Sep 11

Hot Blacktop Ch. 15 – Racing Under Caution

road-in-woodsSaint still reeled from Sienna’s departure. She needed the sense knocked into her after the nonsense she threw at him in the garage. Did she really think he was going to give up on her? Saint would set her straight once he found her.

When he moved to find his clothes, his head throbbed but the doctors had cleared him to leave the hospital minutes ago. It only took a few stitches to close up the wound. If Sienna had seen how much blood had come from the small cut, okay not small, she would have been hysterical and thought, he was dying. Now he just needed a ride to find her before she found out what had happened. If she even wanted to be found. He would have called Chris, but his friend was out of town for a meeting with his racing team.

“How goes it Humpty Dumpty?” A familiar voice snickered from the door, as he swung his legs around spotting his pants in the vinyl chair. He looked up as she entered. The face that went with the voice tightened.

“Ha, ha. Very funny, Smarty Pants,” Saint responded with Josephine’s nickname second only to the widely used Jo Jo, in the MOTO circuit.

“You scared the stuffing out of me, Saint.” She scowled her accent, thick with emotion, more than normal.

“I’m fine Jo Jo.” He grabbed his pants and slowly put them on, the push and pull making him queasy.

“Can you take me to the speedway? I need to take care of a few things.” The hospital supplied a scrubs top. Soaked with more blood than he thought possible, his shirt was a lost cause.

“Straight to bed is where you should go, hon.”

“Are you propositioning me Jo Jo?” he quipped trying to lighten the mood.

She blushed a bright pink, wagged her finger at him and said, “I’d smack ya upside your silly head for that one, but then you’d earn another night in this nightmare of a place.” She shivered. What was that all about he wondered. She shook her head coming back from wherever she’d gone. “Come on Humpty. Let’s get.”

“Only if you don’t call me that anymore.” She shook her head and finally smiled again.

Once they arrived, Jo Jo made sure he got in the apartment over the garage, motherly she definitely was, threatening to even tuck Saint into bed. He didn’t have time for her concern even if it was heartfelt. He needed to get to Sienna. She would blame herself for his concussion.

His thoughts were interrupted. “You’ll call me if you need me, right?” Jo Jo asked.

Saint nodded and winced. She took a step forward and he held up a hand to ward her off. “I will Jo Jo. I promise.”

“I’m at the Willmar B & B, like always.”

Once the door shut with a soft snick, he did his best to quickly get changed. He had to steady himself more than a few times to ward off some dizziness. He took a couple painkillers then headed out.

He arrived at Sienna’s in record time to see another vehicle pulled in front of her house. When he saw who it was he was more confused than anything. And then he saw that Sienna’s front door was wide open, remnants of the solid wood door, shattered glass reflected in the moonlight, scattered on the wood plank porch. He ran up the steps ignoring his pounding head only to stop short when Gunner pointed a gun at him. Saints hands went up and his pulse clocked into overdrive. Gunner motioned for him to get behind him when he realized it was Saint. Gunner put a finger to his lips and then with practiced movements aimed his weapon toward the open door and disappeared through it.

“What the hell man!” Saint whispered as the man disappeared through the door. Who the hell was this guy? Saint moved to follow his fear for Sienna gripping him in a choke hold.

“Stay here.” Gunner said as he crossed the threshold just inside the door.

“The fuck I will! He followed the man and sucked in all the air from the room. He walked into a disaster zone.

Gunner’s head swiveled sweeping the area. He moved through the house like he belonged here, which didn’t make any sense. Had he been in Sienna’s house before? When he came back into the living room, Saint finally became unstuck. “Where’s Sienna?” His heart hammered as the struggle that occurred in the room became all too real in his mind. Furniture was upturned, blood splattered the sofa, bullet holes riddled the walls. As he drew a picture of what happened…He just needed her to be okay.

Fueled by his rage, fear and adrenaline, he stupidly grabbed Gunner, and slammed him against the wall. The man grunted, from the force. Saint had a captive audience. A very pissed off captive audience.

“Where’s Sienna?” No answer. He slammed Gunner against the wall and then suddenly he was the one smashed against it. The pain in his head made a mad dash through his nervous system as it returned. Saints stomach rolled with nausea.

“I don’t know. You’ll want to calm dow…” Gunners words were cut down to nothing. Saint could barely see what had caught his attention. It was a small tennis shoe. Gunner suddenly let him go and Saint did everything he could not to slide down the wall.

“We need to go,” Gunner pronounced.

“We? I don’t even know who you are, man. I come up to find a gun pointed at me, Sienna’s house part of the backdrop for the five o’clock news and you think I’d trust anything you said? No. Just no. He turned to leave, to go find Sienna himself, when Gunner grabbed his arm and stopped him. Gunner flipped open his wallet and thrust a business card at him.

“What the hell is this,” he looked down and could just make out the card. “Anderson Investigations. I thought you said your name was Gunner Phillips?”

“My name’s Gunner Anderson. I’m a private investigator.”

Saint opened his mouth to speak, but Gunner interrupted. “I’ll explain on the way. We need to leave now.” Gunner moved and Saint was frozen in place by all that had happened.

“Paulson, let’s move.” Jolted by Gunner’s underlying growl, Saint moved.

As soon as the gravel at the end of the drive kicked up, Gunners words poured out of his mouth. “I’ve been working in Danny’s bitch of a mother’s father’s organization for over two years to gain their trust, to get close enough to the inner circle for the intel I needed to bring the organization down. That fucker Marco was the prize though. What he did to my sister…he’s either going to jail for a long time or I’m putting a bullet in his head.”

Saint watched Gunner as his words trailed off sister. His fingers gripped the steering wheel tighter and tighter as if it would bend by raw anger alone.

“What did he do to your sister?” He dare ask. Gunner’s eyes flashed on him and he would have missed the pain in that swift glance if not for the clearing that let the glow of the moon back into their ride.

“You don’t want to know,” Gunner said flexing his fingers as he guided the vehicle around a turn.

“Fuck!” Saint’s breathes burned in and out of his nose as all kinds of scenarios danced in his head. “Fuck, go faster.”

Gunner ignored him and spoke on. “Sienna’s mother is mired in her own shit, buried to depths that no one escapes from. Once Marco decided that her debt was owed…She’d been racking up debt, and Marco, who is Danny’s mother’s enforcer called her debt due. But, surprise, surprise, she didn’t have the money.” Gunner looked over at Saint. “Sienna is the next best thing. And Marco will do whatever it takes to extricate Sienna from her money.” Saint swallowed hard, the ache in his throat threatening to choke him. “Anything. Top that shit off,” Gunner continued, “I think Marco has Danny too.”

“The shoe. Christ!” He rubbed his face. His head hurt more than ever. “Why didn’t you get Danny out of that damn house? You could have gotten him away from his mother. Called social services. Something.”

“I couldn’t help him man. It would have blown my cover. I did the best I could to distract them each time they went after him, but you’ve seen Danny. It doesn’t always work. The good news is I was able to hand over some intel to the FBI. Tonight they arrested the bitch and her father. Their empire is crumbling. FBI’s on cleanup duty. That’s where I came from tonight. But Marco slipped their notice on roundup. I went straight to Sienna’s once I found out.”

The man sighed like he’d had to carry the weight of Atlas’s world. But Saint didn’t give a shit about him. All he cared about was Sienna. Her time was running out if the scene at her house said anything at all. “Where are we headed?”

Gunner looked over at Saint and then back to the road. “You’ve gotta keep it together man. What you’re probably gonna see isn’t gonna make you feel anything close to hearts and rainbows.” Saint watched as the guy’s teeth ground down onto each other. “The place is a shack. A place close to Danny’s house.” He cleared his throat and blew out a breath. “ We just found out about it. Had my guys known about it we would have taken care to clear it too. We think it’s where he’s been keeping Sienna’s mother. I think it’s where he’s taken Sienna.”

“You don’t know for sure? What if she’s not there? How are we going to find her?”
Saint’s words grew louder with every question. “Shit!”

“You need to be prepared.” Saint’s hands started to sweat. “This isn’t your normal little shack. He uses it for all sorts of work.” Gunner looked over again. “You do what I tell you when. No questions. You got me?”

“Yes,” Saint said. He didn’t like it, but he wasn’t going to disagree on the off chance that Gunner wouldn’t let him out of the damn vehicle.

They approached an overgrown turnoff and Gunner turned off the headlamps. He slowed down too, which put Saint on edge. They needed to go faster. And then he saw it. A small out building with a single window. Gunner pulled over a little way off from where he wanted to be. Sienna was in there and who knows God what was happening. Gunner got out of the car and signaled for Saint to follow. Saint didn’t take his eyes off the small building until he heard Gunner open his trunk and lift something out of a small compartment that Saint knew shouldn’t be there. Gunner handed him a gun.

“You know how to use one?”

“Yes.” Saint pulled back the safety and had it ready to fire in the next second.

“Good. Follow my lead and don’t go off all halfcocked. You’ll put us all in jeopardy.” Saint wanted to tell him to shut the fuck up, but kept his mouth shut. Sienna was his, and he’d do whatever necessary to get her back.

With each step bringing them closer to her, Saint’s mind spun with what he might see. But he couldn’t do that. Focus he told himself, focus.

They reached the side of the building and the first thing he saw through a small window made him bite his tongue. A small figure was curled up on the floor. It wasn’t moving. Fuck! his mind screamed. Then he breathed through his fear. That wasn’t Sienna he thought. The figure was too small, too thin. Was it Sienna’s mother? Was she dead? Where was Sienna? And then he heard footsteps. It sounded liked someone was pacing. And then the sound stopped.

“Where the fuck is the money?”

Was that moaning? Sienna? Moving at the noise to go around Gunner the man caught Saint’s shoulder and forced his back against the wall.

“There is no money,” Saint heard Sienna say. She was alive. Then Sienna screamed.

“Stay here,” Gunner whispered.

“Fuck that!” he bit out through clenched teeth.

Gunner kicked in the door and Saint followed. Instinct took over. Shots were fired and Saint dove to the side. Gunner grunted and hit the floor but then rolled when Marco fired his gun. Saint’s eyes scanned wildly for Sienna and saw her in the corner on a dirty mattress. The sight of her had his eyes filling with relief and then he looked closer. While chaos echoed throughout the shack Saint raced to get to Sienna. He tripped and fell. He groaned when he realized he’d fallen on Sienna’s mother, her eyes open staring blankly up to the ceiling. His stomach took a dive and it was all he could do to keep from vomiting. He couldn’t control his need to touch Sienna and took a rough hold of her arms and she screamed.

“It’s me baby. It’s me.” She stilled. He reached to unknot the blindfold that was too tight around her head. She started to struggle. “Sienna, hold still. Hold still baby. I’ve got you.”

She started to cry “Saint? You’re not dead. Oh, God. You’re not dead. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. I love you. I love you.”

“I know, baby.” She rocked back and forth making it more difficult to release her bindings that cut into her wrists and ankles. When he finally got the last one undone she fell into his arms. “I love you too,” he said. “Come on we need to get you out of here,” but he was stopped as she grabbed his face with shaking hands.

“I’m sorry I was so hateful. I didn’t mean what I said. I was scared.” Sienna kissed him and pulled back quickly when she hissed from the contact. He was about to look at the cut on her lip when she looked up at him with frantic eyes. “Danny? Where’s Danny?”

“I don’t know.” Saint looked around and saw that Marco was dead, Gunner nowhere in sight. “We thought he was with you.”

“He…he was.” She started to shiver, the shock of what she’d endured taking hold. “But, but, then Marco took him outside. He was screaming and yelling at Marco, telling him to leave me alone.” She grabbed onto his shirt. “Marco said he was going to teach Danny a lesson. Did you see him outside? He was already hurt so badly. He couldn’t have withstood anymore, Saint.” More tears stained her cheeks and Saint wiped them away and kissed each one as they continued to fall.

“We’ll find him.” He lifted her chin and saw that her lip was swollen and encrusted with blood that had cracked open again from their kiss. She had a bruise on her head to match his own. And who knows what else. “Can you walk?”

“I think so.” She started to get up and gasped. “Marco kicked me in the ribs.” Saint wished the asshole was still alive so he could kill him all over. When they came to the door Saint giving all his attention to Sienna, she moaned. He thought he’d somehow hurt her. But when he saw Sienna’s stricken face he looked up to see Gunner carrying Danny from a narrow path in the woods at almost a run.

“I need to get Danny to the hospital,” Gunner yelled. When he reached the porch he set Danny down, his body like that of a rag dolls. “I’m getting my ride. Make sure he stays awake. His pulse…” Gunner stopped speaking and swallowed hard. He shook his head and took off running.

“Danny?” Sienna said as she moved to look down at him. His breaths were erratic and his eyes were glassy.

Danny looked up to Sienna. “You…okay?” the small voice asked. Saint came up next to Sienna and looked over her shoulder. When Danny saw Saint, his eyes widened.

“She’s okay Danny. Everything’s okay.”

“Mom…arrested.”

“She was, yes. So was your grandfather.”

Danny closed his eyes.

“Danny! Open your eyes. Open your eyes honey,” Sienna said through her tears. The boy did as she asked but Saint could tell it was difficult.

“We’re going to get you to the hospital.”

“Okay,” the whisper was even smaller now. He closed his eyes again and exhaled.

“Danny?” Sienna said. “Danny!”

Gunner just hit the porch when she started to scream. He grabbed the boy up and raced to the open door of his SUV crawled into the back with the boy. Saint did his best to get Sienna in too and propped her up as close to Danny as possible. “You drive,” Gunner said, and threw his keys at Saint, never taking his eyes off the boy while Saint hit the accelerator and gunned it toward the hospital. He only hoped they made it in time.

Sep 08

This Is Your Brain on Sentences

the-high-mountains-of-portugalWords express emotions, actions and sensations. Both short Hemingway-ish power sentences and long clause-embedded beauties force me to marvel at the craft, inventive structure and grammatical placement. I go back, reread and savor an author’s phrase word by word. Reading is good food for the brain.

Now science proves what literature already knew. Neuroscience News reveals a study about predicting the areas of the brain activated by words in a sentence. Previous studies mapped the brain on the meanings associated with words. For example, the article cites the word “play” which triggers brain areas associated with biomotion and arousal. With a deliberate thought to brain play, it’s time now to hunt for some examples of brain tingling responses.

A perfect source of material is Yann Martel’s The High Mountains of Portugal. For readers of Life of Pi, Martel’s latest book combines unusual characters with somber themes, apes, and a special something extra of magical realism on the top. I listened to the audio book first and then sought the written copy to reread my favorite parts. Heck, I pretty much reread the whole book. The pure escape of Martel’s writing saved me when I had an unpleasant chore to tackle. Plugging my brain into Martel’s Portugal transformed the experience.

Lingering Despair

The novel begins with a quirky character Tomas who is heartbroken from the death of his son and the woman he loved. “ . . . he is ambushed by a memory of Dora, smiling and reaching out to touch him. For that, the cane is useful, because memories of her always throw him off balance” (Martel 2).

Martel uses the uncle to ask, “Why? Why are you doing this? Why don’t you walk like a normal person?” (9) My brain sympathizes with Tomas’ sadness and his peculiar manner of walking. Martel explains that “what his uncle does not understand is that in walking backward, his back to the world, his back to God, he is not grieving. He is objecting. Because when everything cherished by you in life has been taken away, what else is there to do but object?” (12).

Pestering Itch

Tomas begins his own quest for a sacred artifact in the high mountains. Preserving the past, the legends, and the myths, the mountains are also primitive and resist the modern. Soon, Tomas “is itchy all over, in a manner that is absolutely maddening, precisely because he is a tornado of vermin, with a civilization of lice, fleas, and whatnot dancing upon his head” (Martel 82). And ten pages later, my own skin crawls with imaginary lice. I feel Tomas’ relief when “he raises his ten fingers in the air. His blackened fingernails gleam. With a warlike cry, he throws himself into the fray. He rakes his fingernails over his head-the top, the sides, the nape–and over his bearded cheeks and neck.” And the scratching and grunting satisfaction continued for several pages, but I turn down the volume and glance around to see if any of the neighbors have come to find the source of such groans.

Nauseating Unease

Autopsy is common on the prime time television series. Martel cleverly calls “every dead body . . . a book with a story to tell, each organ a chapter, the chapters united by a common narrative” (137). My lessons in anatomy are limited to life drawing classes. Dissections ended in ninth grade biology with a starfish and frog. And my experiences with decay are limited to the latest zombie movie or the refrigerator crisper drawer. Martel lures squeamish readers, like me, into the examiner’s office. The coroner, Eusebio, “is used to being greeted by the Mortis sisters when he comes to work. The oldest, Algor, chills the patient to the ambient temperature; Livor, the middle sister, neatly applies her favourite colour scheme–yellowish grey to the top half of the patient and purple-red to the bottom half, where the blood has settled–and rigor, the youngest, so stiffens the body that bones can be broken if limbs are forced. They are cheery ones, these sisters, eternal spinsters who ravish innumerable bodies” (Martel 190). From here, the author dives deep into the stages of decay in the days after death. He pushes the descriptions to the limit; I can’t take any more. My brain on full revolt warns to avert my eyes and cover my ears. It was almost too much. It was too much. But then, before I look away, something unexpected happens. Something magical. Something beautiful. Something unreal. I want to believe. However, I also wanted to believe the notion of Pi training a tiger on a rescue boat in the middle of the ocean.

The High Mountains of Portugal is a successful storytelling rich for study. Other areas of study might include theme, structure, and magical realism. In every post, I highlight an author’s unique writing with a specific goal to avoid spoiling the reader’s full enjoyment of the plot and the story.

Sep 06

Trip of a Lifetime – Australia and New Zealand: Part 5

Tuesday, April 5: Our group gathered in the hotel lobby for a visit to a predominately Maori school, Kaitao Middle School in Rotorua. Kaitao is a recipient of Grand Circle Travel donations. Roger again acted as our chief for purposes of introductions. A few selected students and staff welcomed each of us with the traditional Maori greeting. The Maoris greet a person by shaking right hands while placing the left hand on the person’s right shoulder and leaning forward touching foreheads to breathe in the person’s essence. The students sang a Maori song for us and we sang God Bless America for them. This school’s philosophy is to create a positive atmosphere for their students encouraging them to embrace their culture and to learn about others.

After a scenic drive to Auckland, we had a casual late lunch at Sal’s Authentic NY Pizza pizzeria. While there, a game on their TV attracted our attention. The NCAA Basketball Championship game between Villanova and North Carolina was in its final half. The game was so exciting that we didn’t want to leave. We ordered more pizza and cheered on whichever team we favored. The commotion we made prompted people walking past the small pizzeria to peek in. The teams were tied at 74 with less than a second to go. It looked like overtime would decide the winner. Suddenly the place inside and out erupted into loud cheers when Kris Jenkins’ three-pointer with four-tenths of a second remaining won the game for Villanova. Final score 77 to 74. What a great unexpected addition to our trip. We returned to the hotel and relaxed on our own for the rest of the day.

Wednesday, April 6: The first activity of the day for half the group was to sail on the Pride of the Sail in Auckland Harbour. The boat was operated by Brad at the helm and Brook as his assistant. What fun we each had taking our turn at the helm. Afterward, our half of the group exchanged places with the others and enjoyed a Harbour City Walk. An alternate option was a visit to the Maritime Museum.

The coach then took the entire group on a two-hour site seeing tour of Auckland. Our farewell dinner at the hotel was spectacular and delicious. A member of our group asked Roger to read aloud a prayer expressing her appreciation for the warm friendship of her fellow travelers and her wonderful experience on the trip. I couldn’t help but shed a few tears at her heartfelt words. Another member wrote a beautiful poem about our fun group and her great experience on the trip. We ended with hugs, kisses, and promises to try to keep in touch. This farewell dinner gave us a chance to say goodbye to those who were leaving this portion of the tour to return home while the rest of us continued for a few more days of travel.

Thursday, April 7: On our way to the Bay of Islands, we stopped at an impressive bird sanctuary run by a man and his wife. We learned about the kiwi, the national bird of New Zealand. Other birds also were housed there. In their one-room museum, we saw many pictures of birds, several stuffed birds, and pictures from visiting students illustrating what they learned at the sanctuary.

After our stop, we continued on the scenic ride to Copthorne Hotel and Resort in Paihia. Dinner at the hotel was followed by a relaxing evening where some of the remaining members of the tour group sat on the porch to socialize while overlooking the Bay of Islands.

Friday, April 8: At the wharf at Paihia, we boarded the Hole in the Rock Cruise boat. During the cruise, we saw about twenty playful bottlenose dolphins and other wildlife. The weather cooperated and we were able to cruise through the hole in the rock, a fascinating rock formation at the entrance to the Bay of Islands. On the return trip, Roger and some others climbed to the highest point on one of the islands from which they had a beautiful 360-degree panoramic view of the Bay of Islands. We stopped for lunch in the historical quaint town of Russell. We cruised back to the wharf, did a little site seeing, and later had an evening meal on our own.

Saturday, April 9: In the morning, our group took a guided tour of the Waitangi Treaty Grounds. That afternoon Roger and a friend played golf at the nearby course overlooking the Bay of Islands. Some people went to the waterfall, while the rest of us relaxed at the hotel.

Our dinner meal at the Only Seafood Restaurant on the stunning Paihia waterfront was delicious. Ronan and Roger ate green-lipped mussels in curry sauce. They were a sight to behold sucking the mussels from the shells and licking the dripping sauce from their fingers. The rest of us dined on less messy, but still tasty seafood.

Sunday, April 10: We loaded our packed bags on the coach for our return to Auckland. On the way, we stopped at the Glow Worms Cave for a tour. A few of us opted not to take that tour which included lots of descending stairs. We remained on the bus and socialized. Our next stop was the Jet Park Airport Hotel where we stayed in preparation for a 4:10 am departure the next morning. We had our dinner meal at the hotel and slept for a few hours.

Monday, April 11: Check-out time came much too early for this night owl. We took the shuttle bus to the airport. Ronan flew with us to Sydney, his hometown, and reminded us that we had to set our watches back two hours. Qantas served a satisfying hot breakfast on the flight to Sydney.

The crazy saga of our return home began when the Qantas flight was well over an hour late departing the Sydney Airport due to some mechanical problem. Not a very comforting announcement to hear. Roger said with that delay we might miss our Delta flight out of Los Angeles. After about 15 hours of flying, we arrived at the zoo, I mean, L. A. Airport, to retrieve our bags. We found numerous long lines at immigration. There were only two people handling the line we were in and one left for a break. Grrrr! Passengers in other lines who were behind us got through faster than we did.

Finally, another immigration agent arrived to process us. From immigration, we walked forever to the curbside Delta check-in. A couple of ladies in front of us gave the skycap a hard time about paying for their overweight luggage delaying us even more. Upon reaching the front of the check-in line, the skycap said that we were one minute too late to get checked in. The machine locked the skycap out. He hurried inside to find someone who could override the machine. This took another 10 minutes. Our plane was scheduled to depart at 9:20 am and it was already 8:45. His supervisor overrode the machine to check us in and gave us boarding passes.

Usually we go through the faster TSA line, however, our boarding passes didn’t indicate TSA pre-check. So we were directed to the regular, longer security line. Ugh. It was now 8:58. I did as the man at security suggested and politely asked to take cuts from people ahead of us who had later flights. They all said yes. This cut a couple of minutes off our time in the security line. Fortunately, my knee and hip replacements didn’t set off the machine. Yea!

It was about 9:09 when we finished. Roger grabbed his shoes and ran in sock feet to the gate a short distance from security. I can’t run, but I did a very fast walk to the gate with untied shoes. We arrived at the gate at 9:14. Luckily we were allowed to board only because they were still boarding a few other passengers. Apparently, that plane was also a little late. Thank goodness. I settled into my seat, exhausted, but grateful that we didn’t miss the Delta flight home.

The craziness of our flight out of Sydney and the delays at the LA Airport did not distract from our wonderful learning experience in Australia and New Zealand. I can’t thank my husband enough for adding this trip to my bucket list. We can’t wait for our next travel adventure.

Sep 05

My List of Top Ten Things Wrong With Resident Evil 6

In my August 2016 blogpost, I stated that the 2012 video game, Resident Evil 6, deserved its own list of nitpicks. It’s my opinion that RE6’s developers went way overboard in terms of content, and it resulted in one of the most flawed video games I’ve ever played.  Though none of the previous games in the series is entirely perfect, the one thing that they all have going for them is that they operated on a small scale.  Generally, each is limited to 1-3 main characters that the player can control throughout the game and take place in areas that are limited in scope.

2016-9Sept-Photo1

From L to R – Jake, Sherry, Chris, Piers, Helena, Leon, Ada (photo credit below)

RE6 upped the ante by giving the player their choice of seven separate characters to play – four returning from previous games and three newcomers – and having the action taking place in the United States, China, and somewhere in Eastern Europe, as well as on a submarine, a jumbo passenger jet, an aircraft carrier, and a deep-sea oil rig. I feel that both elements ended up hurting the game since more time was spent on their development than on crafting a solid story. (Photo credit)  As if the game didn’t suffer enough with its wider character selection and global scale, I found RE6’s many monsters either annoying or over-the-top.  If the developers had spent as much time working out the kinks in the narrative as they did designing the characters, creatures, and environments, the game would be much more enjoyable.

While I have my share of problems with this game, I don’t hate it as much as many players whose scathing reviews I’ve seen. I consider myself pretty open-minded, and one of the things I do like is how RE6 has four separate campaigns that each contain a piece of a much larger story.

Before I delve into a breakdown on what irked me the most about RE6, I’ll start with an overview of each of the four scenarios.  Government agent Leon Kennedy strives to expose the mastermind behind a string of outbreaks and teams with a rogue Secret Service agent named Helena Harper who was coerced into committing acts of terrorism.  Captain Chris Redfield of the Bioterrorism Security Assessment Alliance (B.S.A.A.) seeks revenge against a female terrorist who decimated a military team he commanded, while Chris’ protégé, Piers Nivans, strives to keep him from crossing the line.  NSA operative Sherry Birkin undertakes a mission to find and protect a mercenary named Jake Muller, whose blood may hold the key to neutralizing a new manmade virus that’s been unleashed on the world.  And corporate spy Ada Wong launches her own investigation when she discovers she will be made a scapegoat for these new acts of bio-terrorism.  For anyone who may not have played this game but would like to, please be warned that there are spoilers ahead.

And now, on with the list.

10) Leon has an insane amount of patience.

After being forced to kill the zombified U.S. President, Adam Benford, at the start of her and Leon’s story, Helena comments out loud that the President’s death is her fault.  Each time Leon questions her for an explanation throughout the first two chapters of their campaign, she continually makes excuses for procrastinating.  Even though he was close friends with President Benford and only just met Helena, I can understand Leon letting it slide once or twice.  But it’s a wonder he doesn’t lose it after she blows him off a total of five times.  What makes the scenario even more insane is that when Helena finally does reveal what going on, her whole character is called into question.  At the end of the second chapter, she discloses that she was compromised because her sister’s life was on the line.

9) Psychological trauma, what’s that?

Chris’ story kicks off with him going AWOL after the loss of almost his entire squad, trying to lose himself in a bottle as a means of forgetting.  Piers tracks his former captain down after six months have gone by with the intention of bringing him back into the fold.  Yet, the immediate response of everyone in the B.S.A.A. is to throw Chris right back in the field without any treatment whatsoever.  It’s even more boggling that Chris has any sense left in between coming off a serious drinking binge, suffering from PTSD, and later obsessively pursuing the woman who killed his teammates.

8) Might as well have a neon sign that says ‘I’m up to no good.’

One of the things I found most puzzling about Resident Evil 6 were the gargantuan humanoid creatures called Ogroman in Chris’ campaign.  For the sake of argument, I will say that RE6’s villainess, Carla, was the one who manufactured the enormous beasts encountered by the protagonists.  I will also assume that she wanted to keep her activities hidden from the game’s other villain, Simmons, so he wouldn’t swoop in and shut her down.  Yet she still tempts fate and blatantly throws several creatures that are larger than a two-story house at the military, as well as spearheads a bio-terrorist organization called Neo-Umbrella.  Since Simmons is a character who has government connections, likes to maintain order, and stay on top of things, it’s a wonder that Carla is able to operate unhindered for at least a six-month period.

7) The villains who wield far too much power.

I can understand the need for RE6’s game designers, after the apparent death of the series’ supervillain, Wesker, in the fifth game, to come up with a bad guy or two worthy of filling the void.  Yet both Carla and Simmons are able to get away with an awful lot.  Between the two of them, they lay claim to a total of three or four enormous secret facilities or bases, orchestrate a presidential assassination, destroy a U.S. city with a guided missile, cause not one but two massive outbreaks that kill at least half a million people, put a big dent in the forces of a global militaristic organization, manufacture one of the most destructive genetic-altering viruses present in the Resident Evil series, and almost bring about the end of the world.  On top of all that, either Carla or Simmons has an aircraft carrier, an oceanic oil rig, and a nuclear sub in their possession.  Dead or not, I imagine that Wesker has to envy these two for greatly outdoing him in the very game that marks their first appearance.

6) Daddy issues.

I consider Sherry and Jake’s campaign the most polished and straightforward out of the four, but I also feel that it held a wasted goldmine of dramatic elements that could easily have been brought into the story.  Midway through their campaign, Jake discovers that the father he’s never known is none other than the late Albert Wesker.  If it were up to me, I would have put more emphasis on how Jake deals with the revelation that his absentee dad was the world’s most wanted bioterrorist.  It would have been interesting to see more of Jake’s transition from a selfish, greedy soldier of fortune at the start of the game to a character who aims to be the antithesis of everything his father stood for.  Even the scene between Jake and his dad’s greatest rival, Chris, toward the end could have been better written and a much more defining moment, for both of them. Instead, Jake, who has shown hatred toward his father through interactions with Sherry, is inexplicably angry at Chris for having killed Wesker.

5) Carla shares Simmons’ obsession with Ada?

The source of the conflict between the two villains in RE6 has an interesting basis, even if the plot itself was not well thought out.  More than a decade prior to the events in the game, Simmons was deeply infatuated with Ada, to the point that he didn’t take it well when she left him.  He spent a great deal of time experimenting with genetics and harming countless people in an attempt to create a doppelganger.  He ultimately succeeded with his devoted lab assistant, Carla, who he brainwashed to behave like the real Ada.  This scheme backfired when Carla regained her memory and went mad with thoughts of revenge.  The one thing I find the most unbelievable about this whole scenario is that Carla makes no attempt to change her appearance once she remembers.  Throughout an entire game that takes place over a six month period, both Ada and Carla have hairstyles that are a perfect match. One could argue that Carla made sure she’d be indistinguishable from the real Ada when it came to framing her.  But given that Carla’s master plan was to destroy the world, why bother?

4) Time for a career change.

From the time of her first appearance in Resident Evil 2 in 1998, Ada has never been known as anything other than a freelance spy.  One can assume that she enjoys what she does or she wouldn’t still be at it by the time the sixth game rolls around in 2012.  While it’s puzzling why Carla even attempts to pin the latest string of terrorist attacks on her, there is a plot element toward the end of Ada’s campaign that makes even less sense.  A peek into Ada’s thoughts reveals that she intends to destroy any evidence that would prove she’d played no part in instigating the attacks.  Unless being labeled as a bioterrorist is some weird way of increasing her notoriety or deepening the pool of people looking to hire her, Ada must really be begging to spend the rest of her days behind bars if any law enforcement agency or the military ever catch her.

3) Zombies on a plane.

My explanation for the plane crash that occurs in chapter 4 of Leon’s campaign is that the game developers must have really wanted a grand spectacle to mark Leon and Helena’s arrival in China.  But the events leading up to it are just plain idiotic.  The buildup to this scenario is as follows.  Leon learns from one of his allies that Simmons is en route to China, and Leon and Helena book a flight in pursuit.  Sometime during the last leg of their trip, the heroes discover that the pilot has fallen victim to a virus and has mutated into a horrific creature that is infecting everyone on board, except for the protagonists.  The game’s biggest mystery is that it never explains how or why the pilot is targeted.  By this point, Simmons had just been made aware by Ada that Carla is on a rampage, so his focus had to be primarily on dealing with her.  And it’s doubtful Carla would set her sights on eliminating Leon and Helena out of nowhere since she pretty much ignores them throughout the whole game.  Unless there was an unknown third villain in play operating from the shadows, it would have been impossible for anyone to start an epidemic aboard a specific jet that had been in the air for roughly twelve hours.

2) Just die already!

Generally, I’m someone who likes a challenge and to square off with any game’s final boss that takes extra time and effort to triumph against.  But RE6 sets the bar ridiculously high when it comes to Leon and Helena battling against Simmons.  Within minutes of being exposed to Carla’s specially-made viral cocktail, Simmons mutates into an oversized canine-like creature and is seemingly stopped when he gets dragged underneath a bullet train that subsequently derails.  But it doesn’t stop there.  For Round Two, he transforms into a mutant T-Rex and seemingly dies again after getting pumped full of lead.  Round Three sees him go back to his first stage mutation and supposedly bite it when Ada stabs him in the side and drops him into a raging inferno.  For the final round, he becomes a giant housefly – God,I wish I was kidding about this – and is ultimately defeated after several lightning strikes courtesy of a metal antenna that gets stuck in him and getting shot by a rocket launcher. And yet what finally kills him is that he reverts to his human self, gets impaled on an obelisk, and bleeds out.  To say all of this is overkill is a vast understatement.

1) If the monsters don’t get you, the camera angles will.

One thing that annoyed me the most about RE6 aside from the many plot holes was a certain game mechanic that got me killed more than once.  Sometimes, when my character was running from something dangerous, the tendency of the camera view to shift by a 90 or 180 degree angle without warning often resulted in said character sprinting in the wrong direction.  This aspect was never more frustrating than when I was playing the last chapter in Chris’ campaign and had to run up this inclined spiral walkway to get away from a giant creature that was after me.  The game keeps track of how many times you’re killed, and in all other chapters, my death count averaged from 3-5.  For Chris’ final chapter, I got killed well over a hundred times before I got it right.  To give an idea, here is a video recorded by another player of the scenario in question.

For a game that has this many flaws, you might ask why I’m in the minority of people who don’t flat out hate it. I would say that as a writer with a very vivid imagination, I see ways in which those imperfections can be corrected.  I have even done so through writing my own What-If fanfiction stories.  I am currently working on an alternate take of the events in the fifth game, a story titled Tangled Web. And I have some ideas in store for a sequel to said story that will borrow the best elements from RE6.

And, whenever I get around to writing my planned fanfiction sequel to Tangled Web, I can guarantee a cooler climax than battling a giant insect.

Sep 01

Editor’s Log: Writing and Fantasy Football

fantasyfootball

In the United States it’s football (not the soccer version) season. The final preseason games are played and the first games of the season start in a week. As the coaching staff and players get ready for the season, the millions of leagues are ramping up with drafts and strategies for the season launch. As I participate in this pastime, my draft is tonight, I’m reminded of how this manic high energy experience is like writing deadlines.

There is a planning and flow to writing. It’s easy to be immersed in the process. The writing work is hard and mentally taxing as you push forward to perfect that phrase, clarify a meaningful section, or rethink the character motivations. Everything has to be in its best shape for the deadline.

The editor or publisher want to receive a finished copy. The days, if they really existed, of the author turning in a manuscript that needed much revision or editing are over. Get it as clean as possible as if you were about to self-publish. This is true of a blog article or book.

In the world of fantasy sports, football in particular, the time for reading endless articles on players, listening to pundits debate about the sleepers and busts, and checking last minute information on injuries and disciplinary actions is over. Tonight my draft starts.

Fortunately, my upcoming book, “So All Can Learn: A Practical Guide to Differentiation” is with the publisher. Deadline checked off.

Now I can relax–

Oh, wait, I’ve got to prepare for the 1st week lineup against my first football opponent. And, I have to prepare all of the marketing for my upcoming book! The work is never done, but well worth the experience. 🙂