Oct 06

October 6, 2016 Blog

“Life is always going to be stranger than fiction because fiction has to be convincing, and life doesn’t.” – Neil Gaiman

“Passenger Jet Lands in the Hudson.” That “Miracle on the Hudson” headline filled the front pages of many newspapers, not the pages of a novel.

I recently saw the movie “Sully,” which recreated U. S. Airways pilot, Captain Chesley Sullenberger III, landing his passenger jet on, not in, the Hudson River. A bird strike damaged both engines moments after takeoff forcing Captain Sully’s decision not to try to land at an airport. His daring maneuver saved the lives of all 155 people on that frigid January day.

If you had written a story about a jet’s safe water landing prior to this incident, few people would have believed it.

That movie brought back memories of a day in 1983. Fran, a close family friend, planned a trip to Taiwan and Japan with a tour group of six other women. She wanted to enjoy a vacation before leaving for a new job as an occupational therapist for crippled children in Atlanta, Georgia. My sister and I returned early from our vacation in Canada so that we could celebrate her upcoming adventure. Her friends gave her a going away party on Sunday, August 28. Fran was estranged from her mother, therefore my parents, sister, and I were her unofficial family. To this day I remember my sister and I embracing her at the party and singing “We are family, I got all my sisters with me,” the song by Sister Sledge.

Fran’s excitement and enthusiasm made everyone happy for her. She gave us her itinerary and gave my father the keys to her car. “Just in case,” she said. We made promises to visit her in Atlanta after she settled in. As we said good-bye, we wished her a safe and fun-filled trip.

On Thursday, September 1, 1983 news broke that a Korean plane carrying many Americans was attacked over Russian territory. My family sat in front of our parents’ television waiting for details of the attack.

KAL flight 007 was hit with Soviet rockets. I looked at Fran’s itinerary and froze. Slowly more information was released. Twelve minutes after the initial attack, radar contact was lost. When it was confirmed that the plane was lost over open water with 269 passengers and crew aboard, we cried.

The local news soon released the names of six of the American women in the tour group including their travel agent and a prominent judge. However, Fran’s name or information about her wasn’t released for several days. The TV anchor stated that the name of the last unidentified member of that tour group couldn’t be released because they weren’t able to find the name of her next of kin.

My mother called the company that booked the trip while I called the television station that focused on the story. To the gentleman answering the phone at the station, I identified myself, told him of my association with Fran, and simply said, “She was scheduled to take that plane. I can only hope she missed her flight. Please let my family know if she is the unnamed passenger you mentioned on the air.”

After a moment, the man said, “Please hold on while I get the station manager.”

I knew then that the news wasn’t good. I repeated the information to the station manager and he confirmed our worst fears.

“We’d like to know more about your friend,” he said. “Could we please interview your family?”

With my parents’ permission, a television reporter and camera crew arrived at their home the next day. During the televised interview, a postcard arrived at my parents’ home from our “sister” Fran stating that the trip was great so far and she was excited. Knowing that this joyous postcard would be the last communication from her was heartbreaking.

The camera crew focused on the postcard then asked for a picture of our late friend. We selected the picture of Fran smiling next to my sister’s youngest son. During the interview, my father was too overwhelmed to speak. My mother and sister talked about Fran’s loving and faithful spirit and I spoke about her looking forward to a new job and a new home. “I just didn’t know that her new home was going to be in heaven,” I said. Tears flowed freely, but I refused to wipe mine away.

The reporter later told us that when the interview was seen by staff members at the station, there wasn’t a dry eye in the place.

Fran was prominent and well respected in her church. A large memorial service was performed with my family there to mourn her. Her mother didn’t attend, but more than a hundred people who knew her were there. The television camera crew covered the services, but my father didn’t allow more interviews with us. He felt it was too much to endure.

After seeing “Sully,” the following words haunted me. “On Thursday, September 1st, 1983, Soviet jet fighters shoot down Korean Airlines flight 007 in Russian airspace killing all 269 passengers and crew members.”

In the movies, planes are often shot down. But this was real life and happened to a person I cared about, not a fictional character.  This was hard to swallow, to understand, to accept as reality. This was not a story I would have written. And yet life wrote that story for me.

Do you have a real life, almost unbelievable, story you’d like to reveal? Could you make it believable and not contrived? Even if you chose to write a fictional account rather than a memoir, would you be able to convince your audience that this could have happened?

I found it unbelievably difficult to write this shortened version of the horrible incident without tears filling my eyes. But I did write Fran’s story and tears be damned.

Tags: Sully, Chesley Sullenberger; September 1, 1983; Korean Airlines Flight 007, Soviet Jet Fighters

 

 

 

Oct 05

First Experiences with Fallout 4: Nuka World

NOTE: This piece only reflects my views of the game as of Sept. 4th, 2016. Any gameplay time accrued after this date is not addressed. Warning: There are minor spoilers ahead.

One of the staples of the Fallout series is a fictitious soft drink called Nuka-Cola. You cannot play any of the games in the series without finding a bottle of it sooner or later. The more recent games have even added variants of the popular beverage. For instance, Fallout: New Vegas offered a drink called Rum & Nuka, while Fallout 3 introduced a more potent caffeinated drink called Nuka-Cola Quantum. In addition, Fallout 3 has an enthusiastic collector of Nuka-Cola memorabilia, Sierra Petrovita, who assigns you a quest to track down long-lost collectibles for a museum she’s building. It would only make sense that there’d be something much bigger associated with the beverage.

From the first time I heard about a Fallout 4 expansion pack that was set in a rundown amusement park called Nuka World, I was ecstatic. This was a first for the Fallout series, though Fallout 3: Point Lookout did feature a boardwalk setting with a Ferris wheel. The idea of exploring an enormous post-apocalyptic theme park that bears some resemblance to Walt Disney World couldn’t have been more exciting for me. Nuka World exists as the pinnacle of the drink’s popularity before the world was destroyed by nuclear war. The now derelict theme park that’s been claimed by a gang of Raiders seems to be a hotspot for finding bottles of the beverage in higher quantity. The expansion pack even allows you to mix drinks together to create brand new flavors that give the player unique benefits in battle, such as greater endurance or better health regeneration.

Between all the new never-before-seen creatures to combat, the largest expansion pack area to date to roam around in, the theme park aesthetic, and the possibility to ally with the Raider faction for the first time in the series, it seemed there would be enough to keep me entertained for days.

But before I could enjoy exploring the park’s every nook and cranny, I first had to get there. That in itself was a challenge and literally took me around six hours of gameplay.

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Scrapbook of my first trip to Nuka World.

Immediately after downloading the new content, I booted up Fallout 4 to begin my adventure. I loaded my last savepoint and began heading toward a new area on the western edge of the map, a tram station that would take me to the park. My character was so loaded down with weapons, armor, and health items that I could only run for short bursts. I’ve never had any problem walking from one area to another, so I chose not to drop anything. It only took me a half hour to reach the tram station, where I was forced to engage a group of bad guys in battle before I could board the shuttle. After another half hour of total gameplay to reach this point, I was on my way to the entrance of Nuka World, ready to enjoy my first view of the main fairway.

Or so I thought…

Upon exiting the tram, I found that the sadistic leader of the Raiders had set up a gauntlet for any and all new arrivals. I was forced to traverse a lengthy, heavily booby-trapped path leading through part of the maintenance tunnels and ending at an indoor bumper car ride. The part I had the most trouble with was a collapsible walkway. Before I figured out I needed to run across it to get to the other side, I wasted a good amount of time trying to walk across the sturdy boards left behind.

After making my way through sectioned off areas of the tunnel that were loaded with tripwires, explosives, dangerous radiation levels, and monster nests, I found that I would have to fight the Raider boss who set all this up. This proved to be a challenge since he was decked out in an electrified battle suit built to withstand damage. Fortunately, one of his close associates is also looking to take him out. This associate provides the player with a squirt gun that can temporarily short out the suit. After several tries at winning the fight, I found that I didn’t have enough healing items to get through it in one piece. Sadly, after three and a half hours of my best efforts, I was forced to go back to my original savepoint and stock up on supplies before making this journey for the second time.

My second run through the gauntlet went a lot quicker since I now knew what to expect. Oddly, I did also find stuff I’d missed on the first playthrough, such as tickets or tokens to use at the fairway arcade. The boss fight also went much better now that I was well equipped, but overall, I spent a lot of time trying to get into the theme park itself.

After the fight, I was greeted by Gage, the associate who’d helped me out by giving me the squirt gun. My character was then offered the chance to assume the mantle as leader of the Raiders present in Nuka World. Gage explains this by saying he hopes an outside party who was tough enough to survive the gauntlet might have what it takes to clear out the various monster-infested branched-off areas of the park and make them habitable.

All the effort I put into fighting my way into Nuka World paid off when I finally began winding my way through the environment. One of the first people I encountered when I finally reached the fairway was Sierra from Fallout 3, who has come to the park in search of more memorabilia. She assigns you a quest to find hidden images around Nuka World that contain codes needed to access a locked office. She gives you a pair of special glasses needed to spot these images.

So far, I’ve explored almost all of the fairway, most of the Sci-Fi themed area called Galactic Zone, and part of Kiddie Kingdom. I have yet to find any of the hidden images, but am aiming to find them without looking at any spoilers online. Clearing the more dangerous areas is proving to be just as challenging; there were points where I felt like I was playing a survival horror game. For me, it only adds to the appeal.

The one downside is that healing items seem to be scarce. Maybe I’m just not looking in the right places. Unless something changes, it’s looking like I may need to take a trip back to the primary location in Boston to stock up again. Since some Raider characters give you quests that demand you venture outside the theme park, I’m not as bothered by this need for a detour.

It seems the same rule applies to this fictional theme park as much as it does to the real ones: The fun lasts only as long as your resources do.

Oct 01

Editor’s Log: Challenges mean Opportunities

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The Deadwood Writers is about to celebrate 14 years of existence. The group was founded as part of one person’s college course assignment in 2002. At the time that the facilitator role was passed on to me there were approximately five members. We met in the Barnes and Noble (BN) in Northville, near the back of the store in a small space near the music section and the bathrooms. It was a good space for the group’s size.

The members, some of whom remain active today, were dedicated in both attendance and sharing of their writing. Yet one challenge was growth. The group’s vision has always been to provide a welcoming space to all writers and authors. Without growth, there would be the risk of atrophy from lack of perspectives.

This is where Patti gave tremendous help. Patti was Barnes and Noble’s CRM or Community Relations Manager. She handled the community outreach for the store. At that time BN stores sought to be a hub for the community. They invited schools, churches, and other organizations to do book fundraisers. Book groups were established through the volunteering of a community member. Sometimes the CRM might facilitate that effort. And there was the Writer’s Group.

From my travels around the country, writer’s groups are more difficult to establish than the book groups. It requires a structure and a facilitator willing to engage and welcome people to participate and lay bare their vulnerability through sharing of their writing. Having participated and facilitated several writer’s groups, I can honestly say that maintaining one is both an expense in energy and time, and one of the most rewarding experiences. It’s why I love being a part of the Deadwood Writers for 14 years.

Patti helped us grow the group with putting us into the calendar and in the store newsletter. She partnered with us to bring in authors and publishers. In the process, she taught me the ropes for relationships with authors, publishers, and the store, which has been invaluable. The group grew to over 30 members. We moved to the Cookbook section, which has been our home ever since.

When Patti retired, Betsy took over as the CRM. The rich relationship continued to grow. The Deadwood Writers group sponsored workshops on writing. One important focus was the 6+1 Writing Traits. We brought in a publisher who conducted several sessions on how to publish and market one’s book. We also continued to bring in authors to speak about their writing journey. A study group was established that meets one hour before the main meeting. The group continued to grow.

When Betsy left, Gail continued supporting the relationship. Deadwood writers continues to flourish. We established this blog where members regularly post a variety of stories and articles. Others actively edit the work so that there is shared feedback happening outside of the scheduled meetings. There has been talk of self-publishing work by the members who write for the blog. Stay tuned 🙂

Today, as we celebrate our 14 years as a group and as a partner with BN, we face new challenges. As most people know, bookstores like BN must reinvent themselves to stay relevant and profitable. It’s amazing the creativity and innovations that these smart staff come up with, such as a toy section, electronics, and high quality journals. As consumer demand increases for these merchandise, BN can continue to sell books, its core love. The challenge that each store faces is how much store space is used for merchandise and where do the groups meet when their space is taken over.

BN’s answer has been the cafe. But the cafe is loud from the machines used for coffees and blended drinks. Sit in the cafe and try to carry on a conversation, and count the interruptions. The space is just not conducive to a group that is having a serious conversation around topics that everyone participating wants to “hear” and share ideas.

I wonder what other groups have done to manage this environment? I wonder how other BN stores have balanced community relationships with merchandise placement?

We are attempting to work with our beloved home base to find a solution that maintains the relationship. We hope to find an equitable solution so that the group might maintain another 14 years at BN. Stay tuned.

Do you think that in today’s market a bookstore benefits from community relationships through book groups and writer’s groups? Or is there more benefit to pushing out community groups by product placement for the “promise” of more profits?

Sep 27

Star Trek Heritage: Chapter One, Pt. 1

She was having trouble concentrating with that incessant beeping coming from the proximity sensors, but she didn’t stop working. The Borg Cube was closing in. They hadn’t sent any members of their hive onto the ship, but that was hardly reassuring. The rest of the crew aboard the USS Heritage was currently unconscious and that left Ensign Meva Skogland the lone soldier.

She wasn’t entirely sure why whatever knocked out the crew hadn’t affected her, but she thought it might have something to do with her being in decontamination at the time the Borg ship had appeared. She’d have to remember to ask Doctor Syversten about it when this was over…assuming they all survived. What a terrifying thought.

Meva’s hands flew across the console as she assessed the damage to the ship, checked weapon and shield statuses, and monitored the Borg Cube, which was now currently maintaining its’ distance. Whatever the Borg had done had disabled the Heritage’s warp engines, so they weren’t going anywhere anytime soon. Everything else, however, seemed to be functioning properly, the most important system being life support.

Meva had never seen a Borg ship in person before, had never seen the Borg themselves at all, but all the reports said the same things. The Borg disable a ship, send over their hive minions to leech data from the ships computers, and assimilate all members of the ships crew. Not necessarily in that order. Then they move on. Another ship. Another crew. Gone. Assimilated.

So…why weren’t they doing that? Why were they just sitting there? Sure they had disabled the ship just like previous reports said they would. But they hadn’t started the rest of it.

“Shit. What am I supposed to do with this?” Meva muttered to herself. Speaking out loud to herself made her less out of control. She was just an Ensign who worked in the Science Department. She was fresh out of the Academy. Everyone else on board, literally everyone, outranked her. Except now everyone else was out cold, which left only her.  And she knew procedure. They trained you for hostile situations. But you weren’t prepared. Not entirely.

Of course she had basic training in the use of the weapons systems. Everyone on the ship did. Every good Captain insisted on it and Captain Miles was a good Captain.

“He’d be a better Captain if he was awake.”

Meva wasn’t confident in her ability to use the ships weapons systems against this particular enemy and survive. She needed a plan. She worked in the Science Department. Maybe she could science a way out of this. For now it seemed she had the time. The Borg were just sitting there. It was creepy.

“Alright then. Let’s see if we can get these warp engines running. Or at least get it to impulse power. If I can’t do that maybe I can figure out how to wake Syver. Or the Captain. That would be nice.”

Meva grabbed a Data PADD so she could continue to monitor the consoles on the Bridge and headed for Engineering. There were crewmembers all over the place. Many had simply fallen wherever they had been standing when the attack came. Some sporting bruises from hitting the walls, the floor, each other. Some were lying in odd, and obviously uncomfortable, positions. She wished she could help, but with no proper medical training she didn’t even know where to begin.

‘This is one hell of a first assignment,’ she thought as she headed for the turbo lift. She sincerely hoped that the turbo lift didn’t malfunction. She didn’t need to be trapped in an elevator on top of everything else. Then they would all be screwed. ‘As if we aren’t already.’

Meva Skogland had been so excited to be given the chance to serve her first Starfleet assignment aboard the Heritage. It was the ships’ maiden voyage through space and a spot aboard was as coveted as a spot aboard the Federation Flagship Enterprise.

She reached the nearest lift and, surprise surprise, it wasn’t working.

“Great. The Medical Bay it is then.”

Heading toward Dr. Syversten’s office she tried to remember anything she may have learned at the Academy that might help with this. The Kobyashi Maru maybe. Except she failed that test. Everyone did. If she couldn’t wake Syver then she knew it was over.

She reached the Medical Bay in record time. Just like the Bridge and the hallways the bay had personnel laying and sitting wherever they had been. She found the Chief Medical Officer sitting in his office chair, his head lying on his desk like a kid who had fallen asleep at school.

“Doctor?”

Meva shook the doctors shoulder, as if that would do any good. It didn’t. She began looking through drawers and in cabinets. Assuming everything was properly labeled, which it always was, she was hoping to find anything that might be used to wake someone up.

While she searched for something, anything, that would help she continued to monitor the Data PADD. There was still no change from the Borg Cube and Life Support Systems were still functioning. Good. She still had time, but that could change at any moment.

Finally she found a stash of hypo sprays. She looked through them until she found one labeled ‘Epinephrine’.

‘Well, this will either wake him up or give him a heart attack.’

She read the label of the hypo spray, checked Syversten’s medical record in the ships’ computer to make sure he wasn’t allergic to anything, and then, taking a deep breath she stuck the hypo spray into Dr. Syversten’s neck and waited. It didn’t take long. The Doctor’s head shot up as if he’d just had a bucket of water dumped on him.

“What the hell…” he muttered. He was looked groggily around the room.

“Doctor. Are you alright?” Meva asked.

“Ensign Skogland? What’s happening?”

“The ship was attacked, Sir. I think. A Borg Cube sent out some kind of energy pulse that shut down the warp engines. It also seems to have rendered the crew unconscious. Everyone except me anyway. And now you. I was going to try to get the engines back online, but I can’t get down to Engineering. Thought I would try to wake you up instead. I’m really glad it worked.”

“The Borg? They’re here? Why haven’t they taken the ship yet?”

“I don’t know, Sir, but they’ve been here for several hours now. They disabled the ships ability to move, but haven’t done anything else. I’ve been using the time to try and either get the ship away from here or wake up someone who can. That’s where you come in.”

Dr. Syversten got up and looked around. “What did you use to wake me up, Ensign?” he asked.

“I used a hypo spray labeled Epinephrine. I only have Starfleet’s basic first aid training. I was kind of guessing and hoping it worked.”

“I’m very glad you guessed correctly, Ensign. Were you able to wake anyone else?”

“No, Sir.”

“Alright. Well, the best course of action then would be to wake the Captain and the rest of the bridge crew. They’re better trained to handle these sorts of situations. That will give us the time, hopefully, to start taking care of the rest of the crew.”

“Hopefully is right. The Borg haven’t fired on the ship yet, which goes against every report I’ve ever read about them. Granted there aren’t many so we’re probably missing information. We need the Captain.”

“Okay. Let me grab what I can from here and we’ll head to the Bridge.”

Sep 24

Tourist Attraction

2016-09-pic-new-enhanced“We’re here, Grandpa,” said Billy as the car came to a stop.

John’s mind was too occupied by the gray ship in the distance to respond to his grandson. The longer John looked at the ship, the bigger the knot in his stomach grew. Hoping not to betray his unease, he spoke to his daughter, Mary, and her husband, Tom. “You know, we can go someplace else. You don’t have to put yourselves out for me.”

“Nonsense,” said Mary. “We’ve been doing a lot on this trip for us. We picked this just for you. Plus, Billy is really excited to see a ship that’s just like the one you served on.”

“Okay,” John said as he undid his seatbelt. “But we don’t have to spend a lot of time here.” He got out of the backseat and followed Billy, Mary, and Tom to the ticket line. After a few minutes, John raised his head and looked at the WWII battleship sitting moored and ready to take on tourists. His thoughts went back to a 1943 naval yard.

Hot standing on the dock waiting for boarding. “John Pulaski reporting for duty.” Salute given and returned.

 “Get onboard, Ski,” said the officer of the day.

As Tom handed him a ticket, John felt as if he were in two places at the same time. “Let’s go, Dad,” said Tom. John and his family started up the ramp to the ship.

Salty air. Cool ocean breeze. Ship underway.

“Oh boy! Look at those guns,” said Billy as they toured the deck.

Sound of enemy aircraft. Sirens wail. “All hands to battle stations!”

“Billy, stand in front of the guns,” said Mary. “I want to take a picture.”

“Okay, Mom.”

Bombs exploding. Metal twisting, jarring.

“Look at this kitchen,” said Tom. “I bet you had some pretty bad meals while you were in the Navy.”

“Uh huh,” replied John.

Smoke filled corridors. Choking, coughing. Climb up the ladder.

“What does that plaque say, Billy?” asked Mary.

“Come and see. It’s really cool.”

Guns firing. “Lead, dammit! Lead!” Blood on the deck.

“Let’s go look at the plane,” said Billy.

Two airplanes down. One to go. It turns. Heading straight in.

“Mary, stand with your father so I can take your picture together.”

More gunfire. Plane is hit. Trailing smoke. “Hit the deck!”

“What’s over there, Billy?”

Bodies in the water. Our guys and theirs. Smell of hot metal and burning flesh.

“It’s getting late,” said Mary. “I want to go to the gift shop before we leave.”

“Okay,” replied Tom. “You ready to go, Dad?”

“Yes.”

“I bet seeing this brought back some memories, eh Dad?”

“A few.” John cleared his throat and wiped his forehead with his sleeve. “Come on, Billy. Let’s help your mother pick out another snow globe for her collection.”