An Update No One Asked For

But, boy, writing it was cathartic.

When I set out to work on this blog, I had hoped to be consistent in my updates. That thought was quickly thrown out the window when I realized that I didn’t have much of anything to say and in trying to practice what I preach, I decided to say nothing but for the occasionally interesting (at least to me) thought.

Now I’m writing this to give you a bit of an update.

Whew, friends, but the two years have been…we’ll call it an “adventure” instead of “an ever-widening nightmare of failures and fuck-ups.”

That’s probably a little too harsh, but for a while I really did feel that way. Far from trusting the Lord, I fell back into my old habits and started despairing over my lot in life. Little did I know, the Lord was preparing me for something else, the totality of which I still don’t fully understand.

But that’s neither here nor there, what I wanted to get across in this post is that you may notice that my fiction writing has gone quiet. I haven’t made any posts about my short stories or that novel I’ve been working on for the last year and change and unfortunately that silence might drag on for a little while more.

You see, as part of that long list of failures—er, adventure—is that I lost my job and spent about three months absolutely disoriented by how and when everything I had planned went wrong.

In the wake of 2024: relationships imploded, projects abandoned, plans shredded, ideas were cursed, everything and anything that could go wrong, went very, very, very wrong.

Hindsight is 20/20, but I’ve worn glasses my entire life and don’t have 20/20 vision. The incomplete picture of 2024-2025 is something that may sharpen into focus within another year of two.  

I’m not complaining, even if it seems like I am.

All of this is grist for the mill. A writer needs experiences, and nothing is a more visceral experience than heartbreak and humiliation. I look back on the past two years and see the narrative thread, however faintly, trusting that the Lord Jesus knows me better than I do and that His plans are always better than mine.

So, what am I up to?

At the prompting of the Holy Spirit, I’ve embraced my desire for higher education and am now pursuing my Master’s Degree in Catechetics and Evangelization (that is, teaching and proclaiming the Faith) so that this blunt instrument might become a more useful tool for the Lord and His Church. I’ve also taken on a full-time job to coincide with going to school. This is because I ascribe to the “rip the band aid off” philosophy of rapid personal change.  

A new short story will be published in summer 2026 with Cirsova.

If you were a fan of Afflicted (Anvil Magazine #2), you’ll like this one: Dr. Amélia Mitre is back in Afflicted: the Hands of Hanged Men. I’ll update you as the time for publication come nearer. I really like this one, it’s dark, spooky, and a bit longer than the first.

The novel I’ve been working on since January 2024 was completed back in April of this year and went through a first round of edits in May. It was handed off to a professional editor in August and came back to me in early September. I am now working through those edits and I think once it’s done, I’ll have something worthwhile.

Progress has slowed on that front, mostly because I now have a full-time job and am a part-time graduate student. I’ve been slowly making progress, but I want to a complete work before I show too much of it off.

Needless to say, if you’re a fan of swords and sorcery, you might enjoy Iron Sharpens Iron. More details will follow.

Thank you for everyone who has supported me and prayed for me, read my work, etc. You are appreciated, and I pray for you.

St. Therese of Lisieux, St. Joan of Arc, St. Francis de Sales, St. Francis of Assisi—pray for us!        

Above: Portrait of Jean Miélot, a Burgundian Scribe by Jean le Tavernier (d. 1462). French. Housed in Bibliothèque Nationale de France.

Conan Confronts Christ

What hath Cimmeria to do with Jerusalem?  

This is a weird one, I’m going to have to ask you to just go along with this…meditation?

I say meditation because I’m not sure it’s a complete thought. I’m certainly not going to stake anything on it, or consider it some great piece of theology. It’s just a meditation. A splinter in the mind, something I want to wiggle out.

I keep a Florilegium, or a commonplace book. I started keeping it in May of 2022. Among the petals are various quotes, sayings, snatches of poetry—anything and everything—that sticks out to me. I’ve got scripture, jokes, historical facts, bits of advice, bits and bobs of fiction I enjoy.

Part of the exercise of keeping a Florilegium is memorization. Its far easier to memorize something that’s been deliberately hand written than it is simply try to recall it.

It also gives some form to my life, like a journal. I know that during the years of 2022 – 2024, I was deeply engrossed in studying the Bible leading up to my Baptism in 2023. So my first volume is mostly scriptural passages intermixed with quotes from GK Chesterton, Bishop Robert Barron, Dorothy Sayers, and the Spiritual Combat.

Towards the end of the book, as 2024 begins, you see more Frank Herbert, Frank Sneed, C.S Lewis, and Robert Howard’s Conan of Cimmeria.  

Robert Howard was a poet—a deeply passionate, visceral poet. He was a master of alliteration, especially in his Conan stories.

“The dead are dead, and what has passed is done!”

“…savored too strongly of sorcery for comfort.”

Civilized men are more discourteous than savages because they know they can be impolite without having their skulls split, as a general thing.”

When Conan speaks, he has the cadence of rolling thunder or a beating drum, while Howard’s narrative sometimes has the soft silky ‘s’ that cry out to be read aloud. My appreciation for Howard’s character is one of poetry. Conan is resoundingly full of life—pagan life, to be sure, but he springs forth like the poetry of the Iliad or the Odyssey.     

There is an eternal, although I suspect, perfectly settled question about the place of Pagan literature in the life of the Christian. Should we indulge in the flights and fancies of the Pagans? The Iliad is akin to a sort of Greek Scriptures, does it have anything of value for the Christ-Follower?   

Tertullian, although speaking of Greek Philosophy, said “what hath Athens to do with Jerusalem?”

“Let me live deep while I can; let me know the rich juices of red meat and stinging wine on my palate, the hot embrace of white arms, the mad exultations of battle when the blue blades flame and crimson, and I am content. Let teachers and priests and philosophers brood over questions of reality and illusion. I know this: if life is an illusion, then I am no less an illusion, and being thus, the illusion is real to me. I live, I burn with life, I love, I slay, and I am content.” – Robert Howard, the Queen of the Black Coast

“… let me know the rich juices of red meat and stinging wine on my palate…” for the past several months, when I receive Eucharist, and cross myself and kneel in absolute thanksgiving for this body, given for me, that I may have eternal life, and have it abundantly, this quote keeps coming unbidden to my mind.

Stinging wine on my palate, I muse, as the Blood of Christ, under the species of wine, lingers on my tongue.

The entirety of the quote is pure pagan speculation. Conan is in a discourse about the afterlife with his lover, the Pirate Queen, Bêlit. Conan’s people, the Cimmerians, do not believe in a comforting afterlife. Bêlit does, especially in the various afterlifes offered by the Gods of the Shemites.

Mostly, Bêlit believes:

“There is life beyond death, I know, and I know this too, Conan of Cimmeria…my love is stronger than death! I have lain in your arms, panting with the violence of our love; you have held and crushed and conquered me, drawing my soul to your lips with the fierceness of your bruising kisses. My heart is welded to your heart, my soul is part of your soul! Were I still in death and you fighting for life, I would come back from the abyss to aid you—aye, whether my soul floated with the purple sails on the crystal sea of paradise, or writhed in the molten flames of hell! I am yours, and all the gods and all their eternities shall never sever us!”  – Robert Howard, the Queen of the Black Coast

Bêlit speaks with the eroticism of the Song of Solomon: “set me as a seal upon your heart, as a seal upon your arm; for love is strong as death,” Song 8: 6RVS2CE.

If the Song of Solomon is about the Eternal Bridegroom and His Bride, longing for each other, then perhaps, Bêlit is no so far off the mark as she may seem. C.S Lewis spoke of the pagan’s “good dreams.”

Perhaps Conan dwells in the same “good dreams” as those of Odysseus and Hector?

Maybe even the Christian is meant to dwell in a world of high adventure in the time before the oceans drank Atlantis.

Perhaps Conan puts before me, as Tolkien says: “the one great thing to love on earth: the Blessed Sacrament…There you will find romance, glory, honour, fidelity, and the true way of all your loves on earth.”

I receive Christ in the Eucharist, and while I am on earth, I am extolled to live deep, to know the rich juices of red meat and stinging wine on my palate, to one day embrace a husband and dwell together as an icon of the Trinity; to fight in the mad exultations of the spiritual battle where the blades flash blue and crimson, until the earthly pilgrimage is done, and be content.

That’s the romance, that’s the adventure! The glory of God, Saint Irenaeus says, is a human being, fully alive. And who is not fully alive, but a man who declares: “I live, I burn with life, I love, I slay, and I am content.”   

Final Thoughts

I am not saying Conan is a Christian hero-type, nor am I sneaking any incoherent “universalism” into my religious thought, (I am resolutely orthodox). I am, however, making use of Justin Martyr’s conviction that all well said things rightly belong to us Christians.

Robert Howard, by all accounts, was not particularly religious, and even if he were I can only doubt that he would be Catholic. He was much in love with his native Texas and the Southwest in general, and I suspect that would incline him towards the Protestant viewpoint of his native land.

But there’s something about Howard’s writing, especially in his Conan stories, that marks me as incarnational. His work is visceral, it feels fleshy, substantive. I first wrote down the “Let me live deep” quote because I was enchanted by the image of red beef and wine, so much so I thought I could almost taste it.

It was the Eucharist which drew me into Roman Catholicism. Once I had read the Bread of Life Discourse, I could not imagine myself in any other Church but the one that took Jesus literally. So it only makes sense that these two figures, Christ, and Conan, must confront each other in the corner of my thoughts.

I think I’ll keep taking Conan with me to the Eucharist.


Are you as interested in tales of high adventure as I am? I write my own, you can find them here.

You can also follow me on Twitter/X.

I’ve discussed Conan before, check it out here.

ABOVE: the cover of “Conan the Conqueror” (AKA: The Hour of the Dragon), by Robert E Howard. Art by Norman Saunders from 1953 for an ACE Double Novel.

Get Ready for Cirsova Spring 2025!

My short story, Machine Dreams for Wired People along with many other delicious pulp offerings, are now available for preorder for Amazon Kindle, and Lulu Hardcover. A softcover version will also be made available. The magazine is scheduled for release on March 19th, 2025.

Here’s the blurb for Machine Dreams for Wired People, from Cirsova Magazine: A family infiltration team is hired to break into a cybernetic AI factory to rescue the itinerant daughter of a wealthy benefactor before her mind can be liquified!

Machine Dreams for Wired People is my first serious dip into Cyberpunk. I had a lot of fun writing this one, I think it manages to find a way to be both horrific and humous. Like most futuristic horror, it’s absurd, and its supposed to be.

If you like the story, please be sure to leave a review, even a short one can really help!

Shoot the Devil

My short story, Gloryhound, is now available on Amazon Kindle as part of the anthology, Shoot the Devil Militia of Martyrs! Get it here.

Gloryhound: A beast stalks the woods of France, devouring men, women, and children with the cold, cruel efficiency of a man. Hundreds have hunted the Beast of the Gévaudan, but none are quite like Jean Chastel. He follows the Beast’s trail and prays for an end to the carnage. When a mysterious girl arrives, knowing things only the dead could know, Jean soon realizes that his prayers have been answered. But the hunt has only just begun, and the end is in the sacrifice.

Check this anthology out and leave a review on amazon!

I have other weird tales to share, you can find them here! 

You can also follow me on Twitter/X!

ABOVE: detail of the bottom section of Saint Michael; Master of Belmonte, Spanish, (Aragon). 1460–1490. Tempera and oil on wood. Housed at the Met Cloisters, New York, New York.

Dragon Age the Veilguard: I waited ten years for this?

I love the Dragon Age games—I own all the novels, comics, and the cookbook. I am a sucker for this series. I will defend DA2 out of loyalty. I’ve gotten thousands of hours of enjoyment out of the Dragon Age games and I will get thousands more in the future. 

In preparation for Veilgaurd, I replayed Origins and 2. I listened to the audiobooks. I reread the comics. I also imposed a content embargo, meaning I didn’t watch or read anything about Veilgaurd and made the decision to go in blind.

Milquetoast, Dull, Tedious, and other Adjectives

Dragon Age 2 catches a lot of flak for “not being an RPG.”

Well, Dragon Age: The Veilguard, saw that and said “hold my lyrium potion.” Or at least it would, if Veilguard had any lyrium potions.

Much like the aforementioned lyrium potions, Veilguard is missing something. The game is polished, pretty to look at, but every time I boot up the game, I leave it feeling intensely unsatisfied, like I’m playing a spin-off and not the actual sequel to Dragon Age Inquisition.

Trying to put words to what’s missing is a staggering challenge, mostly because there are just so many words that qualify.

To put it bluntly, Veilguard commits the greatest gaming sin: it’s really fucking boring. 

The game feels cold. Its charmless. Its tedious. The combat is terrible. Thedas feels empty. The environments are pretty, but there’s nothing interesting in them. The characters have vague, almost non-existent motivations. There’s not a single memorable score. Not a single memorable character interaction, villain, or NPC. The companions are uninteresting. There is a general, intense, noticeable lack of tension. Edgeless, clinical, sanitized, Disney-esqe.

Veilgaurd left me asking, with great disappointment: I waited ten years for this?  

Would you like to gather your party and venture forth?

For some unidentifiable reason, BioWare made the choice to overhaul Dragon Age’s combat system, turning it into something more akin to “baby’s first souls-like.” It’s toothless and dull, requiring little beyond button mashing. The game helpfully [read: hand-holdy] reminds you whenever your team can complete a combo.

Part of the combat issue, I believe, stems from the collapse of the class system. Picking a class in Veilguard seems to be wildly irrelevant.

Mage class is favorite class in DA. I enjoy controlling the battlefield from a safe distance, setting up elemental based traps, containing the fight, while using my warrior companions to tank, and my rogue to lay on damage—this is the typical set up for most companion-based RPGs.  

Veilguard has done away with that. You can only select two companions for your party, which doesn’t seem like an issue in and of itself until you realize that your companions’ abilities are locked behind cooldowns (think Mass Effect).

This means, if you play a mage and you want to draw enemy damage away from you, you must bring Davrin. He is the only companion who can taunt. If you use taunt, you can’t use any of Davrin’s other abilities until taunt completes its cooldown, effectively locking him out of the fight.

Oh, and taunt stops working the moment you strike a target.

When playing as a mage, you spend most of each combat encounter running away because the enemies are always aggroed to you.

The enemies don’t really target your companions, begging the question: why even have companions?

The companions don’t have health bars, they never go down, they teleport to targets only on command, and the player can clip right through them.

Sometimes, I forget the companions are even there, helpfully, the game has them shout out “I’m ready!” “Snipers!” “They have us at range!” to remind me that I’m being haunted by the ghosts of BioWare Past.

As far as I can tell, the companions basic attacks do very little—if any—damage. Rarely do the companions finish off a fight. As the player, I always strike the first blow, and the final, on each and every enemy.

Although simple to understand and even master, the combat system is tedious. You bring two companions who can set up triggers and detonations for high-damage combos—bonus if you also have abilities that trigger and detonate.

The game grinds to a halt while I slog my way through another combat encounter filled with copy-paste enemies that all feel and fight the same. Fighting Qunari feels like fighting darkspawn feels like fighting Ventori feels like fighting demons. 

Because the enemies are all the same, there’s no need to change your strategy. Bring the two companions that earns you the “Triple Threat” bonus and then spam those abilities whenever available one enemy at a time. There’s no reason to try and attack multiple enemies at once, each is a sponge. You’re better off focusing on a single target and trying to subtract, one by one, the enemies attacking you.

Just to reiterate—attacking you. The enemies don’t really attack your companions. They’re ghosts. Insubstantial. They don’t even stand in the background of cut scenes.  

BioWare has created some of the best companion characters that I know of. Many of them have extremely well-written character arcs, backgrounds, and compelling romances. Garrus from Mass Effect and Alistair from Dragon Age Origins come to mind.

Romance has become a big part of what sets BioWare games apart, although, I think it can be argued that romance has become too much a part of BioWare games. But there is something fun and rewarding about connecting with an interesting character on deeper level, role-playing as their lover, having quiet moments of tenderness with them.

Unfortunately, Veilguard suffers from the same problem that plagued Dragon Age 2. Because your companions are all “pansexual” the friendship feels like romance and romance feels like friendship.

There’s no romantic tension, or there’s an inappropriate underlying romantic tension. Its off-putting and awkward.  

It’s the worst of Dragon Age 2’s companions mixed with the worst of Mass Effect Andromeda’s companions. Its lazy writing, it’s unrealistic, its uninteresting.

Never have I played a game with such a roster of milquetoast characters. They are unsubstantial, analogous, hardly even characters. More like an arbitrary addition, grudgingly there because the fandom simply expects them to be.

Not a single companion says anything interesting. Not a one challenges me in a meaningful way or allows me to challenge them. We are like the imaginary characters in a HR Sexual Harassment training course. Mind-numbingly agreeable, belonging only to the dull imaginations of a Human Resource Manager.  

Not one character has a defining moment—and why would they? I do all the work, even in their own personal quests.

“I don’t work for the Inquisition.”

For the life of me, I cannot figure out why Rook is involved in the hunt for Solas.

Varric hired me, or I’m on loan from the Lords of Fortune—I genuinely do not know my character’s personal motivations.

There are no personal stakes for Rook, outside of a vague “the world is ending” feeling. You even tell the Inquisitor, the person sworn to stop Solas, that you “don’t work for the Inquisition.”

So why is Rook here? What is the inciting incident that brought Rook to work with Varric in the first place, especially if it’s not because they’re an Agent of the Inquisition?

The Hero of Ferelden was conscripted. Hawke was self-made. The Inquisitor was a victim of fate. Rook is… here?

To illustrate my point, one of your companions, Bellara, asks Rook why they’re “doing all this.” I had three response options: “Someone has too;” “Redemption, I guess;” and, “I don’t know.”

And that just really sums up Veilguard in its entirety. Rook doesn’t know why they’re here, and neither do I.

Veilgaurd doesn’t allow you to craft Rook beyond cosmetics, you can pick their sex, their pronouns, their scars, even add cataracts. But if you’re looking to create an interesting role playing experience, you’re out of luck.

Every response Rook has in every interaction is a slightly different shade of agreeable. There is no room for conflict between you and your companions, no place to disagree, even slightly, when a companion is out of line.

Rook is edgeless, an ineffective middle manager trying desperately to avoid an employee complaint.

Part of my defense of Dragon Age 2 is that you can read the ambition between the lines. Everything about DA2 falls short, but none of it feels shallow, none of it reads like a mass-appeal Pixar flick.

DA2’s serial killer arc doesn’t cinch it, but its implication are brutal; the blood magic that infects Kirkwall is clearly influencing the city, but you’re suspicions are never quite satisfied; Mages are suffering, but so are the Templars, and the game doesn’t do enough to show the player how mutual suffering builds mutual suspicion and mutual hatred.

But at least DA2 felt like a rowdy band of miscreants hunting up trouble, causing problems for themselves and others, sometimes, even without remorse.  

Veilguard’s quests are fairly cut and dry. They are complete, they provide further explanations of the lore, they confirm suspicions I’ve had since DA2, some of them are even interesting in the moment, yet I can barely remember them.

The whole game feels shallow, cold, unserious.   

It gets worse.

As I completed the game and marinated on my thoughts, one thing became shockingly clear to me.

Everything about Veilguard feels envious and resentful.

At the beginning of the game, you are able to design you Inquisitor and it asks a couple questions about your previous game state. My favorite Inquisitor is a female, human mage, who romanced Blackwall. The background questions don’t even differentiate between the classes of your Inquisitor, despite the fact that being a Mage Inquisitor should have deep implications for the end of the Mage-Templar War.

But that war never gets mentioned.

It gets worse—eventually, you get a letter from the Inquisitor that tells you how Southern Thedas is faring amidst the blight and you learn that Denerim and Redcliffe have been destroyed, Kirkwall has evacuated and ruined. Skyhold is barely holding on. Orlais is fighting Venitori and not answering any of the Inquisitor’s letters.

My heart sunk when I read that Denerim and Redcliffe were destroyed because those are places I care about.

As the Warden, I fought to put Alistair on the throne, to save Redcliffe from the Undead. As Hawke, I put time into cleaning up Kirkwall’s crime-riddled streets. As the Inquisitor, I traveled from Ferelden to Orlais closing rifts, stopping demons, and Red Templars.

Veilguard does not mention any events from the previous games.

Hawke’s name is never stated, despite that Hawke is Varric’s best friend. The last thing we heard of the Warden is that they were at Weisshaupt, yet, the Hero of Ferelden is never mentioned. The Divine is never mentioned. No one discusses the Circles or Templars or the fallout from their war. The Inquisitor, who, at the end of the Trespasser DLC, swore to save or stop Solas has the force of presence of a potato.    

The continuity of Dragon Age is gone, destroyed. Shoved aside.

It gets worse—the “secret” ending offers us a glimpse of what BioWare has “planned” for the next entry.

A shadowy organization Inquisition players will immediately recognize as the Executors, have been the dark puppet masters all along. They convinced the Magisters to enter the Fade, they guided Loghain into betraying Ferelden, they whispered to Bartrand about the Idol, they aided Corypheus.

Loghain didn’t come to the conclusion that he must kill Calian in order to save Ferelden from the Orlesian’s. He was manipulated into his actions.

The red lyrium didn’t corrupt and amplify Bartrand’s innate greed—the Executor’s did!

The Inquisitor wasn’t at the wrong place at the wrong time, they, the Divine, and Corypheus were all victims of shadowy machinations!

A lot is said about the hunt for the “modern” audience and the plundering of beloved franchises. I said above that Veilguard feels shallow, but perhaps it’s better to say that its hollow. Like something emptied out of its soul.

Veilguard doesn’t feel so much like soft reboot as it does a message of resentment and envy.

There are two explanations for this: the writers at BioWare are too cowardly to take a shot at creating a different franchise, or the writers at BioWare resoundingly resent their predecessors.

Neither explanation is nice, neither is how I want to feel; but cowardice can be forgiven. Resenting the story, resenting the choices, resenting the players—that’s not something that’ll induce me to give them another shot.

Conclusion

Enough digital ink has been spilled regarding wokeness and Dragon Age and I have no intention to add to it, other than to note that “wokeness” is an excuse. It’s a crutch used by both sides to obfuscate legitimate criticism.

Veilguard has more problems than an uncomfortable discourse about identity.

Veilguard is poorly written, the combat is unfun, and the story is disjointed and hollow, its characters are limp and insubstantial, it had none of the charm I associate with Thedas, it utterly disregards the former entries and hopes you don’t notice—trust me, you’ll notice.

To paraphrase G.K. Chesterton: a good story tells us the truth about its hero. A bad story tells us the truth about its writer.

The truth that Veilguard tells me about its writers is unbelievably disheartening.

I don’t recommend Veilguard, not even for hardcore Dragon Age fans like me.

Things I liked

There’s actually a reason why dragons need to be hunted and slain.

Manfred.

Complaints I couldn’t include above

The HUD is terrible. The menus system is clunky.

The enemies are just copy-paste reskins of each other. They all fight the same, have the same abilities. There is no variety of peril.

Classic enemy types have been redesigned. Enemies are indistinct from each other. The darkspawn are cartoony and visually bland.

There’s a surprising lack of grim-dark in my grim-dark fantasy game. Tevinter has been hyped up as the evil empire and yet it has zero implications for the plot and you wouldn’t even know they practice slavery if an NPC didn’t tell you.

Lacks the small, charming elements I associate with Dragon Age: no Elfroot to pick, no lyrium potions, hardly a mention of the extremely poetical Chant of Light, “would you like to gather your party and venture fourth?”, bees.     

Solas is wasted as a villain.

Varric’s death is cheap and leads me to believe that he was used as a lure to old fans.

I’ve gotten more enjoyment out of making fun of this game than actually playing it.

ABOVE: Saint George and the Dragon. Bernat Martorell, Catalan, d. 1452. Tempera on panel. A picture I took at the Art Institute of Chicago, it is most impressive in person.

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