Bloodbourne | Fan Fiction #1

He was walking down the field. No idea where he was or what he was doing ... a wolf howled. He shivered for a second and got his calm back right in time. What creature is that? He thought. He guessed, 'it is a dog!'. The cleric beast? He had heard rumors? Were they true?

He pushed on!

Growls after growls, he suffered. He shivered; till JRR Tolkien's soul itself got curious. Is this really happening? He asked himself, he took out his saw-cleaver and readied himself. Finally, I will have to fight, or maybe.

He looked at his coat. He was drenched in blood. What blood is that? Who does it belong to? He tried to reason it into his present circumstance, and failed miserably. Last he knew, he had gotten a transfusion. A simple transfusion. 

Was he in a dream? Or outside of it?

So You Think You Can Tell?

That afternoon, nothing was more depressing for him than to hear the voice he had once learnt to love, putting him down. He cursed himself for forgetting what she had done to him three years ago. He knew he had not loved anyone with such intensity before her. He was in love again, with a new girl, more intense, better. He had expected her to share his new found happiness with him. He could sense the arrogance in her voice. He could sense the hatred she had developed over the years. He could sense her happiness seeking his own solace, to end it, to destroy it. While he was being told that he was a no good story spinner who wants to be someone else, he was busy remembering how all this had gone down. He remembered how he had not wanted to break these chains. He remembered how it was utterly difficult for him to digest anything he had heard in those two years of companionship with her. He knew her truth. Venomous. How she had claimed she had dreams beyond the reach of an average human. How she had told him how they would share a future that would be unmatched. He remembered how he had left everything and everyone just to love her each and every second of his life. He remembered the sting of depression in its true sense. Halfway through the conversation, after being told that he was a good for nothing loser in life she told him how everyone who has left him has been sensible enough in doing so; he started laughing. He laughed his heart out. He had just in a breath realised that he had been through all this and none of this would ever effect him again. Click! He hung up and walked towards the refrigerator. Phew! What a day! He thought to himself. He switched the television on. He poured a Bacardi into his glass and added a couple of cubes of ice. Cheering his own idiosyncrasy he made a toast to his past and to things he did not ever want to relive. He thought about the great times he has had and the bad ones from which he had learnt. He was happy. Things around him were not in great shape. But still, he was happy in his new found maturity and happiness. Happiness that had come from the fact that he could selflessly love again. 

He didn't realise that he had slipped into sleep on his couch itself. His phone rang at around 7pm in the evening. He rubbed his eyes and soon realised that he had missed the call. Maybe it was from her trying to act nasty again about how he had hung up on her. He knew he had had enough of that now. He noticed how outside everything was dead quiet. Not even a faint sound was there to give him company. He reached for his glass of Bacardi and barely managed to scoop it off the side table. Suddenly, BEEP BEEP ! his cellular phone rang. The calm and the loud sudden beep of his phone had caused the Bacardi glass to slip out of his hand. It broke almost instantly. He thought, if he could slow down time he would realise that the glass had broken even before hitting the ground. It felt as if it was rigged to break anyhow. He picked up his phone and read the message. fck u! dnt evr try 2 call me again ... u loser! He smiled. Suddenly the door bell rang. He was wondering who it was, maybe one of his friends willing to take him out. Maybe that breath of fresh air he needed so much after a lazy day and an early evening nap was here. He opened the door. In front of him stood a fair, good looking guy, smiling at him. It was weird. He was well dressed but not too formal. He had his hands behind his back. How have you been sir? the young man asked him. Huh? he had not expected that. Out of the blue the sweet looking guy pulled out a .24 Colt Revolver. The distance between the center of his forehead and the gun barrel was almost zero in the next second. He then noticed that the guy's expression had suddenly changed from that of smiling to that of rage. Uhh .... before he could say a word, the stranger pulled the trigger. BANG! There was no time. He suddenly woke up in his couch. He noticed that the television was still playing. He looked at the wall clock it was 6:23pm. Vehicles were making a lot of noise on the road nearby. He was covered in his own perspiration. He had goosebumps. He noticed his Bacardi was still on the side table. Very much intact. He wondered how real the dream, he had just been in, was. Or is this something that happens after someone is dead? he thought. Holy shit! he wiped his forehead. He had to call someone. He picked his phone and redialed the last dialed number. He didn't care who it was. He just wanted to hear another voice to make him feel alive. What now you moron ... did you pee your pants? the voice on the other side of the line said. He hated that voice. He hated her from the core of his heart. Still he was glad he was alive and in control. Do you think you can tell? he asked her. What!!! ... I mean ... she was about to break into a barrage of fury when he knew what he had to do. Click! He hung up and walked towards his refrigerator. 

Angels

I feel like a song without the words,

a man without a soul,

a bird without its wings,

a heart without a home.

I feel like a knight without a sword,

a sky without the sun, cause you are the one.

I feel like a ship beneath the waves,

a child who's lost its way,

a door without a key, a face without a name.

I feel like a breath without the air,

and everyday's the same,

since you've gone away.

They tell me that a man can lose his mind,

Living in the pain.

Recallin' times gone by,

I'm crying in the rain.

You know I've wasted half the time

and I'm on my knees again.

'Til you come to me.

I gotta have a reason to wake up in the morning.

You used to be the one that put a smile on my face.

There are no words that could describe how I miss you;

I miss you, everyday.

I am still holding on, girl, I won't let you go,

Cause when I'm lying in your arms I know I'm home.

I gotta have a reason to wake up in the morning.

You used to be the one that put a smile on my face.

There are no words that could describe how I miss you.

And I miss you, everyday.

Still holding on, girl, I won't let you go.

Lay my head against your heart, I know I'm home.

(composed by Daniel Bedingfield)

Today is the longest day of my life

Hope you are doing fine. I am doing fine now. I have numbed my senses to the point of no return. From you I got what I had wanted for a long long time; a realistic view of things. Reality never was really my thing until you came along. I got a crash course in perception. And boy, what a crash it was. I have bled myself to the point that I have no blood left in my body to even feel the pinch. I have beaten myself to the point where I have no choice but to believe that it was 'all' my fault. I mean, we should face the facts here, it was actually all my fault. See, I accept it now. 

Also, I have never been able to accept the way things happened between us. Before writing anything further I would like to add a disclaimer here. Read ahead of this point only if you can seriously accept the fact that I am sitting here, trying to say a lot of things and I have no one who could spare time to listen. So the little I have left inside of me, I will write here and after this point I will forget that I ever felt anything even remotely similar to what I write here. Trust me, I have no confusion in my head anymore and I know what the way to go is. I know writing stuff here is not the best way to say things. But what the heck. If I had that kind of a brain inside this head, I wouldnt be sitting here crooning. This, I believe is just the left over angst and the untied strings and the unfinished conversations. To say the least, I'd like to say that I have absolutely NO regrets. It was lovely being with you for the time we were together. You are a lovely woman, and I wish you all the best in your life.

First things first. I should tell you, that I have indeed loved you, for whatever or howsoever much time. But I have. I know a few days from now I would be able to love again. But just that my life has be an extra-fucked-up-timing-vaganza. You cared, I didnt. I cared, you didnt. We both cared, no time. I know, all this is no ones fault, but still I will take it on me. After all, I am your friendly neighbourhood fall-guy. Dont feel like you've made a mistake, you've made somebody's heart break. I am stronger than you think and now I have to let you go. I understand the circumstances, I understand the unfolding of events. I have made you cry, and I dont deserve you. In fact you deserve better. 

I knew this was coming, I knew this could not go on forever like this. I knew we have serious timing issues. But its okay. Life moves on. I always end up being the bad guy. I hope you dont feel that way about me. I respect you and I expect the same. I am not a bad guy, I'm just someone who has had bad luck in this department. I would like to promise you now, that I will be your friend till the end. I know you better than you think I do. 

Thats all I have to say. Today has been the longest day of my life. Getting over you, was one of the hardest things I have ever done. The next time you see me, you will see me happy. I will be me again. Yet again. 

(I know have to stop doing this to myself. Time and time again. But trust me, this is not my ego talking. This is not a baggage I needed to shed. Deep inside me I feel everything, no matter how much I claim I dont.)

Only the dead survive

As the reinforced steel doors gave way to my angling perceptions of how life would be in its aftermath, I double checked my watch. It was exactly 1:34am. Six more minutes of uncertainty. Six more minutes of my old life. I had made mistakes in life. Many mistakes. As I had promised myself this was to be the last one. Jack Estolio was never to steal again. Better put, he wouldn't have the need to steal anymore. That's right, there was enough money behind this door to suffice for two of my family lifetimes. It was the heist of the century. 200 Million Dollars. I could get back my life. My son would go to a decent college. My wife would have barbecue parties on the patio where she would flaunt her new fur coat from France. My debts will be paid off. I'd ride in a chauffeured limousine. I'd invest money in the markets long-term to double it in every 10 years or so. Anna and I would watch the sunset from our beach mansion's balcony and get right back in thereafter...

As the iron bars closed shut in front of my face, I imagined how Frank had framed me. If I forgive that bastard I would maybe let myself sleep for just one night, so that I don't have to faint at the prison quarry by noon. I checked my watch. It was 11:54pm. Six more hours of darkness. Six more hours till the sun comes up. I had made mistakes in life. Many mistakes. But this one was the dumbest of them all. Had I not gotten greedy, I wouldn't have had to get my ego pounded by hounds from hell. 300 nights of sheer hell. It was the prison of the century. As I slid into my bunk, I imagined what my son would be dreaming about right now. The Marco Family hounds got Anna within 4 days of my capture. My son was taken into custodian rehab by some Templeton family. I wish they would let me meet my son, I would get right back in thereafter ...

Learning To Breathe

I climbed up on the stage. It felt like home. It felt like a mother's warm embrace. The lights, the electric buzz welcomed me. Everything I had stood for, defined the moment I held the microphone in my hands. They were watching. With my feeble and weak voice, I knew could not prove anything. All I could show the crowd was that there was no such thing as fear. This was not about getting acclaim. This was not about gathering applause. This was a salute. Atri (lead guitar) knew it too, his look had said it all. This was a salute to everyone who had taken the stage before us, to speak their minds. We were there too, to do what we liked doing best. Getting lost in our little worlds of music. This was a tribute to greatness. This was a humble attempt to recreate greatness. This was nothing more than what we had wanted to do. And nothing less. Sound check. And then it began. In the end, we were happy to be who we were. We were entertainment. We chose to be the rag dolls. Trust me when I say, I remember nothing of the show. I just remember the beats, the sweet sound of electricity, the feeling of completion. We had learnt how to breathe. We were ready. Lets rock.

Rajesh, Anish, Sushir & Atri

Facts About Stuff

“There's a world of difference between truth and facts. Facts can obscure the truth.”

• We were meant to live for so much more.
• We have lost ourselves.
• Sue needs a new LAN cord.
• People hate me for what I am.
• Val Halen has given the world a gem of a video in "Right Now".
• AC/DC sounds good even when you are drunk to the core.
• The Dark Knight does not deserve a 9.whatever it has on IMDB, it just needs an 8.5 maybe.
  
• The world is cruel place.
• Whatever life has thrown on you is peanuts in front of someone else's pain.
• There is no such concept as The Best Graphics Card.
• Console gamers are turds.
• Linkin Park is not the best band out there. In fact it sucks ... Bigtime! Really!
• I hate random drunks getting friendly with my peers.
• Devil May Cry 4 rocks.
• People have bad experiences and they tell-tale it to act smart.
• Morons are purple in color.
• Smart people can be whatever color you want them to be.

The Disappearance

Nothing has changed. The once green grass is dead. The soft ground is barren. The mist has swallowed the scenic lake. Nothing has changed.

The last train to suburbia had left hours ago. The next train back to town was none of my concern. I had come here to unravel the mysteries of my life. This was not about me or my idiosyncrasies. This was about the dream I was having night after night. Something that had blurred the line between reality and this. This is it, I thought to myself. I knew I was not going back now. I needed answers to questions that weren't there. I was looking for that face which had haunted me for years. I remember coming here at wee hours to meet her. Sometimes I was welcome, other times I was not. Sometimes she beckoned me, sometimes my love for her did. Invariably the lake had always left me amused. I had always wondered what lay beyond the darkness. I remember driving on the road close to the lake late at night, driving fast in the chilly winds. Eyes barely open, I remember trying to look over the darkness into the oblivion. Hoping to catch a glimpse of uncertainty. I remember thirty years ago she had disappeared, without a word. Without a goodbye. Since then I had started having this dream of her wrapping something, a book maybe ... in plastic. I remember how I had never had the courage to sing for her, when I had no problem singing for a crowd. I remember the loss for words when I was with her. Dumb-struck and bewitched by her flawless beauty. Thirty years is indeed a long time. Still I clearly remember the last words she had spoken to me. That memory was flawless. So ... will I see you tomorrow?

Its strange how time changes things. I remember the times we had spent together. She was always aloof, on higher ground. She always spoke of a distant land where her life would be better. I being practical had never believed her. Thirty years of being without her have changed me. Changed me into a believer. Nothing has changed. The same road, the same cross, the same building. Just that no one lived here since the nuclear winter struck. The lake was contaminated. My dream had brought me this far. Just a few more steps. I clicked open the door. Somewhere at the back of my head I was waiting for the bark of her dog. Funny the tricks our mind plays. I stepped into the house. Uncertain what I would find. Dust had covered and devoured almost everything she had left behind. I reached to towards the living room wall. Would you like to have some beer? I had asked, Yeah sure. Why not.

I remembered how she had always spoken of a painting in her living room. It was the painting of a lake. With a small lake-house right at the center. She had promised she would take me there someday as it was close by. I sat down beside the place where her television used to be. The painting was in my hand. I wiped it clean. In the glare of the glass I could see my gray hair. I had spent my entire life looking for her. There was nothing left to do but to come back to the start and begin it all over again. The one and only reason I was here today. I didn't realize how quickly lost in my thoughts I had fallen asleep. I woke up almost 2 hours later and nothing had changed.

Its time. The sands of time were cruel. They had consumed everything. I decided to go to the lake house as it was one and the only thing she had promised me thirty years ago. After three hours of walking, swimming, making my way through mud, I was finally there. The small lake house looked more like an over-sized kennel. I tried opening the door, it was locked. I smashed it down. My old body had taken enough beating for the day but something from within had kept me going all this while. I was a fool. All my life I had chased this sensation, the feeling of her well-being. All my life I had pursued something farce. Something that was never mine. But love is a strange thing. I had always wanted to be with her, nothing had changed. I had to find her ... I was willing to look everywhere, even in hell. This is hell. I thought to myself. Anyplace without her is hell. Without her love my live was nothing but this carnival of rust.

I looked in that lake-house. I looked hard. After 30 minutes of searching, I had found what I was looking for. A book. Wrapped in plastic. I hurriedly opened the wrapping. The inside of the book was now termite infested. I quickly turned to the first page.

"Max. If you are reading this, you have finally understood me. Maybe you did deserve me after all. I will not give any reasons for my disappearance, and you will never know where I am. All you need to know is that I will be safe. I will take care of myself like you have always wanted me to. I know you love me. Believe me, you are not the reason I am leaving. I just need a break. Take care."

The Dark Night

I am still standing. I have not done this to myself in years. I took out this semi-wet cigarette from the coat pocket of the guy lying in front of me. I light it up and the smoke does what it has to. It dries up the insides of my mouth and causes a burning sensation near the vocal cords. But right now the burning sensation is overwhelmed by the pain in my belly. I'm still standing tall. He should have shot me in the face. The goons these days... they have the least knack of getting the job done. I convince myself that I have won. The bullet wound in my stomach is about to spill my guts all over the dirty alley. The last time I was in this alley I was not perforated. I was walking tall. I was insane. I was angry. The whimpers from the asshole I destroyed tonight break my chain of thought. Shut the fuck up ! I advise Mr. Not-So-Good. I am calm. My voice seems a bit harsh, but I'm okay. I'll make it through this shit... I tell myself in the back alleys of my mind. The man lying in front of me is crying like a chick cries after a rape. Spineless fool.

Five minutes ago I entered the Sex-Toy Bar to settle an old score with this fool. Turned out that the fool had upgraded. He now carried a Barretta in his coat pocket. Before I could punch him to the ground he managed to lay a few shots in my belly. I could have capped his ass any minute but I wanted him to suffer; and there he was lying in the dirtiest alley of NYC, crying like a worthless bitch. The barretta was now in my left hand. My hands were drenched with blood. Mixed blood, some from the gunshot wound in my belly and rest from the gums of the man lying in front of me. He must have lost twelve of his precious teeth in the battering I gave him three minutes ago, that is, before I dragged him out in the rain, into the back alley of the cheapest bar in NYC. It takes me nearly five minutes to finish a cigarette; but tonight was different. I did not have much time. I had seen the bartender pick up the phone as I was dragging this low-life bastard out of the bar. He must have called 911... That means that the cops would be here any minute now. I throw the cigarette into the nearby drain. I focus. My right hand was free now. I held the gun with my left hand and pressed it over the wound tightly. I focus.

You piece of shit, how do you want me to finish you off ... I said looking at the drain. Dont kill me please, I am sorry for your wife, for your kids, I am sorry for all that and more ... please dont kill me. I will be your slave for life.... He sobs. Its of no use now. He is as good as dead. He knows it better than anyone else. Now its time to take away his most precious thing. I muster up courage, but I'm still standing. The pain shoots up to my head, my eyes hurt. But the rain doesnt stop. I take the gun in my right hand, covering my hole with the other. My own hole. My only drawback. The alley light flickers. I point the gun at the man's groin. He is too beatup and too afraid to move. He closes his eyes. Look at me asshole, look in my eyes. I scream. Please dont shoot me ... I will... er... BANG ! ... Ohhh... fuck... you fucking bastard you shot me in the dick ... asshole....fuck you... fuc.... ack..... aaaahh.... He is in pain. I took away from him what makes him a man. I love it, I love the cries and the blood all over the alley from his 'love machine'. You deserve this you fool ... you earned it. Ha ha ha ... I throw the gun away. I am stumbling, not much time left. The pain has become unbearable now, but the joy of seeing the fucker suffer is overpowering me. Time to finish the job ... I am still standing.

I grab his cheecks with both hands. My wound oozes out blood. Mixed with the dirty rain it hits the drain. Time to die, mother fucker. I bang his head into the wall behind him. It hits him so hard that his cry turns into a fade out sequence for a gothic rock number. His head has a big visible crack on it. Rain makes it even more clear. The wall behind was strong enough. The bastard suddenly stopped screaming and whimpering. Silence. I am still standing.

I had got the job done. I lose balance. Fall down and station myself near the dead goon. The rain had almost stopped as if marking the end of my mission. I smile. I still had a cigarette left in my pocket. The low-life smoked such cheap cigarettes... one drag couldnt have done the job, not even for mother teresa... I have two options now. Drag myself to the clinic nearby for first aid and a chance. Or, stay here and wait for the cops. I had seen a TV News report a few days ago, praising the prompt action of the NYPD. I hope they are prompt. I choose option two. Suddenly the sounds from Who wants to be a Millionaire ? play in my head. I smile. Correct answer Max they tell me. I light up the cigarette. I hope this is not the last one in my life. I will survive. I was not standing now. The pain had taken over the burning sensation again. Somehow the smell of the drenched alley mixed with the smell of blood and gun smoke felt nice. I was at rest. Waiting for the cops. Suddenly I heard the sirens, Finally... come on coppers ... be nice to me ok ? Come and find me quickly ... he he he. I smile again. Then I realize that the darkness rises all around me. I lose sight. Gosh. Not now Max. Hold on ... I hear my wife's voice. Daddy ... stop. Dont go. The darkness deepens. I cant even hear the cars on the road now. The only sound I hear now is the deafening noise of Silence. Suddenly, I feel I am still standing. Somehow ... Darkness prevails.

An Important Tutorial

No offense but unfortunately I'm back and I have to inform everyone before they make the same mistakes I made and end up as baked pancakes. World! This is important, so pay attention!

This is a tutorial on how to switch the 'contact information' from one Sony Ericsson* phone to another and vice versa. This info is also utmost important to people with Nokia/LG/Samsung phones. Now the things we require are listed as follows.

Two Computers (A and B) geographically at least 12 KMS apart. (Geeks/Nerds should not cry out to heavens that this could be done with one PC only, I know how its done that way, so chill you losers, get a life! Note: This is supposed to be funny)
One SE USB data cable.
SE PC Suite Software.
Two SE cell phones. (C1 and C2)

Here we go ...

Install the PC Suite on A.
Back up contacts from C1 to A.
Do not check if all the contact info is properly backed up.
Delete all contacts from C1.
Head to B.
Install the PC Suite on B.
Since B is slow, restart (Hard Boot) B for this to work.
Back up contacts from C2 to B.
Check this time if the info has been backed up correctly.
Since B is slow, restart (Hard Boot) B again for this to work.
Connect C1 and restore the contact info from B into it.
Check if C1 has all the info that C2 had before.
Head out towards A.
Now delete all contacts from C2.
Connect C2 to A.
Copy the backed up information from A to C2.
Realize it quickly, that you have lost half of your contacts from C1.
Desperately search for an old DVD with your contact information back up.
Pop-in the DVD and voila !
Restore some of the info which was lost.
Dont Panic !

See the point is that it doesnt matter if the whole process and/or the plan is working or not. It doesnt matter if I'm desperate or not. It doesnt matter if the USB cable is loose or if the PC is slow. It doesnt matter if anybody is doing anything or not. All that matters is that the contact transfer process is a small tiny thing which should work. If its not working, then some little thing is wrong somewhere. I have an inherent urge to fix such issues right there and then, and I swear to God that I will not back out or give up in midway. I will fix this thing and get it working anyhow. Just because its supposed to work fine. I am not a quitter, and I will not quit. Not now, not ever. It is more than just a contacts transfer or an ego issue. Its a problem, which I know how to solve, and hence I will solve it. :)

And in the end, as we all know, this story came to a happy ending. The contact info was transferred successfully. :)

And I just saved the world from calamity.

The Funny One

He was from a small town. Didn't have many dreams in his head. But there was something special about this boy. He made a lot of friends in the City. Everyone he met almost instantly liked him. He made friends like the sun makes its rays. Here and there, everywhere. Everyone was curious but none of them really knew what he was capable of. All his friends called him "The Funny One". His small one liners were famous at his college. He was very good with words. He was infact so creative with his talk that people seldom took him seriously. He crafted sentences so beautifully that people had a hard time grasping what he said. His words and the awe of witnessing something so spectacular always made his audience feel as if he was an artist of sorts. Anything he uttered became an instant hit. He became so famous for his words that, even the simplest of his words lost their meaning. As for him, this ability of crafting words came naturally and he couldnt control anything. Not that he didnt try. He tried hard to speak normally, but the beauty was so deeply rooted into his words that it almost became inherent. He eventually became "The Funny One". He couldnt understand why people called him funny. He knew he was good with words. He was very good. But not remotely funny. Maybe people around him labelled everything they didnt understand ... "Funny". He tried living with it for a long time. He moved on in life being what he was. Some years later he realised that the entire world was like that. Speeches, presentations, meetings ... wherever he spoke, he was greeted by cheer and applause and laughter. People absolutely loved him. Not because of his ideas, but because of the way he portrayed each one of them. Some people went as far as to label him as the Midas of words. Everyone who knew him treated him like a superstar. He soon realised that he was very very lonely at the top. His words were never appreciated for their depth, but for their glitter. One fine day he thought to himself, ... is this what I want to be? Is this as deep as I am? Am I happy being someone who is always misunderstoood? He moved on again. He tried. He got married after a few years. In time he noticed that his wife and kids were normal. He went on, hating, cursing the world for being what it was. For having such a shallow outlook. All his life he kept looking for the one person who could possibly ignore the word-craft and take his words as what they were. Years flew by and he turned 80. Nothing. Everything he said till date was so good/wonderful that no one really paid any attention. They all were busy admiring, applauding. He was too old to even hope now that someone would understand him. Slowly and steadily the age took toll on him. He was brought down to his knees. Everyone around him cared for him until his dying day. But no one really ever got to know what his thoughts were. No one knew much about him. No one knew how deep his thinking was. He was remembered as the incredible guy who could weave magic with words. And ten years after, he was forgotten alltogether. It was not funny at all.

Are you a gamer?

I am one too. Take a look what I have been doing since November 2007-February 2008. I've been busy. Revising old classics and getting a smell of whats new in the business.

Stranglehold*
Crysis*
NFS : Pro Street*
Far Cry
Halo 2*
Shadowrun
Fable*
Painkiller : Overdose
STALKER
Battlefield : 2142
Jericho*
Flatout 2
FEAR : Extraction Point
FEAR : Perseus Mandate*
Call of Duty 4 : Modern Warfare*
Half Life 2 : Episode 2*
Portal*
Bio-Shock*
Rainbow Six : Vegas
Call of Duty 2*
Scratches
Time-Shift*
World In Conflict*
The Club*
Spider-Man : Friend or Foe
Black & White 2
Resident Evil 4*
Simcity : Societies
Infernal*
Made Man
Blacksite : Area 51
Hellgate : London
Beyond Good and Evil*
Unreal Tournament 3 (aka UT2007)*
Elder Scrolls IV : Oblivion*
Elder Scrolls IV : Shivering Isles*
Kane and Lynch : Dead Men*
Prey*
Gears of War*
Beowulf
Sam & Max : Season 1
Overlord*
Darkness Within
Penumbra : Overture*
Penumbra : Black Plague*
Conflict : Denied Ops
Universe At War

*Recommended Titles

Lets Play!

Come October, the buzzword starts to go around. Game releases, LAN parties, hardware launches, cutting edge technology and a lot more. I realise I haven't written for a while now cos' I've been busy living, working and testing new technology (per-se). Now recently I did a lot of market research on a lot of subjects (Graphics Cards, Mother Boards, Gaming Technology, DirectX10, Windows Vista, etc.). I bought some decent hardware, played the hell out of some of the most hyped titles ever and briefly tried out the new Windows Vista (codename-Longhorn). Now writing about all this is a waste of time, cos' anyone (and everyone) has already covered what there is to cover about all of this. So I will just waste a little time in posting images of what I have been into. So don't expect fancy write-ups, cos' there would only be (gripping and intense for people with heightened sense of understanding) images. A picture is worth a thousand words and wastes 1/1000th of the time you would spend reading about <insert what you like reading 'here'>.

CYA !

Sterling Commerce e-Gaming

It was one hell of a night. It was about valour, guts and glory. It was about the ability to strike and the inability to survive. Strategy and brute force. Focus and skill. It was Sterling Commerce's e-Gaming Finale. Here is the review of the gala event.

Initially the thought of having a gaming tournament in a professional environment was odd. A tourney in office? Are you kiddin' me? It'll be a flop! Anyone and everyone doubted the ability of professional hands dealing with gaming events, be it playing or organising. There were a lot of talks that people might not be much interested. The league round of knock-out games in Counter-Strike, Quake3 and NFS Underground 2 were played in a small room with 15 spectators and 8 participants at a time. Ventus, Lamina and Terra came out victorious. Now was the time for the final event. The grand finale to decide the 1st, 2nd and 3rd positions. I walked into the cafeteria thinking about the task at hand and the setup was a shock to me. An absolute sitter.

The event's final was being under-estimated by everyone. It was a huge setup. Big LCD TVs, huge projector setup for the audience, WCG style sitting arrangement; that is all that is required to make it a gaming experience of a lifetime. I had the honor of playing from the side of Terra in CS and Q3. There were spectators, there were servers and there was energy. A lot of it.

The night started out with Ventus vs. Terra. Quake and Counter-Strike were assumed to be in ventus's pockets as they had players like fandoo, So!id and BlackDeath. Even Killer from Ventus did more than what was expected. Terra was crushed after a fighting start in both games. Then came NFS, Terra won the races back to back. They also won against Lamina. Terra came out victorious in NFS thanks to Mukha, Chandan, Shishir and RKT. Now the pressure was off Terra's back when they were to play Lamina in CS and Q3. Supposedly, Terra took it a bit too easy and lost both the games in Nail Biting finishes to Lamina. The scores were 10-9 in CS and 8-6 in Quake3. Call it luck or whatever you wanna call it, but the second favorite team (terra) landed up in the 3rd spot. Lamina's spirits were high and they had to play the undefeatable Ventus. Lamina made a good start in both CS and Quake3 thanks to Fubu and HappyFeet, but Ventus gathered their strength and crushed Lamina as convincingly as they could.

It was a night of rocking gaming. The players in all teams did well and surpassed expectations by a long margin. The Final standings were Ventus-1, Lamina-2 and Terra-3. The gameplay of So!id(CS), BlackDeath(Q3) and Chandan(NFS) were mind-boggling. Fubu and company did well too. Kudos to everyone involved in making the evening an adrenaline packed journey into the OtherWorld. The atmosphere, the energy and the professional handling of the event made it one hell of a show, the first in its kind. In the end a very special Thanks to Rajesh Chandolia for making it all possible. Keep rocking dude. :) And yeah! The sound was BOSE. Game ON!

The seating for the audience with LCD Screens on sides and a projected screen in front.

The Players practising.

More practise right before the start.

Solid in action.

BlackDeath in action.

You

Who are you? You are a figment of my imagination but very real indeed. You are someone in pain. Going through hard times. I have good news and bad news for you. The bad news is that times are gonna get harder. The good news ... read on.

I heard a piece of music today. It reminds me of you. It was called 'Elin Shore'. I heard it again and again. Again and again I heard it. As if I was trying to hold something made of thin air; but not ready to give up on it. I heard it so many times that it got etched in my mind. It was a piece from a long lost documentary I did during my farewell days in college. I believe in the power that this little piece of sound possesses. It brings things back. Gives hope. It has to be heard to be believed. The set has nothing to do with love or emotion, its just so simple and serene that its empowering. Listening to it makes you want to listen to it over and over again.

I saw you today, seemed like something was amiss. Seemed like something was not where it should have been. Seemed like you were trying to reach out to something, but not someone. I saw the constant struggle in your eyes. I wish I could tell you how easy it was to handle it. Words like trouble, struggle, pain, frustration, etc should have no place in your mind. I dont claim to have seen everything in life, I'm too young for that. I dont claim I have seen the worst of times, I am too ignorant. I dont say I know a lot, I am simple. I am oblivious to almost everything but you. Through your eyes I have seen a thing or two. Through your mind I have learnt a lesson or two.

The best gift you have given me, is yet not known to you. I want to bestow it upon you now. But I cant find the means to. From you I have learnt how to keep it cool. From you I have learnt how hard life can be. From you I have known how to be above the quicksand of life under any circumstance. I know you have problems. Everyone has problems. What makes someone appear happy to us is the way they handle those problems within their own self. Some people break down. Some never bend. I know this for a fact, that people which I know of, never break. They never quit. I dont let them. In my vocab the words 'Quit' and 'Cannot' dont exist. I know from first hand experience (and trust me it is pretty good) that ANYTHING can be done in ANY amount of time. Now this line can be misinterpreted, and is, in most cases. It simply means that the human capability extends far beyond the stretches of our imaginations. There have been times I have accomplished impossible feats. The me you see now believes that any one who has the right frame of mind can accomplish anything they set their eyes on; and TIME doesnt come as a factor at all. Not only me, I know people close to you who have done this. Set a goal, achieve it. Set another one, achieve it. Set another ... fail ... try again, achieve it. Walk the line and see how everything falls into place. Life is a constant struggle, anyone who has seen enough of it, would vouch for this fact. Rich or poor, Smart of silly, Young or old. Anyone who has seen enough, will tell you the same thing.

Lets talk about someone who believes in the concept of a perfect life. Smart people are hard to find; but impossible to find are the smart ones who believe that one day their life would be perfect. Life is never perfect, all it can offer you are perfect moments. Thats it. People who dont play, dont win. People who dont run, never reach distances. People who dont swim, never cross oceans. People who dont believe in themselves, never achieve. The best thing that life can offer you is someone to be by your side while you try and achieve what you have set out to. This is the way of life. People can have different strides, big or small, but the destination is the same. I trust one should take each day as it comes, while setting goals and achieving them. Suppose you want a square ABCD to be drawn on a piece of a paper. Firstly, you gotta imagine it (dreams/ambition). Secondly, you gotta pick up the pen (determination). Then you gotta make four points (A, B, C and D which is the effort). Then you got to join them with straight equal lines (putting things into perspective). There you go, you have your square. Since you drew it, its yours to keep and no one can take it away. Some tasks are a tad bit difficult than the foolish example I have given. Some things have a million factors attached. But in the end, everything follows the same route. We should always be grateful that we have come a far way. We should always believe in things that we have accomplished to fuel the fire that would run us into a many wonderful things that we will accomplish. Focus, effort and commitment to your dreams are the ONLY things that can help us get where we want to go. Self belief can get rid of frustration. Focus can take care of failures. Effort can take care of everything else.

Faults. A lot of faults is probably what I am made up of. Maybe I sum up into a big mistake. But what I am not, is a quitter. But I have learnt to keep stress away. Mental stress specially. A very famous quote on life is Dont hate the players, hate the game. Thinking that someday you would be there, will never take you there. Deeds will. I believe there is always a way. I believe there is always a little something more I would want to write. But keeping it till here, I wish you well in everything you try to do. Just remember, anything and everything can be done. Everything has its faults, every situation has a loophole. Everything that appears good has a tremendous amount of effort and will-power backing it up. Things just dont work, people like you and me have to make em' work.

Fire

No smoke without you, my fire.
After you left,
your cigarette glowed on in my ashtray
and sent up a long thread of such quiet grey
I smiled to wonder who would believe its signal
of so much love. One cigarette
in the non-smoker's tray.
As the last spire
trembles up, a sudden draught
blows it winding into my face.
Is it smell, is it taste?
You are here again, and I am drunk on your tobacco lips.
Out with the light.
Let the smoke lie back in the dark.
Till I hear the very ash
sigh down among the flowers of brass
I'll breathe, and long past midnight, your last kiss.

by Edwin Morgan

The New Orkut ???

Just as I was done throwing sh*t in the face of Orkut it has rekindled my desire to beat the hell out of people responsible for the latest disaster they have managed to accomplish. People call it a new Theme, a new kinda Look, a Wow inspiring change! I call it shit ... take a look.


Now I am a big preacher in favor of change, but there are certain basic problems with this new design. Hi orkut! Certain things I hate about you are ...

1. If the image captions are too long, so long sucker! They wont show completely.
2. The color scheme looks as if someone took a crystal clear dump over the old theme.
3. The new font colors are not even 10% as good as the old one.
4. The text doesnt look as good as the old style.
5. The buttons look as if designed by an infant, could'nt google come up with better sleeker and retro button designs.
6. The black and white images, which used to look Very Cool on the old design, now look like portraits of grannies sick and tired of knitting.
7. The colors in the colored snaps look duller and shittier due to the super bright (halogen) backgound color (Tide wala white). I mean it has been a sincere effort to blind us into believing that change is good. I say FcK oFF ... wake up, all colors are washed out.
8. Now whats up with the curvy edges of all on-screen elements, I think the developers tried to make it baby-safe, with no sharp edges.
9. I hate bubbles ... and everything here looks like I'm looking at the old orkut through a semi gelatinous bubble.
10. The new look 'per-se' makes me feel as if it has been designed because all the orkut users were dumb and did'nt know what they were doing. Assholes!
11. Orkut was most definitely totally jealous of the way Facebook looks. So the super brainy geeks at google sat down and thought of how to counter that jealousy. Suddenly the brainiest of them all stood up and screamed, Lets rip off their design, make a few changes and launch a new orkut! Everyone clapped.
12. Another one spoke, But wouldn't it be too obvious that we are jealous of Facebook? How about adding a new feature, suppose, we add the 'ScrapBook' button on the top of the page again ...; Everyone clapped again.
13. And ... Another geek spoke, Yeah! and to cover it all up we'll over publicise the Scrapbook button on the top of the page so that no one notices the changes we've made in design. We can pass this junk off as not just a theme change, but a functional overhaul. Clapping followed.
14. Then some f*ck-bag suggest the worst of it all, We can slide in the new design to the users slowly, group by group. Everyone nodded. Their plan was to make us feel that "Google is God, when Google decides and starts doing something, it is inevitable. We will have to wait for the inevitable to fall on our heads flat."
15. Everything is smaller.
16. It all looks like a chubby high school chick who is high on marijuana and has a lot of make-up on.
17. What is this Add Photo crap in the scrapbooks anyways? Who needs it? Couldnt you have added a better functionality? Like 'delete all scraps'. Or maybe a new button 'Delete my Profile' on the top of the page.
18. There is only one good point with this design; you can edit your photo album more easily now (hint: upload photo section on top); but the new design is so sucky that I dont even wanna login anymore.
19. Fonts have been made bigger, but the place-holders for the same text has been made smaller. And why does every box look like a shady grey calamity? Moronic.
20. I thought they would give us a 'Theme Selector' functionality. Suckers! Think of how cool that would be, users choosing their own themes (like blog templates).

But thats all just my own opinion, just cos' I'm sick of people asking me, Did you see the new Orkut? Wow! Aint it great!. NO! ITS NOT GREAT. I HATE IT. I'LL DELETE MY ACCOUNT AND EVERYONE WILL THEN CRY THEIR EYES OUT. Yeah Right!

Orkut ???

This hole is as deep as holes can get. This site was started with good intentions I'm sure. It still serves the purpose of 'connecting people' like no other portal. Its definitely the most famous and the most used portal in the world (citation needed). It was taken over by Google at a point in its lifetime, and has been buzzing and improving from then on ... but don't take the word 'improvement' here in the social sense, its just the technical aspect I'm talking about. The looks, the features, the functionality have improved over the time, no doubts, but ... that is not what I'm gonna write about here today.

What do we find in all public forums? We find people. All kinds of people. Now thats also not what I'm gonna write about. I'm gonna write about a certain type of people found on Orkut (or in general any public forum) and will step by step try and describe their sub types. So welcome to Orkut.

So if you are a girl reading this post, you will probably relate with it much faster. If you are a guy reading it, no issues, you'll understand eventually.

See being on Orkut for so long (almost a veteran now) I have noticed that there has been a certain segment of people (profiles) who (which) are on a continuous hunt for Girls on Orkut day in and day out. Their motives may be anything, from the depths of perverseness to the heights of innocence. They might just want to add you to their list of Online Friends to make it look cool, or they just might want to hunt you down and sleep with you. This post is not about the motive, its just about the type. And this post is not just about Orkut (mostly), its about most of the internet portals with similar functionality. This post intends to mock such profiles just for the heck of it, and, for their sheer profanity or 'The Ocean of Dumb' they swim in. The basic types of profiles of Hunters include the following ...

Type 1 : Ass Wipes
Such are the kinds whose profiles scream out loud, See, I'm totally interested in sex and sexual topics. Kindly refrain from normal conversations. I might get offended. And yeah, I don't have balls to make a normal profile and I am an ugly looking retard in real life. They usually have a display picture of highly explicit sexual nature. Flashing genitals and/or display of breasts being the most common. If you notice closely they have all kinds of Ugly communities added to their already messed up shit they claim to call a profile (Yeah Right!). Mostly their scraps to the real world would be sexual in nature, so no prizes for guessing that. The best part is their scrapbooks. You notice there normal people (guys) who are so downright dumb that only a slight glimpse of a display picture of revealing nature is enough for them to scrap back saying Will you be my friend? I mean what has gone wrong with the 90% guy population of this country. I mean GUYS! THOSE ARE NOT REAL GIRLS! Are you so dumb that you cant tell a fake profile from a normal one. Such desperate fucks need to be shot dead, literally.

Type 2: The Punk Faggot
This one is very very tricky. Usually has a very Punk display picture of a very very good looking and well dressed male. Mostly picked up from anime circles or fashion websites. Some of these fuck-ups also choose to put up pictures about darkness, death and paranoid looking shyte. This is a common practice amongst the non-Hunters and hence makes detecting a hunter very very difficult. They scrap (target) girls from metropolitan cities only. Period. They act mushy, they act girly, they act emotional. Lines like Dont listen to what random people say about me ... I'm a nice guy! Yeah right asshole, if you are so nice why are you justifying your bowels to eternity. Detecting this one is very easy if you know what you're looking for. They have huge number of good looking(mostly fake) girls on their list, a lot of foreigners and a plethora of just 'copy-paste' scraps. They are it. Their testimonials cry out loud, I'm the one who believes in fairies. Go drown yourself you faggot! These fucks really irritate me when they actually 'are' hunters and they write English as if they have a smoldering hot lead pipe in their asses. I hp U fKs doN MnD m3 moCK!nG yoo!

Type 3: The Mushy Pigs
Their sole aim in life is to get a girl sentimental. They might not have the weight to chase you down and date you. They just want to play mind-games and later tell tales of their internet valor over coffee. They usually have a display picture depicting a flying bird, a burning candle, drops falling into water, crying portraits. These kinds are harmless but are irritating to the core. Their approach is totally cliche and these are the ones with lines like ... Hey! I really like your profile, can we be friends? I wanna know more about you, etc. Now they pretend to be really really good friends. They paste (s)craps of how important friendship is and all. Just ignore. Do not bother about them. The only fuck up is that mostly all regular 'not-so-smart' girls (sorry) end up chatting with these guys and crying on their pillows at night cos' He did not come online today! Have I done something wrong? So I suggest, anyone without a DP = IGNORE! Notice how these guys try and act personal and interested and overtly friendly.

Type 4: The Regular Lets Try
These are the folks who are actually capable of having a life outside Orkut. Just that in their free time they keep scrapping here and there trying their luck. They usually reside in the smaller towns. So they just harmlessly send out friend requests. Once they are ignored by a girl, they don't mind. But boy do they aim high! These guys put up their washed out pictures (mostly original) and are completely harmless. Their only fault can be that they are not your type. They usually make friends on the internet from their own small towns and are happy fooling around with friends. My 10 cents on - Completely Harmless. They are NOT hunters, but they are not NON-HUNTERS either. Phew! This is the transition kind. Hardest to explain. Some of the non-hunters also indulge in such kind of things for the sake of Time Pass. So this category actually doesn't belong here; but still its here. It has no permanent membership. The only effect they have is just the one extra click you have to do on NO / DELETE / IGNORE. And yeah, I forgot, these are the ones with all the FRANDSHEEP requests.

So that broadly categorizes most of the Hunters. As for the NON-HUNTERS. Lemme give you a few pointers as to how to detect them. They show sparks of wit, humor, attitude, smarts, etc when in conversations. They are truly there to talk to their friends and friends alone.

Now there are a few other categories also, but I'm tired. Will try to elaborate later. And yeah, I know this one sounds a bit on the lines of maddox but I have an explanation for that too. Just like we all ride cycles just the way Lance Armstrong does (doesn't mean we have been inspired by him), there was no other way to mock fuckers other than that of Maddox.

Max Payne : That Old Familiar Feeling

I am Max Payne. My Wife and Daughter were murdered. It had something to do with the designer drug 'V'. I transferred from the NYPD to the DEA, went undercover to find their killers. I got too close. I was framed for murder. With nothing to lose, I went after the Mafia during the worst winter storm in a century.

I can recall myself thinking - Firing a gun is a binary choice. You either pull the trigger or you don't. As surely as the bullet rips through the victim's flesh, organ and bone, it shatters the image of the man who presses the trigger. Einstein was right. Time is relative to the observer. When you're looking down the barrel of a gun, time slows down, your whole life flashes by, heartbreak and scars. Stay with it, and you can live a lifetime in that split second.

I trusted her like a blind man. Everyone that denied that trust became an enemy within my wreck of a mind. "It's up ahead, see you there." I pointed to the panic room door. Alfred Woden was behind that door. Revenge had made my senses numb. The blood I had spilled along the way had made my hands rusty. Woden was the only cure to the disease I had cultivated. Seeing Woden die was my only desire.

"Dead end. Damn it!" I tried the door out of the main hall.

I had met Mona Sax in a gothic nightclub, Ragnarock. She was a hired killer. We were after the same man, her sister's sadistic husband. I was drawn to her for all the wrong reasons. "Here, let me." She briskly moved around the room and revealed a secret passage. She crawled inside and to disappear in the mist of elegance she had left behind. Mona knew a secret way to open the door. She knew. I heard her faint voice, "This way".

Mona knew the manor. She was working for Woden. Vlad had told me the truth. I had not believed him when I should have. "Mona, wait. Stop!" I cried out in her direction and followed her inside the secret passageway she had opened. It was dark. It was misty. It smelled of deceit. This is love, I thought to myself.

Whack! Something heavy landed on my head from behind. It felt like a hundred explosions inside my head. It was only moments before I felt a cold trickle down the back of my head. It was my blood. I knelt and touched my head. It was cold and dark. The only light was from the passageway I had just come in through. "Aghh!". She had tried to break open the butt of her gun with my head.

This is Love. When someone drags you from the wreckage when you have given in, ready to just lie there and die. I turned back and looked through my barely open eyes. "I told you not to come here. It's my job to clear up this mess and you're a part of it. Throw away your guns." Mona was standing behind me, pointing her gun at me. Waiting to make the binary choice. Talking. Looking beautiful. I dropped my guns.

This is love. Amidst the fading light I noticed that a security camera was watching us. When someone, no matter what the cost, shows you there is hope, a choice, that you can put down your gun. I felt her arm twitch. I felt her eyes move. She was about to shoot me. End it.

"See? I can't do it. You're a bastard, Max." She dropped her gun. She came over and stood by me. The pain in my head had now made a statement. It was making itself felt. I thought to myself, This is love. Love hurts.

I heard a loud bang. Blam! It was a pistol shot. "Ah!". It was a familiar voice. The voice that had guided me here. The voice I had learned to love. The voice of Mona Sax. I saw her chiseled frame drooping. She instantly fell down. I broke her fall. I looked to the doorway. I saw Vlad. Vladimir Lem. There was a look of disappointment in his face. His voice was heavy, "I was so looking forward to you two killing each other. You can't have everything." The blood from her bullet wound had spread around me on the floor. I was sitting in the middle of that puddle, holding her throbbing act in my lap. Holding her tight. This is Love. I had been here before, ground zero.

Vlad heaved a sigh and said, "Max, you are making me look incompetent by refusing to die." Right then a wheelchair appeared from the darkness. It was Woden. "Stop! I am sorry. Enough!", he said. A bomb went off in my head, the bullet lodged in my brain moved a fatal microscopic distance. I clenched my fists, no one knew what was about to happen. Only one thing was sure. As sure as the sunset. Vlad will have to pay for this.

Max Payne : Essentials

Introduction

I wanted to write something about Gaming, but dramatic. I remember from my old gaming days, two games specifically had hit me in my nuts. I absolutely went agape on the story and the presentation. These were Max Payne and Max Payne 2 : The Fall of Max Payne. Specially the second game left me craving for more. The story was beautifully presented and the noir style of presentation was unique and gripping. I played the games over and over again. It was like watching a movie. I even managed to get it included in a Literature course in my curriculum thanks to Dr. Suchitra Mathur (who was generous enough to understand and soak in the detective fiction aspect of it). The part of the game that I absolutely cherished was the dramatics. Everything in the game had a meaning and was touching in its entirety.

Now when I was over and done researching the game again and again for its social puns, humanitarian aspects, the trust factor and the twisted world that it created, I moved on with my life. Many other games came and went, none having an impact as deep as Max Payne did. The characters were true and justified. Driven by reason and emotion. I was thinking of the most dramatic moment in gaming history and all I could think of was Max Payne comes close to being shot in the back by Mona Sax. I then came to the conclusion that the game had been missing a lot of details. By details I imply the stories people need to know to bring out everything that the game wanted us to feel and even more. Hence I decided to commence this chain of Short Stories (my own) from the scenes in Max Payne. I chose to name the collection as Max Payne : Essentials. I hope you guys enjoy them and that they leaves a mark on your mind, standing true to its original inspiration - Max Payne. This construct is dedicated to none other than the love of my life ... Chara.