Q&A: What’s with the Costumes

Time to answer some questions that you probably didn’t even ask!

What’s with the costumes? Why do superheroes wear those skintight, often colorful, costumes?

Some might say that they are similar to costumes worn by circus performers. Hmm, maybe. But, the reason is because they are a physical representation of a person’s chi/aura (aka psychic fingerprint). Much like some tribes would paint/tattoo people with symbols that represented their ancestors or spirit guide. The costume is like a second skin allowing the hero closer access to the phantasmic energy that powers their talents. Much like removing your shoes on holy ground–it removes barriers between you and the divine. I’d rather wear a colorful uniform than have to run around naked.

Also, it allows for things like going invisible without having to de-robe. Or growing in size without ripping your clothes.

Psychic fingerprint?

Our bodies produce electrical currents through chemical reactions and molecule vibration; these currents are determined by genetic makeup, blood flow, personality, and more, so each person’s is different–like a fingerprint. The colors are dependent on characteristics and speed of energy flow. For instance, a cheerful person and a melancholy person could have the same base color, like red, but the cheerful person will have a brighter shade of red while the melancholy person’s will be a darker red. 

Everything (not just transbeings or living beings) has a psychic fingerprint/chi because everything is made of vibrating molecules. The symbol/emblem on a hero’s chest is a representation of their “true name.” Everyone and everything has a similar symbol, you just can’t see it because they don’t go around wearing it. Now don’t go thinking that because you know their true name you can control them–like in some fantasy stories. It just allows you to communicate with the person/thing. Much like in physical life. It’s part of why using a hero’s name while crying for help…uh, helps them hear you; just as saying someone’s name in normal life gets the attention of the person you are speaking too. But it is a deeper connection, kind of like telepathy.

That is how things like telekinesis works. You aren’t commanding the mountain to move; you are asking the mountain to move and it responds because it trusts you. People with plant manipulation talents aren’t forcing the flower to bloom but rather encouraging it to bloom. Just as you can ask someone to help you with the dishes, but you can’t force them to do the dishes. They chose to help you because they care about you or scared of the consequences. Here is the difference between light and dark talents/”magic.” Are you asking the water to hold you up so you can walk on it or are you forcing it into compliance?

Why do some heroes wear capes, some don’t, and some wear jackets/longer garments?

Some transbeings (villains wear capes too) are so strong that their phantasmic energy…”leaks.” Their power is so great that it comes out their backs or stretches along their sides like a jacket or robe. This is why angels are usually depicted with wings. They don’t actually have wings but their phantasmic power is so great that the energy leaks out their backs and looks like wings. So, when it comes time for the costume (which is a representation of a person’s chi) to be made…we get capes, jackets, or fancy robes. 

Why do transbeings sometimes call out their attacks?

Part of it goes back to the “asking the mountain to move” that I mentioned earlier. You are asking the air to heat up or the lightning to strike. The other part is focus and strength. When you need to lift something heavy, you use more muscles, but how to you use more muscles when something is metaphysical? Answer: emotions. Emotions are mental/spiritual muscles. So, you can add more omph to your talent by calling it out. It is the same reason why martial artists will grunt when they strike or block; they are adding more power behind their act. *Most of the time transbeings can just think their attack or wave a hand because what they are doing is within their limits.*

What’s with wearing your underwear on the outside?

First, it’s not underwear; it’s armor. It used to be just part of the tights in order to show appearance/color variation, but now it’s armor. Second, um, I’ll just leave it at “sports cup” and you can figure it out. I mean, we are in battle with villains.

Any other questions? Ask them in the comments below.

Until next wormhole…thanks for reading!

What Next

A few minutes ago, I spotted a news article about a robotic “dog” that was herding sheep. Don’t tell Bandit, my dog/sidekick, he won’t take the news–

BANDIT (Translated from Dog for your convenience):
Did you see this?! Now the robots are taking over our herding jobs! First, they take over the sidekick work...I can't tell you the number of Supers that are using robo-dogs as companions! Now, they're taking over the herding jobs! What's next?! Witches with robotic familiars!? (growls) That's it! I'm out of here!

JOE (Me):
Where you going?

BANDIT:
I'm going out! I've got to find a mail carrier to bite before they take that job too!

(Door slams)

I knew he wouldn’t take it well.

Until the next wormhole…thanks for reading!

Copyright Joe Rover 2020. All rights reserved.


Smashwords Authors Give Back sale.
Click to go to Smashwords!

Sky Hog

A couple days ago, Buddy (aka Copycat) told me how he ran into some trouble when he was out for a flight over the city. He was enjoying the feel of the air and listening to the soft wiping of his black cape as it moved through the air. For a few moments he could forget all his troubles.

And then something speed by him nearly knocking into him. He hit a pocket of turbulence as he tried to right himself. Finally, he regained his footing as it were. 

“Sky hog!” he shouted at the offender.

The offender slowed and faced Copycat. It was a pig with wings. Copycat gasped in surprise before it snorted a piggy grunt and flew off towards the skyscrapers.

Once Buddy finished his tale, I rested my hand on his shoulder in a show of support. “Yeah…Those atmos pigs think they’re so grand just because they’ve got an adynaton. But, it’s Heck’s Oinkers you’ve really got to watch out for.” 

Until the next wormhole…thanks for reading!

Copyright 2020 Joe Rover. All rights reserved.


Good news! The Smashwords Authors Give Back Sale has been extended to May 31! 

You have another chance to buy The Beast of Camp TimberWolf, Gift of the Minion, and now Who Pranked JR for 60% off!

The Idea | Chronicles Short (St. Patrick’s Day Post)

Accessing BLT Head in the Cloud 

Please enter password

*****************

Welcome, Joe Rover. Which memory would you like to download from our cloud network?

Downloading…

One St. Patrick’s Day, after a long night of orange juice, smooth jazz, and a game or two of Chess AR, Brain jolted awake from his crash landing on the Doghouse couch. 

“I’ve got it!” he exclaimed.

“Got what?” I asked, trying to rub away the brain freeze I received from drinking my St. Patty’s Day mint milkshake too quickly. 

“My next brilliant invention! I can inject our food and drink with nanobots. These nanobots could alter or absorb the unused material created from digestion. We would then remove the nanobots through perspiration or exhaling. No one would ever have to go the bathroom again!”

End of file

Thank you for choosing Head in the Cloud for all your memory saving needs.

Do you have too many memories and not enough space? Consider upgrading to our $9.99 a month plan…

I closed the holographic web browser with a mental command to my Omni-Cuff. I tapped my chin in thought. Now, why did I upload that memory into the cloud?

“JOE!”

I flipped around, startled by Brain’s voice. My Omn-Cuff headset nearly fell off from around my ear.

Brain crossed his arms and tapped his foot at me. The last time I’d seen him this angry was when I hacked into the training simulator and swapped the level 10 setting with the level 1 setting. “I thought we agreed to never access that memory again.”

I snapped my fingers. “That’s right. Now, I remember. The next day we all uploaded the memory into the cloud bank because we all agreed that was the silliest idea you ever came up with. I’m glad you decided to go with the blankets that could sing lullabies idea instead.”

Brain tapped his foot again and screwed his lip into an unhappy snarl. “Where did you get the idea to down…Never mind. I know. DANNY!”

Danny poked his head around the corner. “Be right with you; I got to share this memory file on PostBook first.”

“Daniel Smith, don’t you dare!” Uh-oh, Brain’s using contractions; he must be irked. Brain stormed after Danny. “Give me that Omni-Cuff right now!”

Danny was already at the door; he stood half in and half out. “You’ll have to catch me first,” he said in a sing-song voice before shutting the door behind him. A moment later, I could see his retreating form from the window.

Brain continued to yell after him as he exited with a door slam. I moved to the couch and flipped on the holo-vision set. “I’ll give it till they make the news before I interfere.”

Until the next wormhole…

HAPPY ST. PATRICK’S DAY EVERYONE!


Copyright Joe Rover 2020. All rights reserved.

Mysterious Space Signals

The following is inspired by a news article about signals from space that return every 16 days. You can read the article here.

Brain yelped a cheer interrupting my nap. 

Ever since the news story about strange signals from space every 16 days, Brian’s been at his equipment trying to decode the blips and static. It was interesting for about the first 15 hours. 

“I did it!” said Brain. He adjusted dials and knobs as I yawned and scratched my head. “In a matter of moments, we will discover the nature of these pulses.” Brain continued to adjust wavelengths and double-check readouts; I moved from Brain’s cot to the seat next to him. “Scientists are debating if the pulses are caused by an orbiting object blocking the source or if the source is orbiting an object. Another possibility is the source itself is pulsing.” 

The machine whined for a minute, which woke me up even further.

“Translation of cosmic pulses complete,” said SPOT, the artificial intelligence.

Brain and I fell into a deep hush. The machines beeped a couple times before the answer came.

“Eat at Joe’s,” said a friendly voice bouncing out of the speakers like a used car salesman who’d spotted a customer from across the lot. “Save 20 percent on your first online order. Offer expires 500 million years from broadcast date–Galactic year 2151.”

A hologram calendar appeared above my watch. “Drat!” I said. “It expired yesterday.”  

“Remember,” the ad continued, “if your order doesn’t arrive in 30 parsecs, it’s free.”

I sighed. “Why does everyone get that wrong? Parsecs are not a measurement of time!” I glanced over at Brain; he stared forward like a fish that’d just learned hooks are bad. “What’s wrong?”

“The greatest scientific mystery of our age…and it is a commercial.” He covered his face with a hand. “Why is the universe such a cruel mistress?”

Until the next wormhole…thanks for reading!

Copyright 2020 Joe Rover. All rights reserved.


Ode to February | Poem

The holidays are done
yet winter remains.
What can stop this refrain?

School starts anew.
The bills are due.
Taxes wait by the door.
Please end this winter sore.

Will shadows appear,
Caught by creatures dear?

Can love's undying light
Cause a fire to ignite?

Hold them close,
a love's careful cheer
can break winter's evil sneer.

Laughter in the snow
ends an icy blow.

Winter's trials sack the land
united in love, hand in hand,
spring comes early...
if you love sincerely. 

Until the next wormhole…thanks for reading!

Copyright Joe Rover 2020

All rights reserved.


Today’s Amazon Affiliate links: 

I get a percentage from any qualifying purchase; doesn’t have to be the ones listed below. Thank you for helping to support my blog so I can continue to tell stories, write reviews, and more.

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Always Dripping | Poem

Drip.
Drip.
Drip.

Always. 
Drip, drip, drip.

Kevin sits curled,
head covered.
The sounds echo.

Drip.
Drip.
Drip.

Winds howl.
Bats screech.
And always...
drip, drip, drip.

Stalagmites. Or stalactites? 
His mind tries to focus
on anything other than 
the dreary now.

Does anyone miss him?
Does anyone care?

They should.

It'd make the news.
"Field trip cave-in,"
Kevin's mind wanders.
Anything to escape the
drip,
drip,
drip.

Should have stayed with the group.
Couldn't.
The bullies push and shove.
The never-ending laughter.
Always the laughter.
Like water.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Should have stayed.
Would be safe.
The rescuers come for them.
Not him.

Drip, drip, drip.
The sound still mocks.

Kevin curls further in.
No one misses him.

Drip, drip--

Kevin unfolds.
That horrid sound...
Quiet.

A new sound.

Digging!

The rock breaks!
A figure appears!

Kevin knows that cape and howl.
Dogboy.

A friendly paw helps him stand.
Safe arms hold him well.
A single step, the boy is safe.
Parents greet with warm love.

The job is done,
all are found--
thanks to the Heroic Hound.

Until the next wormhole…thanks for reading.

Copyright 2020 Joe Rover

All rights reserved.


It was a dingy, stormy day; the kind of day that makes everything seem black and white. Johnny Blewz played his sax over the radio filling my office with jazz music.

Who Pranked JR. Releases Mar. 24, 2020. Pre-orders at many eBook retailers.

Salesman | Dogboy Reborn Side Quests

The villainous Glue laughed wildly within his hidden lair. “Ah-hahahah!! That fool Dogboy has taken the bait!” Glue twisted and squeezed his hands in excitement. “Soon he’ll be in my clutches. Now, what deathtrap should I use?”

Glue gazed over his wide collection of deadly machines. There was the giant mousetrap. There was the classic tank of sharks. “Maybe the Spinning Blades of Doom!” said Glue.

Bzzzzt!…Bzzztt!

“Oh, now what?” huffed the villain.

Glue stormed through his lair as the doorbell continued to buzz. Glue grumbled, “I’m coming. I’m coming.” He passed by gold statues of himself and walked under the 15 foot portraits of himself. He kidnapped the famous artist, Art with Sam, in order to commission them.

Glue flung the door open. “WHAT?!”

“Good evening, malicious sir,” said the man wearing a tweed overcoat and brimmed hat, which he tipped in greeting. “My name is Salesman. I am a lair-to-lair salesperson for the Omega Institute. Would you be interested in–”

“NO!”

SLAM!!

Glue followed his door slam with a door lock. He grumbled some more then turned. “GAH!” he yelped with a jump that made it look like he’d just seen a spider in his shower.

Salesman tipped his hat again.

“How’d you get in?” asked Glue.

The man held up a small black circle. “With the handy-dandy Portable Hole. You just stick this little beaut on any surface and voilà instant hole.” The man sat down his sale’s bag. With a click of the lock, he opened it and began riffling through it. “I’ve got boxing gloves on springs, acid spraying squirt flowers, gasses of all varieties; and of course, the ever popular freeze ray,” the man said, pulling the items out one by one.

Glue folded his arms. “Not interested.”

Salesman would not be deterred–his commission rested on getting a sale. “For the more modernist villain: I have swords that can slice an atom. I have bombs with misleading timers. I’ve got drones, spy cameras, and backdoor codes to various government databases.”

Glue let out an annoyed and warning sigh. Salesman either ignored him or didn’t hear him. Instead, he put a hand on Glue’s shoulder. “But, I can tell you are a…” He surveyed Glue’s black and orange containment suit. He could hear the sloshing of glue within. Without the suit, Glue would be a large glob of dried glue. “…uh, man of tradition. I’ve got cartoon bombs and sticks of dynamite…two for one.”

Glue groaned.

“How about some exploding pies?”

“What flavor?”

“Coconut creme.”

“Ew-yuck! I hate coconut creme. How about an ejector trap made to look like floor tiles?”

Salesman lifted his hat enough to scratch his head. He glanced down at his sale’s bag. “Gee, I don’t think so.”

Glue grunted a quick, dry laugh. “I do.” He tapped a button on his wrist computer panel.

SPOING!!

The spring loaded ejection title under Salesman launched him into the air and out through the hole in the roof–Glue had opened the roof; he didn’t want to clean up the mess.

“You’ll regret thiiiiiisss…” said the trailing voice of Salesman.

Glue closed the roof hatch then clasped his hands together. “Now…where was I?”


If you’d like more adventures starring Dogboy, check out the Joe Rover eBooks–available at many online retailers.

Until the next wormhole…thanks for reading!


Copyright © 2019 Joe Rover

Dogboy and related characters Copyright © 2016-Present by Joe Rover

All rights reserved. No part of this post may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without prior written permission of the author/publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews or as a repost/share with link to the original post.

All characters, organizations, and locations in this post have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation to anyone bearing the same name or names. Any resemblance to individuals known or unknown to the author are purely coincidental.

All rights reserved.

Coding Hero | Dogboy Reborn Side Quest

Thanks to Brain’s contacts, he was able to get me a freelance job as a coder/tester for the Ultra Gaming Network. They were having trouble with their latest update.

“Please don’t ruin this with your usual hijinks,” Brain said.

“What hijinks?” I asked.

Brain crossed his arms. “What about two weeks ago when you destroyed a third of the Pineapple Inc. office building when you were helping them perfect their virtual theater software?”

“In my defense, Terabyte was trying to use the system to drain the minds of every person who watched the new Jason Chain movie.”

“Why would he do that?”

“Pfft. I gave up trying to figure out his motives a long time ago.” I stroked my chin for a moment. “However, the movie has been trending since the attack…”

***

The job was pretty slow going. There was a lot of code to sift through. No one could figure out why the game kept freezing anytime someone bought a bonus chest. Needless to say, Ultra Gaming Network was getting tired of irritated customers calling all day.

I removed my glasses and pinched my nose. My eyes were starting to feel like they were on fire.

Tick-tock, went the clock. Tick-tock.

Swipe, swipe, boop. Someone was sliding code blocks around either moving them to a separate area for testing or deleting them.

Tap, tap. Click, click. Tap, tap. Click, click. Another worker was busy adding new code blocks and setting up variables. A nearby phone went ba-ring!

Tick-tock. Tick-tock. Ba-ring. Ba-ring. Swipe, swipe, boop. Tick-tock. Tap, tap, click, click. Tick-tock, tick-tock. Swipe, swipe, boop. Clack. Click. Clack, clack, click. Ba-ring. Ba-ring.

I started nodding my head to the various office noises.

Ba-ring. Tick-tock. Yawn. Scratch-scratch. Ba-ring. Ba-ring. Swipe, swipe, boop.

First, I started to hum along; then, I started to sing along:

Bytes and bits are in my head.

I need a doctor, put me to bed.

Pixels invade my waking space.

Get out! Get out of my face.

I don’t wanna be a one or zero. 

I don’t need to be a coding hero.

Slowly everyone turned towards me. One by one they started to bob their heads to the music.

Nodes and macros how do ya keep it straight?

Add a semicolon to keep it all right.

Push and pull make my eyes droop.

These functions got me in a loop.

One worker stood. The place went quiet for a moment. She then sang out:

I don’t wanna be a one or zero. 

I don’t need to be a coding hero.

Another quick round of silence reverberated through the office before a group joined in with a slow, almost operatic:

Fighting bugs is quite a drain.

If we see one more X then we’ll go insane.

Finally, all the workers sang out:

We don’t wanna be a one or zero. 

We don’t need to be a coding hero.

Everyone then moved into a line and began to slide, clap, and shrug their shoulders as I continued:

Our eyes are dry; our fingers crack.

This pain in our neck won’t go away.

Binomials on the attack.

And bugs hold their sway.

We’re simply out of luck!

Everyone:

We don’t wanna be a one or zero. 

We don’t need to be a coding hero.

Me:

Blink your eyes and it’s all gone.

You’re obsolete, you’re time is done.

All that training is over now.

Someone added blocks, oh wow!

Best catch up or be left in dust;

Is this C Plus or just some rust?

Everyone:

We don’t wanna be a one or zero. 

We don’t need to be a coding hero.

Out of nowhere a voice rang out, “ENOUGH!” We stopped with our arms still in the air. It seemed as if even the clock stopped. The boss glared us down. “How dare you?!” she said tapping her foot. She faced each of us, her eyes piecing and fierce. “How dare you do a musical number and not be recording it for MyVideo? Now, let’s do this right, people!”

Everyone–once the recording equipment was set up–sang in a cheerful, end-of-musical-tone:

We’re gonna do this right!

This game is out of sight!

Even though it causes strife,

Coding is our birth, our life.

We don’t need to be a one or zero.

Because we’re all a coding hero.


Alone (eBook only) is on sale for $0.99 until Sept. 3, 2019. Buy now and join in the urban fantasy adventure.

Until the next wormhole…thanks for reading!


Copyright © 2019 Joe Rover

Dogboy and related characters Copyright © 2016-Present by Joe Rover

All rights reserved. No part of this post may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without prior written permission of the author/publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews or as a repost/share with link to the original post.

All characters, organizations, and locations in this post have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation to anyone bearing the same name or names. Any resemblance to individuals known or unknown to the author are purely coincidental.

Fort 51 | Wizard of New Town Side Quest

This Area 51 raid trend offers so many ideas.

Max stared deeply into the clothing store window display. He debated on if he should use the magic dust on a new outfit or not. His current clothes, his soccer jersey from the present, was starting to…well, smell. He’d worn it ever since he’d been transported from the modern age to this magical Dark Ages. 

Maybe I’ll fit in more, he thought.  The I’m-a-wizard-so-I-can-dress-funny excuse won’t hold forever. He glanced over at Aleya, who was busy bartering for some food. She brushed away some of her long, black hair revealing her pointed elf ears.  Women don’t like a man who smells like rotting fish.

Suddenly, Ryan slapped Max on the back. “I got us a lead on a bounty. Two hundred pounds of magic dust to capture Rickets Ron.”

“How’d he get that name?”

“You don’t want to know.”

Aleya returned from her food bartering mission. She reached over with her soft, lightly tanned hands to offer Max what looked like a piece of watermelon when a young man in page’s clothing interrupted by pulling out a scroll. 

“Hear ye, hear ye!” he shouted. “The lord, MadSkillz, has grown tired of the elves keeping secrets within Fort 51. Anyone wishing to join him on his mission to raid Fort 51 and see ‘them scientists’ need to meet him at Sa’ry in three weeks. And please, message fairy him an RSVP.”

Someone from the crowd laughed. “Ha! Scientists? Everyone knows scientists don’t exist!”

Another person chimed in, “And I don’t feel like getting tarred and feathered by the elf knights who protect the place.”

The crowed began to break up, muttering and scoffing as they did. Max started to leave but stopped when he saw that Ryan and Aleya hadn’t moved.

“What do you think they keep at Fort 51?” Ryan asked the elf princess. If anyone knew, you’d think it’d be her. “I’ve heard that’s where they keep the strange stuff.”

“Strange stuff?” said Max. “We just stopped a dirt path from swallowing a traveler because he threw a piece of trash on the ground. Talk about road rage.”

Ryan shrugged. “OK. The stranger stuff.”

“I hear that they keep a creature that’ll wash clothes in exchange for small discs of metal,” said Aleya. 

Max and Ryan glanced at each other then back at Aleya. “You mean a washing machine?” said Ryan. Like Max, Ryan came from the modern world, but he’d been transported months–maybe longer–before Max.

Aleya pondered what Ryan said for a moment. “Neve heard of a ‘washing machine,’ but I have heard rumors that Fort 51 has a knife that can slice open small metal food containers. It makes this buzzzz noise as it attacks.” 

“That would be a can opener,” said Ryan, trying to hide a smile. “It’s from our world as well.”

Aleya’s anime-like eyes sparkled. “The Old World had such wonderful things. I hope once we end the spell, I can see these can openers.”

Ryan tapped his finger near his freckles. “Maybe you can see one sooner. We could join the Fort Raiders.”

Max laughed dryly. “No. We have enough trouble as it is without angering the elf knights.”


Alone (eBook only) is on sale for $0.99 until Sept. 3, 2019. Buy now and join in the urban fantasy adventure.

Until the next wormhole…thanks for reading!


Copyright © 2019 Joe Rover

The Wizard of New Town and related characters Copyright © 2016-Present by Joe Rover

All rights reserved. No part of this post may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without prior written permission of the author/publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews or as a repost/share with link to the original post.

All characters, organizations, and locations in this post have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation to anyone bearing the same name or names. Any resemblance to individuals known or unknown to the author are purely coincidental.