My senses come back to me. I'm sitting in a plain white plastic chair in a small room, a tiny casual-looking office. Much about it seems designed to put people at ease - there's a real houseplant hanging from the ceiling, photos of smiling children beside it, even a hand-drawn picture done by a child pinned up on the wall.

In front of me is a large, plain beige metal desk. The door beside it opens and a smiling man wearing jeans and a blue sweater walks in and sits down.

"Hi", he says, putting out his hand for me to shake. Since I have nothing better to do and it is better than getting killed again, I shake his hand.

"I'm Stuart Mosley, head of the interface division of games. Specificially, the game you've been sentenced to serve in, the 'Realms of Lonfaria'. Pleased to meet you."

"Okay," I respond.

Stuart sits down across from me and leans forward like he is suddenly my best friend. "You're probably confused why you're here, and not in the game."

I nod.

"That's because you've been providing us with - "

" 'Us'? " I interrupt.

"The corporation," Stuart waves his response away like it's obvious. "You've been providing the corporation valuable biometric data, especially in pain threshold response. Which means - "

I interrupt again. " 'Pain threshold response'?!? You mean you guys have been jacking up the pain I've been feeling today every time I die?"

Stuart nods. "Not just yours, though, but almost all the other pris - the other mandatory clients."

I feel like jumping across the desk and throttling the small pudgy man but I know it would be pointless since we're not in The Real. If I did attack Stuart here, I'd just get logged off the system and open my eyes to a beating by the guards.

The man continues. "Your responses have been particularly valuable - you have an amazingly high threshold for pain. Pretty well the highest in the game."

"So you've been seeing how much I can take, then."

"Exactly! We're making the game more "real" every day, so to give it a more radical, edgy appeal we're upping the pain sensation Players feel. They have to sign a waiver of course - actually, five waivers - but the greater pain will give the 'Realms of Lonfaria' game more appeal to those Players who think they're hard-core. But we have to find out how much the human body can take with this particular type of new interface."

I sigh, the anger draining out of me and replaced by defeat. "Look, I know I'm a prisoner here, you guys can do basically anything you want to me, but for chrissakes do I get anything out of this? The pain is driving me insane! And have you seen the other inmates? One guy, Singh, he's at the edge of a full-blown nervous breakdown!"

"We will consider a suitable bonus for your help, of course. Maybe less time served. But you did talk back to a police officer, that is a pretty steep sentence to get lowered."

" “Talked back”? I yelled at him to stop beating that woman - "

Stuart waves his hand in dismissal. "Police are allowed certain powers during riots. You know that."

"I know everything's going to hell," I say. "And that's why these games are becoming so popular. Everyone now is going into 'em to get away from the real world."

"Exactly!" Stuart smiles. "Everything's going according to plan. And our corporation gets more and more Players every day, not just out of desperation but because we make it more real, ironically enough. But a reality where they can be a hero."

"Wait - what did you mean “everything's going to plan”?"

Stuart just nods and winks at me. "The Corporation runs the whole world, Graeme. When we want a riot, we get a riot. And then we get new employees... inmates, like you."

I swear something loud and foul and this time I can't resist lunging across the desk at the small laughing man. But my hands close around his throat and through them - he's gone insubstantial.

"I'll just ignore that, Graeme. Anyways, you've got two more hours to serve, just to show you I'm a nice guy, you can log off the game now and go back to your cell."

"Gee, you're a helluva guy," I shout at Stuart Mosley as he waves good-bye and fades away.

I come back into the real world as the metal halo device moves up and off my head. A guard escorts me back to my gray, boring cell and I go to sleep, the only thing to look forward to tomorrow being death and dying again.

Tags: dungeon stock, fiction, short story

(Leave a comment)

Dungeon Stock, Part Four

Tags: dungeon stock, fiction, insanitopia, short story

(Leave a comment)

Dungeon Stock, Part Three

We sit out the rest of the break sharing the soothing silence until my passtime is over. The cafeteria dematerializes around us and I find myself as a skeleton in the capital city's cemetary. Singh isn't around so I know he got yanked to another red-job.

The cemetary isn't too bad. It's fairly easy to find a good hiding spot - hell, just lie down among the other bones and act dead - and usually only the newbies go hunting here. Of course, sometimes the more experienced game players who enjoyed hunting the newbies would show up and smash any undead getting in their way, but for the most part the cemetary wasn't a popular spot.

It is night time - hell, it was alway night in the cemetary - so I run over to a heavily-shadowed tree and begin to dig in the leaves, burrowing under the dead matter to hide. As I'm digging I hear a muffled, "Ow! My eye! Watch it, jackoff!"

I rear back. Okaaay. Nothing deadly flies out of the ground at me so after a few tense seconds I reach into the leaves and feel something smooth and round. I pull out a grinning human skull.

The skull smiles at me... more. "Hi! Who's that?"

"It's me, Barney, " I reply. My real last name is actually Bjarns, but everyone calls me 'Barney' because they can pronounce it without thinking. "Who's that?"

"Oh, hey Barney, it's Ted. You think you could hide me somewhere?"

"Sure, you lucky bastard. Follow me."

"Ha ha. Very funny."

I tuck Ted under my bony arm and decide to look for a better spot. Ted was lucky; the rules stated that if you were undead, your head had to be crushed for the kill to count. Somehow Ted had gotten decapitated while being attacked but his skull flew off somewhere a player couldn't find it. Which meant Ted could remain in that form for quite a long time today without being found.

Which meant a long time without the horrible pain of dying again.

I notice that one big tree near the southern corner of the cemetary still has a lot of leaves on its branches so I make a skeletal beeline towards it. I'm good at climbing, a real skill that translates well into the game, so I easily negotiate my way up to the upper heights of the tree even with Ted's skull tucked under my left arm.

Now I'm about twenty-five feet off the ground, well hidden by leaves. If we are quiet, Ted and I can even have a conversation. Luxury.

"So what happened, Ted? Newbie?" I whisper.

Ted's skull whispered back; it feels a bit weird with his head in my pelvic lap, but that was the most convenient position to be in and remain hidden. "Yeah, guy didn't know he needed a head kill for the experience so he didn't even look for me. He got a good neck shot in, though... must've sent my head a good forty or so. Hurt like hell, too, I swear I could feel the metal of the blade this time. But now I got luckier with you finding me." Ted blinks, or at least tries to.

"Yeah, lucky you." Decapitations were the least painful way to die in the game... or at least used to be. "Just hope that I don't get found... ah, crap... players!"

The light from distant torches became not-so-distant as a party of adventurers make their way onto the cemetary grounds. They begin to search the area, sweeping their various lanterns and magic staffs around in semi-circles.

"How many?" whisper Ted.

"I'm not sure... looks about a little under a dozen."

"Ah, nuts. Well, don't move."

I look down at Ted's head. "You think I'm going to go dancing up to them saying, 'oh please, stab me, stab me?' "

"No, no, of course not!"

I lower the volume in my voice even further. "How much longer you got, Ted?"

"Only one month", he smiles with a wider skeletal grin. "You?"

"Five years."

"WHAT?"

I cover Ted's mouth with my hand. One of the players in the group hears my friend's outburst and is looking in our direction.

"Ted, don't say another word... " I hiss at him.

But it doesn't do any good. The dozen players find our hiding spot and knock us out of the tree, and I feel the pain again of dying as a heavy blunt weapon - a morningstar I think they call it - caves in my skull. The pain is horrible, this isn't right, there's too much pain -

(Leave a comment)

Dungeon Stock, Part Two

A couple of hours later and the goblin beside me is weeping but trying to be quiet about it because the hunters are approaching.

I can tell from the cadence of the sobs that the goblin is probably my friend Singh, so I hazard a guess by whispering the name to him. The goblin looks up. "How...?" A few gulps to get some control. "How did you know it was me? Who are you?"

I nod at him. "Its Graeme. You know, spelled without the "h"." I grin, or at least try to grin; being a goblin, smiling isn't exactly something one is predisposed.

"Graeme! Oh, but it is so good to talk to someone I know! You think we can find a place to hide for awhile?" Singh starts rubbing his eyes to clear the tears. "Sorry about that... it's just... I get frazzled... "

"I know. We all do. Let's go." Sounds of footsteps getting louder echoed up from the stone hallway. "Let's really go now. I have a thirty minute pass I can share, wanna take a break?"

It was like I was offering a priest a chance to kiss Jesus' feet, Singh was so appreciative. "Yes! By God, yes, any moment away from here is blessed relief!"

"Okay. Hang on." I break the card and hand one piece to Singh. After a few seconds, each card piece glows a brilliant blue and the cold wet stone hallway around us disappears and is replaced by the bland grey of the game server's breakroom.

Only a few others are in the large area filled with cafeteria tables, so Singh and I grab a seat near the food dispensers. After getting the requisite cups of coffee and snacks, we sit down. Now we're wearing our normal human forms and Singh is right, it is a blessed relief.

I take a sip of my coffee; I take it triple-triple, maybe not very manly, but there you go. One benefit is, in the game the coffee tastes great. "So tell me about it? Bad day?"

Singh is holding his cup with both hands and I notice they're trembling. "Bad, yes, Graeme. Five."

"Ouch. Jesus Christ." I wince. All anyone has to say in this goddamn place is the number, the number of times they're been killed in the day. "Five. Couldn't you find any good places to hide?"

Singh nodded. "I tried all the good places, but today there were a lot of veterans on, I guess they know all the places. First three times was by sword, which hurt like hell of course, forth one was a quick beheading which wasn't that bad considering, but the fifth was a damn fireball, and you know fire is the worse here."

"Yeah. The bastards. They made fire hurt the worse. They sure got pain right in this goddamn game."

Singh barks a bitter laugh. "Game. Nothing that has so much pain in it can be called a game, my friend." He looks up at me with dark, hopeless eyes. "I think they're making the pain worse. Have you noticed anything like that?"

I'm afraid to agree with Singh, because I think he is right.

Tags: dungeon stock, fiction, insanitopia, short story

(Leave a comment)

Dungeon Stock, Part One

The buzzer blares twice and the cell of my door opens. I wait for the guards to command us to step out into the walkway and it's another day, the same as ever: we all file downstairs for fake processed breakfast and crappy, imitation coffee.

The common dining area is huge, grey, and impersonal... just like the jumpsuits we all wear. Colorless long tables with attached benches fill the room. Everyone gets in the food line to get their tray and breakfast served by cold, impersonal dispensers and then we all sit down to eat. It is quiet in the gymnasium-sized room; some people converse but their words are in hushed tones.

There are four large monitors hanging from the ceiling and everyone, including myself, glance up occasionally to see what our assignment is for the day. I spoon the tasteless egg-substitute in my mouth while watching the screen facing my way, and I groan inwardly when I see what I've been assigned today.

Mike Patterson sits beside me. "So I see you got monster duty. What did you do, piss off your government-assigned therapist?" We're on friendly enough terms.

I try to laugh, but knowing what's in store for me, I can't even smile. "No. To be honest, I don't know why I'm getting red-jobbed. So far as I know I've been a model prisoner."

Mike considers taking one more bite of his breakfast but he pushes the tray away from him with a grimace. "Goddamn food. Worse than a hospital's. Either they kill you here by starvation or... well, by killing you over and over again." Mike utters several soft expletives when he glances up at the board. "And I got servant duty, great. A whole day of kissing ass."

"Hey, I'd trade you for it anyday!" I say to him.

Mike nods. "Yeah, I know." He sighs and runs his hand through his thinning hair. "This place is killing all of us no matter where we're assigned, anyways."

The buzzer sounds twice again, alerting us to stand away from our meals (finished or not) and everyone files back into line. We follow the guards' directions to the brain beds in another huge room. Again, besides the guards giving out our orders, the room is quiet as each of us lies down on our assigned beds.

A metal loop - at first glance it looks almost looks like a angel's halo - automatically lowers onto my head and the buzzer goes off again and my prison world fades away...

Tags: dungeon stock, insanitopia, short story, story

(Leave a comment)

To all those “employers” who post writing jobs with “no compensation”... please die.

Do you find the above statement a bit harsh, possibly even objectionable? Good. Now you know how people looking for work feel when they see job listings with such hackneyed phrases as: “a great addition to your portfolio”, “possibility of future work for pay”, and “it'll look great on your resume” along with the declaration, “Compensation: no pay”.

It's great that you have a project and you need people. And, sure, you may not have much money. But even the most amature of business people realize that one of the first considerations you must give to a project's budget is the cost of human-power required to complete said project. If you have hardly any money, you'll still get much better responses from those looking for work if you post some compensation rather than none. But if you continue to post “no compensation” job listings, well, like I said above, please die.

You may not realize this fact, potential employer, but people like myself looking for work need certain requirements to survive in life, such as FOOD and SHELTER. Adding a writing or acting gig I did for free on my resume is NOT going to keep me well-fed with my daily diet of Skittles, vodka, and Pizza Pockets. Neither will it pay my rent, electrical, telephone, and internet bills. By posting, “No compensation”, you are in fact subconciously not giving a damn about my, or other people's, basic humanity. No compassion in your little black heart, possible employer – you're just looking to complete your project no matter how many people you use.

When you, as an “employer”, post an ad with empty promises and no wages, you're actually annoying a helluva lot of people, not attracting suitable employees. You're belittling people's talents, and just making yourself look like a greedy bastard. Scrape some bucks together and I'd be glad to create high-quality work for you. Sure, I'll work cheap if it genuinely benefits both myself and whoever is hiring my services. But I don't work for free because I can't afford to, a similar situation countless other job-seekers are currently experiencing!

Look, even if you have no budget, you can surely scrape fifty bucks together for someone to do a day's work. There are indeed people out there such as myself that would love to be part of a small yet potentially lucrative project such as a video shoot, or don't mind helping someone with a new business by writing web content for them for basic wages. But there has to be some financial compensation!

So please, if you're planning to post a want ad and have nothing more to offer than future maybe's and no compensation, please keel over right now with great force, so that your head hits your keyboard and spells out, “fnpy0-lknep0928kljd”. You'd be doing much more of a service to humanity than the one you're planning to offer on job boards.

But if you do have money to offer and need a comedy/webcontent/copywriter/proofreader/actor/scriptwriter/videographer/photographer/bitter bastard and all-around Renaissance man like myself, give me a shout. I have many articles on my online portfolio/website for your viewing pleasure, and if you wish to hire me for fair compensation, I genuinely hope that you live the longest and most fulfilling, properous life possible on this planet...

After you pay me, that is.

Tags: writing

(Leave a comment)

1. Hug a random person on the street every day until I am hospitalized from being assaulted by said huggee(s).

2. To complete my movie script, “NIGHT OF THE UNDEAD FURRY”.

3. Finally prove to everyone that squirrels are fully sentient beings from another planet sent here to observe us.

4. Post more true stories about my Mom that embarass her, like the time she super-glued her hand to a telephone.

5. Create a new flash mob phenomenon called, “Flash Yodelling”.

6. Raise my social status in life by switching from Kraft Dinner to Deluxe Kraft Dinner.

7. I will stop getting drunk and dressing up in clown makeup and costume and wandering around the Eaton Center mall, as the security guards there have absolutely no sense of humour.

8. Start a new political party in Canada called, “The New Liberal Conservative Progressive Democrats”.

9. I promise to stop visiting my doctor just to raid his drug sample cabinet when his back is turned.

10. I will earn more money. To do so, during the spring & summer seasons I will make a big sign saying, “Have Your Picture Taken With Dan!” and I'll stand beside it where many tourists in Toronto gather, such as Dundas Square. When they ask, “Who are you?” I’ll say, “I’m Dan!”. Then the tourists will get all confused and say, “Why should I have my picture taken with you?” to which I’ll respond, “Because, I’m Dan!” with a bewildered expression.

(Leave a comment)

(Leave a comment)

"Thanks so much for contributing to this week's DNTO. The show will air on Saturday afternoon at 1:30pm on CBC Radio One and on Sirius 159  Saturdays at 11:30am & 9:30pm ET.

If you're in Seattle we're on KXOT Saturdays mornings from 9-11.

If you're not near a radio or want to time-shift the program it live streams in each time zone here: http://www.cbc.ca/listen/

There is also a downloadable podcast: http://www.cbc.ca/podcasting/index.html?arts#dnto

Or you can download a fancier podcast with chaptering (for itunes) here: http://itunes.apple.com/WebObjects/MZStore.woa/wa/viewPodcast?id=331561048

The podcast is also available on the DNTO webpage on the same day as the broadcast of the show: http://www.cbc.ca/dnto/

If you have a website or blog where you're promoting your appearance on DNTO we'd really appreciate a link to our site: http://www.cbc.ca/dnto/

If you'd like us to link to your site that's easily done. Just send me the info and I'll make it happen.

We also have a new show called Your DNTO. Your DNTO takes some of the interviews and  stories from the Saturday afternoon program and adds in personal stories contributed by our listeners. Your item may be replayed as part of this program. Your DNTO is a week behind the regular show and airs Tuesday afternoons at 2pm on Radio One."

(Leave a comment)

(3 comments | Leave a comment)