Alan Wake: More than a video game

In case you guys haven't figured out by now, I am a huge video game player. I also am going to school to learn video game design and one game that I have had my eye on for a while was Alan Wake. I just got done playing this game, and I must say that visually and story-wise it was very well crafted.
The story is about a writer named Alan Wake who goes to a pacific Northwest town for vacation. Little does he know that weird and scary things are about to happen...

As a writer I enjoyed this game because the makers tell the story as writers; as if I wrote the story. The narration is what makes this game so unique amongst all those overplayed first-person shooters. I was pleased to see that the story justified the action and the action supported the story. Even how they cleverly adapted a sort of episodic feel to the game, I was entertained from start to epic finish.

The set pieces were amazing and the lighting effects really looked great for a next-gen game. As a writer I felt satisfied with the suspense aspect of the game and I very much enjoyed the creepy factor. I highly recommend this game for any writer who wants to tell a story...I mean who doesn't want to live their own stories, right???

New Passage

I am sorry I haven't posted in a while, I have been busy with life. I however have another passage to share, so here it is...




By this time Jess flourished into a beautiful young woman. She read books made by the town printers and enjoyed picnicking in the woods with her friends. She was also well on her way to becoming a physician of animal anatomy. She would often take lessons from Brimwalls main physician, Alexander Dubble; an ex-Civil War doctor who traveled west to start life new again and often times operated on man and beast alike during the early part of the war.

The town was a sight during the day but really came alive at night to reveal its true nature and beauty. After sundown the torches and lights of the town illuminated into the night sky in rays of orange and yellow. The wood soaked in light as the town lights competed with the bright white twinkles of starlight every night. The townsfolk would sit out of their houses and shops and just looked in awe as the town became more of a homely place; a sort of place that added peace and prosperity to the wilderness that somehow needed it.

Sanders, a former slave, stood out into the muddy street and walked over to Winnham’s office. Winnham was outside on his balcony rocking back and forth smoking from a pipe. The flashes of each puff lit his face in the dark as he sat there watching his town. Sanders calls up to Mr. Winnham. “Sure is a fine night tonight, ‘aint it Mr. Winnham?”.

“Yes it is Mr. Sanders. Yes it is”.

Sanders rubbed his hands together as we walked back over to the far side of the street. His leather boots sank into the mud as he walked making a rather amusing sound to Jess as she gazed upon the man.

“Hello Mr. Sanders” said Jess.

“Well hello Miss Jess, Ma’am. Fine night tonight. Me and the misses is gonna go over to the hillside to see the stars. Shine as bright as ever tonight they are! Care to join us?” asked the dark man.

“Perhaps tomorrow night. I have news of great importance that I must speak of with my father”.

Myth of Spirit Healing

When the earth was young, and the ways of the great spirits were known, the world of beasts as we know it was born. When the great creator sought fit to create all living things on this earth our mother, he created man. Out of this man came two spirits. One became light and full of rays and became everything good of man. The other was dark, heavy and thunderous; this was everything evil of man.

Although the Great Creator made man he didn’t make man whole. He was torn between both spirits being swayed one way or another and could not be good and could not be bad. He just was. Knowing this, the Great Creator decided to make another, a woman in hopes to complete the man. The woman was also born of two spirits. She did not know why but she felt drawn to man.

Winters went by and the man and woman got married by the Great Creator. He told man and woman that the reason for joining is to have children, and those children shall live on the earth forever. Man and woman did as they were told and made many children. And over time both man and woman gained the spirits of good in them. But the other spirits dark and heavy grew jealous. They crashed the skies and shook the ground. Man and woman gathered their many children and fled to a cave nearby. The dark spirit of man moved water to flood the cave. The dark spirit of woman grew thick roots from the ground and blocked the cave exit. Being of an older age, Man and woman knew to look to the heavens to Great Creator. There they saw an opening with light shining through. When the water filled the cave, it pushed Man and Woman up through the hole with all their children safe by their sides.

Many more winters went by and Man and Woman had managed to fend off the dark spirits’ attacks long enough to raise many healthy warriors and wives. There were many more children that needed protecting. This gave the dark spirits an idea.

“I will disguise myself as Man and mate with woman” said the dark spirit of man. “I will give us a child that will be greater than any other child that has been born before”.

So one night when Man took his children out to hunt, the dark spirit of man slipped inside the hut of Woman. He transformed into man and took woman in her bed. Surprised by her husbands presence so soon, woman asked of the hunt. The dark spirit told her that she was dreaming, but will wake up full with belly. By the next sunrise he left. When man returned with many kills, woman tells him she is with child. Stunned and surprised, man celebrated with all to see.

They had a child, but it was different than the others. Instead of killing animals for use, he killed them with no reason other than to see them suffer. The boy didn’t have the same light as the others and Man knew this. He called to Great creator, but he didn’t answer.

The dark spirits were happy with their trickery. “Soon the boy will be of age and will be stronger than any other warrior, even the old man” hissed the dark spirit of man.


“I will whisper dark thoughts upon his ears at night so he knows who his real father is” said the dark spirit of woman.

Together for many seasons, they managed to raise the boy pure of dark heart and malice. They decided that when Man goes on his hunt, the dark son will kill him.

On his hunt man was killed by his own dark son. The dark spirits manifested themselves in front of woman and her children. All the mighty warriors tried by failed to kill their attackers. In a final attack, all of mans children were slain by the dark son and the dark spirits. All were killed except one; a mighty warrior who was from another tribe. In a great and lasting battle, he struck down one of the dark spirits. The dark son became enraged and attacked the mysterious warrior. The hero overcame his attacker and struck a killing blow. The last of the dark spirits, the dark essence of man, fought the mighty warrior. Their battle lasted for many moons and many suns. Finally with the strength of his tomahawk, the mighty warrior struck the dark spirit hard and made him sleep.
The Great Creator came down from the sky and spoke with the mighty warrior. Since he had defeated these dark and terrible creatures, he was to be a warrior for the Great Creator and go forth and fight others who deal with this pain. He must go and heal them of their dark spirits. The warrior accepted what the Creator had set forth. With a final touch, the warrior received a great gift from The Creator; the gift of finding the way to the land of the spirits to fight the dark ones that hinder all of mankind.

The mighty warrior then took the sleeping spirit and locked him away into a sacred wooden totem and hid it away from man. Deep in the forests is where he must remain guarding the totem and keeping the ways of the ancients and the Great Creator.

This is the way of the Spirit Healers of the North West. Their champion- The Spirit Fighter carries on the ways of his ancestors and of the ancients keeping safe what must never be unleashed again into the world of man.

The Novel

The Novel I am working on is primarily a Western genre novel, and I have thrown in elements of Fantasy and Spirituality. The main character is a Native American whose family is slain for their land by whites and then adopted by white church folk until age 15. Then he is thrown into a boom town started by a wealthy, yet reasonable businessman with a heart of gold. The young Native boy starts work as an assistant to the town Blacksmith, but quickly develops a relationship with the businessman and his daughter.

As you might have figured out by now, he falls in love with the daughter. They grow a little older together and then plan on a wedding. The only thing is that there is still plenty of racial prejudice so the local judge refuses to marry the young couple.

One of the fun components of telling a story set in the Western genre is describing the terrain and really getting caught up in the lore of the genre itself. In my approach however, I wanted to tell a story of this young man's journey of his own discovery. He eventually turns to a more vengeful quest when all that he holds dear is taken away from him. One of the themes that excite me when I either watch Westerns or read them is the revenge story. In a novel it works to carry the audience with the protagonist's revenge quest. We as an audience can feel for the hero and journey with him as he discovers new things about how to accomplish his ultimate goal.

The other twist I put into my story is the fact that the hero is a healer, or a Native Shaman. This puts a wrench into anyone's revenge plans when they stand for something that might ultimately lead to tilting the world off its course in a Spiritual sense. The Shaman character is supposed to be a person of wisdom and harmony, but the young man shapes his own destiny and decides to use his extraordinary skills and abilities as a Shaman to exact the revenge he so greatly desires.

How I organize my ideas

When I am trying to figure out either a storyline, a plot, or a particular character arc, I use post-it notes. I lay them out on a board or on my desk or something, and then I write down the scenarios or plots I am trying to decide with on the post-its. I sometimes even rearrange the notes until I get an interesting enough arc or sets of events. It is hard sometimes when you want to do a certain sequence and you don't know where it should go. Of course your story should make sense with the flow of things, but it is always a good idea to mix things up every once and a while.

Another Passage

Another part of the novel I am working on. A bit different from the previous section.






The stagecoach swayed back and forth as the oak wheels turned on the ground below. Mud and dirt shot out from the wheel spokes and a small bit of mire reached out and landed on Jess’s face. The mud felt cold and refreshing on her face. She had been leaning outside the wagon for air; at least that is what she told her father. A much as she loved her father she did not agree with his views sometimes of how she was to act. Her father being a very lucrative business man and always kept an order of things about him at all times did not want Jess to be anything but a lady. Having to celebrate her thirteenth birthday in the frontier with wagon masters and hardened miners and workers was not her idea of a good time, although she thought the West wasn’t such a savage place as the people thought back home in New York. With the war raging on between the states, she only knew of the times her father bathed her as an infant and how much he enjoyed her laughter. Now times are different, and with the success of her family business Jess was becoming more and more accustomed to the wealth her Father was creating with the help of the gold rushes and the excessive need for people to start a new in a new place.

The coach hit a hard bump in the road. The entire inside cabin shook and swayed so much that Jess clenched her father’s arm. Douglass C. Winnham eased his daughter’s fright by gently moving a strand of her blonde hair away from her eyes that was shaken loose from the wagons rocking forces. A tall and slender man he was with all the makings of a successful business man. His suits were always pressed and secured, his hair always combed in the most stylish of fashions to suit the day, and his grey mustache hung under his nose as if chiseled by a Greek sculptor.
His long wrinkled fingers were still strong. If anything his hands were the pride and glory of Mr. Winnham. His were the hands of a builder; a reminder of the days of old before his grand operations where he worked hard each day to survive. Waking up every morning before light came to help his father build his family’s house and later to build his own with his wife. Even Jess’s crib and all the house’s furnishings were crafted by Winnham. Growing up as a carpenter’s son, he knew and loved the feel and smell of wood. He ventured into all sorts of wood trades and quickly found the lumber business satisfying. After being married he started his business and became successful. Always in with the over seas trade with other counties which was what Winnham really wanted to be in near the time of his daughter’s birth. With trades with China and Russia and even England, he managed to create quite the lumber trade. Knowing that ships needed to be built along with houses and farms, not to mention the towns booming up with all those gold rush stories; Winnham knew it was right for the taking.

Why do I write?

I have been writing for most of my educational career and even as a small child my imagination always seemed to run away with me. I was like most other kids in that I stayed fairly active, but my body got all the exercise and not my imagination. I was always daydreaming of other worlds, other adventures. Growing up I was exposed to a lot of television and movies so I loved watching those things to escape my normal happenings.

As a kid I hated doing homework and only wanted to write and draw. My parents saw a natural talent for both, but still insisted I do my homework. Writing for me as I got older became more of a natural pursuit than a hobby.

As I entered into Jr High and High School, I couldn't wait to enroll in my English classes so I could write more stories. Writing to me seemed to have a purpose. At that age for anyone things usually are pretty awkward, and what I realized the most was how to adjust to my affinity for the arts at such an early age in my life.

When college rolled around I desperately needed to be in a place where I could create. Music has always been close to my heart as well. When I drive around I listen to music. For some strange reason, my creative mind just gets triggered and I imagine stories unfolding while I listen to particular pieces of music. I think in a way music is my muse of sorts. I have been able to really come up with a lot of good material just driving from place to place, running errands as normal people do, but I always tend to be able to let my mind just go. This process for me is quite freeing.

I now I shop for music according to what stories I want to draw or write. For a while in my early 20's I was a huge Frank Frazetta fan. His fantasy art really inspired me as a kid, so I decided to produce a series of Viking-like drawings in honor of my late hero. As music served me then as it does today, I listened to the "Conan the Barbarian" soundtrack to inspire me. The work never looked better.

As an artist and creative mind I find it comforting to know that I have a creative process. I sometimes over do it and it creates more stress, but it still works for me. Perhaps as I get older I will have it mastered or even it will all change for me. Until then I will continue to create.