Horror-genre lovers (like you and me) can’t resist sharing our love of the macabre. If we tell our friends about a dog of a film, they probably won’t go to see it. How then do we write a film review that finds the happy medium between gushing over the latest hit and bashing that worthless dud?

Fresh from the grave, here are some horror movie releases that will be sure to check under your bed at night. Whether you’re traveling to the theatre or renting from your local video store, grab some popcorn and prepare to scream.

For many GenCon Indy veterans, this year’s convention had several noticeable changes. The winds of change were blowing through the vendor booths and demo areas, as evident by a stronger focus to video, card, and board games than in previous years.

While the day may seem just like any other day, several people are hoping you’ll remember June 6, 2006, the so-called “number of the beast,” by doing something a little hellish, and maybe picking up an item or two along the way.

Silas no longer cared if his carefully-sown client was going to do something stupid; his kits were far too valuable and far too difficult to come by to replace. He’d find somebody else, some other paying client to work on. Walking over to the wall, he ripped his sawed-off Nineteen from the wall, and flushed his Boosters. He swore under his breath that he didn’t put on any armor before this appointment. At least he put his shoulder strap on. That strap was like his credbase. He never left home without it.

Daniel spat carefully. Damn the Law. Sure, the crisp uniforms were a necessary evil—they needed him just as much as he needed them. The Law’d get into a nasty situation that involved daemons or some other supernatural creature (even though “officially” there’s no such thing as monsters), and then they’d hire him, Daniel Wayward, to clean it up. Sometimes things were good, real good. One time he managed to keep the acrid blood spatter to a minimum and kill the thing with no casualties. In his line of work, that was a miracle. Being a beastkeeper had its ups and downs. Most times he was lucky to have a day that was in between.

Today was not one of those days.

Third in a three-part series

What makes Anansi Boys interesting to read, is that this book transcends the issue of race or origin through Gaiman’s descriptions of more animalistic qualities of Anansi’s world and symbols that give us a color to focus on other than white or black or red. Symbols like Anansi’s green fedora help us dream the tale in Technicolor. By simplifying “race” (giving us only fleeting character descriptions) the prose emerges light and lilting. Class is well-defined but it’s laughable, comedic. You forget that the continent of Africa and her many gods are outside of your comprehension—you feel a part of the raw, natural order spring to life inside of you.

Let me introduce you to Angel, the Starry-eyed Serial Killer. She was cursed by the queen, and grew old without grace. In her old age, she was pushed down the stairs. May our dearly departed Angel rest in peace. I was immediately drawn to Gloom for two reasons. The first is artwork, produced in the etching style of Edward Gorey by Scott Reeves, that sets the mood of the game. The second, is the unique game design concept created by Keith Baker. The result? One of the best card games I’ve ever played.

Nox Arcana delves headfirst into the darkness with its musical tribute to the Cthulhu mythos. Creating a haunting festival of sounds to this is a challenging feat—every day that passes Cthulhu transforms into more of an icon than a mere concept of Lovecraft’s imagination. Nox Arcana delivers its tribute in a jarring way; this is not a CD that should be idly played in the background, this is a performance that demands your attention.

Useful supplements are hard to come by nowadays; not only does the information in it have to be worth the price you pay, but the information needs to be useful in a way that you’d want to incorporate it into your gaming. Cold, Hard World is an expansion for the roleplaying game Dead Inside—offering more nuts and bolts to the original game than fluff. The supplement is a seventy-four page expansion of the first three chapters of the corebook.

Similar to Dead Inside, the pdf is written with definitive voice changes throughout. Dead Inside draws you in at key moments by addressing the reader; other times you’ll hear the voice of an instructor showing you how to play the game.

A/State’s setting is post-apocalyptic futurism, but with a few twists. Unlike other post-apocalyptic settings, there are a lot of unknowns. Something happened, something that ripped the fabric of modern-day reality off from civilization’s spoiled body. Technology is limited, identities are a luxury, and survival of the fittest is a way of life—not just a catch phrase. The City, assuredly a conglomeration of some things that “were”, has no name. In this place with no name, you battle against your greatest enemy—yourself.

The families lived in exile, far removed from Condar, Rodak or Derve. They did not choose to live there, the mountain hand-picked them. They were merchants, traffickers, and traders in luxury goods, foodstuffs and information. All had a story to tell, some worse than others. A rockslide claimed one party, bandits tore apart another. Long have they been grieved for, even longer have they been forgotten. Until the miners came, dwarves with their pickaxes and knowledge of things buried deep within the earth. Tough yet resilient, Ilieva grew into the mountain ever since her husband died last Lokt. So, when the dwarves came offering a mutually-beneficial treaty, how could she refuse?

Tall, yellow grasses rustled in front of a modest Sarlacchi village, mimicking the movements of a small boy. The child pitched forward, and then rocked backward. He stopped to brace himself against an unseen foe. Something punched him hard in the stomach. Flinging his arms to the sky, the boy grasped his totem necklace and cried out before collapsing to the ground. His mother rushed to the fallen child, clutching him tightly to her breast.

Tara sat at the edge of the abyss. She glanced briefly around her, wondering if something more menacing than the Law guards were lurking in the earthy shadows. Hours earlier, her team breathed a sigh of relief when the Law’s automated attack vehicles returned from the depths of Zone subsector three without a scratch. The Law then pushed her team forward, forcing them to tread where only machines should have gone.

Second in a three-part series

The darkness crept behind Malik and Risla, embracing them in its strong arms. Albin guided them to an abandoned camp where they could rest for the night. Tomorrow would be a slow day for the both of them, for Challenger needed to be reshoed. They both hoped, for different reasons, a village was nearby. Only the light would tell them that. Malik was fortunate he had excellent night vision. He thanked his father for grooming him well.

“I’m going to look around,” Malik told her. “Stay close.”

Risla could barely make out his arrogant outline. She wondered if “looking around” meant leaving her there. He cared more for his horse than he did for her.

“What should I do?”

Part of an ongoing tale set in the world of Conspiracy of Shadows.

“What does it say, Father Clemens?” asked a young acolyte to the wizened priest.

The middle-aged priest looked carefully around the room, for explaining prophecy to youth was like expressing nature into words to young children. At least his following was here, just outside Alcona at the foot of the Boreni Mountains. It was fortunate they were not wandering off, trying to profess their faith to those who would not listen. Instead they were here, under his gaze, believing Albin granted him the tools to enable them to know things men shouldn’t.

Continuing the tale set in the world of Conspiracy of Shadows

It couldn’t remember how it was borne. Was it male? Was it female? It had given itself a name, one that only it knew. Pool.

Pieces of memory gnawed at Pool’s mind. What was home? What did it used to be? Now it was nothing more than a land of yellowing bone and black rock. Fires burned throughout the landscape. It couldn’t have been that way always. Before Pool left its Circle with the others, they poured over books documenting the stories of how things came to be. Shapes of letters appeared before him, describing the velvety touch of a thing called a “flower.” There were no flowers in its Circle. Pool closed its eyes, remembering the smell of sulfur and the feel of spikes crushing beneath its razor-skinned feet.

Part One of a Three Part Fiction Series

The first fiction novel for Vampire: The Requiem, a game line produced by White Wolf, A Hunger Like Fire sets the tone for some colorful characters and intriguing plot twists.

Written by Greg Stolze, the novel begins with a character narration by Bruce, a newly-changed vampire. New to being an undead, but not authorized by the Prince of Chicago, Prince Maxwell. After reading the first two pages, I felt compelled to read further. While first person narration can get tricky, Stolze handles it well by adding some interesting character quirks. For example, the undead Bruce Miner has an attachment to his dog, Peaches. Of course, he has to use his special vampiric ability to get close to animals, but nonetheless it’s a good tie-in between game mechanics and a fictional character.

Eyes that once spoke compassion and love glinted like twin blades in the smoke-filled night. They called her a demon. Priests, she knew and trusted from her time waddling in the lush fields of the khanate, threw stones at her. Magickal symbols drawn in fertile soil surrounded her. She wasn’t sure if they were to protect her, or to protect the mob from her. For what? The color of her hair? She tried to move her head. It was once the color of the black stones on the bottom of the riverbed. Now it resembled the embers glowing brightly in the fire her clansmen encouraged to consume her. She stood against the warmth, and felt as it reached out to her stiffened body tied taught against a dead tree. Her arms were pinned to her chest, her clansmen afraid she had the dark Gift. Part One of an Ongoing Series

These days almost everyone with a home computer at some point or another wants to be a writer. As a consequence the fiction market has been flooded with new authors: some good, some bad. But what makes a piece of fiction “bad”? How does the average reader know what’s worthwhile to read and what isn’t?