Sunlight Through The Shadows Volume III, Issue 2 Mar 1995 Editorial: The Internet........................Joe DeRouen Staff of STTS............................................. Special Survey for STTS Readers........................... >> --------------- Monthly Columns ---------------------<< >> --------------- Feature Articles --------------------<< >> ------------------- Reviews -------------------------<< >> ------------------- Fiction -------------------------<< >> ------------------- Poetry --------------------------<< >> ------------------- Humour --------------------------<< >> --------------- Advertisements ----------------------<< >> ----------------- Information -----------------------<< End Notes......................................Joe DeRouen Editorial: The Internet . . . Copyright (c) 1995, Joe DeRouen All rights reserved STTS has been exploring the Internet. There are worlds of information, news, games, and even oddities among the many, many parts of the Internet. Soon, STTS will join them. We're working on setting up a World Wide Web home page for Sunlight Through The Shadows Magazine. From there, you'll be able to download the current (and past issues!) of the magazine, send comments to some of the authors, and visit other links of interest. It should be great! Watch for more news as it develops! And speaking of Internet news, your editor just just become a level 60 immortal on The Farside MUD. (telnet to zeus.atinc.com 3000 to check it out) I've begun writing a newsletter for the MUD and have included a copy in this issue. It's in the Feature Articles section. Let me know what you think of it, and, if you stop by the MUD, be sure to tell AsaMaro hello. It's good for one free level, if you're a new player. :) If you're currently reading this in the Readroom or ASCII version, check out our new NeoBook version! Look for the file SUN9503N.ZIP and download it. It's chock full of exciting graphics, great sound, and all sorts of cool features. Kudos to Asst. Ed. Shawn Aiken for doing excellent work with this! That's all for now. See you at the races! Joe DeRouen March 1995 The Staff and Contributing Writers of Sunlight Through The Shadows ------------------------------------------------------------------ The Staff --------- Joe DeRouen............................Publisher and Editor L. Shawn Aiken.........................Assistant Editor Heather DeRouen........................Book Reviews Bruce Diamond..........................Movie Reviews Tamara.................................House Poet Thomas Van Hook........................Poetry Editor Joe DeRouen publishes, edits, and writes for STTS magazine. He's had poetry and fiction published in several on-line magazines and a few paper publications as well. He's written exactly 1.5 novels, none of which, alas, have seen the light of publication. He attends college part-time in search of that always-elusive english degree. In his spare time, he enjoys reading, running his BBS, collecting music, playing with his five cats, singing opera, hunting pseudopods, and most importantly spending time with his beautiful wife Heather. L. Shawn Aiken dropped out of college when he realized that they couldn't teach him the two things he wanted to do; live successfully, and write. He had to find out these things all by himself on the road. Thus he became a road scholar. After spending his life hopping country to country, state to state, he now feels confident in his abilities and is working on his literary career. His main endevour is to become successful in the speculative fiction area, but he enjoys writing all forms of literary art. Heather DeRouen writes software for the healthcare industry, CoSysOps Sunlight Through The Shadows BBS, enjoys playing with her five cats, cross-stitching, and reading. Most of all, she enjoys spending time with her dapper, charming, witty, and handsome (not to mention modest) husband Joe. Heather's help towards editing and proofreading this magazine has been immeasurable. Bruce Diamond, part-time pseudopod and ruler of a small island chain off the coast of Chil‚, spends his time imitating desk lamps when he isn't watching and critiquing movies for LIGHTS OUT, his BBS movie review publication (now syndicated to over 20 boards). Recently, Bruce became the monthly movie critic for VALLEY REVIEW MAGAZINE, published out of Pennsylvania. LIGHTS OUT, now two years old, is available through the Rime or P&B Networks by dropping a note to Joe DeRouen, courtesy of Sunlight Through The Shadows BBS. The magazine will soon be available through Fido file request and Internet FTP. In the Dallas area, Bruce's distributor is Jay Gaines' BBS AMERICA (214-994-0093). Bruce is a freelance writer and video producer in the Dallas/Fort Worth area. There is very little known about Tamara, and she prefers to let it remain that way. She's a woman of mystery and prefers to remain hidden in the shadows of the BBS world. (Enigmatic, don't you think?) Thomas Van Hook resides in Dallas, where he works as a contract employee for the Federal Reserve Automation Services. Having served eight years in the USAF, he is happy to finally be free and able to pursue the dreams of his heart. At the age of 29, he is looking forward to many new adventures and experiences within the realms of the Elven kind. He enjoys reading, writing, sports of all kinds, his son Corey and the attentions of any Elven women that seem interested (not necessarily in that order). Recently divorced, he is trying to restore order and balance to his life without losing what little is left of his sanity. Contributing Writers -------------------- Ed Davis...............................Fiction Albert Johnston........................Poetry Seth A. Robinson.......................Essay Daniel Sendecki........................Fiction, Poetry Ed Davis has been scribbling seriously or has at least enjoyed the electronic equivalent, since 1981. Prior to that, his literary efforts were confined to whatever scrap paper he could find on a work bench at break or lunch time, since he was spending his working hours making chips and money in the guise of a Journeyman Machinist. Married to the same lady for 26 years and with two children still hovering uncomfortably close to the nest, Ed continues to write down his thoughts electronically. Check out the file NEWBOOK.ZIP, available from STTS BBS, for more of his work. Daniel Sendecki is a young, emerging, Canadian writer who lives in Burlington, Ontario. Currently, Daniel is pursuing his writing interests at home but intends to study literature at McGill University, in Montreal, Quebec. Seth A. Robinson is the author of the bestselling BBS door games Legend of the Red Dragon and Planets: The Exploration of Space. STTS Survey Copyright (c) 1994, Joe DeRouen All rights reserved Please fill out the following survey. This article is duplicated in the ZIP archive as SURVEY.TXT. If you're reading this on-line and haven't access to that file, please do a screen capture of this article and fill it out that way. If all else fails, just write your answers down (on paper or in an ASCII file) and include the question's number beside your answer. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 1. Name: _____________________________________________________________ 2. Mailing address: __________________________________________________ __________________________________________________ __________________________________________________ __________________________________________________ 3. Date of birth: (Mm/Dd/YYyy) _______________________________________ 4. Sex: ______________________________________________________________ 5. Where did you read/download this copy of STTS Magazine? (Include BBS and BBS number, please) ___________________________________________________________________ ___________________________________________________________________ ___________________________________________________________________ 6. Do you prefer to read STTS while on-line or download it to read at your own convenience? ( ) On-Line ( ) Download 7. Are you a SysOp? ( ) Yes ( ) No (if "No", skip to 10) 8. If so, what is your BBS name, number, baud rate? ___________________________________________________________________ ___________________________________________________________________ ___________________________________________________________________ 9. Do you currently carry STTS Mag? ( ) Yes ( ) No ( ) I don't carry it, but I want to I carry STTS: ( ) On-Line, ( ) For Download, ( ) or Both 10. What do you enjoy the MOST about STTS Mag? ___________________________________________________________________ ___________________________________________________________________ ___________________________________________________________________ 11. What do you enjoy LEAST about STTS Mag? ___________________________________________________________________ ___________________________________________________________________ ___________________________________________________________________ 12. Please rate the following parts of STTS on a scale of 1-10, 10 being excellent and 1 being awful. (if no opinion, X) Fiction ___ Poetry ___ Movie reviews ___ Book reviews ___ CD Reviews ___ Feature Articles ___ Software reviews --- Humour --- Top Ten List --- Question&Answers ___ Editorial ___ ANSI Coverart ___ The Sports Page --- My View --- STTS BBS News --- RIP Coverart ___ Misc. Info --- 13. What would you like to see (or see more of) in future issues of STTS Mag? ___________________________________________________________________ ___________________________________________________________________ ___________________________________________________________________ ___________________________________________________________________ - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Return the survey to me via any of the following options: A) Pen & Brush Net - A PRIVATE, ROUTED message to JOE DEROUEN at site ->5320, in any conference. B) RIME Net - A PRIVATE, ROUTED message to JOE DEROUEN at site ->5320, in either the COMMON or SUNLIGHT THROUGH THE SHADOWS MAGAZINE conference. C) WME Net - A PRIVATE message to JOE DEROUEN in the NET CHAT conference. D) Internet - Send a message containing your complete survey to Joe.DeRouen@Chrysalis.org E) My BBS - (214) 629-8793 24 hrs. a day 1200-14,000 baud. Upload the file SURVEY.TXT (change the name first! Change it to something like the first eight digits of your last name (or less, if your name doesn't have eight digits) and the ext of .SUR) Immediate access is gained to my system via filling out the new user questionnaire. F) U.S. Postal Service - Send the survey either printed out or on a disk to: Joe DeRouen 3910 Farmville Dr. # 144 Addison, Tx. 75244 ÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ °±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²² ²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²² Monthly Columns ²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²² ²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±° ÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ STTS Mailbag Copyright (c) 1995, Joe DeRouen All rights reserved Dear Joe, Have had trouble finding STTS lately. It's seems to have gotten off schedule. What's the deal? Sue Thomson Dallas, Texas ======================================================================== Dear Sunlight Through The Shadows, Really, really love the new (NeoBook -jd) version of the magazine! It was really nice to be able to print out that survey from directly in the program. You've done an excellent job on this! The graphics and sounds are a vast improvement over the old ANSI/RIP graphics. Keep up the great work! Dell Littleton Chicago, Illinois ======================================================================== QUICK TIPS AND FIXES Copyright (c) 1995, Joe DeRouen All rights reserved [Originally published in March issue of Computer Currents Magazine] If you're having a problem you just can't seem to solve, a question you want answered, or just an inherent need to bend a lonely writer's ear, you've come to the right place. While we can't print all questions, we do read them and will reply personally when the situation warrants it. Keep those cards and letters coming, folks. But, please, don't try this at home. Q: Dear Joe, I recently purchased a new 14.4K modem, and something really strange happened. I get television reception via antenna rather than cable, and, upon installing my modem, I discovered that I no longer was able to receive Channel 4. When I turn the power off on my computer, Channel 4 comes in fine, but, when the power is on, I cannot receive it no matter how much I fool with the antenna. Do you have any idea why this is? Sincerely, Jean Sanders via Internet A: Dear Jean, As I'm sure you're aware, all electronic devices contain magnetic fields, and what is probably happening is that the magnetic field contained by your modem is on the same frequency on which Channel 4 is broadcast. There is not a whole lot that can be done - either get a different modem (which, by statistical probability, will contain a field with a different frequency), just turn off the computer when you want to watch Channel 4, get cable, or increase the shielding around your computer (make sure that all the vacant slots in your chassis contain metal tabs, etc.). These disturbances can also be caused by electrical appliances, stereos, or any other item that emits a magnetic field, so if any of you encounter a similar problem, just go around the house unplugging items until you find what is causing the disruption. They can also be caused by "sunspots", so there's a possibility that none of this will work. (Grin) Good luck! Q: Joe, Several months ago, you printed the telnet address to a MUD called The Farside. [Oct. '94 issue. JD] Now that I finally have full internet access, the address doesn't seem to work. What gives? Was the address printed wrong, or did it change? Or am I doing something wrong? Thanks, Luis Salvadore Arlington, Tx. A: Luis, No, you're not doing anything wrong. And no, the address wasn't printed wrong. As can happen all too frequently in the world of the internet, the address to The Farside MUD (Multi-User Dungeon) changed. The new address is ZEUS.ATINC.COM and the port number is 3000. Remember, when entering a telnet address you'll need to put the address and port together. Thus, you'd enter the telnet section and "Open ZEUS.ATINC.COM 3000" to reach The Farside MUD. If you'd rather visit Farside's new World Wide Web site, start up Mosaic or Netscape and go to http://zeus.atinc.com/mud.html. For those of you that didn't read the column to which Mr. Salvadore is referring, a MUD is a text-based multiple-player gaming environment found on the Internet. Much like Dungeons and Dragons or Zork computer games in it's execution, a MUD involves users playing the role of a (usually) fantasy character in the game. You can be an elven warrior, for example, or a dwarf magic-user. On some MUDs, the possibilities are almost endless. Your goals in these games range from simply killing monsters for experience points (to gain levels) to questing after hidden treasure and rescuing maidens fair. Certainly a far cry from HERETIC or other such graphic game fare. MUDs aren't for everyone, but The Farside is one of the best I've found out there and you should give it a try. MUDS you might check out include: The Farside ZEUS.ATINC.COM 3000 (Fantasy) Another MUD SPIDER.COMPART.FI 4000 (Fantasy) Thunder Dome II TDOME.MONTANA.COM 5555 (Futuristic) Dark Gift SNAKE.LIBRARY.CMU.EDU 6250 (Vampire) Whatever your role-playing interest might be, chances are that there's a MUD out there to fit your personality. Oh, and if you hook up to The Farside look me up. Names AsaMaro, and I'm an Immortal on there now . . . Are you having a problem with your computer? Write to Joe at Computer Currents or via Sunlight Through The Shadows BBS at 214/620-8793. (c) 1995 Joe DeRouen. All rights reserved. ÚÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ¿ ³ 110 Nodes * 4000 Conferences * 30.0 Gigabytes * 100,000+ Archives ³ ÀÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÙ ÛÛßßßßßß ÛÛ ÛÛ ÛÛßßßßÛÛ ÛÛßßÛ ÛÛ ÛÛßßÛ ÛÛ ÛÛßßßßßß ÛÛ ßÛÛ (R) ÛÛ ÛÛÜÜÜÜÛÛ ÛÛÜÜÜÜÛÛ ÛÛ Û ÛÛ ÛÛ Û ÛÛ ÛÛÜÜÜÜÜÜ ÛÛ ÛÛ ÛÛ ÛÛ ÛÛ ÛÛ ÛÛ ÛÛ Û ÛÛ ÛÛ Û ÛÛ ÛÛ ÛÛ Ü ÛÛ ßßßßßßßß ßß ßß ßß ßß ßß ßßßß ßß ßßßß ßßßßßßßß ßßßßßßß ßßßß °°°°°°°° * Winner, First Dvorak/Zoom "Best General BBS" Award °°°°°°°° * INTERNET/Usenet Access * DOS/Windows/OS2/Mac/Amiga/Unix * ILink, RIME, Smartnet * Best Files in the USA * Pen & Brush, BASnet. * 120 Online Games * QWKmail & Offline Readers * Multi-line Chat Closing Stocks, Financial News, Business/Professional Software, NewsBytes, PC-Catalog, MovieCritic, EZines, AbleData, ASP, 4DOS Huge Windows, Graphics, Music, Programming, Education Libraries ÚÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ¿ ³ Channel 1 Communications(R) * Cambridge, MA * 617-354-3230 14.4 ³ ÀÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÙ °°°úfasterúbetterúless expensiveú°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°° "Best Files in US" ° ÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ °±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²² ²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²² Feature Articles ²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²² ²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±° ÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ Essay Copyright (c) 1994, Seth A. Robinson All Rights Reserved Equality - Whats so equal about it? an essay by Seth A. Robinson 12/28/94 Today, it's popular to believe all people are created equal. This might be true - but all people are NOT equal. At birth, we are all the same. Screaming babies with ugly puffy red faces. A few hours later, we begin to show some of our emotional characteristics. From this point on we go our seperate paths. Are some people 'better' than other people? Yes. How are they better? How can a person be measured? These are not socially acceptable questions; these thoughts are taboo. Yet, everytime we look around us, we silently measure people. The shaggy faced teenage gas attendent you try not to make eye contact with - when you do you are greeted by a blank stare. The greasy hair and yellow teeth say "I don't take care of my body", the lack of communication skills combined with an extremely poor command of the english language (much less others) denote a resistance to learning. A failure to apply ones self. No self respect. Two weeks later, you read about this 'misguided youth' in the paper. Killed in a car crash. The paper fails to mention it was the boys fault, who ran a stop sign going 120 mph, thus totally demolishing his one and only true love, his hot rod - a piece of trash not worth the money to haul it away. The thing he and his 'buds' talked about one hundred percent of the time they felt like talking in what barely passes as legible english. Am I beastly because I feel no remorse for him, but for the mother and three children that were killed in the collision instead? I think not. You see, if this lad was not killed at the age of 19, things would NOT have been better. At 19, he already been arrested thrice. At 22 he would be convincted of manslaughter, possion of illegal narcotics and be sentenced to a ten year jail term. When parolled at 26, he would only be on the street 5 months before going to prison. He was destined to fail at whatever he tried. The reason? He was never going to try something RIGHT. He had no honor, no dignity and most definatly the correct frame of mind. Moving on, I want to make it clear I am not suggesting we enable some sort of euthinasia and start judging who should live or die - Not at all. I am suggesting that we understand the people we live with. We will be better able to cope with the homeless, drug, violence and abuse problems. There ARE born leaders, there ARE born followers. You can know which one you are by which one makes you happy. There are bad seeds. The phrase 'If he hits you once, he'll do it again' is a true one. People don't often change inside. When a boy becomes a man, he is who he is. The age that this happens is different for each of us. If you know a bad seed, drop him/her. Get away while you can, it's going to be a minus on your life. I urge all of you: Start judging people by what they do. Not by their parents, not by their friends. And lastly, expect to BE judged. Farside Gazette Vol II, No. 5 Copyright (c) 1995, Joe DeRouen All Rights Reserved ====================================================================== The Farside Gazette Vol II, No. 5 Mar. 19th 1995 ====================================================================== ------------------------------------------------------------------- The Farside Gazette is published twice a month by AsaMaro in conjunction with (and full permission of) The Farside Staff The Gazette is written in 100% pure ASCII to assure maximum compatibility for all readers using whatever system they use Subscribe by writing to jderouen@crl.com and including just one word - Subscribe - in the body of your text Telnet to Farside at: mud.atinc.com 3000 ------------------------------------------------------------------- Table of Contents ----------------- Page 1 Introduction Page 1 Table of Contents Page 1 AsaMaro's Editorial Page 2 Back Issue Notice Page 2 Player Bio: Leorick Page 3 Immortal Bio: Reflection Page 4 Building An Area by Draeger Page 8 Museum Field Trip by Marat Page 10 Interviewed by the Vampire by Dizzy Page 11 Interview With Two Clerics by Arundel Page 13 Top Ten List by Draeger Page 13 Additions to Farside by AsaMaro Page 13 Farside Birthdays by Ambrosia Page 14 Farside News ------------------------------------------------------------------------ * * We Have a Winner * * Draeger won The Farside Gazette's "The Future of Farside" contest with a group of proposed ranger spells. His prize was a level. As fate would have it, the won level took him to level 51, hero. Congratulations, Draeger! Terrapin took second place with his idea for an improved Flee command while Arundel took third with a suggested Thank/Herothank modification. Each won (or will be awarded, when I find then) an item or their choice and cash, respectively. Congrats, guys, and thanks for entering! * * * "A Helpful Guide to Building An Area", a collaborative effort by Crom and myself, has been released. The guide gives clear, concise instructions on building an area and should be helpful to novice and expert alike. You can request the guide by sending e-mail to AsaMaro at jderouen@crl.com. Include in the body of your text: get builder.txt Let me know what you think of it! As always, suggestions and comments are very welcomed and desired. * * * This issue is a tad bit late due to the personal life of Joe DeRouen interferring with the MUD life of AsaMaro. My apologies to anyone who was inconvenienced by the lateness of this issue. * * * Special thanks this issue to Arundel, Marat, Dizzy, and Draeger for their contributions! (And for making this issue win the title for Gazette With Most Interviews In It! ) And thanks to all of you for reading, --AsaMaro ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Back Issues of The Farside Gazette Back issues of the Gazette are now available for FTP at atinc.com in /pub/mud/gazette . While you're scuttling about the internet, check out Farside's new WWW page at http://zeus.atinc.com/mud.html . ------------------------------------------------------------------------ * Farside Player Bio * Name: Leorick RL: Michael Orr Age: 77 (RL) 18 Race: Half-Orc Class: Warrior Current level: 45 Interests and Background: "After moving around so often (well, at least in his opinion), Leorick, when asked where he's from, usually just replies 'The Maritimes'. For those unfamiliar with the area, the Maritimes comprise the three provinces (of Canada, of course) north of Maine (PEI, New Brunswick, and Nove Scotia). He is presently going to the University of Prince Edward Island, in (you guessed it!) Prince Edward Island. He has been playing since about late October of 1994, when a friend (Alamar) first introduced him to the Farside, and hasn't left since. After several unsuccessful starts with various classes, he finally settled on the warrior class after watching Alamar race through the levels very quickly, while he was having trouble levelling as a ranger." Advice to Other Players: "Leorick's advice: Group. I just can't emphasize the importance of grouping. If you're a warrior (like me) groups like you because you have the 'rescue' skill. Warriors: practice that skill right away. It keeps people alive, and can sometimes save your life too. In case you didn't know warriors, you have the track skill as well, and no, you don't have to practice it. This skill (although it often leads you to your destination the longest way possible :) is very useful. For example, if you're trying to find the Tower of High Sorcery. Before someone told me that I had the track skill, I would wander around, getting myself quite frustrated, looking for the Tower. But with the track skill, I just go to the Shadow Grove, and track the adventurer. Leads me right to it. If you know the name of a mob in an area, but don't know the exact directions, try the track skill. Also, you can use the 'where' command to locate a mob in the area you are in, but you have to know the name of the mob. If you're locked in Midgaard, try a 'where mayor' to find him and hunt him down! This can also be useful in quests like the greased pig, and you want to know where the mob is." ------------------------------------------------------------------------ * Farside Immortal Bio * Name: Reflection RL Name: Sara Wisking Age: (Game) Old (RL) 16 Race: Elf Class: Cleric Current level: 60 Real Life Interests and Background: Reflection lives in Ottawa, Canada and enjoys reading, writing, and spending time with her friends. She's been playing Farside for eleven months. When asked to describe herself, she said: "I'm 5'7", have long, light brown (almost blond) hair, dark brown eyes, and an average build. I'm very enthusiastic, and very optimistic as well." Advice to Players: "The best advice i can give you guys, is to GROUP! Each class was made so it would go well with the other classes. So be friendly, and people will be glad to group with you, and they'll be helping you just as much as you're helping them. Farside is full of friendly people, who will all be GLAD to help you out, so be nice to them! Also, remember that mudding takes patience. In general, a patient mudder is a succesful mudder. If things are getting you frustrated, take a break! Everything will be there when you get back. Most of all though, have fun out there! That's what Farside is for." ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Building An Area by Draeger FOREWARD Writing an area for your favorite mud can be an enjoyable process. The thrill one gets from the successful completion of an area is much like the one achieved by doing a job well done. Sometimes, however, little things can mar the overall greatness of a completed area. Many times these detractors are things that could have been avoided by careful planning and design before work even commenced on the area. In this guide, one can find information on how to write a creative, themed area. Not all good areas abide by these general rules; Indeed, many is the time that the author himself has broken them. Nevertheless, a firm understanding and utilization of these guidelines will help one to design, construct, and debug one's own area. A final note is that this guide will not attempt to teach the reader how to create mobiles, rooms, etc. It is assumed that you have mastered those skills. If that is not the case, please refer to AsaMaro and Crom's excellent builder.txt for instructions first. Design : The Missing Link Design is a crucial component of a good area. Design is largely what will let you transform the vague, misty images and ideas in your mind into a specific, concrete area. Sadly, this step is often skipped or minimized, resulting in confusing, odd, or boring areas. There are several aspects of the successful creation of an area design. Some may not apply to a particular theme or idea, but they are all good guidelines to start by. Acquiring a medieval viewpoint This step is one that is almost never used by the typical area builder. However, if one wants to create a successful unique area, it is an important step. It is very hard to successfully plan and write a medieval-based area while surrounded by and absorbed into a twentieth century world. The solution used by the author is simple. Typically, before starting planning an area, he will sit down and read a chapter of JRR Tolkien's "The Lord of the Rings". This proves to be a good "mindlink" to a fantasy/medieval outlook. Other good ideas would include any other fantasy/medieval author, perhaps some medieval music, or sitting in the woods or wilderness for a time. All these will help to shape your thoughts, and provoke ideas and images that otherwise would remain hidden. Some have found that modern music will have the same affect for area building, but the author's experiments are to the contrary. Listening to industrial, rock, or pop-style music is not the best way to drop into a fantasy mindset! Classical music or "soft" rock would work however. Create a history This guideline is much less obvious than one would think. Most people, when creating an original area, will think up a area theme, draw a map, then get started. Despite being the most used method, however, it has some drawbacks, namely the lack of any background or historical involvement in the area. Therefore, it is important to create a story that fits into your area. If the area is set within a large castle, for instance, the area will be much more interesting and exciting if it has a background, rather than just another generic castle. An area lacking a story or background is easily visible, by the somewhat generic feel to the place. The best areas will look and feel almost like a novel, with respect to the overall involvement in the area. Creating a convincing area map Drawing a map for one's area is, thankfully, a given. Without an area map, it is exceedingly difficult to create a consistent, realistic area. Therefore, this step is paramount to the success or failure of an area. To plan out an area map is simple. Most people will use a blank sheet of paper and a pen or pencil, though graph paper would probably be better. The author typically starts with a very rough sketch of the hallways, passages, rooms, etc, disregarding any details like room numbers. Then, the actual buildings and scenery is sketched in, even that which is beyond the rooms. This allows one to get a better grasp of one's own area. Usually after several refinements of the design, the final draft is crafted. Make sure to label all the important rooms, and to mark clearly where each "room" will be in your passageways, wilderness, etc. When it is completed, then carefully mark where each important, non-moving mob will be. Also, the author will usually make a short list of what each mob will carry, so as to make creating resets simpler. Creative Writing : The Heart and Soul of an Area The most memorable part of an area is usually the setting and/or theme that the area is built upon. While design gives the content of the area, the writing element is the tool used to convey one's ideas to the players. As such, special emphasis should be placed on creating especially evocative images, sounds, and smells in the player's mind. These basic rules of creative area writing are based and drawn from the rules of a short story. Any who have taken even a high-school freshman English course should be familiar with the concepts presented herein. Nevertheless, even a moderately proficient writer should review these simple rules. Writing Style The writing style of the creator of the area greatly influences the final quality of the area. Writing style is a relatively nebulous thing. Every individual has their own opinions about different modes of writing, and each individual is right and wrong. Therefore, the best guideline is to stay consistent within the area. Changing from a poetic, light style to a gloomier, naturalistic style will destroy whatever realism you are attempting to create. Atmosphere and Descriptive Language A critical part of writing a well developed area is imaginative and invocative imagery. Ideally, the player should almost see in his mind the vision you are projecting. In reality, this is seldom achieved, but that should not discourage one from trying. The area should have an overall "feel", one that will become apparent to one reading the document. For example, consider the following passage from one of the author's areas: Stretched out before you is a forest of immense proportions. The blustery sun of a midsummer's day makes you seek comfort beneath the cool leaves of the tall trees. The buzzing of insects and the twittery chirping of birds is in the warm air. You travel into the shadows of the forest, feeling the heat of the day evaporate as you enter the cool dampness under the canopy. You may leave into the forest in any direction. Disregarding the style used, this represents a fairly good representation on the balance between terseness and descriptiveness. In other rooms in that same area, the same summer-forest atmosphere is carried along. A general tone and mood is set for the whole area, which, when explored in, creates a powerful experience for the player. Plot Plot in an area is unusual, for a good reason. The players on a mud are usually expected to create their own plot by adventuring. This is usually the case. However, in some situations, a storyline or plot can enhance the enjoyment of an area. A good example would be to include in the mobile descriptions bits of conversation. "Talking" to an old pirate, for instance, might clue the player in to the location of a secret room or passage. This can also be extended to rooms and objects; For example, looking at a note smeared with blood might reveal the will and testament of a powerful king. The will could then clue the player in to where a specific mobile is. Another way to involve the player is to write a custom spec_fun for the mobiles in your area. However, this method is generally frowned upon by upper management, because it introduces complexities into the already complex mud code. Tricks and Technique for Area Construction The best design and writing will create a fun and exciting area, but there remains still the finishing touches that all areas should receive. This category is not a guideline for a well written area. Rather, it is a list of the many and varied ideas that can be used to heighten the drama, create interest, and more. Death Traps While hardly new, death traps can introduce tension into one's area. A deathtrap is defined as "unescapable" death, and is usually triggered by a player walking into a room with no exits. While the recall command has reduced the potency of deathtraps, a no-recall flag can be set on the worst deathtraps. The main problem with deathtraps is that players will often blunder into them completely unawares. The area author must therefor be careful to give strong clues and hints as to the nature of the deathtrap in the rooms around it. This will ensure that the player is given fair warning, if he or she is reading the room descriptions. Secret Doors and Items While somewhat similar, secret doors and items are created much differently. Secret doors are made by constructing a normal door, but not giving any clues to its existence in the room description. Since this is a true secret door, one that is not likely to be ever found, most authors take a "semi-secret" approach. That is, they give hints to its existence through the room description. For example, this excerpt is from one of the author's areas: You are creeping down a long hallway. Your footsteps seem to echo everywhere, disturbing the fragile silence with every step. The eastern and western walls are decorated with many tapestries, depicting a fierce battle between mages and clerics. The description hints of the existence of the secret exits without being obvious about it. Secret items are made much differently. There are several ways of creating them. The simplest is to make the item invisible. This will make it unaccessible by all without detect invisibility. To be fair, if this method is used, a short-duration potion of see invisible should be located somewhere in the area to give non-mages and their ilk a fair chance. The other method only makes semi-secret items. To use the second method, one has only to place the item on a mobile, or in a room, that is unaccessible without a special condition or key. An example would be a secret laboratory outside the main house, accessed only by entering a secret trapdoor in the woods. Adding Extra Item and Room Descriptions Again, this technique is not so much new as under utilized. The ability to add extra descriptions to items and rooms is a fantastic plot and storyline device. These descriptions add to the atmosphere of the mud, helping to fulfill the vision of the area in the mind of the creator. The primary usage of item-extra descriptions is to give the player a better understanding of the nature of the item. For example, this excerpt is again from one of the author's areas. You see a small, ornately carved ring. Beautiful golden mosaics are carved in bas-relief into the sides of the ring, and a sparkling, glittery sea-green emerald is carefully placed in the center of the jewel's golden palace. The second, less used usage of item descriptions is as a plot device. An example of this type of description is the sword Excalibur in Camelot. By advancing the plot with items held by mobiles, control can be placed over when the player acquires information on secret rooms, etc. Conclusion As a final note, remember that these are guidelines, not rules set into stone. Following these guidelines to the letter does not guarantee a good area. The decisive factor in an area is the creativity and patience of the area designer. Only with those two traits can a writer successfully combine the many important components, and develop a grand, exciting, and fun area. PS: If you have any suggestions, comments, or additions, please contact Draeger. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Museum Field Trip by Marat My editor was clamoring for another interview. But, who should I talk to? What do the readers want to see? With a heavy sigh and tired faerie toes (that were really not twinkling by the end of a long day) I wandered around Cobblestone Square. I found myself on a picturesque stone bridge. I listened to the grumblings of a troll under that bridge. He was mumbling nasty things about the museum just north of me. That troll has a real attitude problem; he hates the visitors, the guards and all the exhibits at the museum. Just to spite him, I decided to pay a visit to the Museum myself. Having created the place, I was familiar with all involved; yet, I wondered how the museum monsters were getting along. Were they happy I had brought them into being? I walked north along the stone path, stopping to watch a pretty bird play in the bird bath, then walked up the broad marble steps to the impressive bronze doors that formed the entrance. I smiled at the two stern-looking Museum Guards who stood stiffly before the door. They nodded in my direction as one of the guards took a sip from his canteen. Marat: Hello, How do the two of you enjoy your job? (One guard motioned that the other should answer for the two of them.) Museum Guard: 'S okay. Can't complain. M: Have you found anything interesting about guarding the doors of a Museum? MG: (The guard paused for a minute, looked up at the sky, then down at his feet.) Not really. Pretty much like guarding anything. We stand here. Visitors go in and out. (Both guards shrugged.) I grew bored and impatient at this point, so after a mumbled 'thank you' I opened the heavy doors and walked into the hushed confines of the museum. I was nearly knocked down by a pair of visitors. The female of the pair was chattering inanely at the male. They rushed past me before I could ask a question. I checked my timepiece, discovered I would be late for a meditation lesson with Wu Tak if I didn't hurry. I decided to get a true feeling for the progress of the museum by talking to the Curator. I found his office off the Weaving exhibit. I knocked on the door and heard a cultured voice invite me to enter. Marat: Greetings, Curator. May I ask you a few questions? The Curator: (He smiled and settled into the large chair behind his even larger desk. I sat in an uncomfortable chair across from him.) Of course, but I have only a few moments before I must meet some patrons. Funding is always a problem for a museum. M: I understand. I also have a pressing appointment. I only had a chance for a cursory peek, but I think the exhibitions here are very attractive and instructive. Do you feel good about them? TC: I am relatively happy. If I could I would change a few things. (The curator rolls his eyes.) That suit of armor who wanders is a bit much. I would have preferred he stay in his place. And the velvet dress is glowing pink! That is just not aesthetically pleasing. I blame it on my assistant. M: Assistant? I didn't notice one. TC: And you won't!. (The curator bellowed, startling me. He then seemed to calm himself settling farther back into his chair and steepling his fingers.) Even one mistake in an expensive exhibition cannot be tolerated. I dismissed my former assistant before the opening. I am however, quite happy about the majority of the displays and the things displayed. (I hear a tap at the door, the curator stands and welcomes in two patrons. I smile at them, realizing I am intruding on an important meeting.) M: I can see you are quite busy, Curator. Perhaps another day when you can squeeze me into your schedule. TC: (The curator looks distractedly at me, already dismissing my presence.) Yes, yes. Of course. Farewell. I hastily exit his office and walk through the museum admiring a passing bronze statue. My visit was brief, but there will be other days to expand my mind. Other days to wool-gather among lovely art and artifacts. I hurry down the marble steps and run to my lesson with Wu Tak. He gets so irritated when I am late. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ INTERVIEWED BY THE VAMPIRE by Dizzy Dissatisfied with life, repulsed by death, feeling bored and reckless I listened for the ten thousandth time as another nameless mob loosed yet another piercing cry. The protracted death rattle was the only remarkable feature I'd noted about its otherwise squalid existence. A chilling wind quickly froze the blood of my latest kill, effectively cementing the corpse to the stone that comprised the pavement of an otherwise uninteresting avenue. While I'm usually possesed of a cheerful disposition and winsome way, the dismal weather and witless mobs had conspired to lower my spirits to one notch above comtemplation of a Hemlock Cocktail, and this was *not* a party town. That last kill gave me the usual, "earned 0 exp", I was hungry, thirsty, low on hp, mana and love for my fellow man. Leaning against the pommel of my sword, and contemplating exactly why.....just WHY; I turned my head and found that I was no longer enjoying a moment of peaceful reflection in solitude. Considering my foul mood, I'm still not sure why I reacted as I did. But, and you'd have to experience it to fully appreciate it, I was drawn to the fastidious man seated next to me. Simply stated, his presence was magnetic. Strangely, no thought of lifting my sword and taking his head occured to me. Even in my dour mood I found myself smiling and eager to please this person I'd yet to speak a word to. The moment was crystalline. I could no more break the silence than shatter my gleaming crystal statuette of Dizzy. Then, slowly and deliberately, he turned toward me. I was captivated by the golden color of his eyes. When I say "captivated", you must realize that I cannot express the quality of that unwavering stare. It was hypnotic. Literally. I'm unsure how long we sat there. I don't recall how or when we left that dismal street and ended up here in this wretched house. There are blood stains everywhere, but no corpses. The Master, Tiersten is his name, requires me to stand watch over his repose all during the day and I greatly fear that I am enslaved. But I am even more greatly afraid of Tiersten. I marvel as I scramble to obey his slightest whim. I'm sickened as I lure innocent adventurers into this house of death. And yet...I find that I'm no longer bored, or hungry, or unfulfilled. I'm not my own man anymore, but this isn't bad at all.... Why not come in out of that nasty wind.....you could catch your death out there. Besides, I have a friend who would enjoy having you for dinner..... >From recall to Tiersten: 2N,4E,2N,E,N,E,S,8E,2N,4E,N,3W,U,N,E,U,S >From Tiersten to recall: N,D,W,S,D,3E,S,4W,2S,8W,N,W,S,W,2S,4W,2S ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Interview with Two Clerics --by Arundel Clerics. No group is really complete without one, and any group with two is doubly blessed. Some consider the Cleric to be the most powerful class on Farside. It's the only class which can fight well, protect the people in the group, AND heal everything in sight. However, a lot of people have also grouped with the inexperienced Cleric. I myself lost over 300hp mid-combat because the Cleric I was with cast a 'heal' spell while I was still fully pumped up by my +hp equipment. With this in mind, I hunted down two relatively high-level Clerics to see how they handled healing, fighting, and protecting, the triple role of their class. Both Mistyblue and Lem were kind enough to come to the Temple of Dizzy to sit with me and talk. I remember running into Mistyblue in Gangland when that was THE place to be for leveling, and Lem, whom I had never heard of, has only been coming to the Farside for a month. Mistyblue is in her 40s, and Lem is in his 30s, which makes them the perfect couple to interview for a feature on their class. In the following interview, I have presented their words just as they were typed. My own words, however, I have changed quite a bit. -Arundel: Warriors like me don't even put mana in our prompts. It is totally alien to us. First of all, how do you manage your mana? -Mistyblue: I learned that, if it is a very hard mob, to only faerie fire it, and save my mana for healing and let my weapons do the rest. -Lem : I usually don't worry about mana. I just go crazy till I'm out, but that doesn't happen in a battle. It depends on if I'm grouped or not. If I'm grouped, I just heal. If not, I'll cast offensive spells too. -Arundel: What spells do you usually cast on the people in your group? -Mistyblue: [I] always cast armor, protection, fly and bless if nothing else. I cast sanc to the tanker always and frenzy everyone else. -Lem: I haven't been grouping much, but when I do, I cast sanctuary and all armor spells and bless, especially on tank. Then heal when needed. -Arundel: Mistyblue, you mentioned two spells, fly and frenzy. Are they important? -Mistyblue: *YES!!!* Fly is extremely important for everyone. It keeps you from bing tripped. If you are tripped, you lose two times to hit the mob. Those two times to hit that mob could be crucial. -Arundel: Two times? -Lem: Really? -Mistyblue: Frenzy puts the person in a rage, they fight better with it, BUT it kills their AC. It raises the hit and damroll. -Arundel: Kills their AC? Could be dangerous if the tanker flees. -Mistyblue: Yep. (shrugs) -Arundel: OK, now how do you handle your tanker? -Mistyblue: I constantly type gr to make sure his/her [or it's, Arundel thinks] hp are ok, if not then I start healing. I try not to let it fall below the 200 hp mark. -Lem: I constantly type gr and see if whoever is tanking is below 100hp from his max. and hope heal goes through the lag fast enough. -Arundel: Great. Ok, now, another part of the game is healing, or down time. Just sitting around waiting for the clicks to pass. What do you do between fights? -Mistyblue: My mana shoots right up, so then I heal everyone then sleep again. -Lem: I either talk to others or change windows and read the usenet news. -Arundel: That just about covers it. I have one more question. What pet peeve do you have as a cleric? -Mistyblue: I don't like it when people demand sanc and they aren't the tanker. -Lem: I hate it when people don't wait to get sancted, then get hit really hard and wonder why I didn't heal them. -Arundel: Well, thank you both for your time. -Mistyblue: Thank YOU. I'm honored. -Lem: Sure. No problem Mistyblue leaves north. Lem leaves north. Arundel has left the game. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Top Ten Things to do While Healing by Draeger (Written while healing) -=-=-=-=-=-=-====-=-=-=-=-=-=- 10. Compose real-time poetry for the enjoyment(?) of all. 9. Listen to a group member's life story. 8. Tell any who will listen your life story. 7. Music all the lyrics to any song you can think of. 6. Healing? Healing is for wimps. REAL mudders never heal! 5. Explain the finer points of leveling to a newbie. 4. Take a Coke(tm) break. 3. Write a top ten list like this one. 2. Write your term paper while also doing any of the above. 1. Do absolutely nothing! Your supposed to be healing! get back to bed! :) ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Additions to Farside by AsaMaro Several new areas have been added to Farside. Check the area list for details or ask around. Areas include Marat's Museum, Crom's House of the Brother's Grimm and Draeger's The Labyrinth of Silmavar. Several other areas are also in the process of being tested. The THANK command has been changed back to the social and a new command, HEROTHANK, has been instituted. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Farside Birthdays* Compiled by Ambrosia March ----- Silk..................................March 1st Wish..................................March 3rd Aegis.................................March 6th Zipper................................March 9th Alamar................................March 10th Marat.................................March 16th Malad.................................March 25th Cult..................................March 28th * There are a *Lot* of names to be added to the list. Send birthdays as well as your character name to Ambrosia via a note in Farside or internet e-mail at Ambrosia@escape.com ------------------------------------------------------------------------ * * News * * Lone reached the ranks of hero shortly after the last issue. Congrats, Lone! Lone wanted to thank the following people for their help: Kariya, Adso, Chops, Marmot, Dazed, and Lax. Draeger became a hero when he won the "Future of Farside" contest. Congrats, Draeger! He wanted to thank for following people for their help: Johnus, Zaknafein, Lurch, Chops Marat, Diamante, Balthazar, Samson, Maverick, Mega, and Dazed. Chops left mortal life and ascended into the ranks of the gods. Congratulations, Chops, and welcome! Hustler finally joined the ranks of heroes. He couldn't have done it without help from the following people: Lurch, Lone, Chops, Balthazar, Dazed, and Reflection. Congrats Hustler! Wish, Leorick, and Fuzzy also heroed around the same time Hustler did. Congrats, guys, and good luck in gaining levels! Ryu married Flute shortly after Darkyn wed Tiamat. Good luck with your marriages, and try not to die too quickly Darkyn. :) Kylara joined the increasing ranks of women heroes! She wanted to thank Hustler, Lurch, Chops, Rackhir, Fuzzy, Beauford, and Marmot for helping her get there. Congrats, Kylara! Shelby heroed shortly before this issue went to press. Congrats Shelby, and good luck! ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Þ°±²Û²±°±²Û²±°±²Û²±°±²Û²±°±²Û²±°±²Û²±°±²Û²±°±²Û²±°±²Û²±°±²Û²±°±²Û²±°±²Û²±°±²Û²±Ý ÞúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúÝ Þ ÚÄÄÄÄÄÄ¿ 2400bps &  (414) 789-4210 Ý Þ ³ ÚÄÄÄÄÙ "The best connection your USR HST 9600 (414) 789-4337 Ý Þ ³ ³ modem will ever make!!" USR HST 14400 (414) 789-4352 Ý Þ ³ ÀÄÄÄ¿ v.32bis 14400 (414) 789-4360 Ý Þ ³ ÚÄÄÄÙ Ü Ü ÜÜÜÜÜ ÜÜÜÜÜ ÜÜÜÜÜ ÜÜÜÜÜ Compucom 9600 (414) 789-4450 Ý Þ ³ ³ ßÜß ÛÜÜÜ Û ÜÜÜ ÛÜÜÜÛ Û Hayes V-Series (414) 789-4315 Ý Þ ³ ÀÄÄÄÄ¿ Üß ßÜ ÛÜÜÜÜ ÛÜÜÜÜ Û ÛÜÜÜÜ v.FC 28800 (414) 789-4500 Ý Þ ÀÄÄÄÄÄÄÙ Ý Þ Ý Þ þ Exec-PC BBS is the largest LAN and microcomputer based BBS in the world! Ý Þ þ 280+ dedicated phone lines - NO busy signals - 24-Hour access Ý Þ þ Over 650,000 files and programs - DOS, Windows, OS/2, Mac, Unix, Amiga Ý Þ þ Lightning fast - Search 20,000 files in 2 seconds with Hyperscan feature Ý Þ þ Over 42 CD-ROM's online - Scan all of them at 1 time for keywords Ý Þ þ Special Apogee games, Moraffware games, and Adult file areas Ý Þ þ Extensive message system with QWK compatability - Also, Fidonet areas! Ý Þ þ Online Doors / Games / Job Search / PC-Catalog / Online Magazines Ý Þ þ Over 5000 callers per day can't be wrong - 35 gig of online storage! Ý Þ þ Low subscription rates: $25 for 3 months, $75 for a full year Ý ÞúúúúúúúúúúúúCallútheúBBSúforúaúFREEútrialúdemo,úandúFREEúdownloadsúúúúúúúúúúúúÝ Þ°±²Û²±°±²Û²±°±²Û²±°±²Û²±°±²Û²±°±²Û²±°±²Û²±°±²Û²±°±²Û²±°±²Û²±°±²Û²±°±²Û²±°±²Û²±Ý ÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ °±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²² ²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²² Reviews ²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²² ²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±° ÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ Computer Software Reviews Copyright (c) 1995, Louis Turbeville All rights reserved Green Explorer Requires: Windows 3.1 Commercial Program - List Price: $59.95 MicroBase Publishing, Inc. (800)897-3637 If there is something you wanted to know about recycling, but were afraid to ask, then this is a program you definitely want to check out. This program will teach you most of what you will need to know about recycling and what you can do to help preserve our environment. There is no fancy video or stunning audio, but this program is loaded with useful information that can be found and read in a easy manner. The information is concise, yet accurate and informative. There are two sections of this program in which everyone will find some useful information. The first area is the house tour. In this section you are given a display of a house with which you can travel from room to room. In each room there is information on how to make that room a little more environmentally sound. Every room in the house is covered, from the kitchen to the bathroom to the home office. You will learn what components of your house are not very 'green' and what you can do to improve the situation. The second area of interest is called the Projects section. In this section there are numerous educational projects that make the environment a little safer. All of these projects can be done around the home; and a couple of these projects would be a great group or classroom project. There is a project here for everyone above the age of six. The projects in this section are just a few of the many great ideas for environmental protection that exit throughout the program. The other areas of the program include: - a Multiple Choice Quiz Section to test your environmental knowledge. - a History Overview Section; this gives some background information on why recycling is important and some of the major developments concerning recycling and the green way of thinking. - an Address Base Section that provides contact information on various companies and groups that are involved in the recycling movement, from companies that use recycled products in their manufacturing process to publications that cover environmental issues. - an Index to asist you in quickly finding information on a topic of interest to you. The only real drawback I had was the price. Sixty dollars seems a little pricy for a program that gives you the same information you could get in a book for half that price. However, the volumes of information are easily accessable. If you are interested in learning about recycling and ways you can make a difference, than this program is worth a look. MicroBase has a reputation for making its products easy to use and loaded with information, and this program is vintage Microbase. Software Review Copyright (c) 1995, L. Shawn Aiken All Rights Reserved Software Review: NeoBook and NeoBook Professional Reviewed by L. Shawn Aiken For some years now I've been looking for a good way to present text and graphics files. I've seen some programs that do this, some quite expensive ones, in fact, but they never quite did what I wanted. But then I picked up NeoBook Professional. NeoSoft touts NeoBook as "The latest in state-of-the-art electronic publishing." I may not know state-of-the-art, but I know what I like. With this program one can create interactive multimedia presentations, such as books, newsletters, magazines, or just about any type of publication you can imagine, spiced up with graphics, buttons, and even sound. For those of you familiar with NeoSoft's DOS graphics program NeoPaint, NeoBook Professional will look familiar. It has the same easy to use feel. No strange new language to learn, just point and click with the mouse. NeoBook works on pages. A page can have a number of things on it, and be in just about any graphics mode, up to SVGA 1024x768 resolution. After picking the resolution, you can put scrolling windows anywhere on the page that display text files, captions, buttons that do a variety of function, simple stand alone graphics, and display a .gif or .pcx file. The buttons are one of the really neat things about NeoBook. Buttons can be any size, shape or color and be put anywhere on the page. They can be assigned many different functions, such as turning to another page, displaying text balloons or files in a variety of fonts, displaying graphics, and playing sounds on the PC speaker. Buttons or even playing high quality sound files. The main difference between NeoBook and NeoBook Professional is the extra sound abilities. There are many more button functions, and the functions can be combined in each button to create beeps, delays, play music and play FLC or FLI animation files. There is even a DOSCommand function that allows you to operate an external program from within the book. With NeoBook you can make a very visually stunning publication and easily see run it from the editor. You can also go into other editors to edit or create text, sound, and graphics files without having to exit the program. And there are still more little gadgets and tools, such as one of the button functions being allowing one to print a prepared file (such as an order form). But all of that is icing on the cake compared to when you compile your book. Even on my somewhat archaic 386, with the punch of a button NeoBook Professional compiles a 600K program in less than a minute. And the finished product is a stand alone .exe file, ready to be shipped off by disk or modem. There are a few problems with the program. My big irk is a floating menu that hangs around the screen constantly. You have to get at the menu to get at the functions, and it makes them really easy to access, but the gol dern thing just sits there and I have as yet found a way to close it or minimize it. It gets in the way of working on the publication, especially if you are dealing with something that fills a large portion of the screen. Another is the size of the finished programs. The run module is some 200K, and if you put a good deal of graphics in, you can get HUGE files. If you are planning to make a photo album, don't expect a 3.5" disk to handle it. NeoBook compiled programs do, however, compress well with Pkzip. Overwhelmingly, NeoBook Professional is the best program I have seen for creating publications with text and graphics. It's so easy to use that I created a publication two hours after I unzipped it, without reading the manual. And it's abilities are so impressive that Joe DeRouen, the publisher of Sunlight Through the Shadows, and I, the Assistant Editor, have started to use it to publish our our NeoBook version of the magazine. NeoBook and NeoBook Professional ar shareware and available for download on many local bbses. To order them, or for information, call NeoSoft at (503) 389-5489. Book Review Copyright (c) 1995, Tommy Van Hook All rights reserved Red Dwarf: Better Than Life by Grant-Naylor Penguin Books, Copyright 1990 ISBN 0-451-45231-3 Pages: 302 This is the second book in the Red Dwarf series, and by far by the most bizarre. But then, what do you expect from the former head writers of "The Spitting Image"? Once again, we join the characters of Dave Lister (the last living human), Arnold Rimmer (the insecure hologram of one of Lister's former crewmates), Kryten (the ultra-clean, ultra-weird Robot), The Cat (an erect species of feline), and Holly (the schizophrenic ship's computer) for some of the zaniest misadventures from this side of the galaxy. But wait! Just before you thought that you had had enough, Grant-Naylor add another character into the mix: Talkie Toaster. This one character is the most ridiculous creation they have devised yet, which makes it one of the best ever. While the writing style is kept simple, the gags come at a mile per minute. If you are looking for good, simple, yet strange entertainment, then look no further. You've found it in the universe of Red Dwarf. Grade: A- Book Review Copyright (c) 1995, Tommy Van Hook All rights reserved Elvendude by Mark Shepherd Baen Books, Copyright 1994 ISBN 0-671-87630-9 Pages: 312 Mark Shepherd is probably best known as being the secretary for Fantasy writer Mercedes Lackey. With this book, he should break out of that shadow and start to prove what he's really worth as a solo writer. "Elvendude" is set in Dallas, Texas, which brought some really good visual feeling on my part (especially since I live very near some of the areas that he describes and uses for background in this novel). The Elvish aspect of the book is handled very well, even better than the manner that Mercedes Lackey handles it in her books. Mr. Shepherd carries this genre way beyond the realm of a Fantasy setting. He almost makes you feel like you are a part of the story. The drug aspects of the novel are very well depicted, sometimes with frightening detail. In short, this is an excellent novel, that is not being very well promoted by Baen Books. It's a shame too, since it has the possibility of outselling anything that Mercedes Lackey has put out. Grade: A+ ÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜ ÜÜÜÜÜÜÜ ÜÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÜ ÜÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÜ "Bringing our software to your home" ÄÄÄÄÄÄÛÛÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÜÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÛÛÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ ßßßßßßÛÛßßßßßßßÛßßßßßßßßßÛÛßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßß ÍÍÍÍÍÍÛÛÍÍÍÍÍßÛÛÛßÍÍÍÜÛÍÍÛÛÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍ ÛÛ Û ÛÛÜÜÛÛ (717)325-9481 14.4 ßÛ ßÛÛÛÛß 2 NODES ÜÜÜÜÜÜÜ ÜÜÜÜÜ ÜÜÜÜ ÜÜÜÜÜÜ Ü Ü ÜÜÜÜÜ ÜÜÜÜ ÜÜÜÜ ÜÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÜ ÜÛÛÛÛÛÜ ÜÛÛÛÛÜ ÜÛÛÛÛÛÛÜ ÜÛ ÜÛ ÜÛÛÛÛÛÜ ÜÛÛÛÛÜ ÜÛÛÛÛÜ ÍÍÛÛÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÛÛÍÍÍÛÛÍÍÛÛÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÛÛÍÍÍÍÍÛÛÍÍÍÍÛÛÍÍÛÛÍÍÍÛÛÍÍÛÛÍÍÛÛÍÍÍÛÛÍÍÍÍÍÍÍ ÜÜÛÛÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÛÛÜÜÜÛÛÜÜÛÛÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÛÛÜÜÜÜÜÛÛÜÜÜÜÛÛÜÜÛÛÜÜÜÛÛÜÜÛÛÜÜÛÛÜÜÜÛÛÜÜÜÜÜÜÜ ÄÄßÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÜÄÄÛÛÄÄÄÛÛÄÄÛÛÛÛÜÄÄÄÄÄÄÛÛÄÄÄÄÄÛÛÄÜÜÄÛÛÄÄÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÄÄÛÛÛÛÛÛÄÄÄÛÛÛÜÄÄÄÄÄ ÛÛ ÛÛ ÛÛ ÛÛ ÛÛ ÛÛ ÛÛ ÛÛ ÛÛ ÛÛ ÛÛ ÛÛÜ ÛÛ ÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÛÛ ÛÛÜÜÜÛÛ ÛÛ ÛÛ ÛÛÜÛÛÜÛÛ ÛÛ ÛÛ ÛÛ ÛÛÜ ÛÛÜÜÜÜ ßÛÛÛÛÛÛÛß ßÛÛÛÛÛß ßÛ ßÛ ßÛÛÛÛß ßÛ ßÛ ßÛ ßÛ ßÛÛÛÛß Prize Vault Lemonade Scramble Dollarmania ANSI Voting Booth Studs! Studette BadUser Convince! OnLine! GoodUser T&J Lotto T&JStat TJTop30 Environmental QT Video Poker Announce Bordello! Money Market Bordello T&J Raffle RIP Lemonade AgeCheck Strip Poker RIP Voting Booth ...and more coming! ÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ °±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²² ²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²² Fiction ²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²² ²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±° ÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ The Sapphire Affair: Part One Copyright (c) 1994, L. Shawn Aiken All Rights Reserved The Sapphire Affair: Part One by L. Shawn Aiken A muffled slap resounded from the creature's furry cheek. Adriana snatched the golden brush from it's slender fingers and dug out several curly red strands. "Look! Look what you have done, you awful thing!" she dangled hair in front of the lithe creature's noseless face. An infinite amount of Adrianas repeated the action in the mirrors surrounding them in her dressing room. Unnoticed, a black face emerged from behind the door, its eyes darting about to focus in on the real woman. "I do apologize, Miss Adriana," the tiny voice said as it's huge golden pupils turned a hazy blue. "What's going on?" the baron walked in and casually stepped between the lady and her servant. Adriana's cheeks were flushed and she was still breathing hard. He looked at the hair in her clenched fist and smirked. "Oh . . ." her eyes darted away from his and she looked at her own reflection. "You know what is wrong. *He* is coming." Baron Mauswa's teeth flickered in a brief grin. "You could have told Lord Breakman 'no'." Adriana fidgeted in her chair. "'Johnni' Breakman doesn't deserve that title. He's a self-centered, egotistical, boorish, troll-faced buffoon. And he's coming here, *here*, of all places." She threw the brush at the mirror, but it bounced of the high density polymer. Another grin flashed on the baron's dark face. "I'm glad I'm not your cousin - just your lowly husband." A sorrowful scream echoed from the hall into their ears. Adriana huffed. "The wretch is at it again. She won't shut up." she said. "Perhaps I should go see if she is all right." "No," Adriana shook her head. "Ignore her. We must go over the plans for the ball tonight." Baron Mauswa sighed and looked down at the orange furred, floppy eared servant. "Goolatoo, please go see to Lady Doogail. Try to console her. I'll try to console the red haired one who has little real to complain about." * * * The wind played about in Johnni's long golden hair as he looked out over the immaculate grounds bursting with red and yellow flowers. Their sweet scent mingled in his nose and brought a smile to his perfectly chiseled featured. The afternoon son glinted off of his teeth. "This is great," he said to Davies, who was struggling to get the luggage out of the limousine, "Finally, a little rest and relaxation." "Yes sir," the portly man grunted. "And don't forget tomorrow is the meeting." "Ah yes," Johnni's steel blue eyes drifted to the cacophonous mansion. "That would be Thursday?" "Today is Tuesday, sir." Davies' pot-marked face frowned. With the heap of luggage extricated from the trunk, he tapped the car on the back and it speed off down the circular driveway. He turned and noticed a gayly dressed figure coming from the building. "Ah yes." Johnni nodded absent-mindedly. The mansion was a horrendous sight. Strange spires sticking up in a random fashion from a lumpy structure that seemed to be designed after the shape of cow dung. Atop the spires were gargantuan rainbow colored wheels that spun in the wind. "Greeting to Hwaht Toogahkee, Lord Breakman," the black man in the bright yellow robe bounded down the cobblestone walkway and began pumping Johnni's hand. "It means 'House of the Creaky Knees' in Eshlu. I'm terribly happy to see you." "Eshlu?" Johnni looked at the strange man, not sure what to think of him. He was far shorter than Johnni's two meters, but he seemed to look Johnni in the eye. "The little furry people. They're all over the place. Good workers. They built the house a few hundred years ago. Of course it's been refurbished. Ceilings too small, you see. Had to knock out some floors." "And you are?" Johnni asked. "Why, I'm Baron Gebal Mauswa," he shook Johnni's hand again. "Your cousin's husband. Might I say how pleased I am to meet you?" "Well hello," Johnni smiled, shaking the baron's hand again, who seemed reluctant to let it go. "How is old Stinky-Drawers?" "Stinky-Drawers?" the baron cocked his head. "Childhood name. To get the wind up her." "Was it indeed," the Baron's eyes widened and his grin expanded until he looked like a gibbous moon on a dark night. Johnni glanced to Davies, who seemed to be swaying under the weight of the luggage. "We didn't expect to see you until we were inside." "I just had to come to meet you as soon as possible. Adriana has been climbing the walls ever since your grandfather told us you were coming. She hates you, you know." The sun's light stopped reflecting off of Johnni's teeth as hi s smile collapsed. "I thought surely ten years was enough time for her to forgive and forget." The baron began pumping Johnni's arm again. "Might I again say how pleased I am to see you?" He put his arm around Johnni and led him up the walkway. "So tell me what Adriana was like as a child. Was she fat? Did she have any diseases?" * * * Davies opened the window, letting the sunlight shine on his cratered face and into the rest of the room. Miles and miles of hedges blooming with yellow and red flowers could be observed, and in the distance a thin blue ribbon of river. He allowed himself a brief smile and then steeled himself before turning back to view Johnni and the baron. "This will be your room," the baron's arm swept over the spacious apartment. "You man-servant's quarters are adjoining." Johnni looked around and nodded with a smile. The baron grabbed his hand and pumped it again. "I must be off. The old ball and chain wants me to help prepare for the ball. Oh, I forgot to tell you, we are having a ball tonight. Informal. A few hundred guests. I must be off. I'll sent a servant to see to your needs." And with that the only thing left of the baron was the after image of his yellow robes burnt into Johnni's retina. "I do say," Johnni looked at Davies as the door slammed shut. "What an energetic fellow." "Yes sir," Davies muttered and went to the luggage. "I wished they would have warned us before we arrived on this planet that there would be a ball. I'm not sure you have anything to wear." Johnni waved the thought off with his hand. "I'm sure my uniform will do. One look at that, and the girls will be wobbling at the knees." "Indeed," Davies replied. The door opened, and a small furry Eshlu walked in carrying a vase full of flowers. "Pardons, my lords," it curtseyed, "I am Goolatoo and will be serving your needs for your stay." Goolatoo curtseyed again and placed the flowers on a desk. "Can I get you anything?" Davies grabbed the flowers and crammed them back in Goolatoo's hands. "We will have no need of mutilated flowers in here when there are live ones outside." The creature's golden eyes shifted to blue and it looked at the floor. What might have been a sniff sounded from it's nose holes. "Krike, Davies," Johnni walked up to them and knelt before the Eshlu. "Davies can be a bit gruff about killing flowers sometimes," he told it. "No need to be sad. A pretty young girl like you shouldn't be all upset now." "I'm not a girl," Goolatoo said, sniffing again. "Oh, well, a butch young boy like you shouldn't get all upset over . . ." "I'm not a boy," it said. "Oh dear. Did you have an accident and something come off?" "We are hermaphrodites. I have both a penis and a vagina." Johnni's face went red and his bolted up. "Er, well, I, er . . ." * * * As the baron collected Johnni to see Adriana, Davies once again reminded him of his meeting to following day. Johnni nodded vigorously and tilted his head as the sobbing reached his ears. "Who is that?" he asked the baron as they walked down a tall towards a twisting staircase. Baron Mauswa's face dimmed. "That is Lady Doogail. She used to be a neighbor. A dreadful thing. Her father has disappeared. She'll be at the ball tonight." "Can anything be done for her?" Johnni asked. "Hopefully the ball will lift her spirits," he said as they walked down the staircase. This lead them to a grand ball room filled with drink stands and flowers and well-attired servants dashing about. In the center of the maelstrom stood Adriana, her arms pointing this way and that, barking single word orders. She slowly turned and looked up at Johnni, her fiery hair piled on top of her head and her green eyes given added force by her blue dress. The red slash beneath her mouth smirked. "How pleased I am to see you," she reached out and hugged him. "I trust you are doing well?" "Yes, just peachy," he hugged her back, then stepped away. "And you?" "Just fine. I do hope you are okay. We heard so little about you during the war, didn't we, darling? We waited with baited breath until you were released from that mental hospital." "Uh, it wasn't really a mental hospital. Not a hospital at all, really. I was just under observation." "Oh and we worried so when Uncle Breakman had to intervene and break all of those rules to rescue you from those doctors with their nasty machines." Her eyes glimmered. "Really, it was nothing. You know father blows everything out of proportion." Johnni gulped, a sinking feeling in his guts. The baron grabbed him by the arm. "Come, Johnni. Let's not bother Adriana just now. She has a good deal of work to do. Don't you, Stinky-Drawers?" Adriana clutched her chest and inhaled noisily. "What?" she coughed, eyes bulging. "Stee-in-key-Draw-wus," the baron slowly sounded out with a grin. She hit him with a piercing look that made him instinctively rub his neck. "Nonsense." she said through gritted teeth. "I'd love to help show our dear Johnni around your collection. Shall we start with the rings?" "I suppose so." the baron replied. They made their way through several garish hallways, filled with a virtually random array of very expensive, if somewhat tasteless, object d'art. Then they came to one wing cram-packed with well lit display cases. "This is my ring collection," Baron Mauswa smiled as he patted one of the cases. "There are rings here from every culture and race that have an appendage to put one on." "Most impressive," Johnni nodded, strolling before them with his hands behind his back. "But not impressive as my only part of the collection," Adriana motioned to one of the cases. "Come." Johnni walked to it. A single ring sat in the case. It was cut from pure diamond and engraved with a platinum inscription on what would have been the gem-front. "Can I touch it?" Johnni asked with a wide smile on his face. The baron looked at him curiously and lifted the lid. "It's just her great-grandfather's old ring." the baron shrugged. Johnni picked it up and stroked it. "And it's mine, mine, mine," Adriana crossed her arms with a smug expression on her face. "Great-grandfather left it to me. Only me. No one else." "He was my great grandfather too," Johnni muttered, still gazing at the ring. "What's so special about it?" The baron looked at it with renewed interest. "It certainly can't be all that expensive." Johnni glanced up from the ring, the light from the case shining under his face. "The Emperor gave him this ring after great grandfather foiled a coup attempt. He was also awarded the Duchy of Mellfield. Its because of him that we are all titled nobility. He was the founder of the house. A brave man." "Yes," Adriana nodded. "And it's mine." Johnni looked at her. "May I wear it tonight? It'd be awfully nice of you." "No, you may not," the crimson gash under her nose widened. "Most certainly not." "But it'd be awfully nice," Johnni pleaded. "Come on," the Baron suddenly smiled. "Let him wear it. For tonight only. Just this once. It would mean so much to old Johnni here." *Exactly* Adriana's eyes said. "Sorry, Johnni. It's not insured for that. I can't allow it. I've got to thing of great grandfather." "Dear," the Baron's tone changed. She stared at him with a twinkle in her eye. "Dear, let Johnni wear the ring." She continued to stare. "Let him wear the ring this instant!" "How dare you raise your voice to me!" she bellowed, turning white. "I shall and I will! Let Johnni wear the ring!" Johnni's eyes widened. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to . . ." "No." she smiled and looked at the wall. "I'll cut off your allowance!" "No." she began to sway back in forth, singing 'no' softly. "I'll revoke your traveling privileges!" "No. No. No," she sang. "Must I bring up ELSBURY!" She stopped. He stared at her. She stared at him. She threw her scarf to the floor. "Very well, Johnni," she turned to her cousin. "You may wear the ring tonight." * * * Johnni wasn't sure what to tell Davies when he asked how things when with his cousin. Luckily, Davies wasn't listening to his reply. He was to busy trying to make his white dress uniform look presentable. "I think I should wear the gold cuff-links grandfather bought me," Johnni said while inspecting himself in front of the full length mirror. "Sir, those are not military code. If there are any military personnel at the ball, they will notice," Davies drug a comb through Johnni's hair. "Krike, Davies, no one is going to be wanting to discuss things like that tonight." * * * The ball was going particularly well. Plenty of young women had ganged up to coo and fawn over him. For some reason, Adriana kept on pulling him away to meet other people. Much older people. Ancient, grumpy men and women. But finally the dried up people seemed to have run out. "And this is Mr. Henry Clypse and his wife Pricilla," Adriana introduced them. Mr. Clypse was a few fingers taller than Johnni, had an expensive suit on, but was strangely not of noble blood. His wife was wearing a diamond tiara, however. Not that it meant much. "Mr. Clypse owns the Clypse Bank and Trust." "And what do you do," Mr. Clypse asked after shaking his hand. He seemed not to be looking at him; rather, he was looking over the top of his head as if scanning the party-goes behind him. "Well, I tour," Johnni nodded, trying to peek around to see what he was looking at. "Tour? What are you, some sort of artist? A lay-about musician, perhaps?" "Oh I love musicians," Mrs. Clypse winked at him. A chill went up and down Johnni's spine. "Uh, no, I just tour and look about," Johnni averted his eyes away from Mrs. Clypse, who was licking her lips in a strange manner. "A tourist? You get paid for that?" Mr. Clypse said disdainfully. "Oh," Johnni shook his head, "No, I actually do things. I inspect. For my grandfather. Inspect things of his. Look at them. And tell him. About the things. That he owns." "My word," Mr. Clypse rubbed his chin. "I'm expecting one of your grandfather's inspectors tomorrow. He owns half of the Pweeth Power Plant downtown. My bank owns the other half of it." Johnni nodded slowly, then a gear clicked. "I think that's the place I am supposed to see. Yes, I am. Thursday." "I was told the inspection was to be tomorrow," Mr. Clypse' eyebrow lifted. Then eyes focused in the distance as if he had spotted something. "You are probably right," Johnni nodded, trying to mentally figure when exactly his appointment was. Adriana laughed at his side, "Johnni never was good with figures. Or names. Or even remembering how to breath." Suddenly Mr. Clypse began to drift away. "If you'll excuse me," he said. "I must be off. Money doesn't grow in idle chatter." His wife watched with a stern expression as Mr. Clypse disappeared into the crowd, then followed after him. "Those aren't military issue, are they, boy," a grey-mustached man in the bright red battle coat motioned to Johnni's arm with his drink. "Uh, no," Johnni held up his arm to get a better look at the swirling gold dragons now attached to his arm for the duration of the night. The old man's uniform told that he was, or had been, a general. "Lord Ritt Johnni Breakman," Adriana smiled, sipping from her wine glass, "You must meet Lord Ritt Andrucletious Puphinston and Lady Cruenellette." Lord Puphinston looked like the perfect picture of a modern major general. Lady Cruenelltte, however, looked like a cannonball with arms and legs, wearing a conch shell for a dress. "A Ritt, are you boy?" the old man eyed him with what appeared to be his only good one, "So you earned that in combat?" "Well, for doing my job," Johnni nodded slowly. Adriana tittered. "Our dear Johnni was in the Kartikan Conflict." "I feel sorry for you, boy," Puphinston downed his glass of brandy. Johnni glanced at the floor and began to rub his cuff links. "What battalion were you in." "Several. Here and there. Most of the time in the 1st Rescue Battalion." "Rescue?" Puphinston shook his head. "Not a very honorable position." "Come now," Lady Puphinston piped up, "let's not talk of such boring things. Let's talk about current events. I know, the scandal!" "Cruenellette," Puphinston turned to his wife. "If we are going to talk about something different, I'd rather talk about the boat racing at the marina." "Scandal?" Adriana asked. "What scandal?" Johnni sighed and watched the woman's lips move. They flapped about as if some strange marine creature was trying to invent locomotion. His eyes drifted further about. There was Baron Mauswa dancing, flailing his yellow sheathed arms about, looking like a bird. Near the door was a short necked man who looked like a tortoise. They all seemed like clouds somehow. Across the room he spotted the very tall Mr. Clypse. His back was to Johnni. The man was talking to someone, hands shaking a bit. Was he angry? Who was he talking to? Johnni stealthily rose to his tiptoes. The other party came into view. It was a woman. Young. Blonde. Pretty. Blue eyes downcast. Definitely *not* his wife. They were both away from the main crowd in a darkened corner. "Adriana?" Johnni interrupted. "Who is that woman over there?" Adriana stared at him angrily, finished her sentence, then stood up on tiptoes and peered over. "Oh, that's our dreadful guest Sapphy. Quite a bore. Anyway," she turned back to Lady Puphinston, "I don't see anything wrong with it." Mrs. Puphinston shook her head violently. "Andru dear, tell her. Explain." She jabbed him in the ribs with her pudgy elbow. He cleared his throat and his eyes gave off a far away look, as if he was speaking to an audience. "Illegal indenture strikes at the heart of what has stitched our civilization together for these three centuries. Without rules on who may and may not be enslaved, why, might not you or I be subject to these illegal acts?" Adriana laughed. "Well, I'm not likely to be frequenting seedy bars on the waterfront." "Want to bet," the baron suddenly stuck his dark face between Adriana and Johnni. "What are we talking about." Adriana stared hatefully at him. "We are talking about that cargo ship full of illegal indenturees confiscated a month ago up in orbit," the rotund Mrs. Puphinston said. "They said they were all pressed into service while inebriated in bars along the waterfront. Johnni cleared his throat. "I don't think anyone should be indentured, illegal or legally." "Quite right," the baron put his arm around Johnni's shoulders. "All of this slavery leaves a bad taste in my mouth. It should all be banned." "But Johnni," Adriana's eyes flickered, "Isn't your servant Davies indentured. In fact, hasn't his family been indentured for the last three generations?" "Well yes," Johnni jammed his finger in his collar in an attempt to loosen it. "But I don't hold the indenture papers. Grandfather does. Davies is simply working off something his grandfather broke or stole or something." "But boy," Lord Puphinston shook his head. "That's what an indenture is. A person, or family, or multiple generations working off past debts. Surely you must see that it's necessary. Why, we can't go back to the way it was. People getting out of their debts by declaring bankruptcy? That's stealing!" Baron Mauswa shook his black fist at Puphinston, "But how many countless planets have we fought war with, then doomed them to eternal indenture to pay off their so-called war crimes debt?" Lord Puphinston smiled, "How many indentures do you have working for you?" "Well," the baron crossed his arms. "I have to work from within the system. With what free servants charge I can only afford a handful of them. The rest I *have* to make up with indentured servants. I couldn't run this house, my other estates, or my businesses without them!" As the volume level raised, Johnni carefully snuck out of the throng that was growing around them. Politics was a terribly dull subject that often brought out the worst and loudest in people. But there was something interesting about. Adriana had said her name. What was it? Her sobs had been echoing through the halls earlier. Something about her father. Johnni knew he could help. He was trained to help. He stood up on tip toes and looked where she had been. She wasn't there any more. That corner had been vacated of people. Mr. Clypse was gone as well. Perhaps they had gone somewhere? Johnni made his way through the empty hors d'oeuvres tables. It was like a pack of mad scavenger had hit them. Bits of trodden on food littered the floor. Broken wine glasses. The crowd had moved on. Johnni looked around to find them. There was a large cluster of people nearer the kitchens. The servants had put out more food there. Johnni stood on tip-toe. Aha. Mr. Clypse was standing there, waving his arms about. He was talking to someone shorter than he who was also waving their arms about. Johnni made his way closer. He gulped. It was the wife. The one who had given him that funny look. Johnni turned around and walked as fast as he could away. But where was the girl? Maybe she had left. Johnni sighed and began to wander about, eventually lighting on a sofa in the corner. No one was here to bother him. He sat his empty glass on a coffee table and leaned back. A blonde woman in a diaphanous gown sat next to him. Johnni looked at her. It was the woman! "Hello there," he smiled at her, "You must be . . ." "Lady Sapphire Doogail, but everyone calls me Sapphy. You are Lord Breakman?" she smiled, but it seemed to be empty of warmth. "Call me Johnni," he stood up and shook her hand. "How are you. I've heard that there has been some trouble." Her eyes darted around. "What trouble?" "Your father. The baron told me," he sat down again. "Oh," she sighed. "I . . ." "I see the two most useless people here have met," Adriana's voice waffed from behind. "Hello Baroness," Sapphy around looked glumly at her. "Your ball is magnificent, as usual." Adriana walked around the and sat on the sofa across from them. "You and your proletariat behavior caused quite a stir back there." "Me?" Johnni asked. "All that talk of freeing the indentured servants. You didn't put much thought in it before you said it. But then again, you were always like that. You'll find that out about him, Sapphy. He's awfully stupid." Sapphy looked at Adriana, then looked to Johnni. "What's this all about, 'Driana?" Johnni asked. "We haven't seen each other for ten years, and you have been acting . . ." "It's just a little time, Johnni. Do you think that time alone can change anything. Do you think just the movement of a watch can make thing s different?" Adriana stood up. "Well, I . . ." "Ask good old Bertha if time makes anything better," she said with a grin and a glimmer and glided away. Sapphy watched her go. "What was that about?" She turned to Johnni. "Why . . . are you crying?" "No, no," Johnni sat up from his hunched over position and blinked his eyes several times. "It was the smoke from her cigarette." "But she wasn't smoking." "I . . ." "Oh, I hate that wicked woman," Sapphy sniffed. Then with a sob she leapt up and ran through a side door. "Sapphy . . ." Johnni quickly wiped his eyes and ran after her. The hallway beyond the door was long and had several doors. He stopped. One was closing. He ran to it. "Sapphy?" he said as he walked in. It was a small, dim drawing room with a divan and a fireplace. She was laying on the rug before it sobbing. "What's the matter?" he asked, kneeling next to her. Sapphy's dress splayed out on the floor like a ruffled bedspread. "Is it about your father?" She sobbed louder. Her head was moving. Perhaps that was an affirmative. Johnni carefully touched her shoulder. "Oh Johnni!" she threw her arms around his neck and sobbed. He could feel wetness seeping through the fabric on his shoulder. Johnni's hands were outstretched. He didn't know quite what to do with them. "What has happened to your father?" he asked. She clutched him tighter. He tentatively began stroking her golden hair. It was much like his. "He's been kidnapped," she wailed with her face deep in his shoulder. "By thunder!" he jumped to his feet, his fists clenched. Sapphy fell to the floor. "I'll thrash the fiend who has done this! What do the police have to say?" "The police don't know," she wailed from his feet. His eyes widened and he grabbed the phone from the table. Sapphy shrieked. "No! You mustn't! He said if the police were told, he would kill my father!" "Who? Who said that?" "A man named Whiskers," she cried. "Ooh, sounds like a nasty, hairy man who picks at his and other people's scabs," Johnni shivered. "What does he want?" "A ton of cash, which I don't have!" she sniffed. "Hold on," Johnni jabbed his finger at buttons on the phone. "Davies. Sorry. How much money do I have. What? Really? Oh dear. Are you sure? Positive? Krike." He set down the phone and knelt next to her. "It appears I'm tapped out. But, by thunder, I vow to you that I will not let this crime go unpunished." "You'll help?" she looked up at him with her big, blue eyes. "On my honor," he leapt up again, fist clenched and chin out. "Where is your father?" * * * It was a dank and nasty street corner. Cardboard huts lined the sidewalk, illuminated by lewd holographic advertisements showing loose women doing loose thing. Johnni also caught the whiff of his incontinent grandmother, but was sure that she would not be in the vicinity. Sapphy had no idea where her father was. Or the Whiskers fellow. Apparently he had left a message for her at her net address. "The Friggin Fat Fish Bar and All Night Orgy Palace," read the flashing sign above his head. Yes, this looked like the place. Johnni was certain that he could find the Whiskers fellow here. Or somewhere nearby. Perhaps. Maybe he could find information. Scummy people frequented scummy places, and this Whisker person sounded very scummy indeed. He opened the door to hoots and hollers. Smoke clogged his eyes. Eventually they adjusted to the dim light. There was raised boxing ring in the center of the dark room. Two scantily clad women were doing something in the ring. Johnni couldn't understand what they were doing, but it looked like they were giving each other a massage. Grimy men in grimy suits were shouting things at them. Yes. These were the types of characters that could aid him. Sapphy had know little about what had happened to her father. Unti l recently, her father, Lord Doogail, had owned the estate next door. Ten kilometers next door, Sapphy had explained. She had grown up there. A dismal place, she described, sitting smack dab on a rotting swamp. Her father had run aground financially, and the bank foreclosed on the estate. Shortly thereafter, her father disappeared. Now this Whiskers fellow was threatening to kill him on Friday. Or was it Thursday? He walked closer to the ring, having to push by several people. At closer inspection, the women where not giving each other a massage. The one with the out of proportion upper feminine region had the smaller bosomed one by the hair and was punching her in the face. Johnni's eyes widened and he shoved through the crowd and leapt up in the ring. "Shame on you!" he batted the woman's hand that held the hair. "Stop that this instant." Both women stared at him with jaws agape. There were a few indecipherable shouts from the audience. "Whatever she did to you, it's not enough to fight over. And in public, of all places," Johnni shook his head disparagingly. The women looked at him, looked at each other, and did a combination karate kick in Johnni's important place and he collapsed on the canvas. The crowd cheered. Johnni struggled up. One of the woman kicked him in the face and he flew back. The big breasted one leapt on him. "Give it to him, Helga!" came a cry from the audience. Johnni struggled as a giant breast covered his face, suffocating him. She gave him repeatedly blows about the ears. He struggled to get her off, but only managed to get on top of her. Her arms flapped. He grabbed them, yanked off her bikini top, and tied them behind her back. "I must apologize for this . . ." he muttered as the other one leapt on top of him. The audience was howling in laughter. She punched him in the kidneys. "Please, miss," he cried and crawled about the ring with her on his back. She grabbed his hair and yanked. He reared up and bucked her off, loosing two handfuls of hair. With a scream she flew into the audience. "Krike," he muttered and stood up. Everything had gone silent. The audience was staring at him. "Good," he dusted his white uniform off. "May I have your attention. I am looking for a most despicable person who calls himself Whiskers. I have a score to settle with him. Do any of you know where I might find him?" The audience responded with laughter. A short man pulled himself up on the canvas and pointed a stubby finger at Johnni. "How dare you interrupt my fight!" spittle flew from his mouth. "Nibor, remove this idiot from the premises." Johnni blinked as another man came up on the ring. A big man. He removed his shirt. Muscles leapt out in all directions. He began circling Johnni, waving his fists about. "I have no fight with you," Johnni said, and received a belt in the jaw. Johnni sighed and hunkered down, circling Nibor with his fists out. "This isn't really necessary," Johnni dodged a punch. Nibor's eyes widened and he gave Johnni a strong left to the jaw. Johnni's mouth filled with blood, but he didn't quite know where to spit it. Nibor punched again, this time in the gut. Bloody spittle splattered his face. "So sorry," Johnni apologized. Nibor's face turned redder that the blood covering it and charged. Johnni gave him an uppercut to the chin. Nibor collapsed. He lifted his head, then fell back. "I do apologize," Johnni turned back to the crowd. "I just want to know of a man named Whiskers. If anybody can tell me . . . " The little short man was jumping up and down. "God damn bastard! Nibor, you are fired! Mooga, take this upper class fairy out of here!" An entity came up on the ring. It was short, covered with golden fur, and had great big ears. Johnni squinted at it. "My word, you are one of those Eshlu creatures." Mooga did not respond. It set it's feet in a peculiar manner and began circling. "You know," Johnni knelt down to look it in the eye. "You might want to leave before you get hurt. I'd hate to have to hit you." Mooga's tiny fist shot out like lightning and impacted on Johnni's chest. There was a crack. "Krike," Johnni said as the air rushed out of him. Mooga struck again, this time in the solar plexus. Johnni doubled over. "I don't think . . ." Mooga kicked him in the back of the head. Johnni saw pretty little stars, then darkness. * * * Johnni's eyes peeled open and slowly focused in on the glowplate above him. It flickered. His head throbbed. His back ached. He peeled himself up from the cold, aluminium floor. There were bars before him. Strong, tough, unyielding. Johnni yanked at them to no avail. The cell was like a coffin, with barely enough room for him to sit up. A dark hallway was beyond the bars, and he seemed to be at least a meter or two above the hall floor. "Krike," he muttered. The tiny room wasn't even fit for a dog. A particularly bad dog, in fact, who had become attached to a new acquaintance's leg. He laid back down and rubbed his hand over his face. Something was missing. Something bad. Johnni tried to recall. His hand! The ring! His great grandfather's ring which had been given to him by the Emperor! It was gone. It wasn't on the ring finger. Or the pinkie. Or even the thumb. What had happened? Adriana's blistering stare formed in his mind. How was to he explain. He didn't quite remember where it had gone himself. His stomach knotted. Then suddenly released. Nothing was amiss. The ring would be on his other hand, of course. He slowly brought his other hand into view. Not there. He turned it around to see the other side. Still not there. Oh dear. Adriana would have him shot. If, of course, she could find him. But could he find himself? Where was he? What evil mastermind had done this to him? Aha. Whiskers. The fiendish mastermind who had kidnapped poor Sapphy's father. Obviously, Whiskers had kidnapped Johnni as well. Then sequestered him beneath the catacombs of his hilltop castle. All fiendish masterminds had hilltop castles. Well, most. Johnni had met a few fiendish masterminds that lurked in one bedroom suburban flats. But this was obviously not in a suburban flat. Well, perhaps it *was* a suburban flat. Thus the ever so small jail cell slash torture chamber. Whatever the case, torture would be the order of the day. So he had to escape. Johnni knelt up close to the bars and stuck his hands through. Good. They fit between the openings and would allow him to strangle the fiendish mastermind's henchmen. Then he would grab the keycard and escape, rescue the father, and bring him safely back to Sapphy. Luckily, his appointment wasn't till Thursday. It must have been Wednesday by now. No time to wander through some enormous power plant for his grandfather. Footsteps. A henchman was coming. Johnni tensed up and made his hands ready to shoot out at the fiend. The fiend appeared. Johnni's hands shot through the bars. His fingers dangled in mid-air. The fiend watched him calmly from beyond a little yellow line on the floor. "If you would move your blamin' hands, I could open the blamin' door," he said. Johnni began to suspect something. The fiend was curiously dressed up just like a police officer. Behind him were Davies and Sapphy. "So sorry," Johnni drew his hands back in and the police officer swiped a card across the bars, opening them. Johnni jumped out. "Sir," Davies shook his head, "I do wish you would confer with me before venturing out on your own." "Well you see, Davies, I had a job to do," Johnni said as they walked down the hall into a room brimming with other policemen, desks, computers, big ugly thugs, and strangely dressed women. "Yes, Miss Sapphy has confessed her part in all of this to me," Davies glanced at her. Sapphy's head was wrapped up in a scarf and sunglasses covered her eyes. Johnni couldn't fail to notice that the light in the room wasn't very bright. "I have arranged your bail. However, you must appear in court in two weeks." "For what?" Johnni stopped walking. "Sir, you are charged with four counts of assault." "But they started it!" "Two of them women?" "Well," Johnni stammered. "Those women did in fact start the entire mess. If I weren't a gentlemen, I might think of charging them myself. And anyway, I really only assaulted the one big man. I never touched the tiny one who knocked me . . ." he glanced at Sapphy. "The small furry person seemed to get the jump on me." "I shouldn't wonder," Davies said. "The Eshlu have a highly ferric bone structure." "What does that mean?" "Their bones are made of steel." At the entryway, Davies turned to Sapphy. "Miss Sapphy, I must again ask you to inform the authorities here of your circumstances." Sapphy backed up against the wall, looking from side to side like a hunted marmoset. "No! They said I mustn't tell anyone. *Anyone,* Davies, or they'd hurt father." "Those vicious miscreants," Johnni gnashed his teeth and clenched his fists. "So you see the problem, Davies. I'm her only hope." "God help her," Davies muttered. "Oh, and God too, of course. While the bad guys only have Satan and his little wizards behind them." "Indeed, sir." Davies said. "Miss Sapphy, you do realize that if you do not inform the police, Lord Breakman here will be the only thing standing between your father and death?" "Yes," she said, and kissed Johnni on the cheek. "I'm sure that he will perform spectacularly." Johnni blushed. "Sapphy," Johnni smiled from ear to ear, "We will do everything in our power to rescue your father." "We?" asked Davies. "We. You and me. We're a team. We've done tremendous feat of goodness. Who rescued that young girl on the Herikan Bridge?" "Lord Highwater, sir." "Oh. Then who bested the evil racketeers on Thobos?" "The Thobian police, sir." "Oh. Then who retrieved the Diamond Chandelier of Duke Markosie with only a few broken bits and cracks?" "We did, sir, but half of it was destroyed. When you dropped it, sir." "There you go," Johnni smiled. "We have done tremendous feats of goodness together. Let's be off!" * * * Johnny changed clothes in back of the limousine with the screen up to prevent Sapphy from seeing any indecent bits. As he pulled the screen down, he saw that Sapphy was crouched down in the seat and Davies was looking out the back. "They're back," she whined, hands over her face. "What is up?" Johnni tugged at his freshly starched collar. Davies loved starch. Gobs of it. "Sir," Davies turned back around. "When Miss Sapphy and I came to retrieve you from jail, a black vehicle started following us. I picked up the phone and dialed the police - then suddenly they vanished. But they appear to be back again." Johnni looked back at the traffic. Plenty of cars. Red ones, green ones, blue ones. Then he saw a black car far behind. "Shall I inform the police, sir?" "No. We can't risk the life of Sapphy's father. But I have a plan. Tell the driver to proceed normally. "Sir, the driver is proceeding normally." "Oh, well tell him to continue doing so until we get back home." They continued on slightly normally until they ventured out of the city and drove into Baron Mauswa's grounds. Sapphy was still hunkered down, and Johnni was watching them with binoculars. "Davies, both the driver and the passenger appear to be wearing funny hats. Wide brims," Johnni said. "Sir, those would be fedoras. And if that is so, they are probably Marcabian hit men. The most dangerous criminals around." "Good," Johnni said as they pulled into the driveway and got out. Sapphy hit behind the other side of the car. "What was your plan, sir?" Davies asked. "This," Johnni pulled the driver from the limousine and jumped in the seat. "Sir, if you plan on following them, I must remind you that you have an appointment today at three." "I thought that was on Wednesday?" "Today *is* Wednesday, sir. The meeting is at the Pweeth Power Plant. Starting in Mr. Clypse's office." "I'll try to be there." Johnni nodded, watching as the black car turned and sped off from grounds. Suddenly Sapphy pulled a pistol from her handbag and crammed it in Johnni's hands. "I can't take this," Johnni handed it back to her. "But you'll need it," she told him. He shook his head. "Nonsense. Someone might get hurt!" he slammed the door and floored the accelerator, sending the seven meter long limousine careening off after the sleek black sports car. * * * Wheels whined and left a long, black streak of polymer on the road as Johnni skidded onto the wide motorway. The villains were far ahead of him, somehow besting him through the winding dirt roads on the baron's estate. The limousine raced past several trucks. The traffic was getting thicker. He swerved between two sedans and raced toward the sports car. Johnni could see the two men in fedoras. One was moving. Climbing into the back seat. With something long in his hand. "Speed, speed!" Johnni yelled. "I've go to get closer." But luck was on his side. The sports car was slowing down. Suddenly the Marcabian in the back seat began kicking at the rear window. It popped out, and he stuck the long thing through the hole. It was a gun. "Krike!" A stream of pencil-thin laser blasts ricocheted off the windows. Sensor lights erupted all over the dashboard, indicating that the limousine's armor was under assault. Obviously the baron had spent a good deal of cash on the car. Suddenly the sports car swerved into another lane. The fedoraed Marcabian hung out of the window, aiming at the tires. "No!" Johnni yelled, hitting the accelerator and turning the wheel. The front corner of the behemoth slammed into the sports cars rear end and the gun flew out of the Marcabians hands, clattering under Johnni's tires. The lights flashed again. The car was telling him that a foreign object had punctured and wedged itself into, what it considered, a vital portion of the vehicle. "Ooops," Johnni muttered. The sports car accelerated and the dangling Marcabian dragged himself back inside. It changed several lanes and raced off the freeway. Johnni followed, spewing dechlorinated water from behind. The laser weapon had ripped open a hole into the jacuzzi near the trunk. They sped along city streets lined with skyscrapers, dodging cabs and an occasional cyclists. The sports car was gaining. Johnni slammed the accelerator harder, but to no avail. They turned sharply, and he took out a fire hydrant in the same move. He glanced at the newly created fountain in his rear view mirror and shrugged. Then he turned his attention in front of him. Bad. Traffic. Lots of it. All stopped at a red light. The Marcabians had stopped, wedged between two trucks. The limo screamed as Johnni tried to stop it. It stopped barely in time, just touching a red convertible's bumper. "Gotcha," Johnni opened the door. The Marcabians were only ten meters away and they weren't going anywhere. But then the noise started. A terrible whine followed by a furnace blast of wind hit Johnni. Suddenly the sports car lifted up into the air, wobbled a bit, sailed over the traffic, and set down beyond the intersection. "I *hate* jump jets!" Johnni lamented and hurled himself back in the limousine. He slammed the gears in reverse and floored it. He barely avoided compacting an already compact car and mounted the sidewalk. He accelerated down the sidewalk, smashing newspaper stands, crushing kiosks, and leaving a red hot trail of sparks where the right side of the limousine met the sides of the buildings. By the time two more fire hydrants were demolished, he had a clean view of the villain. They were a quarter of a kilometer down the street. Johnni gulped. He would never catch them. But he had to try. They turned down another street. At full acceleration, he made the turn. Almost. There was a terrible rending and crashing noise from behind him and he began to spin. He noticed a slight draft. The limousine came out of the spin and he was moving in their direction. And catching up with them. He was going faster. Johnni smiled. He looked back to see what had made the terrible noise and the smile disappeared. The slight draft was explained by what he could see at the corner. A mangled light post lay in the middle of the road, wrapped up in what appeared to be the back half of the vehicle. The truck, the jacuzzi, the seats, the wet bar, the refrigerator, and several other accommodations littered the road. Including the rear axle. Luckily the car had ten sets of wheels. He was gaining on them. So much so, in fact, that he slammed into them. The little sports car swerved away and turned down another street. Johnni grinned and turned the corner. There was a little old lady crossing the street up ahead, arms laden with groceries and wrapped up with twenty leashes connected to twenty yapping dogs. The Marcabians were barreling straight for her. "Vile . . . evil . . ." Johnni muttered when he saw their intentions. He raced up along side them and yanked the wheel. One side of the sports car collapsed and it flipped over, smashing into a building. "Ha," Johnni laughed, then eyes widened as he saw the little old lady straight in front of him. He slammed on the brakes, turned the wheel, and flipped the now five meter long limousine. Smash. It was airborne. Smash. It was bouncing. The limousine bounced over the little old lady and her dogs and sailed sideways into a dumptruck, knocking it over on its side. Johnni hung upside down for a moment, then looked around. The lady finished crossing the street, completely unaware that anything had happened. The sports car was in a mangled heap, halfway inside of a department store. A confused little man in a grey jumpsuit stumbled out of the dumptruck and scratched his head. Johnni extricated himself from the baron's very expensive wreckage and ran to the sports car. There was no way they could have survived. He peered inside. They were gone. But he saw a white card in the floorboard and picked it up. Screams pierced his ears. They were from inside the store. He squeezed through the aperture and saw the men, one armed, running through the aisles knocking over customers. "Come back here and fight like men!" Johnni screamed at them. The armed one whipped around and level a volley of laser fire at him. Johnni jumped behind a hat display, which was promptly incinerated. Flaming bits of woolen caps fell on him. There were more screams. Johnni poked his head above the wreckage. They were running into the "Girls: 12-16" region. He raced after them. They ran through a door. He followed. More screams. It was brightly lit and there were tons of mirrors. Girls in bras and panties were throwing things at him. "So sorry, excuse me, so sorry, I do apologize," he ran through the dressing room. An emergency door was closing. He raced through it and came out into an alley. Two figures disappeared around a corner. He chased after them and saw them running down steps into a subway station. Johnni had them now. All he had to do was . . . He leapt on the banister and slid down, down past the two Marcabians, down past the end of the rail, straight into a turnstile. Sprawled on the floor, he watched the two evil men race by and go into a subway car. The doors swished close behind them. The car began to move. Johnni leapt on it's side, his fingernails gouged into it's metallic casing. He pulled himself up higher and laid prone on the roof. The acceleration increased. Johnni started to slide back. His foot caught on a cable and he slid off the car. All the breath in his lungs spewed out as the cable yanked his leg, then slammed him into the back of the subway car. And slammed him again as it stopped. In a haze he saw the two Marcabians exit the car and run into the new station. He pulled himself up, released his leg from the cable, and crashed into the tracks below. Johnni struggled to his feet and looked around. They were running up the steps to the surface. He bolted after them. His leg throbbed. His stomach was in knots. His eyes couldn't quite focus. But he still ran. Air. Fresh air hit him. Sunlight. Large buildings. Squat. Warehouses. Industrial buildings. A low throbbing sound that vibrated his bones. The street was empty. He knelt and breathed deeply. "Krike," he gasped. He had lost them. If only . . . A door to a building was closing. That must be it. He ran. His lungs burned. Sweat poured into his eyes. He yanked the door open. Huge pipes spewed steam everywhere. The bone vibrating sound was coming from here. Big metal things moved up and down and sideways. Two figures disappeared into the mist. He yelled. They fired. He ducked. They missed. He raced off into the cloud and up metal steps that were immediately in front of him. He could here the Marcabians metallic footsteps clanging up beyond. He came to a door that was closing and threw himself in. "Lord Breakman . . ." Davies stood up from a blue couch. Three other men were sitting next to him with briefcases and business suits. Beyond them a secretary sat at a desk. ". . . you are five minutes late, sir. Mr. Clypse is eager to have us tour the power plant as soon as possible." Johnni blinked. "I think I just toured it," he blinked again. Just great. He had lost the kidnappers, he had lost Adriana's ring, and now he was going to actually have to do what he was paid for - i.e., work. END OF PART ONE Born a Bastard Copyright (c) 1995, Ed Davis All Rights Reserved BORN A BASTARD by Ed Davis The labor pains were growing in intensity and were closer together now. The slender red head with the sprinkle of freckles dusting her nose and cheeks clenched her hands even tighter and tried very hard not to cry out again. Looking between her upraised and wide spread knees she saw that the doctor shook his head each time an anguished cry escaped the control she had been battling to maintain. Through the red veil of agony that had become her world, old memories returned to carry her back along her own trail of tears. Pain was not new to the nineteen year old. Her mother's departure for greener pastures thirteen years earlier had been the beginning. Life slid downward for the family and finally crashed to the bottom when her father had placed them all with The Children's Home Society for adoption. She was the eldest and kept her memories of how things had been. She also kept the child like hope that each dawn would bring her father, like a gallant knight, to rescue them. Her hopes died a slow death and she finally abandoned them when her brother and sister were adopted. She was totally alone, her family destroyed. The old pain faded to the background as the unstoppable power of nature and the baby's will to be born pushed the small head through her pelvis. She felt as if someone was pulling on each of her knees and she prayed silently that they would soon stop. Her narrow hips were aching from the hours of spread eagled captivity and labor agony. Suddenly, as if from another room, she heard the wail of a baby. Someone has had her baby, she thought. Her mind had finally retreated from the pain. She opened her eyes and was surprised to see the doctor, standing now, holding a blood covered form of a baby. She looked more closely and realized that the infant still had a cord protruding from its middle. My baby is here, she realized. She moved her hands to her suddenly deflated belly and her senses caught up with the reality that had occurred without her conscious participation. It was over. The doctor plopped the new born down on her flattened stomach and began tying the umbilical cord. Three deft moves and the baby was an independent human, no longer kept alive by the slender lifeline attached to its tiny body. "It's a boy." The voice belonged to the nurse with the pleasant eyes and friendly smile. The white delivery room costumes robbed the medical people of their identity but their voices gave them away. The doctor nodded his affirmation and resumed his out of sight position between the new mother's knees. He was nearly done and the night would soon become day. He detested having to be on call, but in a time when people had very little money they had even less for doctors. His position with The Salvation Army Home was to be envied, not looked down upon. He just hated the idea of bringing nothing but bastards into the world. The morning sun filled the drab room with yellow light and woke the new mother. She slid her hands across the unaccustomed flatness of her stomach and smiled. He really is here. Now I have someone of my own, and he will always love me. No matter what all the stuffed shirts around here think, we will stay together. She turned to watch one of the grey and white nurses glide down the long ward. They all moved with the same motion. They did not walk, they moved more like they were ice skating. From her position at the end of the long room she could watch the long skirted nurse for a long time, as she moved gracefully down the isle between the beds. Some of the beds were occupied, supporting a burden of pregnancy swollen young woman. The sleeping figures remained motionless while the passing nurse went on her way. Most of the beds were empty but there were still too many full, the nurse reflected, as she passed through the swinging doors at the end of the ward. Kids never learn. The passage of the nurse brought the new mother back to the sharp edged reality of her dilemma. Now that her baby was here, in the stark world of missed meals and cold nights and no longer safely hidden, decisions had to be made. A place to stay, a job, someone to care for Him, and a whole world of problems faced her. She was too confused and exhausted to battle the world. Must be the stuff the doctor gave me, she rationalized, as a form of sleep embraced her and carried her to a less pressing world. The world of dreams. Her first remembrance, as always, was the warmth and joy of her first encounter with the baby's father. She basked in the warm feeling again and recalled the happiness she felt when he would arrive at her foster parent's home to take her out. They usually went to a movie and then had a coke. Later, before he returned her to her house, they would drive to one of the out of the way spots frequented by their generation. Gentle touches and unsure caresses gave way, over the weeks, to more assured and more daring explorations. Finally, the familiarity became intimacy and a new and strange pleasure was added to her limited experience. Three months later, with her monthly periods stopped and her heart thudding in her chest, she listened while the sober faced doctor told her she was pregnant. Suddenly the weekly minutes of pleasure carried a new and more expensive price tag. She returned to her job at the tobacco processing plant and waited impatiently for Friday. That Friday, the last one in September, ended more than a month. Her stolen months of affection and its accompanying warmth and closeness were shattered when her young lover told her that he still had four years of college to attend before he could even think about marriage and he was not even thinking about changing those plans. She was once again on her own. Since she had broached the subject prior to their customary arrival in their quiet place, she did not even have one last memory to carry back with her. She was not sure she wanted the last time, but she ached for the suddenly lost closeness. Her world was suddenly just like it used to be, only now she was pregnant. She watched her first love drive away into the cold darkness and felt a part of her life depart as well. The world of dreams was invaded by the confusion of reality. Time to feed the baby. The small form, less wrinkled now that his skin was dried and lightly oiled, lay in her arm and wrapped his small lips around the brown nipple of her breast and filled her being with a new and totally different feeling. As the infant fed, she watched and renewed her pledge to herself that some how they would stay together. She would not abandon her baby. Not like her mother had done. Six months later, the reality of being a mother and not a wife began to overwhelm the new mother. She returned to the only source of hope and help she knew, The Children's Home Society. She was determined that her baby would have a home and knew she could not provide that home. She had come to the decision to give her baby up for adoption. One small bag carried the infant's meager possessions, when his mother handed him over to a uniformed nurse who would place him in a foster home until his adoption was arranged. The nurse carried the slim child in one arm and managed the small bag easily with her other hand. "He'll be better off, now." The words were intended to comfort but they demolished what was left of the young mother's resolve and the tears flooded out. She retreated from the home, vowing to return and get her baby back one day, like a knight arriving in the nick of time. At six foot three and nearly two hundred and twenty pounds, the man towered over the nine month old infant tugging at his pant leg. For the fourth time the giant man bent down and pulled the small fingers loose from his cuff. He handed the small, blonde child to the waiting matron again. For the fourth time the matron tired of the wriggling burden and released him back to the less confining plateau like flatness of the floor. The child rolled from his padded bottom and attacked the distance separating him from the towering man. What had worked before, worked again. The exhilaration of the ascent to the towering heights was the same, but the result was different. This time the strong hands continued to hold him, he was not summarily delivered to the matron. The sensations were pleasing, even to a child who knew nothing about the intellectual aspect of sensations or pleasure. Soon the child felt himself being returned to the matron. The man was leaving. He wanted a new born baby, and none were available. The tall man and his wife left. The couple shared their disappointment in silence as they started the sixty mile trip to their home. The miles slipped past in the gathering darkness, and the couples thoughts were still behind them, the distance growing with each minute. "He's not a baby," she opened the conversation. "I know... Let's go back and get him." "Let's." The adoption proceeded. The small boy went to live with the tall man and his wife. The faint memories, sensations really, of a freckled breast and the warmth of another woman's touch faded into the back of the child's mind with the flood of new and pleasing sensations. The boy prospered. His mother would have been pleased with the stability and security of his new home. Years passed swiftly for the tall man and his family. The secret of the child's slightly tainted origin held and its importance faded. The kitchen was still the same. The formica topped table and the red plastic chairs were exactly where they were a few seconds earlier. The only difference was the conversation that had just taken place. That conversation had flipped the world for the twelve year old boy. Everything and everyone who had made his world stable was suddenly changed. He had just discovered he was adopted. "That's how we got you." Those words destroyed all of the boy's reality and he instantly felt totally alone. All relatives and family friends were suddenly strangers. If he was adopted, all his relatives were elsewhere. The woman standing before him was just that, and definitely not his mother. Besides that, he reasoned, she's been living a lie for years. The woman who eleven years earlier had returned to arrange for the adoption of a small child who liked to climb pant legs, knew she had made a radical mistake. She had been given little advice by The Children's Home Society on how to deal with this situation. The wisdom of the time was that adoptees were never to be informed, denial was better than truth. Now when she was without the presence of her husband and faced with a bewildered child she was lost. Years of reflection have brought a tentative peace to the boy and have left many questions unresolved. How many other children have been treated the same way, over the years? How many agencies are still using the same wisdom today? How many mothers of relinquished children wish things were different? The list of questions is as endless as the list of adoptees would be, if all adoptees were known. Or if all adoptees knew. ÚÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ¿ ³ ÚËÍÍÍË¿ ÚË Ë¿ ÚËÍÍÍË¿ Ú» É¿ ÚËÍÍÍË¿ ÚËÍÍÍË¿ ÚÉ ÚÍÑËÑÍ¿ ÚËÍÍÍË¿ ³ ³ ³º ÃÎÍÍÍδ ³ÌÍÍËÊÙ ÀÊÑËѼ٠ÀÊÍÍÍË¿ ÃÎÍÍÍδ ³º ³º³ ÀÊÍÍÍË¿ ³ ³ ÀÊÍÍÍÊÙ ÀÊ ÊÙ ÀÊ ÈÍÙ ÀÊÙ ÀÊÍÍÍÊÙ ÀÊ ÊÙ ÀÊÍÍÍÊÙ ÀÍÏÊÏÍÙ ÀÊÍÍÍÊÙ ³ ³ Dallas/Ft Worth's First & Longest Running Multi-User BBS ³ ³ Online Since 1979 ³ ÃÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ´ ³ (214) 690-9295 Dallas (817) 540-5565 Ft. Worth ³ ÃÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ´ ³ 64 Telephone Lines ³ ³ Internet E-Mail, FTPmail, Archie, Oracle, Usenet Groups ³ ³ Over 35+ Gigabytes of Files Represented - 12 CD-Rom Drives Online ³ ³ NO File Upload or File Ratio Requirements ³ ³ Interactive Multiuser Chat Conferences ³ ³ Dozens of Interactive, Real-Time, Games of Chance & Excitement ³ ³ Text, Graphics, & ANSI Color Completely Supported ³ ³ Dozens of Special Interest Areas - Literally 1000s of Messages Online ³ ³ USA Today Online Each Business Day ³ ³ Thousands of Interesting, Intelligent, Diverse Members ³ ³ Connex (Tm) - The Biographical, Friendship, and Matchmaking Service ³ ³ Voted # 1 BBS in Texas by Boardwatch BBS Magazine ³ ÃÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ´ ³ High Speed: (214) 690-9296 Dallas (817) 540-5569 Ft. Worth ³ ÀÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÙ ÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ °±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²² ²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²² Poetry ²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²² ²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±° ÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ The Veil Copyright (c) 1995, Tamara All Rights Reserved The Veil sacrificial three part harmony a destiny of twisted lives braided in a silver chain a testament of matrimony taken cross the threshold of a never ending mind The illusion speaks of golden mists of silver cords, of wedded bliss but down thru ages long foretold a glimpse through veils that cant be sold our lives are intertwined by chance a testament of circumstance Though the veil is all I see By chance? Or synchronicity? Written 9/5/92 by Tamara (c) Farmer's Market Copyright (c) 1994, Albert Johnston All rights reserved Farmer's Market The child of eight strains to lift the heavy crates. While his father who drives the truck talks to us of the last woman he had. Gertrude Offered Herself Copyright (c) 1994, Daniel Sendecki All rights reserved Gertrude Offered Herself ------------------------ He and Gertrude Thought it would be romantic to take on the lassitude of the Autumn fell on each other laughing - left no leaf unturned Morbidity As a Friend Copyright (c) 1989, Tommy Van Hook All rights reserved Morbidity As A Friend By Tommy Van Hook, 9/7/89 Copyright 1989, Birchleaf Productions Ltd. The blade The bullet The rope My friends these are Give me life ending - never-ending Show me darkness eternal Slow my heartbeat quickly Capture my lifeblood Spill my blood Scatter my brain Steal my breath Be my friend Handcuff me with death It's a hard life to love °°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°° ²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²² ²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²² Lets go MUdding - Online Feb 15th - Call (214) 373-6732 MUD Multi-User-Dungeon Become a Wizard and build you own Zone in the MUD.  ú  ú  ú ²  ú ° ú  ððððððððð ²  ú  °°°  ú   ãõêÙäøû  ² ú  °°°°  ú  çëìíî   þþþþþþþþþþþþþ  ò󩪩êû  èèèèèè DreamTide  雜™ïØè   ððððððððð  Takes you to a future Ice Age! Text, Ansi, RIP154, RIP 2.0 The Blue Event Horizon - the "first" BBS MUD site. ²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²² ²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²² ±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±± ÿ ÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ °±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²² ²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²² Humour ²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²² ²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±° ÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ Top Ten List Copyright (c) 1995, Joe DeRouen All rights reserved Top Ten Most Frequently Used Pick-Up Lines In E-Mail 10. "People are always telling me I could be Brad Pitt's twin." 9. "I'm such a baaaaad girl!" 8. "I'm not wearing anything but a smiley face . . . " 7. "I've got to go to cheerleading practice." 6. "My wife just doesn't understand me!" 5. "Wanna come play in the MUD with me?" 4. "Let's download each other's GIFs." 3. "Your home page makes me soooo hot!" 2. "I write for Computer Currents Magazine." 1. "I'm female." (c) 1995 Joe DeRouen. All rights reserved. ÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ °±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²² ²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²² Information ²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²² ²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û²±°²±° °±²Û²±°Û²±°Û²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²Û°±²Û°±²Û²±° °±²Û°±²Û²±° ÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ There are several different ways to get STTS magazine. SysOps: Contact me via any of the addresses listed in CONTACT POINTS listed elsewhere in this issue. Just drop me a note telling me your name, city, state, your BBS's name, it's phone number and it's baud rate, and where you'll be getting STTS from each month. If your BBS carries RIME, Pen & Brush Network, or you have access to the InterNet, I can put you on the STTS mailing list to receive the magazine free of charge each month. If you have access to FIDO, you can file request the magazine. If you don't have access to any of these services - or do but don't wish to use this option - you can call any of the BBS's listed in DISTRIBUTION SITES and download the new issue each month. In either case contact me so that I can put your BBS in the dist. site list for the next issue of the magazine. (Refer to DISTRIBUTION VIA NETWORKS for more detailed information about the nets) Users: You can download STTS each month from any of the BBS's mentioned in DISTRIBUTION SITES elsewhere in this issue. If your local BBS isn't listed, pester and cajole your SysOp to "subscribe" to STTS for you. (the subscription, of course, is free) If you haven't any other way of receiving the magazine each month, a monthly disk subscription (sent out via US Mail) is available for $ 20.00 per year. Foreign subscriptions are $ 25.00 (american dollars). Subscriptions should be mailed to: Joe DeRouen 3910 Farmville Dr. # 144 Addison, Tx. 75244 U.S.A. Submission Information ---------------------- We're looking for a few good writers. Actually, we're looking for as many good writers as we can find. We're interested in fiction, poetry, reviews, feature articles (about most anything, as long as it's well-written), humour, essays, ANSI art, and RIP art. STTS is dedicated to showcasing as many talents as it can, in all forms and genres. We have no general "theme" aside from good writing, innovative concepts, and unique execution of those concepts. As of January 1st 1994, we've been PAYING for accepted submissions! In a bold move, STTS has decided to offer an incentive for writers to submit their works. For each accepted submission, an honorarium fee will be paid upon publication. Premium access to STTS BBS is also given to staff and contributing writers. In addition to the monthly payments, STTS will hold a yearly "best of" contest, where the best published stories and articles in three categories will receive substantial cash prizes. These changes took effect in January of 1994, and the first yearly awards were presented in the July 1994 issue. Honorariums, yearly cash awards, award winners selection processes, and Contributor BBS access is explained below: HONORARIUM Each and every article and story accepted for publication in STTS will received a cash honorarium. The payment is small and is meant as more of a token than something to reflect the value of the submission. As the magazine grows and brings in more money, the honorariums will increase, as will the yearly award amounts. Fiction pieces pay an honorarium of $2.00 each. Poetry pieces pay an honorarium of $1.00 each Non-fiction* pieces pay an honorarium of $1.00 each You have the option of refusing your honorarium. Refused funds will be donated to the American Cancer Society. Staff members ARE eligible for honorariums. * Non-fiction includes any feature articles, humor, reviews, and anything else that doesn't fit into the fiction or poetry category. YEARLY CASH AWARD Once a year, In July, the staff of STTS magazine will meet and vote on the stories, poems, and articles that have appeared in the last six issues of the magazine. Each staff member (the publisher included) gets one vote, and can use that vote on only one entry in each category. In the unlikely event of a tie, the winners will split the cash award. Winners will be announced in the July issue of the magazine. Yearly prize amounts -------------------- Fiction $50.00 Non-fiction 25.00 Poetry 25.00 The winner in each category does have the option of refusing his cash award. In the event of such a refusal, the entire sum of the refused cash awards will be donated to the American Cancer Society. STTS BBS Staff members and contributing writers will also receive level 40 access on Sunlight Through The Shadows BBS. Such access consists of 2 hrs. a day, unlimited download bytes per day, and no download/upload ratio. A regular user receives 1 hr. a day and has an download/upload ratio of 10:1. Staff and contributing writers also receive access to a special private STTS Staff conference on the BBS. LIMITATIONS STTS will still accept previously published stories and articles for publication. However, previously published submissions do NOT qualify for contention in the yearly awards. Furthermore, previously published stories and articles will be paid at a 50% honorarium of the normal honorarium fee. RIGHTS The copyright of said material, of course, remains the sole property of the author. STTS has the right to present it once in a "showcase" format and in an annual "best of" issue. (a paper version as well as the elec. version) Acceptance of submitted material does NOT necessarily mean that it will appear in STTS. Submissions should be in 100% pure ASCII format, formatted for 80 columns. There are no limitations in terms of lengths of articles, but keep in mind it's a magazine, not a novel. Fiction and poetry will be handled on a pure submission basis, except in the case of any round-robin stories or continuing stories that might develop. Reviews will also be handled on a submission basis. If you're interested in doing a particular review medium (ie: books) on a full-time basis, let me know and we'll talk. ANSI art should be under 10k and can be about any subject as long as it's not pornographic. We'll feature ANSI art from time to time, as well as featuring a different ANSI "cover" for our magazine each month. In terms of articles, we're looking for just about anything that's of fairly general interest to the BBSing world at large. An article comparing several new high-speed modems would be appropriate, for example, whereas an article describing in detail how to build your own such modem really wouldn't be. Articles needn't be contained to the world of computing, either. Movies, politics, ecology, literature, entertainment, fiction, non-fiction, reviews - it's all fair game for STTS. Articles, again, will be handled on a submission basis. If anyone has an idea or two for a regular column, let me know. If it works, we'll incorporate it into STTS. Writers interested in contributing to Sunlight Through The Shadows can reach me through any of the following methods: Contact Points -------------- CompuServe - My E_Mail address is: 73654,1732 The Internet - My E_Mail address is: jderouen@crl.com RIME - My NODE ID is SUNLIGHT or 5320. Send all files to this address. (you'll have to ask your SysOp who's carrying RIME to send it for you) Alternately, you can simply post it in either the Sunlight Through The Shadows Magazine, Common, Writers, or Poetry Corner conference to: Joe Derouen. If you put a ->5320 or ->SUNLIGHT in the top-most upper left-hand corner, it'll be routed directly to my BBS. Pen & Brush Net - Leave me a note or submission in either the Sunlight Through The Shadows Magazine conference, the Poetry Corner conference, or the Writers Conference. If your P&BNet contact is using PostLink, you can route the message to me automatically via the same way as described above for RIME. In either case, address all correspondence to: Joe derouen. WME Net - Leave me a note or submission in the Net Chat conference. Address all correspondence to: Joe Derouen. My BBS - Sunlight Through The Shadows. 12/24/96/14.4k baud. (214) 620-8793. You can upload submissions to the STTS Magazine file area, comment to the SysOp, or just about any other method you choose. Address all correspondence to: Joe Derouen. US Mail - Send disks (any size, IBM format ONLY) containing submissions to: Joe DeRouen 3910 Farmville Dr. # 144 Addison, Tx. 75244 U.S.A. Advertising ----------- Currently, STTS Mag is being "officially" carried by over 90 BBS's across the United States. It's also being carried by BBS's in the United Kingdom, Canada, Portugal, and Finland. Unofficially (which means that the SysOps haven't yet notifed me that they carry it) it's popped up on literally hundreds of BBS's across the USA as well as in other countries including the UK, Canada, Portugal, Ireland, Japan, The Netherlands, Scotland, and Saudi Arabia. It's also available via Internet, FIDO, RIME, and Pen & Brush Networks. Currently, STTS has about 10,000 readers worldwide and is available to literally millions of BBSers through the internet and other networks and BBS's. If you or your company want to expose your product to a variety of people all across the world, this is your opportunity! Advertising in Sunlight Through The Shadows Magazine is available in four different formats: 1) Personal Advertisements (NON-Business) ----------------------- Personal advertisements run $5.00 for 4 lines of advertising, with each additional line $1.00. Five lines is the minimum length. Your ad can be as little as one line, but the cost is still $5.00. Advertisements should be in ASCII and formatted for 80 columns. They should include whatever you're trying to sell (or buy) as well as a price and a method of contacting you. ANSI or RIP ads at this level will NOT be accepted. Business ads will NOT be accepted here. These ads are for non-business readers to advertise something they wish to sell or buy, or to advertise a non-profit event. BBS ads are considered business ads. 2) Regular Advertisement (Business or Personal) --------------------- We're accepting business advertisements in STTS. If you're interested in advertising in STTS, a full-page (ASCII or ASCII and ANSI) is $25.00/issue. Those interested can contact me by any of the means listed under Contact Points. If you purchase 5 months of advertising ($125.00) the sixth month is free. 3) Feature Advertisement (Business or Personal) --------------------- We'll include one feature ad per issue. The feature ad will pop up right after the magazine's ANSI cover, when the user first begins to read the magazine. This ad will also appear within the body of the magazine, for further perusement by the reader. A feature ad will run $50.00 per issue, and should be created in both ANSI and ASCII formats. If you purchase 5 months of advertising ($250.00) the sixth month is free. 4) BBS Advertisement (Business or Personal) ----------------- Many BBS SysOps and users call STTS BBS each month to get the current issue of STTS Magazine. These callers are from all over the USA as well as Canada, Portugal, the UK, and various other countries. Advertising is now available for the logoff screen of the BBS. The rates are $100.00 per month. Ads should be in both ASCII and ANSI format. We're accepting RIP ads as well, but only for the this advertising option. If you purchase 5 months of advertising ($500.00) the sixth month is free. Advertisement Specifications ---------------------------- Ads may be in as many as three formats. They MUST be in ascii text and may also be in ANSI and/or RIP Graphics formats. Ads should be no larger than 24 lines (ie: one screen/page) and ANSI ads should not use extensive animation. If you cannot make your own ad or do not have the time to make your own ad, we can make it for you. However, there is a one-time charge of $10.00 for this service. We will create ads in ASCII and ANSI only. If you absolutely need RIP ads and cannot create your own, we'll attempt to put you into contact with someone who can. Contact Points -------------- You can contact me through any of the following addresses. Sunlight Through The Shadows BBS (214) 620-8793 12/24/96/14,400 Baud CompuServe: 73654,1732 InterNet: jderouen@crl.com Pen & Brush Net: ->SUNLIGHT P&BNet Conferences: Sunlight Through The Shadows Conference or any other conference WME Net: Net Chat conference PcRelay/RIME: ->SUNLIGHT RIME Conferences: Common, Writers, or Poetry Corner US Mail: Joe DeRouen 3910 Farmville Dr. # 144 Addison, Tx. 75244 U.S.A. You can always find STTS Magazine on the following BBS's. BBS's have STTS available for both on-line viewing and downloading unless otherwise marked. * = On-Line Only # = Download Only United States ------------- BBS Name ........... Sunlight Through The Shadows Location ........... Addison, Texas (in the Dallas area) SysOp(s) ........... Joe and Heather DeRouen Phone ........... (214) 620-8793 (14.4k baud) (Sorted by area code, then alphabetically) BBS Name ........... ModemNews Location ........... Stamford, Connecticut SysOp(s) ........... Jeff Green Phone ........... (203) 359-2299 (14.4k baud) BBS Name ........... Party Line, The Location ........... Birmingham, Alabama SysOp(s) ........... Anita Abney Phone ........... (205) 856-1336 (14.4k baud) BBS Name ........... Left-Hand Path, The Location ........... Seattle, Washington SysOp(s) ........... Mark Pruitt Phone ........... (206) 783-4668 (14.4k baud) # BBS Name ........... Lobster Buoy Location ........... Bangor, Maine SysOp(s) ........... Mark Goodwin Phone ........... (207) 941-0805 (14.4k baud) Phone ........... (207) 945-9346 (14.4k baud) BBS Name ........... Northern Maine BBS Location ........... Caribou, Maine SysOp(s) ........... David Collins Phone ........... (207) 496-2391 (14.4k baud) BBS Name ........... File-Link BBS Location ........... Manhattan, New York SysOp(s) ........... Bill Marcy Phone ........... (212) 777-8282 (14.4k baud) BBS Name ........... Poetry In Motion Location ........... New York, New York SysOp(s) ........... Inez Harrison Phone ........... (212) 666-6927 (14.4k baud) BBS Name ........... Wamblyville Location ........... Los Angeles, California SysOp(s) ........... John Borowski Phone ........... (213) 380-8090 (14.4k baud) BBS Name ........... Aaron's Beard BBS Location ........... Dallas, Texas SysOp(s) ........... Troy Wade Phone ........... (214) 557-2642 (14.4k baud) BBS Name ........... Archives On-line Location ........... Dallas, Texas SysOp(s) ........... David Pellecchia Phone ........... (214) 247-6512 (14.4k baud) Phone ........... (214) 406-8394 (14.4k baud) # BBS Name ........... BBS America Location ........... Dallas, Texas SysOp(s) ........... Jay Gaines Phone ........... (214) 680-3406 (9600 baud) Phone ........... (214) 680-1451 (9600 baud) BBS Name ........... Blue Banner BBS Location ........... Rowlett, Texas SysOp(s) ........... Richard Bacon Phone ........... (214) 475-8393 (14.4k baud) BBS Name ........... Blue Moon Location ........... Plano, Texas SysOp(s) ........... Roger Koppang Phone ........... (214) 985-1453 (14.4k baud) BBS Name ........... Bucket Bored! Location ........... Sachse, Texas SysOp(s) ........... Tim Bellomy Phone ........... (214) 414-6913 (14.4k baud) BBS Name ........... Chrysalis BBS Location ........... Dallas, Texas SysOp(s) ........... Garry Grosse Phone ........... (214) 690-9295 (2400 baud) Phone ........... (214) 783-5477 (9600 baud) # BBS Name ........... Collector's Edition Location ........... Dallas, Texas SysOp(s) ........... Len Hult Phone ........... (214) 351-9871 (14.4k baud) Phone ........... (214) 351-9871 (14.4k baud) BBS Name ........... Foreplay Online Location ........... Dallas, Texas SysOp(s) ........... Sean Goldsberry Phone ........... (214) 306-7493 (14.4k baud) BBS Name ........... Online Syndication Services BBS Location ........... Plano, Texas SysOp(s) ........... Don Lokke Phone ........... (214) 424-8425 (14.4k baud) BBS Name ........... Opa's Mini-BBS (open 11pm-7am CST) Location ........... Plano, Texas SysOp(s) ........... David Marshall Phone ........... (214) 424-0153 (2400 baud) # BBS Name ........... User-2-User Location ........... Dallas, Texas SysOp(s) ........... William Pendergast and Kevin Carr Phone ........... (214) 393-4768 (14.4k baud) Phone ........... (214) 393-4736 (2400 baud) BBS Name ........... Wild Fire BBS Location ........... Dallas, Texas SysOp(s) ........... Archie Parker Phone ........... (214) 272-3748 (28.8k baud) BBS Name ........... Deep 13 - MST3K Location ........... Levittown, Pennsylvania SysOp(s) ........... Mike Slusher Phone ........... (215) 943-9526 (14.4k baud) BBS Name ........... Beta Connection, The Location ........... Elkhart, Indiana SysOp(s) ........... David Reynolds Phone ........... (219) 293-6465 (14.4k baud) BBS Name ........... Bill & Hilary's BBS Location ........... Elkhart, Indiana SysOp(s) ........... Nancy VanWormer Phone ........... (219) 295-6206 (14.4k baud) BBS Name ........... FTB's Passport BBS Location ........... Frederick, Maryland SysOp(s) ........... Karina Wright Phone ........... (301) 662-9134 (14.4k baud) BBS Name ........... The "us" Project Location ........... Wilmington, Delaware SysOp(s) ........... Walt Mateja, PhD Phone ........... (302) 529-1650 (14.4k baud) BBS Name ........... Hole In the Wall, The Location ........... Parker, Colorado SysOp(s) ........... Mike Fergione Phone ........... (303) 841-5515 (16.8k baud) BBS Name ........... Right Angle BBS Location ........... Aurora, Colorado SysOp(s) ........... Bill Roark Phone ........... (303) 337-0219 (14.4k baud) BBS Name ........... Ruby's Joint Location ........... Miami, Florida SysOp(s) ........... David and Del Freeman Phone ........... (305) 856-4897 (14.4k baud) BBS Name ........... PUB Desktop Publishing BBS, The Location ........... Chicago, Illinois SysOp(s) ........... Steve Gjondla Phone ........... (312) 767-5787 (9600 baud) BBS Name ........... O & E Online Location ........... Livoign, Michigan SysOp(s) ........... Greg Day Phone ........... (313) 591-0903 (14.4 k baud) BBS Name ........... Family Connection, The Location ........... St. Louis, Missouri SysOp(s) ........... John Askew Phone ........... (314) 544-4628 (14.4k baud) BBS Name ........... PsychoBABBLE BBS Location ........... Massena, New York SysOp(s) ........... Doug LaGarry Phone ........... (315) 764-719 (28.8k baud) BBS Name ........... Pegasus BBS Location ........... Owensboro, Kentucky SysOp(s) ........... Raymond Clements Phone ........... (317) 651-0234 (14.4k baud) BBS Name ........... Puma Wildcat BBS Location ........... Alexandria, Louisiana SysOp(s) ........... Chuck McMillin Phone ........... (318) 443-1065 (14.4k baud) BBS Name ........... Badger's "BYTE", The Location ........... Valentine, Nebraska SysOp(s) ........... Dick Roosa Phone ........... (402) 376-3120 (14.4k baud) BBS Name ........... Megabyte Mansion, The Location ........... Omaha, Nebraska SysOp(s) ........... Todd Robbins Phone ........... (402) 551-8681 (14.4k baud) BBS Name ........... College Board, The Location ........... West Palm Beach, Florida SysOp(s) ........... Charles Bell Phone ........... (407) 731-1675 (14.4k baud) BBS Name ........... Treasures Location ........... Longwood, Florida SysOp(s) ........... Jim Daly Phone ........... (407) 831-9130 (14.4k baud) BBS Name ........... Flying Dutchman, The Location ........... San Jose, California SysOp(s) ........... Chris Von Motz Phone ........... (408) 294-3065 (14.4k baud) BBS Name ........... Matrix Online Service Location ........... San Jose, California SysOp(s) ........... Daryl Perry Phone ........... (408) 265-4660 (14.4k baud) BBS Name ........... Aries Knowledge Systems Location ........... Baltimore, Maryland SysOp(s) ........... Waddell Robey Phone ........... (410) 625-0109 (14.4k baud) BBS Name ........... Doppler Base BBS Location ........... Baltimore, Maryland SysOp(s) ........... Dan Myers Phone ........... (410) 922-1352 (14.4k baud) BBS Name ........... Port EINSTEIN Location ........... Catonsville, Maryland SysOp(s) ........... John P. Lynch Phone ........... (410) 744-4692 (14.4k baud) BBS Name ........... Puffin's Nest, The Location ........... Pasadena, Maryland SysOp(s) ........... Dave Bealer Phone ........... (410) 437-3463 (16.8k baud) BBS Name ........... Robin's Nest BBS Location ........... Glen Burnie, Maryland SysOp(s) ........... Robin Kirkey Phone ........... (410) 766-9756 (2400 baud) BBS Name ........... Chatterbox Lounge and Hotel, The Location ........... Penn Hills, Pennsylvania SysOp(s) ........... James Robert Lunsford Phone ........... (412) 795-4454 (14.4k baud) BBS Name ........... Signal Hill BBS Location ........... Springfield, Massachusettes SysOp(s) ........... Edwin Thompson Phone ........... (413) 782-2158 (14.4k baud) BBS Name ........... Exec-PC Location ........... Elm Grove, Wisconsin SysOp(s) ........... Bob Mahoney Phone ........... (414) 789-4210 (2400 baud) Phone ........... (414) 789-4315 (9600 baud) Phone ........... (414) 789-4360 (14.4k baud) BBS Name ........... First Step BBS, The Location ........... Green Bay, Wisconsin SysOp(s) ........... Mark Phillips Phone ........... (414) 499-6646 (14.4k baud) BBS Name ........... Lincoln's Cabin BBS Location ........... San Francisco, California SysOp(s) ........... Steve Pomerantz Phone ........... (415) 752-4490 (14.4k baud) BBS Name ........... Uncle "D"s Discovery Location ........... Redwood City, California SysOp(s) ........... Dave Spensley Phone ........... (415) 364-3001 (14.4k baud) BBS Name ........... File Cabinet BBS, The Location ........... White Hall, Arkansas SysOp(s) ........... Bob Harmon Phone ........... (501) 247-1141 (14.4k baud) BBS Name ........... Starting Gate, The Location ........... Louisville, Kentucky SysOp(s) ........... Ed Clifford Phone ........... (502) 423-9629 (14.4k baud) BBS Name ........... Darkside BBS, The Location ........... Independence, Oregon SysOp(s) ........... Seth Able Robinson Phone ........... (503) 838-6171 (14.4k baud) BBS Name ........... Last Byte, The Location ........... Alamogordo, New Mexico SysOp(s) ........... Robert Sheffield Phone ........... (505) 437-0060 (14.4k baud) BBS Name ........... Leisure Time BBS Location ........... Alamogordo, New Mexico SysOp(s) ........... Bob Riddell Phone ........... (505) 434-6940 (14.4k baud) BBS Name ........... Base Line BBS Location ........... Peabody, Massachusettes SysOp(s) ........... Steve Keith Phone ........... (508) 535-0446 (14.4k baud) BBS Name ........... High Society BBS Location ........... Beverly, Massachusettes SysOp(s) ........... Chuck Frieser Phone ........... (508) 927-3757 (14.4k baud) BBS Name ........... High Water Mark, The Location ........... Wareham, Massachusettes SysOp(s) ........... Joseph Leggett Phone ........... (508) 295-6557 (14.4k baud) BBS Name ........... PandA's Den BBS Location ........... Danvers, Massachusettes SysOp(s) ........... Patrick Rosenheim Phone ........... (508) 750-0250 (14.4k baud) BBS Name ........... SoftWare Creations Location ........... Clinton, Massachusettes SysOp(s) ........... Dan Linton Phone ........... (508) 368-7036 (14.4k baud) BBS Name ........... Extreme OnLine Location ........... Spokane, Washington SysOp(s) ........... Jim Holderman Phone ........... (509) 487-5303 (14.4k baud) BBS Name ........... Silicon Garden, The Location ........... Selden, New York SysOp(s) ........... Andy Keeves Phone ........... (516) 736-6662 (14.4k baud) BBS Name ........... Appomattox BBS, The Location ........... New Lebanon, New York SysOp(s) ........... Dan Everette Phone ........... (518) 766-5144 (14.4k baud dual standard) BBS Name ........... Integrity Online Location ........... Schenectady, New York SysOp(s) ........... Dan Ginsburg, Jordan Feinman, Dave Garvey Phone ........... (518) 370-8758 (14.4k baud) Phone ........... (518) 370-8756 (2400 baud) BBS Name ........... Tidal Wave BBS Location ........... Altamont, New York SysOp(s) ........... Josh Perfetto Phone ........... (518) 861-6645 (14.4k baud) BBS Name ........... Mission Control BBS Location ........... Flagstaff, Arizona SysOp(s) ........... Kevin Echstenkamper Phone ........... (602) 527-1854 (14.4k baud) Phone ........... (602) 527-1863 (28.8k baud) BBS Name ........... Chopping Block, The Location ........... Claremont, New Hampshire SysOp(s) ........... Dana Richmond Phone ........... (603) 543-0865 (14.4k baud) BBS Name ........... Casino Bulletin Board, The Location ........... Atlantic City, New Jersey SysOp(s) ........... Dave Schubert Phone ........... (609) 561-3377 (14.4k baud) BBS Name ........... Princessland BBS Location ........... Wenonah, New Jersey SysOp(s) ........... Pamela & Rick Forsythe Phone ........... (609) 464-1421 (2400 baud) BBS Name ........... Revision Systems Location ........... Lawrenceville, New Jersey SysOp(s) ........... Paul Lauda Phone ........... (609) 896-3256 (14.4k baud) BBS Name ........... Hangar 18 Location ........... Columbus, Ohio SysOp(s) ........... Bob Dunlap Phone ........... (614) 488-2314 (14.4k baud) BBS Name ........... Channel 1 Location ........... Cambridge, Massachusettes SysOp(s) ........... Brian Miller Phone ........... (617) 354-3230 (14.4k baud) Phone ........... (617) 354-3137 (16.8k HST) # BBS Name ........... Arts Place BBS, The Location ........... Arlington, Virginia SysOp(s) ........... Ron Fitzherbert Phone ........... (703) 528-8467 (14.4k baud) BBS Name ........... Bubba Systems One Location ........... Manassas, Virginia SysOp(s) ........... Mark Mosko Phone ........... (703) 335-1253 (14.4k baud) BBS Name ........... Market Hotline, The Location ........... Rodford, Virginia SysOp(s) ........... Steve Mintun Phone ........... (703) 633-2178 (28.8k baud) BBS Name ........... Pen and Brush BBS Location ........... Burke, Virginia SysOp(s) ........... Lucia and John Chambers Phone ........... (703) 644-6730 (300-12.0k baud) Phone ........... (703) 644-5196 (14.4k baud) # BBS Name ........... Sidewayz BBS Location ........... Fairfax, Virginia SysOp(s) ........... Paul Cutrona Phone ........... (703) 352-5412 (14.4k baud) BBS Name ........... Virginia Connection, The Location ........... Washington, District of Columbia SysOp(s) ........... Tony McClenny Phone ........... (703) 648-1841 (14.4k baud) BBS Name ........... Vivid Images Press Syndicate Location ........... Wise, Virginia SysOp(s) ........... David Allio Phone ........... (703) 328-6915 (14.4k baud) BBS Name ........... Imperial Palace, The Location ........... Augusta, Georiga SysOp(s) ........... Michael Deutsch Phone ........... (706) 592-1344 (14.4k baud) BBS Name ........... Zarno Board Location ........... Martinez, Georiga SysOp(s) ........... Tim Saari Phone ........... (706) 860-7927 (14.4k baud) BBS Name ........... Anathema Downs Location ........... Sonoma County, California SysOp(s) ........... Sadie Jane Phone ........... (707) 792-1555 (14.4k baud) BBS Name ........... Happy Trails Location ........... Orange, California SysOp(s) ........... Don Inglehart Phone ........... (714) 547-0719 (14.4k baud) BBS Name ........... InfoMat BBS Location ........... San Clemente, California SysOp(s) ........... Michael Gibbs Phone ........... (714) 492-8727 (14.4k baud) BBS Name ........... Cool Baby BBS Location ........... York, Pennsylvania SysOp(s) ........... Mark Krieg Phone ........... (717) 751-0855 (19.2k baud) BBS Name ........... T&J Software BBS Location ........... Jim Thorpe, Pennsylvania SysOp(s) ........... Tom Wildoner Phone ........... (717) 325-9481 (14.4k baud) BBS Name ........... Ice Box BBS, The Location ........... Kew Gardens Hills, New York SysOp(s) ........... Darren Klein Phone ........... (718) 793-8548 (14.4k baud) BBS Name ........... Systemic BBS Location ........... Bronx, New York SysOp(s) ........... Mufutau Towobola Phone ........... (718) 716-6198 (14.4k baud) Phone ........... (718) 716-6341 (14.4k baud) BBS Name ........... Paradise City BBS Location ........... St. George, Utah SysOp(s) ........... Steve & Marva Cutler Phone ........... (801) 628-4212 (14.4k baud) BBS Name ........... Regulator, The Location ........... Charleston, South Carolina SysOp(s) ........... Steve Coker Phone ........... (803) 571-1100 (14.4k baud) BBS Name ........... Straight Board, The Location ........... Virginia Beach, Virginia SysOp(s) ........... Ray Sulich Phone ........... (804) 468-6454 (14.4k baud) Phone ........... (804) 468-6528 (14.4k baud) BBS Name ........... TDOR#2 Location ........... Charlottesville, Virginia SysOp(s) ........... David Short Phone ........... (804) 973-5639 (14.4k baud) BBS Name ........... Valley BBS, The Location ........... Myakka City, Florida SysOp(s) ........... Larry Daymon Phone ........... (813) 322-2589 (14.4k baud) BBS Name ........... Syllables Location ........... Fort Myers, Florida SysOp(s) ........... Jackie Jones Phone ........... (813) 482-5276 (14.4k baud) BBS Name ........... Nightline I & II Location ........... Crystal Lake, Illinois SysOp(s) ........... Ron Pena Phone ........... (815) 356-7061 (14.4k baud) Phone ........... (815) 356-7062 (14.4k baud) # BBS Name ........... Renaissance BBS Location ........... Arlington, Texas SysOp(s) ........... David Pollard Phone ........... (817) 467-7322 (9600 baud) # BBS Name ........... Second Sanctum Location ........... Arlington, Texas SysOp(s) ........... Mark Robbins Phone ........... (817) 784-1178 (2400 baud) Phone ........... (817) 784-1179 (14.4k baud) BBS Name ........... Dream Land BBS Location ........... Destin, Florida SysOp(s) ........... Ron James Phone ........... (904) 837-2567 (14.4k baud) BBS Name ........... Hurry No Mo BBS Location ........... Citra, Florida SysOp(s) ........... Roy Fralick Phone ........... (904) 595-5057 (14.4k baud) BBS Name ........... Star Fire Location ........... Jacksonville, Florida SysOp(s) ........... Bruce Allan Phone ........... (904) 260-8825 (14.4k baud) BBS Name ........... Tree BBS, The Location ........... Ocala, Florida SysOp(s) ........... Frank Fowler Phone ........... (904) 732-0866 (14.4k baud) Phone ........... (904) 732-8273 (14.4k baud) BBS Name ........... Outlands, The Location ........... Ketchikan, Alaska SysOp(s) ........... Mike Gates Phone ........... (907) 225-1219 (14.4k baud) Phone ........... (907) 225-1220 (14.4k baud) Phone ........... (907) 247-4733 (14.4k baud) BBS Name ........... Moonbase Alpha BBS Location ........... Bahama, North Carolina SysOp(s) ........... Steven Wright Phone ........... (919) 471-4547 (14.4k baud) BBS Name ........... Outlands, The Location ........... Ketchikan, Alaska SysOp(s) ........... Mike Gates Phone ........... (907) 247-4733 (14.4k baud) Phone ........... (907) 225-1219 (14.4k baud) Phone ........... (907) 225-1220 (14.4k baud) BBS Name ........... Legend Graphics OnLine Location ........... Riverside, California SysOp(s) ........... Joe Marquez Phone ........... (909) 689-9229 (14.4k baud) BBS Name ........... Locksoft BBS Location ........... San Jacinto, California SysOp(s) ........... Carl Curling Phone ........... (909) 654-LOCK (14.4k baud) BBS Name ........... Image Center, The Location ........... Ardsley, New York SysOp(s) ........... Larry Clive Phone ........... (914) 693-9100 (14.4k baud) BBS Name ........... SB Online, Inc. Location ........... Larchmont, New York SysOp(s) ........... Eric Speer Phone ........... (914) 723-4010 (14.4k baud) Canada ------ BBS Name ........... Canada Remote Systems Online Location ........... Toronto Ontario, Canada SysOp(s) ........... Rick Munro Phone ........... (416) 213-6002 (14.4k baud) BBS Name ........... Source-Online Location ........... British Columbia, Canada SysOp(s) ........... Chris Barrett Phone ........... (604) 758-4643 (14.4k baud) BBS Name ........... Encode Online Location ........... Orillia Ontario, Canada SysOp(s) ........... Peter Ellis Phone ........... (705) 327-7629 (14.4k baud) BBS Name ........... Beasley's Den Location ........... Mississauga Ontario, Canada SysOp(s) ........... Keith Gulik Phone ........... (905) 949-1587 (9600 baud) United Kingdom -------------- BBS Name ........... Hangar BBS, The Location ........... Avon, England, United Kingdom SysOp(s) ........... Jason Hyland Phone ........... +44-934-511751 (14.4k baud) BBS Name ........... Pandora's Box BBS Location ........... Brookmans Park, England, United Kingdom SysOp(s) ........... Dorothy Gibbs Phone ........... +44-707-664778 (14.4k baud) BBS Name ........... Almac BBS Location ........... Grangemouth, Scotland, United Kingdom SysOp(s) ........... Alastair McIntyre Phone ........... +44-324-665371 (14.4k baud) Finland ------- BBS Name ........... Niflheim BBS Location ........... Mariehamn, Aaland Islands, Finland SysOp(s) ........... Kurtis Lindqvist Phone ........... +358-28-17924 (16.8k baud) Phone ........... +358-28-17424 (14.4k baud) Portugal -------- BBS Name .......... Intriga Internacional Location .......... Queluz, Portugal SysOp(s) .......... Afonso Vicente Phone .......... +351-1-4352629 (16.8k baud) BBS Name .......... B-Link BBS Location .......... Lisbon, Portugal SysOp(s) .......... Antonio Jorge Phone .......... +351-1-4919755 (14.4k baud) BBS Name ........... Mailhouse Location ........... Loures, Portugal SysOp(s) ........... Carlos Santos Phone ........... +351-1-9890140 (14.4k baud) South America ------------- BBS Name ........... Message Centre, The (Open 18:00 - 06:00 local) Location ........... Itaugua, Paraguay SysOp(s) ........... Prof. Michael Slater Phone ........... +011-595-28-2154 (2400 baud) Saudi Arabia ------------ BBS Name ........... Sahara BBS Location ........... Dammam City SysOp(s) ........... Kais Al-Essa Phone ........... +966-3-833-2082 (16.8k baud) SysOp: To have *your* BBS listed here, write me via one of the many ways listed under CONTACT POINTS elsewhere in this issue. STTS Net Report Copyright (c) 1995, Joe DeRouen All rights reserved Sunlight Through The Shadows Magazine is available through FIDO, INTERNET, RIME, and PEN & BRUSH NET. Check below for information on how to request the current issue of the magazine or be put on the monthly mailing list. FIDO To get the newest issue of the magazine via FIDO, you'll need to do a file request from Fido Node 1:124/8010 using the "magic" name of SUNLIGHT. INTERNET To get on the STTS mailing list, do the following: Send internet mail message to: JDeRouen@CRL.COM And ask to be put on the list. RIME To request the magazine via RIME, ask your RIME SysOp to do a file request from node # 5320 for the current issue (eg: sun9502.ZIP, or whatever month you happen to be in) Better yet, ask your SysOp to request to be put on the monthly mailing list and receive STTS automatically. PEN & BRUSH NET To request via P&BNet, follow the instructions for RIME above. They're both ran on Postlink and operate exactly the same way in terms of file requests and transfers.