to comment! :I (Also, what do you think of the male's? I'm also planning for the rose petals to have blood red tips)

I think that about wraps up this update. /other than the news that I'm working ona "villain" song inspired by Disney for the project...I like music please.