skribeworks

Family moments are far more ephemeral than we sometimes realise. While childhood stretches on (especially the school years), it barely lasts a couple of decades. To a kid that’s practically forever, but to an adult, it’s a blink of an eye, over way too fast.

I mention this because it’s becoming harder to arrange those moments where we spend time doing something, or going somewhere, as a family. It used to be that any of us (kids included) would spontaneously announce that we’d be going out for a walk, or to do a playground-crawl, or just head out for a meal, and we’d all just drop whatever we were doing and leave immediately. There was no hesitation or even complaints. Sadly, those days are long over.

What is The Glyphs?

The Glyphs is a multiple-choice game where you control the fate (and demise) of a gong farmer, as they explore the sewers beneath the Ancient City.

Just choose an option from the poll below, and the most popular option will decide what happens next. I’ll put out one of these every week.

Part 1 has been decided. Check out what happens in Part Two of The Glyphs.

The Three Body Problem is a science-fiction novel written by Liu Cixin. Originally serialised in Science Fiction World in 2006, the novel was subsequently published as a stand-alone Chinese-language version in 2008, with the English-language version (translated by Ken Liu) published by Tor Books in 2014.

However, it is a deeply flawed novel, beset with fundamental (even basic) faults. And yet it continues to be nominated (and even win) awards. It won the 2015 Hugo Award for Best novel, and was nominated for both the 2015 Nebula and Locus Awards.

My question is: WHY? It boggles my mind.

Anyway, here are the three biggest problems with The Three Body Problem.

I have just spent the last few days working out how to move my server. If you haven’t noticed any difference, then that’s good. However, if you notice some issues then please drop a comment and tell me, so I can fix it ASAP.

It’s been quite stressful. I haven’t done any real sys-admin work for more than a decade, and there’s always a worry that I’ve forgotten something. But at the moment, all seems good.

That wasn’t the case at about midday, when I had a blank site and no idea what was causing it. So if you encountered that during a recent visit, I’m sorry.

As usual for this time of year, there is a lot of discussion about changing the date for Australia Day. There are many reasons for doing so (which I won’t entertain here), but no clear alternative date. Here is a sketch I recently posted to Mastodon about the issues of choosing 9th May as Australia Day. It’s just a bit of fun.

Cast:

• PM: Prime Minister
• Q: Queensland
• NT: Northern Territory

I did not know Terry Bisson. In fact, I barely recognised his name when I saw John Scalzi’s post about his passing. On a whim, I did a little research.

I’m glad I did. I may not have remembered his name, but I loved his work.

I have had an AO3 account for more than a year. Almost eighteen months, to be exact. In the mad rush to publish Coils of the Serpent everywhere I could manage, I signed up — only to discover that AO3 frowns upon original works, preferring to remain a site reserved for fan fiction.

It has been a long time since I wrote any fan fiction. I wrote some back around 2013. It was a piece about my Elf Mage Warden from Dragon Age: Origins. From memory, it detailed the events following the end of the game. Unfortunately, I think I’ve lost it. At best, it’s located a computer some several thousand kilometres from my present home.

Of course I was distrustful. Even moreso once I actually saw the place.

I checked the message, written on a slip of grimy paper. The purple ink smudged. The address was right. Yet all I saw was an alley beside an old bombed-out department store.

I knew the store. I was glad to see it destroyed. My mother used to drag me through it for hours when I was little. She never bought anything, she just liked to look.

I crawled over the chunks of rotting concrete, careful not to get snagged on the lengths of twisted rebar. Or worse, cut. The smell of blood might draw the dogs.

I am happy. The street is clean and damp. I wait for my succulent loaf of bread, and my 453.6 grams of wholesome milk. The queue is not long. The people are cheerful and consistent.

Oh no!

A reckless man brushes past a small child. She spills her milk. The nourishing and satisfying food wasted.

“How am I supposed to defeat even one giant let alone an entire empire?” En fretted.

“You must out-think them,” Kobanongar the hunchback, told him.

“Even If I had the heads of the six smartest people, in my father’s kingdom, a single giant would be smarter.”

“If you had the heads of the six smartest people, you’d be considered a tyrant and have even bigger problems.” The Hunchback said, wryly.

“Are you going to help me or not?” En snapped. “You’re a wizard.  Can’t you do something?”

“I am but as you see me, Highness” the hunchback bowed low.  “I can do much, but I cannot lead your father’s armies against this foe.”

En snorted.