Trabia Garden

Here is an entry of bullet points, because today I have nothing to say that exceeds a paragraph.


- I'm a little further in Tales of the Abyss, and GUY CECIL IS SUCH A GOOD FRIEND. I want to be friends with Guy Cecil. Sadly, his phobia of being touched by women presents an obstacle to hugging, but other than that I think we could get along pretty well. (I'd have to accept that Luke would always be his priority, of course, but it would be unreasonable of me to grumble when his fondness for Luke is the reason I want to be friends with him in the first place.)

- Verdict on the fourth instalment of Higurashi, 'Himatsubushi': NO KEIICHI, TERRIBLE INSTALMENT. I'm here to fondly watch Keiichi suffer, Higurashi! I signed up for psychological horror and teenagers internally collapsing, not cop drama!

- There's also a sad lack of Keiichi in instalment five ('Meakashi') so far, but at least it's got the 'teenagers internally collapsing' aspect (and Keiichi's name appeared in the puzzling opening credits that only actually credited fictional characters, rather than any real people, so I suspect he'll show up later on). 'Meakashi' also contains a version of a song I listened to a lot nine years ago, and it was incredibly disconcerting to hear it in context and go 'wait, I recognise that tune'; I'd forgotten Higurashi was the original source! It was like seeing Troy bring pizza into the burning room in Community and going WAIT, I'VE SEEN THIS GIF.

- Recently, I watched the first episode of a Ukrainian crime drama entitled THE SNIFFER, about a man who solves crime with his superhuman sense of smell. It contains, you'll be pleased to hear, intense CGI sequences where he draws in a deep breath at the crime scene and all the smells swirl and scurry around, forming a picture of what happened there. The killer was trying to quit smoking. He was wearing a nicotine patch; it was on his right arm. A whirlwind of scent surrounds you. There's so much blood in the air. If a cat enters the room, you will have an allergic reaction so strong you won't be able to leave your flat for three days. Your wife left you long ago; your son is involved in drug dealing. Why were you cursed with this incredible nose?

- (I said I wasn't playing Higurashi for cop drama, but I'd definitely play an instalment in which THE SNIFFER tried to get to the bottom of the mysterious happenings in the village.)

- A recent dream I somehow failed to record here: I dreamt I met Sherlock Holmes as played by Benedict Cumberbatch and he declared with ferocious pride that he had ‘all the penises’, and he stripped off his trousers and pants in one motion to reveal he had a cluster of one big penis surrounded by lots of tiny penises, and I woke up feeling incredibly troubled.

The modern-day Animus user in Assassin's Creed IV: Black Flag appears to be You, The Player; the present-day sections are in first-person, and nobody uses gendered language when referring to you, and you never see your character's skin or hear their voice. You're hired by Abstergo to go through Edward's memories, presumably for some sort of sinister purpose, and you get a little brochure saying 'hey, Abstergo's the best company ever and definitely not a front for an ancient evil order, and we're really excited about working with you! You're going to lead us into the future!'

And - I swear this is true - it made my impostor syndrome kick in. It took me a moment to realise my sudden bizarre distress was coming from a sense of 'oh, no, I'm not good enough to work for this evil corporation!'

(This shift in framing device presumably means Shaun Hastings is no longer writing the database entries. I am heartbroken.)


I've only just started Black Flag, so I don't have a huge amount to say about it yet, but I cracked up at the optional objective in an early mission. You've infiltrated a Templar meeting (practically by accident), they think you're one of them, and you're given the opportunity to pickpocket everyone there while they're standing around and talking. It's just so cheeky!

In previous Assassin's Creed games, I'd try to avoid pickpocketing people and chasing down couriers and killing guards unnecessarily. I'm a lot more relaxed about it when I'm playing as Edward Kenway. The first thing we see him do is kill a man and steal his clothes, after all. Altaïr killed people out of duty; Ezio killed people in an effort to improve society; Connor killed people to protect the people he cared about. Edward kills people because, hey, his life's a little more comfortable if they're dead.

It's interesting to think about how the character I'm playing as changes my playstyle. It's not just 'the more amoral a character I'm playing as, the more comfortable I am with theft and murder'. I'd generally at least try to be stealthy as Ezio, even though I'm terrible at stealth. As Connor, who's more straightforward and hates deceit (I was really confused by his 'trick the enemy by flying the British flag' plan towards the end of the game, because it didn't fit with my understanding of his character at all), I almost always fought in the open. You do have to try to get into the mindset of the character you're playing, I think. (This is probably part of the reason I've never played more than a few minutes of Grand Theft Auto V, even though I loved Red Dead Redemption. I... I don't want to get into Trevor's mindset.)

I just pulled open a door to an empty room. As I did so, a greeting card inside the room flew off its ledge and fluttered to the ground.

My second thought was 'well, obviously it was caught in the rush of air displaced by the door'.

My first thought was 'Sissel?'

Speaking of Sissel, I have now finished Ghost Trick: Phantom Detective! It is a fabulous, fabulous game. It also holds the distinction of making me shout 'WHAT' at a screen more than possibly anything else. In retrospect, a lot of things suddenly make sense in the light of various WHAT-inducing revelations! Regardless: what?

One of the many things I like about Ghost Trick is that you can rewind time in your efforts to save someone as many times as you like. In most games, if you fail, you fail, there's no hope left, and if you try again you're trying again in a new universe. Is that completely incoherent? If you have to go 'forget that, that never happened, restart' every time you get something wrong, you ultimately succeed in a sort of false universe in which you do everything perfectly the first time. The other universes, the ones in which you failed, are abandoned at the point of failure and left to fend for themselves. You get something wrong and you leap to a new universe, leaving the old one behind.

I AM MAKING NO SENSE AT ALL.

What I mean is that I like how your failure becomes part of the narrative in Ghost Trick. You're not scrubbing out your error entirely and pretending it never happened; you're rewinding time to have another go. Your failures become learning experiences, not only for you-the-player but for the characters. The universe in which you fail is the same universe as the one in which you later succeed, not some doomed universe left drifting and abandoned because you got something wrong.

I am not, of course, saying that every game should implement time travel as an explanation for why you get to retry things. That would be silly. But I do like the use of time travel in this particular game.

What on Earth am I talking about? I think the gist of this entry is 'I AM OVERLY CONCERNED ABOUT WHAT HAPPENS TO FICTIONAL UNIVERSES WHEN YOU HIT THE RESET BUTTON'. Ghost Trick is, I suppose, an appropriate game to inspire ridiculous existential musings.

I want to play it again immediately, even though I now know the answers to all of the puzzles. I love everything about this game. Apart from the stealth escort mission in the dark. That can go away, please. But I love everything else. Especially Sissel.

(On the subject of my ridiculous concern about fictional universes: part of the reason I want to play it again is so I can use the phone to hop around more. The time restriction imposed in the game meant that I always felt I had to go straight to the next objective, even though most of the game isn't really timed. So I'd like to explore more, find more optional scenes and so on. But there's a point towards the end at which you no longer have access to the phone lines. And I can't just stop playing then, because that means Sissel will never discover the truth.

I can't explain how my mind works.)

Good morning, [Subject Name Here].

A small percentage of test subjects may have difficulty emerging from deep sleep stasis. If you are still unconscious, please press the panic button on the far wall and follow the instructions.

Testing will begin shortly.

The portal will open in three... two... one...


I'm still not bored of the little desktop-ponies program. First-series Luna is my favourite desktop mascot; not only is she adorable, but she's unobtrusive enough for me to work comfortably while she's around, whereas somepony like Pinkie Pie is a terrible distraction.

(Talking about ponies in the presence of GLaDOS feels a bit weird. My Little Pony and Portal aren't really compatible fandoms. Although...)


The following [entry] may contain traces of classified information. If you read anything that you think you should not have read, such as [encoded test data] or [recipes for baked goods], please enter the Aperture Science Test Subject Memory Neutralisation Spike Pit.


I've been playing Portal 2's Commentary Mode on and off (it's so interesting! Why can't more videogames have commentary?), and this time, when I came to the conveyor belt carrying broken turrets to the furnace and I saw the turret that wasn't quite broken, I thought, Hey, I wonder if...

So I tried picking up the not-quite-broken turret and carrying it off the conveyor belt.

It said, 'Thank you.'

My heart, my heart, my heart. I'm sorry I shut down so many of your brethren, little turret, but in my defence they were trying to kill me.

Regarding the commentary itself: to my amusement and embarrassment, apparently playtesters frequently forgot they could go through portals in the test chamber that caught me out, so Valve programmed in a little pre-chamber section in which you had to go through a portal. And I still forgot that I could go through portals. I'm sorry, Valve; you did your best, but apparently I'm a hopeless case.

(Incidentally, have you seen this advertisement for the Long Fall Boots? Chell is so cool. I want to be her. Although ideally with slightly less undergoing incredibly dangerous tests at the will of passive-aggressive homicidal robots.)


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Red Dead Redemption, I love you. Why do you want to hurt me?

No, seriously. I'd just finished a mission, and a man on horseback came up to me and asked me to save his friend from being hanged. But I was on foot; I had to whistle and wait for my horse to arrive, and by the time I reached the scene I was too late.

And the man who'd asked me to help sank to his knees over the body of his friend and just cried.

It's not the first time a videogame has absolutely punched me in the soul, but it's definitely one of the hardest.

Less soulpunchingly, I found a nice spot to watch the sunrise with my horse, by the edge of an east-facing cliff, and then just as the sky began to turn pink wolves poured up over the ridge and ruined everything. But that's all right, because Marston stroked his horse while he was waiting. Adorable!

(My brother's game glitched bizarrely during the first Landon Ricketts mission, and Ricketts shot the crap out of his and Marston's hitched horses during a casual conversation. I would have been so distressed. YOU STAY AWAY FROM MY HORSE.)

The world of Red Dead Redemption is still absolutely beautiful. Even though that world is harsh and dangerous and from a time when women were treated like nothing, even though most of the people are seriously odd (I'm beginning to suspect that a Stranger mission is so called not because it's assigned to you by a stranger but because the people you help are stranger than one would like), even though I'd probably be killed within five minutes of being dropped into New Austin, there's still a part of my soul that sort of yearns for it. I've fallen completely in love with this setting.

Let's all talk about our favourite fictional settings! And, you know, how well or badly we'd actually cope if we happened to find ourselves there. (Maybe I'd try to find Marston, who, given his inclination to help even the strangest of strangers, would probably be willing to offer me protection. Oh, hang on, that's only if it's Marston-as-played-by-someone-like-me. I probably shouldn't take the risk of encountering Marston-as-played-by-someone-who-knifes-everyone. Besides, Marston gets himself shot at an awful lot, so if I stayed with him for protection I'd probably be in more danger than I would be on my own.)

I've always rather specialised in writing fanfiction with a potential audience of about three, but I think I may have hit upon my most obscure concept yet by scribbling down a few hundred words of interest only to people familiar with Patrick Jane (main character of The Mentalist, an American drama that, although fairly popular, doesn't have much of a fandom) and Victoria Coren (very minor English celebrity: columnist, poker player and unlikely one-time pornographer) and the rules of Texas Hold'Em. I could probably theoretically limit my audience further, but it'd be difficult; the only person I can think of who's familiar with all of those things is me. I suppose I could restrict it even from myself by filling the story with fishing jargon or heavily involving the shipping forecast.

It's just as well there's no audience, because I doubt I'll ever finish it. I only started writing this because I wanted Coren and Jane to shag, but they both flatly refuse to do so, Coren because Jane is wearing a wedding ring, what do you take her for, and Jane because of his billion issues. Jane's run off to investigate a murder instead, which was entirely not my intention. I'm so bad at controlling characters.

Anyway! This has got me thinking about 'nobody will read this, but I want to write it anyway' stories in general. Tell me the fic concepts you sort of want to write even though they have no potential audience! (Or the ones you've already written; I still remember the 'ohmygod what I can't believe someone actually wrote this' moment of innocently visiting my flist one day and finding River Cottage cannibalism fic, although I suppose that had more of a potential audience than most River Cottage fanfiction because, well, you'd have to look, wouldn't you?) Obviously, even stories for well-known fandoms can qualify if they involve a pairing with no following or cross over two fandoms with little demographic overlap or require very specialised knowledge: your secret stacks of Beiste/Pavarotti Glee fanfiction, for example, or Harry Potter and the Extraordinarily Complicated Mathematical Equation. Go on: do tell. And then write them. Write them all.

Another audienceless fic I sort of want to write: Tom/Karen from Waterloo Road. I appear to have started 'shipping them madly over the past couple of episodes. They could bond over their desperate and frequently failed efforts to be good parents! If more than three of you watched Waterloo Road, I'd be throwing out a desperate 'SOMEBODY WRITE THIS' plea here; as it is, if anyone's going to write it it'll have to be me.

(I'm thinking of deleting my crossover tag, because when a tag appears on well over a third of all your entries it sort of loses its usefulness. Hmm. Maybe I'll just rename it from 'insane crossovers' to 'crossovers', because I use it for all crossovers regardless of the amount of sense they make.)

An incident from my Jane Austen seminar earlier this week:

Tutor: It's a bit like Sherlock Holmes and Dr Watson: the genius detective and the really stupid--
Riona: WATSON IS NOT STUPID.
Entire Class: ...


BENEATH THE CUT: possibly the worst crossover idea I have ever had, presented in image form. Beware of flashing image.


( Jedward Cullen? )


I don't know why his clothes are also sparkling. Evidently he is just that sparkly. (And I really don't know why his trousers aren't sparkling if his jacket is. Well, all right, the practical reason is 'the sparkling was starting to hurt my eyes'. Perhaps the trousers are made of extremely dense sparkle-suppressing material.)

To those of you who are not familiar with The X Factor and therefore do not know who these gentlemen are: you are fortunate. Allow me to destroy that fortune with an educational video clip. (WARNING: bad singing. Really, really bad singing. Bad dancing. Bad outfits. These guys are absolutely appalling and bring me so much joy. I laugh uncontrollably every time I watch this clip.)

SO I KNOW WHAT I SHALL NOW BE PICTURING WHENEVER I ENCOUNTER ANYTHING TWILIGHT-RELATED.


Last night, I dreamt that I went to an open-air Supernatural convention on the islands around Sandover Village (Jak and Daxter). Jared and Jensen snogged each other, to amuse the fangirls, and then Jared kissed me (not in front of the fandom, although I remember thinking 'augh, what if someone sees? the fandom will hate me'), presumably to amuse himself. He was very sweet about it. I may now have a bit of a dream-induced crush.

Today, I rushed from London to Brighton for a seminar that, I discovered upon arrival, had been cancelled.

Mildly put out, I returned to my Brighton abode, where I found a large and intriguing-looking package waiting for me. The details on the back informed me that the sender was a Vayne Aurelius, who, I discovered after a quick Googling, is the protagonist of a game called Mana Khemia: Alchemists of Al-Revis.

This was perplexing.

I opened the package to find a copy of The Thackery T. Lambshead Pocket Guide to Eccentric & Discredited Diseases, the editors of which, according to the blurb, 'received their medical degrees in a dream', and a rather charming and apologetic note from Mr Aurelius, written on the back of a 'Combat Basics 1' exercise sheet ('What to do if you encounter an extraterrestial:'), in which he explained that someone had wished that he send me the book and expressed his hope that I didn't mind receiving it. Inside the book was an empty envelope, on which was written 'To my dear Wainwright, with affectionate regards, Lady Cloudesley'.

I am deeply, deeply confused, and I have absolutely no idea who is responsible, but thank you so much! (I love the level of detail that's gone into this.)


I'm not participating in National Novel Writing Month this year, but I've decided that I'm going to try to at least write something every day during the month of November, whether it's a snippet or a full fic or part of a work in progress. Yesterday, I wrote a tiny clip of Jane and Cho snogging in the interrogation room; today, I am calling upon you to help me.


Give me a prompt, and I'll write you a ficsnippet. Multiple requests are more than welcome!


Feel free to request from anything you know I know! (Requesting from things you don't know I know is acceptable, but in that case it would probably be an idea to include a request or two from something you know I know as well, so you don't end up with 'BARNEY WAS A PERSON (PROBABLY). HE WAS PLAYED BY NEIL PATRICK HARRIS (I THINK, BUT I THINK EVERYONE'S PLAYED BY NEIL PATRICK HARRIS, SO I CAN'T BE SURE). HOW I MET YOUR MOTHER IS A SITCOM, SO AMUSING THINGS PROBABLY HAPPENED. THE END.') Crossovers and the like are, of course, fine.

(I'd be delighted if you made Mentalist requests, but please bear in mind that I'm only just starting to write these characters, so I'm still trying to get to grips with them. I've seen up to the first-season finale.)

Make as many requests as you'd like (and please don't feel you have to know me well to request a snippet); as I've said, I'm going to be trying to write every day, so any prompts would be gratefully received. Thank you!

Passing on a recommendation from kadrin: Iji is an excellent little free action-platformer. What really tempted me to play it was the fact that, if you choose to go through it whilst killing as few enemies as possible, the game recognises that and responds: the notes you find from enemies say 'hmmm, not sure what's going on with that human, she doesn't seem to be killing anyone' rather than 'oh God oh God she's going to destroy us all'; the dialogue in cutscenes is different. My housemate thinks I'm mad for downloading a shooter-platformer and then going 'YAY NOT SHOOTING ANYONE', but I think it's a rather nice touch. Also, the music is great, and I love reading all the logbooks.


I have a strange urge to write Satoshi/Daisuke DN Angel fanfiction. Here is the difficulty with Satoshi/Daisuke: writing something cute and fluffy and requited (and also a bit creepy, because Satoshi is involved, but mostly cute) is tempting, but it is almost impossible when Satoshi could snog Daisuke until his tongue broke off and Daisuke would still probably think he was just being friendly.

BE LESS OBLIVIOUS, DAISUKE.

The other difficulty is, of course, my complete inability to write anything lately. There are so many things I want to write! Why have you abandoned me, words?


Actually, here is a meme that may help! (Or not!)

Post a little weensy excerpt from as many random works-in-progress as you can find lying around. Who knows? Maybe inspiration will burst forth and do something, um, inspiration-y.

Let's see what we have here.


( Merlin/RPF: Bradley James wakes up in Camelot. )


( Time-Travelling Sky Pirates of Ivalice: Balthier, Fran and Captain Jack Harkness. )


( Prison Break: Michael Scofield is a real person, and everyone in his life is an actor. Spoilers up to the beginning of Season Three. )


( Top Gear/Torchwood/Silent Hill: Jeremy and James encounter Owen Harper. )


( Derren Brown/Kingdom Hearts: Derren is a Nobody. )


( Derren Brown/Supernatural: the Winchesters investigate mysterious psychic guy. )


( And three lines of Derren Brown working with Castiel. )


There is a very good chance that none of these will ever be finished, but I hope you enjoy the snippets, at least.