6 replies to this topic

[George Ledoux]

Hello folks, the latest episode of the Duncan Fisher Minute (which actually runs nearly 4 minutes) is posted to my Soundcloud page. Big thanks go out to my writer, David Martin for putting words in Duncan's mouth.

Duncan Fisher Minute on Soundcloud

Enjoy!

Edited by George Ledoux, 19 August 2014 - 06:44 PM.

[Agent Cooper]

Love It! I was transported back to the arena just now and it felt good.

[Heffay]

So damn entertaining. I'd love to see some collaboration between Mr Ledoux and Gmanacus to have some of his short stories brought to life!

[George Ledoux]

Heffay, on 20 August 2014 - 06:33 AM, said:

So damn entertaining. I'd love to see some collaboration between Mr Ledoux and Gmanacus to have some of his short stories brought to life!

Thanks, man!
Who is this "Gmanacus"? Perhaps I could contact them.

[Heffay]

George Ledoux, on 20 August 2014 - 07:58 AM, said:

Thanks, man!
Who is this "Gmanacus"? Perhaps I could contact them.

He posts short stories that help cement the lore/game changes on reddit. I don't know if I've seen him here. He writes fluff pieces that are very engaging, which has earned him the "Story Time" title, or unofficially "PGI's Official Fluffer".

Here's a (very short) sample of his work:
http://www.reddit.co...ll_do_i_do_now/

The pieces are usually introspective. Pilots talking to themselves. And he mentioned that he may work on some serial pieces as well, so there may be some characters that make repeat performances.

Edited by Heffay, 20 August 2014 - 08:40 AM.

[Heffay]

http://www.reddit.co...s_places_to_be/

Here's one of my favorites. Allow me to quote!

Quote

PART TWO: SOUTH OF CANCER

Our lance was last to go. Four of us to handle everything north of the tropics. The Long Lakes hadn't fully thawed from the last glaciation; there wasn't much outside the equatorial warm. There wasn't much inside it either, really.

We'd been sitting in our 'Mechs for hours. From the very first we had to suit up and power on, only to be locked in a line along a heavy-duty gantry running the length of our bay. Nearly an hour ago the bay doors opened, and one by one we shuffled, or rather, were shuffled, out it. Each time the gantry would rattle, scream and slide, before slamming to a halt. Sometimes a few 'Mechs would drop one after another, sometimes after a long pause.

I held one such pause. The longest, by far. My coupling slid to the end of the line, slammed to a stop, and dangled me there, above the whole wide world. Everywhere I could see was down, and down, and down. Without a drop pod is was just me, my 'Mech, and a whole lot of vertigo.

Planets don't look right from that high up. Everything is hazy. Nothing's the right size. Rolling hills and lakes turns into an oddly patterned stone. Watersheds look like a thousand little leaves, piled up all atop one another. High peaks and low valleys become a wash of crenelations, suffused with vegetation wherever it can slip in and hold on to. Nothing's familiar at all.

Well, almost nothing. The fear of heights is mighty familiar. Your stomach tries to climb out your throat, and your lizard brain just won't stop hollering about how, "We are definitely going to die", and, "Here's some more adrenaline I cooked up for you to make sure this all goes by in painfully slow motion." Thanks, idiot.

I appreciate the drop chief's attempts to make it all a little bit easier to stomach. None of it works, really, and I think I'd quite prefer she just didn't bother, but I get that she's trying to help. "Five minutes to the zone!" and then again, what must be twenty minutes later, "Four minutes to the zone!" After a few hours of that excruciation, she finally changes the subject, and asks, "There it is, can you see your lake?" Well, no, but-.

THERR-CHUNK.

Free fall's something you get used to travelling in space. Free fall with a world as wide as the horizon screaming up towards you, not so much. Your organs knot themselves up, each inching away from your boots, all in a ridiculous struggle to land one on top of the other. As if to cushion the blow. After a few minutes of free fall, we've well now truly built up enough inertia to liquefy on impact. And besides, we're supposed to have retro-rockets and manoeuvring boosters to save us. So why can't I just learn to trust them and relax?

For something as certain and as straight forward as falling down, everything constantly feels like it's going sideways. I have literally nothing to do, certainly nothing I can do, and yet I keep convincing myself there's both something wrong, and something I must do - or even could do - about it. I even had a nice chance to observe the truth of this.

"You're off mark." No crackle to the radio, she was clear as on the boat. I really do miss the quiet solitude of my drop coffin.

"Try again chief, Mark's last one off the boat, this is Raj."

"Raj, you are off mark. Check your latitude."

"Negative chief, no attitude."

Half way through the exchange she started making sense: I was not going to land where I was supposed to. There's not really anything I could (or did) do about it. While the drop chief (presumably) gave me hell, I checked where I'd be landing: a long lake somewhere in the torrid zone. Fingers crossed for deep bottoms and shallow shores.

[cmopatrick]

Another great recording, sir. I should also add that Ms. Shaw sounds pretty good, too.