The Calling of Mike Malone Now Available!

Yes, it's my first novel and already has a four-star rating on Amazon. It's available there (see side bar) or at MuseItUp Publishing! Thanks for having a look!


The Calling of Mike Malone @ MuseItUp Publishing

Me and My Kid Playing around in 2006

This is from a blog me and my son, Tim, did back in 2006. We called it The Adventures of Dr. Daniel and Phantom. Following this is an excerpt of the kid's writing today.



Hello, my name is Dr. Daniel.

Hey, I'm Phantom.

Dr. D:We are sharing this blog because we work together. I work for the government. I am an interdimensional traveller and my asignments can take me anywhere from a different spot on our time line, to another planet in the sixth dimension.

Phantom: I'm a pilot and robotics expert. I keep the Doctor's gadgetry working.

Dr. D: Tomorrow we have to go to Sucomuno, the 12th planet in the Hertofor solar system.

Phantom: Why are we going there?

Dr. D: A weather report. We need to see what the effect of a double sun has on a planet very similar to ours.

Phantom: A weather report? Why don't we just build a model here and let me sleep in tomorrow?

Dr. D: Well, you'd miss church.

Phantom: But I can tell you what the weather is like on Sucomuno right now: they have two suns. It's hot.

Dr. D: But there are some things that can only be known if we go and see them. Up close and personal.

Phantom: Yeah, it's the personal that gets me sometimes.

Dr. D.: Get some sleep, Phantom. We've got a lot to do tomorrow.

Phantom: Sounds good. Nice meeting you folks out there! Things get a little hairy when we're on the road, so bear with us. But tomorrow should go pretty well....Yeah, I like dimension hopping. It rocks! See you!

Dr. D: Night all!

posted by M. L. Archer at 7:41 PM 7 comments

Right now he writes under the pen name, Mike Olmsted. They grow up way too fast.





How He Loves

By: Mike Olmsted


I saw my first demon today.


My name is Mark Handley. I’m seventeen. Pretty normal guy, got a regular life, school, work. At home it’s me and my mom. And church. Yeah, church. I’ve been going forever and have heard all about demons and devils. But learning about them and knowing you’ve actually run into one…I better explain.


I go to this little Pentecostal church where I sing in the worship band. One of the songs we were doing that Sunday was Dave Crowder’s, How He Loves. I listened to it on You Tube while I was getting ready to go and I happened to hit a version where they swapped out the line, “Sloppy wet kiss,” for “Unforeseen kiss.”


I know I made a face like someone tossed a rotten egg in my room. I see things like that as a sign the little old lady brigade got hold of someone and commenced arm twisting till that someone yelled, “Uncle.”


Now don’t get me wrong. Little old ladies are just fine. In fact, if you’re my age and never sat down and spoke with someone 20, 30...60 years older than you, heck, do it sometimes. Those guys are cool. I’m telling you, they know things.


But there’s always that minority who place their attention on performing an ethnic cleansing your brain cells until you meet their standard of perfection. Annoying, but I let it go, since I was singing ‘Sloppy wet kiss,’ anyway.


Had an okay service. My mom told me when I joined the band that, “Your first job is to lead people into worshiping God, not your ability.” She doesn’t sugar coat much. But she’s right. So I do my very best to make that happen. But today when I was on the platform, I felt like something was watching me. Like some dark cloud had hissed through the church and every eye seemed critical.


I have to admit, I felt bad because I thought it meant I had let myself obsess over that stupid song line to the point where I wasn’t doing my job. Yeah, me the guy that said, ‘Jesus, I’m your man. Just tell me what you want done and I’ll do it…if I don’t completely screw up, that is.’


So I sang my song the best I could and was glad when it was over.


When church let out, I was outside the sanctuary, hanging around with my wingman, Jimmy Wilson. He’s a big guy, football player, the kind of guy who greets you with a shove and a name. My left shoulder took the greeting this time as he said, “What’s going on, dork?”


I regained my balance and gave him a quick back hand to the chest with an added, “You’re the dork.”


You’d have thought a mosquito landed on him. He stood there laughing like, “Heh-heh…heh-heh...”


And then all hell broke loose. I mean it.


Sister Jabez, a blue-haired, stern faced, matron barged forward, calling my name. Her heavy wooden cane thumping on the sidewalk.



“Mark Handley! I saw that! I heard you!” a gaggle of senior ladies followed behind. For an older hobbled woman, she sure got in my face right away.She stuck a finger an inch from my nose while her friends gathered around like an octogenerian Gestapo. My heart sank as I realized I was trapped by the real little old lady brigade. I could see it: Mark Handley met his end today after being pummeled by old ladies with canes and walkers.


My jaw dropped.


Sister Jabez sniffed, “I think we’re all a little tired of watching the boys your age engage in so much tom-foolery. Why pushing and shoving, you could have knocked someone over. And you, especially, you’re supposed to set the example. You on stage and then afterwards calling people names like that. You should be ashamed! You make me sorry I had to hear those words and I want you to apologize to me and all my friends right now! This is church!”


I’ve often heard the phrase, “Just wait for a Word from God.”


But the only word in my head at that moment sounded like, “Whu-huh?” So I didn’t say it.


I paused and in those few seconds I think a thousand idea’s ran through my head. Two years ago I would have tossed my hands in the air, said, “I didn’t do ANYTHING!” And stormed off. Not now. My first thought was to apologize and say I was sorry for disturbing her. That would have been a nice thing to do.


But not the best.


I stared at her, still dumbstruck. Her eyes narrowed. More than ever in the glare of sun light her face appeared as relief map of wrinkles and worn in an expression made even harsher by the way her lip curled wolfishly as she glared.


My mind raced through every encounter with this lady and nothing added up to this kind of outburst.


But maybe she had had a bad day. Car trouble, benefit of the doubt…go with it. I could do that.


Except I looked into her eyes again.


Her arms folded, her head tipped upward. “Well?” she snapped. “We’re waiting. Apologize. Apologize now.”


Once, I asked my mom how you can tell if there’s demon causing problems. She just looked at me and said, “Biggest demon tag I know: when everything stops making sense.”


This made no sense at all and Sister Jabez’s eyes explained everything else. For a moment I saw their blue-gray color retreat. A mocking intelligence peered from behind as they darkened to black. I felt a rush of shock; I was with something inhuman. It was the first time I ever knew something wanted me dead. In my minds eye I could see this evil sprite, cavorting against a black sky, and it’s death head rushed to my face as it cackled, “Yes, boy, bow to me.”


But it all felt just like imagination. I had a verse spring into my head, but if these were the wrong words, if this really was my imagination, she’d be crazy angered, and there would be meetings with my mom and the pastor and I’d be told to maybe take a break from the worship band while the church healed…and on and on…


But then I could also hear my youth Pastor, when he told my group, “God is talking to a lot of you guys even now. At some point you have to decide whether or not you really believe He’s got your back.”


I knew what I believed, I knew what was happening, so I said the verse, “Get thee behind me, Satan.”


Sister Jabez's response startled everyone. She doubled forward in explosive coughs. I yanked some change from my pocket and told Jimmy to go buy her a ginger ale. I took her arm and lead her to a nearby bench where the coughing continued for several minutes. Jimmy brought the can of soda and I sat by her, offering it to her as I lightly patted her back.



She drank. The coughing slowed and I asked, “You okay, Sister? Didn’t mean to startle you.”


He is jealous for me, loves like a hurricane, I am the tree, bending beneath the weight of his wind and mercy.


Her eyes were no longer black, the darkness replaced with tears. Her face, soft, kind.



When all of a sudden I am unaware of these afflictions eclipsed by glory and I realize just how beautiful you are and how great your affection is for me…


“Oh, Mark, I’m so sorry to snap at you like that. I have just so much on my mind, I really do think you’re good boy. I’m just a snappy old woman sometimes. You don‘t think I‘m Satan, do you?”


Oh, how he loves us…


A picture flashed into my mind of Sister Jabez in her fancy house and plenty of money, still wondering, still afraid if everything would be okay.


We are his portion and he is our prize, drawn to redemption by the grace in his eyes. If His grace is an ocean we’re all sinking.


“Of course not. In fact,” I smiled and gave her a wink. “Let’s do lunch. I’ll pick you up on my motorcycle.”


Sister Jabez threw her head back and laughed more joyfully than I’ve ever heard her laugh before. I mean, c’mon, if something wanders in one ear and out the other, doesn’t mean you stop loving that person.


“Oh, my!” she laid a hand on her chest while the rest of her friends joined in her merriment. And all of a sudden, I knew I was going to help this lady realize that God really does have her back.


I don’t have time to maintain these regrets when I think about the way He loves us…


“This old bag of bones racing down the highway?” she said with a laugh. “I don’t know, but you if you promise not to laugh, I’ve always wondered what it would be like to ride one of those.”


I sat up. “Really? I could give you a ride now.”


She waved me off . “No, no, I’m in a skirt. But on Wednesday, I could wear slacks. If you promise not to go very fast and stay right in the parking lot.”


Oh, how He loves us, How He loves us all.


She wasn’t a bad lady, just scared. Yeah, I could help.


I told her it was a date, which made her friends giggle. And all was well with the world again. The ladies gathered themselves up to leave, and I knew would climb onto my motorcycle and head for home, but not before Sister Jabez gave me a hug and planted, right on my cheek, a sloppy wet kiss.



Could it have ended any other way?

And He loves us, Oh, How He loves us...

Oh, how he loves us...

How He loves us all...

The Calling of Mike Malone to be Published by MuesItUp!

Yup, next summer, The Calling of Mike Malone comes out with Canadian based MuseItUp publishing. It will be presented first as a an e-book I am excited and thrilled!

Here's the start...


Somebody was watching Mike Malone, and it scared the hell out of him.
A tall man, he peered out over the crowds, scanning the people who hustled past. One arm rested on the roof of his car, and he paused, tensing over the familiar sensation that now struck as quick and chilling as the late autumn wind. Though this feeling of being watched often followed him, he knew it had to be ridiculous. Who on earth would spy on him? And why? But after brushing off an endless stream of strange incidents in his life—which now included glimpsing the future—Mike couldn't deny it. He needed help.

His father’s words whispered from a distant, childhood memory. “I’m so glad you are
happy son. Your life may take some strange turns, but I promise you’ll understand when you’re twenty-one. I promise.”

Mike gritted his teeth. Tomorrow he would be twenty-one. Dad, if you wanted to make dire claims over my life, you should have stayed alive long enough to explain them. Enough, I’m done. This ends today.


For more sample sections checkout Mike's fan page on Facebook.


The Calling of Mike Malone-Facebook

Back in the Midnight Diner....

Hey, good to be back in the Midnight Diner. I decided to stick with my theme of violins and violinists experiencing supernatural problems and wound up writing this piece called, Virtuoso. Would you believe I wrote this because of a really nice recording of Ave Maria? Go figure.

But here's a short excerpt from the beginning of the story. Hope you like it!

Hey, here's a link to the author's page so you can check out the whole motley crew...
http://themidnightdiner.com/


Virtuoso

M.L. Archer

Benjamin Toll pulled his ball cap down over his eyes and tucked his violin case a little closer. He slouched in a darkened, rear booth in a bar off Paris’ Rue Monge and wrapped himself in its shadowy embrace. Stale Gauloise smoke, decaying leather, and bourbon sat with him.

Ben’s plan to drink until Madame Gissette’s words no longer rattled his head had failed. He lifted his empty glass and planted it, upside down, on the wooden table top.

“Benjamin Toll! You ‘ave done zis to me!”

Check mate.

“You and no one else.”

Benjamin gave a deep sigh and started to slide out of his seat.

Movement caught his eye. A woman dressed in black glided through the bar towards his table and the sight of her felt like icicles.

She approached, a stark figure dressed completely in black from the pumps which she balanced on to the large brimmed hat on her head. Ben couldn’t see her face. Like the rest of the world, he had to view the woman through the heavy, black veil that blocked her visage and he wondered if there was something wrong. Perhaps a disfigurement.

She moved with unearthly grace. But her steps, and the complete focus of her path, conjured a sense of obsession, as if this woman made the knowledge of his private comings and goings her reason for being alive. As far as Ben could tell, her gaze never left him.

She halted a few feet from his table and spoke in French.

Ben couldn’t see her face other than a vague outline of blood red lips. Her eyes were dark hollows.

“No parlez vous francais.” He hoped she would brush him off as an ignorant American and leave him alone.

“That is not a problem. I speak English very well, no?”

“Madame, I would rather not have company at the moment.”

“But you are drinking alone. That cannot be good. Do not worry. I am here for you…” She slid into the booth facing him.

A man’s voice broke in. “Oui, monsieur?”

Benjamin glanced up to see the bartender addressing him from his post.

“Did you call to me?” the bartender said.

“No, I was speaking to…” Ben halted mid-gesture and gaped at the now empty space the woman had occupied.

Ben said. “Just thinking out loud. Sorry.”

The bartender chuckled. “Or, perhaps, our French spirits are a bit much, eh? Eet is alright. But go home, sir. You will be well.”

He rose, violin case clamped under his arm, and carefully walked to the bar to pay his bill. He tugged his wallet from his blue jeans.

Benjamin glanced at the bartender standing against his backdrop of bottles filled with amber liquid and sparkling glasses. “Did a woman in a large black hat come in here?”

The bartender paid him an easy smile. “Do not worry. There are many willing females, no?” Recognition then flitted across the man’s face. “Mon dieu! Are you Benjamin Toll?”

“Yes.”

“I must tell you, I am so sorry to hear of what has happened. But you have given so much pleasure with your music. All of Paris is yours!”

“Thank you. You’re very kind. Bon soir.”

“Bon soir.”

Ben paid his bill, stepped out the door and into the night.

Dale, Me, and the Speed Demon

Story of the Month-April, Mindflights Magazine


"...because the words that come out of your mouth mean something..."


All my life I wanted to race at Talladega. But the night before the Cup race, I sat in my apartment shakin’ like a leaf.

I was Lightnin’ Jack Davis. I was the guy who went around sayin’ he could beat the devil. I had the big promo poster that showed me leanin’ against the side of my car, black number 21, with my catchphrase at the bottom: Speed is my friend.

I was the hottest rookie on the circuit and didn’t mind sayin’ so. A few days ago all I wanted was to win the Cup. Now, all I wanted was a way to skip out on the biggest race of my life.

Some people think my attraction for NASCAR came from me growing up so close to the speedway and spending my summers working there. That’s only part of it.

When I was ten, we visited my grandma, and I loved it because around her house were the longest, steepest hills in all of West Virginia.

First day there, I took my bike out, and with as powerful a push forward as I could muster, I slammed my feet onto the pedals and pumped like I had Satan at my heels. I took a full eighth of a mile to build up speed on the level straightaway as I pushed toward the start of the slope. When I peered over the top, I pedaled even harder. I picked up speed as I raced down the hill and kept haulin’ until my pedals spun freely. The wind whipped my face and at one point I felt the bike leave the pavement. Flyin’. I was flyin’!

Then, I realized I didn’t have a plan to stop. After a brief panic, I figured I had a few choices. I could slam into a mailbox and end up at the hospital, I could try running along the curb to slow down and most likely chew up my tire, or…at the bottom of the hill, a field fenced off by barbed wire waited to welcome me. Now, that would have been one of the bad choices, except I saw a board left lying on the curb. I figured if I hit it going fast enough it would act like a ramp and send me flying over the fence.

Now that was a choice.

I gritted my teeth, aimed the bike and forced every pedal’s worth of power I could pull from the thing. When my front tire slammed into the board, I flew into the air, my bike landed in the barbed wire, but I went on another three feet and crashed down in the nice, soft mud.

I was a mess, but I wasn’t hurt even though my mom got plenty upset. But I stuck a hand on my hip and told her, “Don’t worry, Mom. I could outrace the devil if I wanted to, ’cause speed is my friend.” And being a mom, she repeated that little quote a million or so times, and what can I say? It took. And it was true. I loved speed. For me, that was the attraction.

My fans in the stands even echoed the story. “You’re faster than any devil, Lightnin’ Jack! Whip the devil’s butt!”

I’d laugh and promise to do it.

But wouldn’t you know? During the qualifying rounds for the Cup race the devil called me out. No, he wasn’t wearing a red suit. He came in the form of an old woman. Lots of older ladies come to the track and cheer and yell right along with all the guys and have a good time. So when this old woman, sidled up to me at the track, I didn’t think too much about it…at first.

She looked me in the eye and said, “Lightnin’ Jack, you think you can beat the devil? Well, I gotta message for you, boy. He’s got your number, and you’re gonna die.”

She yanked out a container with red dust in it and tossed it at me.

While I was waving my way out of that cloud, Hank, who heads up my operations team, called security.

“You okay?” Hank peered at me from underneath his #21 ball cap. “That old biddy get any of that junk in your eyes?”

I brushed it off me. “No. What’s her durn problem?”

Hank gave a dry, short laugh. “She sounds like Satan’s number-one fan. Crazy old bird. Takes all kinds. I’ll have the guys make sure she doesn’t get on the track anymore.”

“Yeah, thanks.”

This morning, the old lady made the papers, just not in a good way. The headline read, “Self-described, ‘back-country witch’ found dead after ritual involvement.”

The paper explained how police found the old lady’s body covered in evil markings. No explanation how it happened. My stomach felt like lead, and all the hairs on the back of my neck stood up. You know that feeling you get walking past the graveyard at night? Like there’s something with you, except you’re supposed to be alone? That’s what I felt.

Tom, one of the pit crew, gave me a whack on the shoulder. “Well, she ain’t gonna be riding her broom anymore. Wonder if the devil got her? Or maybe she summoned Pumpkinhead! Whoooo!”

He wiggled his hands in the air like some dumb kid on Halloween, and I snapped, “Shut up!”

That was the day we did qualifying rounds. After years of driving in starter races, and dealing with ARCA cars, and traveling to Loews and Atlanta, I was doing what we set out to do. I met Hank in Atlanta and he was the one who decided my driving was worth the hassle of gettin’ a car and team together. We had so much riding on that day and suddenly I was so spooked, I barely bagged a starting position of thirty-second. Thought I’d be sick.

Everything startled me. That’s the best way I can explain it. It ain’t smart to be twitchy in a stock car.

The guys were all cool about it, even Hank. But, dang, I could’ve done better.

That night, I’d close my eyes, and I could see that old woman, one gnarled finger pointing at me. She kept calling at me in a dead croak, “You mocked Satan! Nobody beats the devil, boy. But he is going to beat YOU!”

The only reason I got up and went to the track the next morning was because I still couldn’t figure a good way out of it. Even if I died, there were people I couldn’t let down. The witch cursed me, and I knew it. But I sucked it up and went to Talladega.

The raceway did make me feel a lot better, though. The smell of exhaust alone cheered me up.

I got dressed in my coveralls, got together with the team, went over the strategy, got my car in my crummy thirty-second position, and when the white flag waved, I realized…I was okay. No headless horseman had showed up to haul me away, or Pumpkinhead, or Freddy Krueger. All of a sudden I felt like the dumbest kid on the block for lettin’ some crazy old lady scare me so bad. With the sun up and the engines roaring, I was ready to go.

I heard Hank’s voice over my radio. “How ya’ doin’ out there, kid?”

I hit my intercom. “Remember all that mess with the old lady?”

“Uh, yeah…”

“Well, forget it. It’s time to get to work.”

“Now yer talkin’!”

I gripped my wheel and focused. I always said every race was mine to win, and this one wouldn’t be any different.

Johnny Fizbin and Mike Raider were both driving and on my team. Our plan was that when we had five laps to go we’d make our moves, earlier if the game changed a little, but at the latest by then. We were counting on each other to ride our drafts for better placement. This many cars back, I surely hoped neither of them would get greedy.

I held my position, lap after lap.

Some people think it doesn’t take much to drive in NASCAR, but let me tell you, try taking one hundred and eighty-eight laps around a track doing close to two hundred miles per hour, while the track temperature itself sits at about one hundred and thirty degrees. Yeah, it takes skill and focus.

It’s also why, when I first heard the roaring sound, I thought maybe my lack of sleep was getting’ to me.

See, I made it all the way to lap 178 when stuff started getting weird.

In my mind, I started wondering, Should I pull over? Get some water tossed in my face? What?

No reason not to keep going.

Then I heard it again. Wasn’t anything strange about hearing an engine on the speedway, but this sound practically filled my car. It didn’t sound so much like a stock car as it did an oncoming tornado. The kind of loud, ongoing roar that tells you anything in its path better get out of the way. Right at that moment I saw it. A car so fast and dark, it whipped past me in a black blur.

My heart leaped into my throat.

Hanks voice came over the radio right away. “Jack! You’re swervin’ awfully bad! You got a problem?”

“I—I—I...” That’s when I heard a voice in the seat next to me say, “Quit stammering and answer the man. But watch what you say or they’re gonna think you’re crazy.” And when I glanced over, I dang near lost control of the car. I didn’t know whether to scream or puke or what. A guy sat there wearing racin’ coveralls, with a red ball cap on his head. He had mirrored sunglasses and a reddish mustache that twitched a little when he talked.

I’d been lookin’ at that guy all my life. My heart skipped a beat ’cause I’d even cried like a girl…when he died.

“Dale Earnhardt?”


To see the rest...check out

http://www.mindflights.com/item.php?sub_id=5344

Paint it Black

Because this story is set to shortly come out in the Goth-zine, "Coach's Midnight Diner" I can't post the whole thing here yet. But here's the first 'movement.' Since the main character is a symphony musician the story is set up in movements like a symphonic work. Cute idea, scary story.


I. Molto Grave’
When a loved one not only dies, but races to death’s dark embrace as if it were a prize or reward it cuts us to the core. The heart is left with a single agonized cry of Why?

That question became my own last March when my brother took his life. The discovery was unbelievable. But he didn’t die alone. My brother was a cultist. He and twenty-seven others took knives to their own throats and they did it because they thought space aliens were coming to take them away.

I could almost handle believing he was unhappy and distraught over his divorce. But…space aliens?

I am, by profession, a violinist with the Dallas Symphony. My brother, Rick, and the others took their lives after spending time in a cult called ‘Heavens Temple,’ based out of Santa Fe, New Mexico. For many hours, I researched this group, hunting to see if, among other things, it still had a following in Santa Fe. It did.

Here’s the core of the ‘Heaven’s Temple’ entire belief system: mankind is about to be recycled and the Ascended Masters are coming to help a few chosen souls shed their mortal bodies and raise them up to heaven. ’Hey Rick, the aliens want you! Kill yourself! ‘

I didn’t buy it.

That summer, I decided to leave Dallas and take a summer job playing for the Santa Fe Opera because then I could further look into things without alarming my family.
The Sunday before I left, I played the special service music at my parent’s church, and then went to their home for supper. It seemed to cheer mom up for a little bit. She’d been awfully quiet since the funeral.

When it was time to leave, my father walked me outside and shook my hand. “Well, son, thanks for playing the service. Your mom needed a few braggin’ rights.”

“Thanks, Dad. You think she’ll be okay?”

My father shook his head. “I don’t know.”

I leaned back against my little Tercel. From sheer habit my violin case was tucked under my arm.

Dad looked me over and gave a small laugh. “You remember all the crap Rick used to hand you about taking up the fiddle instead of playing football?”

“Yep.” I said feeling the wetness start down my cheeks. “I still can’t believe he did it, Dad. I miss him.”

“I know you do. And you know what bothers me? I don’t think he did anything crazy as suicide.”

“You think he was murdered?”

“I don’t know. I just know in my heart, there’s more to the story. You do, too. That’s the real reason you’re going to Santa Fe.”

My father kept a step ahead of me all my life. I wasn’t surprised he had me figured out now. I wiped my eyes and nodded.

“Thought so,” he said. “I’d do the same thing if I didn’t think it would upset your mom. Find out whatever you can, but be careful, call me if anything strange happens. Your mom couldn’t stand to lose another son.” His voice broke, “Neither could I.”
We stood on the driveway and embraced each other until he gave me a light whack on the back and said, “I’m proud of you, son. You’re a damn fine musician.”

Interview with Game Developer Patrick Frye

First appeared in Infuze Magazine June 2005

Patrick Frye reprinted it on his webzine, ICEPOWERED, earlier this year.

This interview is pretty old now but our motivations haven't changed and neither has the industry all that much.

Michele: We'd like to know about you, who you are, how long you've been a Christian and a bit about your technical background.

Patrick: My name is Patrick Frye. I was raised in a Christian home but I don't think I truly understood what it meant to be a Christian until about five to six years ago. Up until then I consider my faith to be nominal. This was partially due to the church I was attending at the time, which didn't teach the Word. Then I again, I may have been thick-headed.

I worked for a Department of Defense contractor where I produced the software that controlled satellite communications systems in spy planes used by the U.S., Britain, and Australia (along with some other NATO countries). It was stressful since there were always deadlines to meet.

Now I work in a service oriented department at a non-profit Christian ministry so the amount of work goes up and down and... no deadlines.

What is your position at TGS and how did you become involved there?

I'm the Lead Engine Designer, a.k.a. "code monkey." I provide the tools for the level designers and artists; it's their job to produce the actual content for the game. Of course, that means if the resulting game is horrible I can't be blamed. Just kidding. I actually have been submitting many ideas during the pre-development design stage for Nightmares. In the first game, Eternal War: Shadows of Light, I didn't have any input at all into game play since I came on very late in development. Most of my work was in upgrading the original engine with additional features and fixing major issues.

As for how I joined TGS... If I was going to work in the game industry I wanted to produce games that not only entertained but could teach a solid Bible-themed message. Along with a group of other people I started a company called Gamers Underground Movement Productions. To make a long story short that endeavor failed and I decided to set aside my own plans in favor of furthering the Christian game industry in whatever capacity was available. I believe that one of the largest issues facing the Christian game industry is the fragmentation of the talent pool, since everyone seems to want to develop their own little pet project. At this point the industry realistically cannot support that. So I set about looking for a solid Christian game developer that seemed to have a good track record. I submitted my resume to TGS and was immediately accepted.

Tell us about Eternal War and please discuss some of what is involved in the making of a game.

Here is the storyline in a nutshell:

Eternal War takes place in the suicidal mind of John Coronado, a desperate teen ready to take desperate measures to escape his "personal hell."

You are Mike, a friend sent to help John out of his pain and struggles before his time runs out. Traveling down the road of malice and destruction, Mike is faced with hundreds of obstacles ahead of him to overcome through the only power that John thought abandoned him."

There are a variety of specialized fields involved in game production including:

* Management (Finance, Marketing, Sells, Website, etc)
* Game Design Leads
* Programming (Rendered, Sound, Networking, Engine Architecture, Scripting, Physics, etc)
* AI Programming (I list it separately because it's pretty much its own field)
* Script Writers
* Level Designers
* Sound/Recording Artists
* 3D Modelers
* 2D Texture Artists
* Play testers
* Musicians

For learning more about the game industry I suggest www.gamedev.net and www.gamasutra.com.

How do see the ministry possibilities for the Christian gaming industry?

In movies the message is given to the audience and it's only passive interaction. With video games the audience becomes involved and they are forced to think about the message and to make decisions based upon it. Brain research scientists have discovered that a person's thinking can either be changed or solidified by modifying or reinforcing the brain's neural pathways. While it is difficult to change old neural pathways with enough dedication it is possible.

The U.S. military has taken this research and they use 3D combat simulations in order to desensitize soldiers to possible violence they might face in their first real combat and hopefully prevent them from freezing up and getting themselves killed.

Most people don't realize this, but the video game industry has already surpassed the movie industry in worldwide net profit. It could also be said that the ability to effect society is already greater. Movies usually run between 1.5 to 2 hours and most people spend a limited amount of time thinking on the subject matter contained within. AAA title video games usually contain anywhere from 12 to 60+ hours worth of game play content and many gamers will play popular games for months or years. While playing these games, certain neural pathways are consistently being reinforced. Because of this the potential to effect people is huge -- both positively and negatively.

So far this great potential has not been met. The "message" in the storyline of most video games is usually fairly neutral in scope and for the most part does not hold a social agenda. Just like Nintendo's Mario, most games still consist of a hero, a basic goal, and a bunch of bad guys blocking the player's path to the goal. It's slowly gotten better with in-game cut scenes and game play scenarios and environments that actually mesh and belong in the story. Technology and funding for years was mostly the limiter but those limitations are slowly being erased. Game developers are just now starting to talk about games where players will feel for the characters and think of moral situations. This brings about the possibility of producing games that can change the audience's views and thinking on moral issues.

I will state one caveat right now: those who claim video games were the cause of incidents like the Columbine school shooting are just looking for an easy target to blame for responsibility... other than themselves. At the same time those who claim that playing video games does not effect them at all usually are not being honest with themselves. Reality lies somewhere in between.

In males, depending on the game type, there is usually a raise in blood pressure and heightened aggression. This effect is limited in duration and usually dissipates within minutes after the person has stopped playing the game. Now the effect on a person's thinking is dependent on the subject matter and the perspective the person chooses to take when playing the game. As for me, when I play a First Person Shooter I view it the same way as I do paintball. Just like the board game of chess, I'm out to beat my opponent(s) by "tagging" them with a certain set of rules and tools (weapons).

On the other hand, the Columbine shooter's anger at their classmates caused them to recreate their classrooms in custom levels in the old game Doom. In this manner they simulated killing their classmates over and over before actually considering doing the deed in reality. If a person views playing video games in a similar way they should not being playing video games and should seek counseling!

Desensitization towards violence is also a rightful worry when it comes to children. During that stage in life the brain is still developing and is highly malleable to change. If a child's boundaries are being taught through video games and not by their parents then I would be worried also. At the same time children should be taught that there are real repercussions to their actions, whether it be in reality or in a game.

Publishers are very careful about claiming video games have no correlation with violence... mainly so the bottom-line isn't effect and so they cannot be held legally liable; not because all game developers actually believe this. Isn't it odd how software publishers claim educational software can teach children to think a certain way yet deny that "just for fun" games can have any effect on the mind? An employee at Id Software once made a statement to this effect: "After a very long session of play testing one level designer noticed that he was automatically thinking of ways to defeat and kill his fellow employees as he walked the hallways. His brain could not tell the difference between reality and a video game. Now even though this was a short time effect on his mind needless to say this freaked him out."

The Grand Theft Auto series is famously used an example, since in it the player role-plays as a criminal who is out to gain power using any means possible. The game play mechanics are laudable but the message detestable. But that is not the only way to package a message to an audience. The games Fable and The Sims did not comment on homosexuality but merely introduced it matter-of-factly by allowing the player's character to marry a non-player character of the same sex. While not actively advocating homosexuality through words, the message was still the same: homosexuality is normal behavior. In fact, not reinforcing homosexuality in the game as "special" only enhances this message.

In the same way, Two Guys Software doesn't plan on bashing the audience over the head with the Bible every time they play our games. We plan on integrating moral themes into our games without disrupting the player's game play experience. In Christian literature, authors Ted Dekker and Shane Johnson go about writing their stories the same way. The characters, settings, and plot draw the reader in and then they are introduced to concepts where they think about moral issues, and sometimes the basic message of the gospel, sometimes without God or Jesus mentioned until the very end. This way non-Christian audiences are not immediately scared off by blatantly Christian packaging of the message.

When it comes to EW: Nightmares, the plot will be considerably darker in content. This is where we'll probably get the most flak from the Christian gaming community, but we're not too concerned about that. This time around we're going to approach the story more authentically. We've been doing research into the real-life effects that abusive use of drugs, porn, suicidal thoughts, rage, and occult influences have on people. It's not a basic "messed up kid who needs help" story again, we're aiming more for a chaotic conflict zone, each zone having it's own type of chaos that the player interactively helps a game character overcome. So the game will be a lot darker but also much more powerful in message.

Where do you see the industry headed?

At this time the largest problem facing the Christian game industry is the lack of adequate financial investment. The majority of companies are being run from home and the work is done only on available spare time outside of normal day jobs.

The other huge problem in the industry is this: Everyone wants to own their own little company and pursue their own little vision of a great game; they want full control and to be "the boss". Some times this is due to pride, but usually it's the heartfelt desire of people to fulfill their dreams. While these desires are laudable this also severely fragments the talent pool since we have hundreds of little companies/groups made up of maybe 5 to 10 people on average.

I'm reiterating this point from above because I consider it so important: I quickly realized that the only way to succeed is to set aside my dreams for the short term and join an already established company that appears to be succeeding. Perhaps in the future, once the Christian game industry has matured, I might be able to develop my own dream but I must learn to be patient. To complete my thought, if all the available people would band together under one company it might be possible to be competitive. If we have a hundred people working part-time on the side it would be approximately equal to about twenty to twenty-five full-time workers. Of course, managing all that would be crazy and be a full time position by itself but at least it would be possible to competitive with the secular industry and thus financially successful.

One of the reasons these small groups fail is because they are overly ambitious. They have grand visions but do not consider the reality of creating their vision in terms of resources, time, and capabilities. Some people are just starting to realize this error. As one game developer put it: "I'm just sick of project ideas -- whole projects even -- just being discarded because there's no time or it gets old or its too hard." Then these groups run into another problem, that of reducing their game to the point where it is irrelevant in the market. Most "simple" game play styles are available in such quantity that many are even free! It's quite impossible to sustain a working business plan which includes profitability when faced with such a situation.

Another problem is the lack of business sense in the industry. The majority of people starting these Christian game developers have no clue what to do when it comes to even simple business practices. The last paragraph could be used as an example. For another example, when I started Gamers Underground Movement Productions with several others, none of us had any practical experience at running a business. Fast forward to the future. TGS does receive help from Christians in the secular industry but day-to-day decisions are still left up to us, as well as marketing and other disciplines we are sorely lacking in.

Only once the talent pool is consolidated into professionally operated corporations funded by investors and run by experienced managers do I see the Christian game industry as being able to stand on its own. It's going to be a hard road and I imagine it will be years before the fruits of our labor pay off and the Christian game industry has settled down into a more settled, more "normal" routine.

What, if any, have been your biggest obstacles in dealing with the Christian community?

You'd be surprised at how the majority of mainstream Christian publishers we've talked to say Christians should not play video/computer games. It's practically the same situation that occurred with the Christian music industry in the 60 and 70s, where those with the money and who were in control of the industry said rock and roll is evil. At the same time it's amazing how many secular magazines/newspapers (like Fortune, MSNBC, etc.) are asking to interview us (TGS) about these emerging "religious games." The secular media actually paints a brighter picture than most Christians, estimating that the Christian game industry will exceed five hundred million dollars in several years.

One of the few Christian publications I've seen that has even mentioned the Christian game industry is World Magazine. But even then their editorial had a negative slant, quoting Mack and others out of context, and complaining that we have any type of violence in our games. Conflict of some type in video games is pretty much unavoidable, as is a certain level of violence. In the letters to the magazine section I saw letters about that article printed over a period of several months. These letters were all negative, saying they were appalled we were making such games and calling us hypocrites. Do I see these same people screaming about the blood-soaked, gory descriptions in the popular Left Behind series?

The reason most Christians don't play Christian games is the same reason why most gamers don't play our games: With the resources we're forced to work with we can only produce games that are five to seven years behind the game play curve (or worse). The AAA titles of the late 90's were made with a budget of less than a million and maybe twenty to forty people. Today's games are made with budgets typically exceeding several million dollars (two million dollars a month for Valve Software's recently released bestseller Half Life 2) and a staff of over one hundred people. The original Half Life was released in 1998 and to this date, the Christian game industry hasn't produced a game that can match it -- though, to be fair, many recently released secular games don't match it either. To put it pointedly, the majority of gamers have grown tired of games that play like Quake 1... and that's the quality level a spare time budget allows developers to make. While it's impressive that Eternal War: Shadows of Light met and exceeded the gameplay of Quake 1 considering it was developed on spare time and a limited budget, it still isn't enough to compete with today's market.

Now, the problem isn't a lack of Christian talent -- there are many Christians already working in the secular game industry in companies like Sierra, Activision, Electronic Arts, etc. These guys have even expressed interest in joining Christian game developers like N-Lightning or Two Guys Software. The problem is that the majority of these guys have families, mortgages, and bills to pay. Joining a Christian game developer would mean a huge pay in cut that, quite frankly, they can't afford at this time.

Many publishers will look at TGS and other Christian game developers and then claim the reason they aren't interested in backing us up is because of our lack of major financial success (or in the case of secular publishers mainly just because we're Christian in the first place). What they don't seem to comprehend is the lack of success is largely due to a lack of money, marketing, business management, and store shelf space... things only they could provide. It's a Catch-22 since we first have to be financially successful in order for them to consider providing the necessities required for us to be financially successful in the first place.

Why does there need to be a Christian game industry that creates games specifically to be marketed to Christians alone? Can't Christians just work from within the mainstream game industry?

When I think of the Christian game industry I agree that it shouldn't be centered around games created specifically to be marketed to Christians alone. Preaching to the choir or specifically targeting a yet-to-exist Christian game market has always seemed a waste of time to me, though I know others in the industry might disagree. It's possible that type of business plan might be financially sustainable in the long run, but that's not my interest. Two Guys Software's goal, for example, is to reach out to hardcore gamers with Biblically sound values and game play that anyone could appreciate. The idea is to overtly integrate moral issues and a message into the game play so that non-Christians don't feel like they're being bashed over the head with the Bible.

We've actually received more interest from secular media outlets like Forbes and MSNBC and mostly scorn from Christian publishers and media. "Christians shouldn't play video games, especially if they have any sort of violence at all in them" is usually the type of response I hear. There are actually many Christians in the mainstream game industry, from Sierra to EA, but I know from experience that the publishers will bulk at the idea to produce games that discuss sound moral issues in any manner; even if the Bible, God, or Jesus is not brought up explicitly. Using the word "Christian" will almost always get you shown the door immediately. That is why there is a "Christian" game industry, because at this time it seems that is the only way the games will be produced.

Where do you see TGS five years from now?

I cannot give an exact time frame but we're expecting the development of EW: Nightmares to take several more years. We're currently seeking financial investment and/or support by a mainstream publisher, either Christian or secular.

If a young person wished to become involved with the Christian gaming industry, what advice would you give them?

To be able to make good games you have to recognize good games and the game play mechanics behind them. What makes a "good" game is a fickle thing and often requires the tweaking of many variables over a period of months in order to balance out the game play.
I would recommend reading game development websites and magazines so you can become familiar with the industry. Depending on your planned specialty you may have to be well grounded in technical matters.