Nerfwire
I have been a staff writer at Nerfwire, a satirical gaming news site, since it's launch in mid-2018. Throughout this time period, I have contributed numerous articles to the site, including it's most trafficked article of all time. Working at the site has acclimated me to writing quickly and effciently in a (admittedly faux) journalistic style, and has required me to keep up-to-date with the most recent developments within the game industry.
If you wish to request a formal reference, please contact Nerfwire's site administrator.
Neo Pop
The Squad, not the Squad and I for there was no I, there was only the Squad, gang and guild and group chat of bound and bonded souls, slowly crawled forwards from pixel-dead night into pounding neon, step after step bringing us closer to god, in whose presence our chips would buzz and faces would melt.
A highly experimental piece set in a hyper-futuristic world, which blurs the line between the digital and the real. I wrote this piece in a very stylized manner, and it is very much colored by the views of the protagonist. If it helps, consider it the first chapter of a short novella. Written in early 2018.
Caution: This work contains strong language and mature themes.
I am Q
I am Q. Clarification: I am a being who, in this dimension which we both inhabit (referred throughout the rest of this document as the Prime Dimension) has named itself Q. A cursory examination of all possible outcomes reveals that this was the second most likely outcome. After all, the word Quantum begins with Q, and I would not think of an unnecessarily complex name when a simple, logical one would do.
This piece was written from the perspective of a Quantum AI, who perceives multiple realities simultaneously, continuously diverging and intersecting. It was originally intended to be the beginning to a full-length science fiction novel, which has been put on indefinite hiatus. Please consider it as such. Written in late 2016.
Caution: This work contains mature themes.
Working Lunch
The tall man was watching Daryl. He had known someone was after him. He could feel them, itching at the back of his skull, prying into his thoughts with their machines. That’s why he had bought the gun, three days ago, passing the background check with flying colors after he had slipped the clerk a fifty dollar bill. He could feel the warm steel pressing into his armpit, safe and secure in the hidden holster underneath his coat. It reminded him of his mother's touch, for reasons he could not fully understand. Something about bullets, perhaps.
A complete short story written from the perspective of a very paranoid man. Possibly, he is hallucinating. Possibly not. Written in early 2017.
Caution: This work contains mature themes.
