A Blast from the Past: Live Journal: The State of Heroism Redux: Entry One

Well, I was doing my new year data consolidation and found my old LiveJournal blog. Since it is pretty much defunct and no one ever reads LiveJounral anymore, I figured I might as well transfer the HiBRiD-related posts from years past with you all and invite into my mind's eye in terms of creation of the HiBRiD game.

This was the first entry is dated 10.22.2004 @ 1011. I had originally planned the journal  to be written from the point of view of my favorite NPC, Dr. Markus Workman, but as time went on, I just used it as a creative outlet. So let's learn a little bit about the good doctor...

A New Age..and a Beginning...

My name is Dr. Markus Workman-Divendre

Here I find myself sitting before this great analytical engine with the ability to talk to the entire world but with naught to say.

Methinks I shall begin with a short bit about myself.

I come from a time long ago before many of your memories. A time of innocence and belief in love and the integrity and nobility of man.

I come from a world very much different from this one. A world where man's reason and intellect are cherished and his intentions are pure of heart.

I fell in love at 15 with one J'nel Rypienn and lost that love. That was when I was then taken from my world and unwillingly pushed into this one.

I searched for 35 years to regain that love again, then to find purpose for man's suffering, then to find god, then to find any semblance of decency or reason in men. And when I failed to find them, I found myself taken from my own time and unwillingly pushed into this one.

I had always been able to make jaunts through time and space since the age of 4. The jaunts bought me time when I needed it to make decisions, allowed me to easily make my way through school, and allowed me to learn at my own pace and develop a true love for knowledge. But when I lost J'nel, that control became inaccessible to me. While I could still jaunt and control it to some extent, I found myself unable to ever return to the place and time from whence I came.

I ended up on a world for which the inhabitants had no name, atop the smallest mesa of what was known as the Heisstisch tablelands, watching geckos and gilas seek out relief from the 50 degree centigrade sun. That was where and when I met my recently-passed friend, Tennyson.

And that is where and when this journal begins.