Top 10 Favourite Films

1) Jurassic Park
2) Pan's Labyrinth
3) Titanic
4) The Full Monty
5) In Bruges
6) 28 Days Later
7) A Knight's Tale
8) Kind Hearts and Coronets
9) The Roaring Twenties
10) Dog Soldiers

Greenfields: Update

Work on my debut fiction book Greenfields in coming along nicely. I have cut a chapter away, since it slowed down the story, but even so five chapters are now complete, making me one third of the way through the first draft. I'm quite happy with the pacing so far; it starts of slow, then builds to a dramatic climax.

Of course, this is the first book in the series, whose main purpose is to introduce the main characters and set the story, so it is going to be the slowest of the series. You see, Greenfields, The Resort and Screaming Lake are three parts of one overarching storyline, with the first being the set up, the second building on the threat and the third being the dramatic conclusion. The Poison Within, Devil's Cruise and Dawning End are part of a second act to Gordon's tale, but let's not get ahead of ourselves yet.

For now, I like to think of Greenfields as a three act tale. The first third of the book is set up, the middle third is the chunk of the story and the final third is the 'best bit' in my opinion. However, there isn't a single chapter that isn't necessary to tell a compelling story. I just hope it gets published!

Minecraft World: The Self Sustaining Factory

Whilst building yet another castle on Mojang's incredible sandbox game, Minecraft, I began to think about something more than turrets and portcullis's. I wanted to challenge myself to build a place which I'd never have to leave, and could feel safe in when the mobs came out. To this end, I began construction of the industrial site of Bigfoot's Big Foods. Oh, and there is no Tekkit here, since I am playing on Xbox 360 edition!

So, here is an aerial shot of the site:

As you can see, the main feature of the site is the enormous warehouse to the top-right of the image, which houses all of the food necessary to survive, along with the treasure vault. There is also a corporate pool (for relaxing) and a house in the middle to sleep at night! The two main fields are a wheat field (to make bread) and a sugar cane field (for sugar to use in cakes), which ensures that I never have to leave the site for food if I choose not to. Also, to be rid of any excess materials I don't need, I have constructed an incinerator (top-left) to prevent my chests from becoming cluttered. The most recent additions, however, are the cobblestone generator (so that I don't have to dig up the land to make infinite cobblestone for tools) and an underground (and underwater) access tunnel to the other island (where my sister is building another castle/village!)

The next step is to construct an orchard to provide a renewable source of wood (and charcoal) which will make the factory site completely self-sustainable, and a permanent safe haven from all manner of mobs which might try to kill me in the night.

Except for spiders. Those bastards get everywhere that water can't!

Explorer Chronicles: Book Series

For a long time now I have looked back at the old YouTube series that made me as popular as I am. Of course, I mean to say as popular as I am in the realm of Zoo Tycoon 2 machinima! Yes, in it's day, 'Explorer Chronicles' was an exciting account of the thrill-ride that was Gordon Turnley's life as a cryptozoologist and paranormal investigator, but now it just seems dated. The dialogue is childish, the action is limited and the depiction of events is... well, it's hardly fantastic.

At the same time, I do not want to go back and simply re-make the entire series; such a feat would take months to achieve with any success, and frankly my computer hasn't improved since the time of creation anyway. So I began thinking of ways around it, and I came up with the idea to recreate the series in book form. This is an idea in a developmental stage for now, but there are already a few key things I want to address:

1) This is NOT the literary version of Explorer Chronicles - it is merely based on the series, updated for an older audience (teenagers) with some of the characters and plot points being retained.

2) Forest of Terror, although my most watched series, is also unarguably the weakest story. Were the zombies' origins ever truly explained?! As such, it will NOT be made into a book. I almost made this the case with Final Maintenance, except we met Janice there and it would seem too short a series to just plonk her in somewhere else!

3) I want to tighten up some of the plot points. The xenomorphs from Screaming Lake were okay villains, but they didn't have much backstory. I much preferred the aliens from Resort of Horrors who were intelligent and treacherous. Also, what happened with Janice between Final Maintenance and Screaming Lake, and how did she survive in Devil's Cruise. More to the point, why didn't she tell Gordon? There are so many areas I want to re-write and flesh out. Aliens played such a huge role, that I don't want to remove them outright, but I do want to get rid of some of the species - tighten up the story so that it flows as one big, arching plotline rather than lots of episodic alien showdowns.

4) Get rid of the link between Stalker2K7's and Udaho456's A Dawning End storylines. Their films never came to fruition, and it left a huge plot hole in the final series. Speaking of which, I was never happy with the short length and so-so quality of A Dawning End, so that story will receive a huge overhaul: it is the final chapter in the series, so it should go out with a swan song as such!

So without further ado, let me introduce you to the conceptual cover art for the series:

Book One: Greenfields
Book Two: The Resort
Book Three: Screaming Lake
Book Four: The Poison Within
Book Five: Devil's Cruise 
Book Six: A Dawning End

In the meantime, here's a link to the original YouTube series:

Explorer Chronicles - YouTube Series

Tales of a Young John: #2 - The Recky (Part 2)

#2: The Recky (Part Two)

For those of you who haven't yet read part one, it can be found here. It doesn't affect this story, but it does sort of give an indication of how rough the recky was. And it only got rougher.

In part one I told you all that the recky was built in a circular space behind a council estate, slap bang in the middle of a circular road as there were a few spaces for the locals to park their cars behind these houses. Thankfully, the number of child-squashings was zero, (to my knowledge anyway; there could have been some behind my back!) and the road was mostly used by the older kids to ride their tricycles or bikes on. Actually, thinking about it, there was always the same red car with the same dodgy - looking man sat inside it who was occasionally visited by other dodgy looking men from time to time. Drug dealer? Or something a bit worse? I don't know - I was young and he could have just lived in one of the houses. Anyway.

One day I was just heading off to play on the recky, remembering to avoid the Nobcheese graffiti for fear of another telling off, when suddenly some little bastard comes shooting up to me on his tricycle. He was a rough little sort, with a cigarette and a few battle scars... okay, I might be exaggerating as he was about six at the time, but he was a little git from the estate surrounding the recky, and he took great pleasure in punching me as he rode past on his tricycle. No reason. No motive. Just one punch and the little sod shot off around the circular path laughing his head off.

So I did what any self-respecting six year old boy would do. I ran home to tell my mum.

Only mum wasn't in. My Auntie Laura was though. Not that much older than me, she marched right up to the recky and pushed the little shit off his tricycle. Now, if memory serves, I'm sure she also nicked that tricycle and brought it back home with us. I'm sure that earned her a bollocking, and so if it did happen I'm really grateful for it. Nice flair, ten points for execution and an extra point for taking one for the team!

The recky was rough. That kid was rough. Still, I can say I've been the victim of a drive by and lived.

Dreaming of a Holiday

I don't want to sound like a typical student here, but my third year has been tough. Lots of late nights trying to meet deadlines - hell, there have just been lots of tightly-packed deadlines - and plenty of stress to keep me from sleeping for months! I'd love a holiday about now to ease off after finishing University. Nowhere fancy, as long as it's warm: Spain at least, but preferably Cyprus.

I love Cyprus; I've been there three times since I was a kid. It's one of those magical places that seems to make you happy whether it's sunny or raining! I remember scurrying about after lizards en route to Pervolia's pebble beach and drawing nonsense images on the rocks to pass the time. It was amazing, and truth be told, I miss it something terrible.

I don't think travel broadens the mind, mind you; I just think it relaxes it. You lose a little bit of tension and let yourself go a bit, as all your problems are back home and, for a week or two, you can escape from it all. Just relax on a beach and watch the sun set; the only immediate concern being the chaffing of sand up your bum! But I honestly think human beings need a bit of travel - it doesn't do to stay in one place all your life - you have to get out there and have a change of scenery every now and then, just to give you some escapism. Escapism from a big world that's starting to seem smaller and smaller, and from small problems that are starting to seem bigger and bigger.

Me? I just fancy a holiday.

My Sense of Style (Or Lack Thereof)

I've noticed something over the past year or so, and I can't quite decided whether it's a good thing or a bad thing. No, it's not the fact I've grown up to possess these devilishly good looks or an impressive set of muscles (largely because I am not blessed with either), but in fact, that I as I've grown up I have seemed to inherit something from my father. His sense of style (if you could call it that!).

Now don't get me wrong, I'm not saying I was ever stylish in the first place (except, perhaps, when I was a really young child and wore the snazziest purple waistcoat imaginable to my cousin Alexandra's Christening) but at least I was a bit rebellious or different with what I wore. Up until college, my mother insisted that she owned my hair because I couldn't be trusted with it, and although growing it excessively long from the age of fourteen to sixteen was probably a good indicator that this was, in fact true, it did not excuse her for giving me a buzz-cut for the first few years of my teenage life. Two wrongs don't make a right, Mum, and surely even you could not ignore that I was never able to grow hair on my head properly!

Moving on from the positive and negative poles my hair managed (or occasionally did not manage) to reach, and my sense of clothing style wasn't much better. If a robber ever broke into my house, he'd probably have been discovered by his uncontrollable laughter as he rifled through the piles of spinach green pullovers and bland black Snape-Tops that filled my wardrobes and drawers. I was a boring sod when it came to clothing myself - I didn't want to risk looking like an idiot, so I went for looking like an idiot instead. Shrewd, me.

As it was, I looked like a hippie who occasionally came out without his hair (again, thanks mum). So as I grew older, I started to swap pullovers and long-sleeved tops for button up shirts of all colours and materials - denim, when the occasion called for it (double denim never has an excuse to be worn, but I subjected people to it regardless!) The problem was that I couldn't stop. I soon found myself buying sweaters and waistcoats to wear over my shirts, trousers to add a sense of uniformity and proper shoes. I didn't want to 'look cool' anymore - I wanted to look smart. My hair began to recede to a reasonable lengthy (gradually) and I ditched dealer jackets for nice coats. I was slowly becoming my Dad. I don't mean splitting up with my wife and ordering a fishing license, of course. But I remember the sweaters my Dad used to wear (and still does), and the polo shirts on summers days and I think to myself: "John, you're looking like your Dad today!) In fact, I even tuck my shirt in, to which people tell me (and now myself) I dress like my Dad! Is this a bad thing? Maybe. But what would you rather see; a long-haired John with a fringe down to his top lip and a scraggy black pullover, or a nice and smart-looking John, who looks a bit old fashioned but you wouldn't mind going out in public with*? I know which version of me I prefer!

* This is assuming you want to be seen in public with me anyroad!

Reflections on Media Production

As my time at University draws to a close, with but one exam remaining between myself and graduation, I have found myself spending more and more time reflecting on my time at De Montfort. Did I live student life to the full?

I never took any drugs whilst I was here. I mean, I had a chance to take MDMA (or MFI as it has become amongst my circle) but I never did it. I went on many a night out, but not to the extent of going out every night. I never learned to cook, and I didn't take a different girl home every night to sleep with her and cook for her.

But to me, that doesn't matter. In my time at De Montfort, I have made so many amazing friends and met so many fantastic and interesting characters. Raj 'King' Karia; whose love of women is somewhat "Unbelievable" in comparison to his lack of attempting to meet any, Oliver 'President' King, who wore the same shirt practically every time we went out and provided many a laugh. Of course, he was also an ABSOLUTE GOD OF A MAN! Then there were people like my big brother Craig Brown, who taught me so much about the ways of the world, or Richard Cassell who made sure I explored that new world safely (and was a wonderful housemate). Jack Lewin; who lost so much weight and grew a moustache that you could shave off and replace your bike handles with, Lyndsey Ledger who never attended lectures but still found a way into everybody's heart and Ian Abraham, who I hope never has to return to the sausage factory after finding the Audio exam results, and here's wishing he makes it into the industry where his sense of humour will serve him well! Then there's Aidan Albert - a man with many nicknames and faces, but ultimately a man who I will never forget and whose friendship I will always treasure. Duncan MacLeod, who has stuck by me through thick and thin, and cemented my belief that some friendships can last a lifetime. We've seen some highs and lows, had disagreements and laughs; we've stayed up all night playing the Xbox and drinking KX whilst we rush out coursework. He's a great man, and I'm glad University brought us closer. I'd love to go on further about the people I've met outside of the course, but I'd be here forever (and there are peple ON the course whom I lovee equally dearly who I have not mentioned!)

As for not sleeping with trillions of women, I care not a jot! Every year I've met different women; some I've had encounters with, some I've engaged in a relationship with. Some, as many of you know, I was a dick to and let down. But this year I met a beautiful woman I hope to stay with for years to come; someone I can honestly say makes me happy and whom I hope I make happy in return. Her name is Rachel, and believe me when I say that having her in my life is infinitely better than if I were to go around sleeping with the nameless dozens! She is like me in many ways, and our tastes in film and (some) music match wonderfully. But I don't want to get too soppy, or I'll cry after mentioning all these people!

Oh, and so what if I didn't learn to cook, that's what microwaves are for.

So upon reflection, I might not have been the typical drug-taking, boisterous student who went out six nights a week and avoided lectures like the plague, but I enjoyed my time here in a different way and still had a lot of fun meeting new people, forging new friendships, stealing traffic cones, jumping into lavender bushes and avoiding lectures like the plague. (Okay, so maybe I was a typical student in some respects!)

Here's to three fantastic years that I will never forget!

Writing A Project Report

If there was ever a picture to sum up how I'm feeling right now, this is it. I mean, granted, I've not mysteriously transformed into a woman, but I do share her expression: The head perched apathetically upon the hand, the eyes staring away into the distance; hoping upon hope that somewhere out there, someone is feeling the same as I. She doesn't look frustrated or angry - she doesn't even look depressed or stressed - but what she does look is fed up. Fed up of having to write a report which, let's face it, she's probably only written the title for.

And I can empathise with the poor woman.

Right now, I'm meant to be writing up a ten thousand word report for a project which, for one, I'm not particularly proud of, nor which contains any substantial 'new research', by which I mean "I knew it all already". On paper, I could potentially make it sound enthralling: the daring and devious Bone Wars fought by two opposing palaeontologists. Edward Cope, the notorious womanizer and underhanded swine versus Othniel Marsh, the terrifying to look at, but really quite withdrawn 'classic' scientist. Yet, this feud between two once-great-friends-turned-Anakin-and-Obi-Wan takes up less than a minute of my product. Plus, how in depth could I go into the Bone Wars in a report anyway? Here lies another problem: What exactly am I supposed to write?

As far as guidance goes, we've received a decent amount of advice. The problem is, none of it makes any sense - the explanation of what the report should look like and contain is more complex than what the actual report should look like. For goodness sake; if you're going to write up a guide, at least make it easy to follow! And so we return to the picture.

I'm not angry, I'm not stressed. I'm apathetic. I don't know what odds and sods I'll end up jamming into my report (much like a two year old tries to jam a star-shaped piece of plastic into a triangular-shaped hole), so maybe I'll write about the Bone Wars after all.

Black and Decker

So it seems I'm going back to the paper and pen to scrawl out more story ideas. The characters are there, some of their stories conjured, none of it has any coherance yet. To unmuddle things a bit, I'm writing a script for a film version of my trailer, Black and Decker!

So far, the character list includes (but is not limited to):
Richard Black (Oliver King), Louis Decker (Aidan Albert), Royston Ronseal (Craig Brown), Homebase (Lyndsey Ledger), Klive Lamity (John Walton) and Sandy Buffer (Ian Abraham). Uncast roles include Chino Supremo, Smooth Criminal and Dr. Magnet! That's all I'll say for now.

Oh, except for the fact that as I write this, there is someone behind me humming like a bee on helium.

Tales of a Young John: #1 - The Recky (Part 1)

So this is to become a regular little feature on the blog, where I look back at my memories growing up, and try to figure out a bit more about WHY I am WHO I am today. Now that that's out of the way, let's get on with the first 'episode'.

#1: The Recky (Part One)

Growing up in Loughborough was alright as a kid. I mean, I lived there for most of my childhood, and the majority of my Mum's side of the family - my aunts, Uncle, Grandparents, cousins etc - all lived on either the same road, or within no more than five minutes walk of each other. This meant that growing up, I was never far from family, who became best friends over the years. It also meant there was very little reason not to knock about with someone on our local playground, which we called 'The Recky'.

So knock about we did; most days, in fact, and almost exclusively this took place on the recky. This was partly because it was a lot of fun; with it's big swings, roundabout and jungle gym; but mostly because, at six years old, I was the senior child in the family. Our parents had rules about how far we could go, and the recky - located at the back of a council estate-level cul de sac - was to us what Mordor was for the Shirefolk. Again, distance wasn't the only factor - in hindsight it was grotty. Really, really grotty.

And this is where I learned one of my first rude words (I mean, obviously, my first word was shit, and that was closely followed by fuck, but ythat's another story). Whilst playing a game one day, I found myself hiding under the jungle gym in one of it's many crawlspaces. These were heavily graffiti-ed with peoples names and numerous versions of "'insert name here' <3's 'insert name here' 4 Lyf!", but one piece of artwork stuck with me in particular. Someone had taken the time to draw a man's face with a very accurate penis for a nose, which was labelled "Nobcheese". Now, as a child I didn't quite grasp the rudeness of the drawing, thinking only that this funny arrangement of letters must be someones' name. But no, "Nobcheese" was, and still is, an insult, which my mum VERY firmly told me, after making me swear never to repeat it again, especially in front of my Grandma.

I do find myself wondering, though; is that cheeky, cocky face (see what I did there) still etched into the jungle gym now, teaching whole new generations of people the word? I like to think so, because I certainly don't want to be the only one who earned a good hiding from it!

So It's 5am

So it's 5am on Friday morning. I have a deadline at 4pm for the first draft of a documentary that my group has barely been able to start, I'm going to the gym straight after that and then in the evening, I am meant to be going clubbing. Every sane person would be asleep by now, but not me. Let me explain:

I woke up at 1pm on Thursday afternoon after a very hard week of editing and late nights at University, grabbed a load of equipment that needed returning - a Canon XH A1, shotgun microphone etc - and left the house, feeling very smug that I'd managed to remember to take everything with me, including those three XLR cables that I always seem to forget to return, resulting in a trifling yet niggling three pound fine. It would be reasonable to say that I was feeling very smug about myself. What I didn't know, however, was that in my haste I'd forgotten to take that most necessary of objects; my house key.

Now, I had not noticed this at the time, as I made sure my housemates locked the door behind me since my hands were full. So, I got to University and remained here - for here I still am - until around midnight, when I decided "enough was enough, it's time to go home!" However, upon arriving home, I found that my phone was out of battery, my keys were still in the house, along with my bank card and wallet, and all of my housemates were in bed. Oh yes, and the door was locked.

Not wanting to wake up one housemate as he seemed to have finally beaten his insomnia, and with the other safely tucked up in the attic room beyond my audible reach, I returned back to University, where I fine tuned an edit, tried to understand gangsta language, danced to Jessie J and learned that the DMU wireless will not let me watch online television. I am now thoroughly knackered, and despite my gratitude to Lucy and Katie for keeping me 'cyber-company', I am feeling a little bit disgruntled, and a lot like a stupid twat.

Black and Decker

I have been working on a project for a couple of weeks now, in which I have had to create a film trailer. I decided to make a 1970's buddy cop film called "Black and Decker":

"Richard Black (Oliver King) and Louis Decker (Aidan Albert) are two maverick detectives, tracking down a murderer following a series of murders in which a number of University students were murdered. But can they murder the case?"

I'm pretty happy with how it has turned out; it's certainly got enough ridiculousness to make it funny, but it also retains an authenticity in a lot of ways (or so I like to think) in comparison to shows like "Knight Rider", "Magnum P.I." and the homage/parody that inspired it, "Black Dynamite". The results will be available to view on YouTube some time this week!

Revision for a Test

Why is it so hard to revise for this phase test when, previously, I have done so well during my attempts at revision? Simply put, because this information is completely obvious and there is a complete and total pair of moronic football fanatics talking as loudly as possible behind me, despite being in a 'quiet area' of the library.

It wouldn't be so bad if there were fresh and interesting elements thus far to my revision slides, but no; they are all equally as boring and wearisome as a sloth's daily routine! Someone please bring me a couple of strips of duct tape and rope to gag these two incessant ignoramuses and I might be able to happily go about my business!

EDIT: He has just screamed "Yes!" at the top of his voice, presumably because he has just achieved a magnificent orgasm watching the legs of his 'favorite' footballs get all sweaty! Might just have to shoot him.

Compensating with Cones

This picture sums up my ultimate goal on a night out. Yes, I often "Go on the pull" - an inevitably fruitless task since I loathe one night stands and don't believe anyone who tells me I'm cute - but what really ends up happening is I get a little tipsy, I sing Spandau Ballet at the top of my voice as I walk home, and I 'rescue' traffic cones from street corners.

In fact, my love for all things conical is such that, if a beautiful brunette invited herself back to my place, I would have to decline on the principle that I'd never be so fixated with her as I am cones. Cones do not lie. Cones do not mess men about, then blame them in some sort of twisted hypocrisy. Cones are shiny, yellow/orange and easy to understand; hell, I now 'own' five of the little sods!

This is a bit of a nonsensical blog post in a way - I'm not complaining and I'm not bragging. I just thought I'd dedicate a post to every students instinctual love: the traffic cone!

And yep; I really do own five cones now!