Chapter 2
After stopping at home to go over things with Jonathon, I set out again. My first afternoon stop was the church, which was about a half mile from my house. For a rare change of pace, I left Maggie with her daddy and set out on my own. As I stepped out the front door, I had a moment of "I'm forgetting something important" panic. I felt like I was about 15 pounds lighter than normal! My second thought was that the day was just gorgeous. I love autumn. This early in the season only a few of the trees were beginning to turn, but the air was starting to acquire that wonderful fall crispness. I kicked at a few early golden leaves as I walked briskly up Adams to Kirkwood, but my thoughts were on Divinity and the Fantasy Shoppe.
What did they mean that Divinity was missing? And was it possible that a game designer could have so much control over the production of a game that a distributor could be left out to dry like this? Surely Divinity wasn't trying to hurt the Fantasy Shoppe; they'd launched her career. And now was a very bad time to drop off the face of the earth; she and her game were expected to win top honors at this year's Interactive Achievement Awards. Something must have happened to her to keep her from producing the game on schedule. The possibilities seemed really grim.
Churches are pretty quiet places on Sunday afternoons. I hid the clue envelope on the back of the Welcome sign out front, and then tried the door out of curiosity. I was surprised to find the church unlocked. Cool! I loved deserted churches the way some creepy folks love graveyards at midnight. I slipped inside and pulled the heavy door closed behind me. Few places feel more solitary than darkened, empty churches, and if you've ever been a new mom, you know how appealing that feeling can be. I slid into a back pew and sat there quietly, trying not to think.
I had almost drifted off to sleep when I noticed a shadow under the pulpit. I squinted my eyes to see if there was someone there or if I was imagining things. The shadow moved forward and was suddenly backlit by the stained glass windows behind the chancel area. It was a man, and he was not familiar. "You came," a voice said from behind the newcomer. I recognized Felix the organist as he stood up from where he'd been hidden behind a sheaf of sheet music.
"Of course I came. Do you have it?" the stranger drawled impatiently.
"I do."
The two men moved closer together, and dimly I saw Felix pass a small bundle to the larger man. He turned and left out a side door without a word. I sat perfectly still, waiting for Felix to leave. Surely any business conducted in the dark like this could not be perfectly wholesome. Suddenly, I was startled by a loudly blaring rendition of "Old Kentucky Home." My wireless phone! I fumbled it trying to get it out of my purse and turn it off as I ran out the back door and through the narthex. I dashed across the street to the bank and hid in the landscaping.
With any luck, Felix hadn't recognized me in the dark. Still, I stayed hidden while I checked my voice mail. Look at the time! I'd been gone for over an hour and Jonathon was reminding me that the baby needed to nurse and he needed me to watch her so that he could dial in to one of his marathon weekend conference calls. I stayed in the trees as much as possible until I was a block away from the church, then I jogged home as quickly and gracelessly as I could without stroking out or falling over.
I made it home in near-record time, breathless, and still trying to figure out what I had witnessed at the church. Seeing my house always makes me smile; we have such a great place in such a great neighborhood. The peacefulness was immediately shattered as I stepped through my front door. Maggie was screaming, never a good sign, and I tripped over an overwhelming stack of mail in the middle of the foyer as I ran to her. Where do other people keep their mail? Why do I seem to be the only one completely overwhelmed by stupid, stupid mail?
It turned out that Maggie was fussing because, well, babies fuss. But Jonathon got flustered because he didn't know how to get her to stop. And she fed off of his anxiety, and so on. It's so nice having the mommy-weapons (free milk!) that are useful for stopping crying in all situations. A mostly relaxing hour later, I was ready to set out again. This time I plopped Maggie into the baby sling so that she could come with me and enjoy the perfect September air. Also, this way I didn't have to come home every hour or two.
I'd given up on trying to place the clues in order, so I had the envelopes sorted by location – I wanted to do as little walking as necessary to deliver all the clues and get back home before hunger drove me to stop for junk food. Before I even made it back out the door, I stepped on the pile of mail again, and one colorful piece caught my eye. It was a promo piece for Spirit Scheme II.
I picked it up to get a better look. Nope, nope, definitely not a promo piece. The slick glossy turned out to be a warning to parents about Spirit Scheme II, telling us not to let our kids anywhere near the evil game. I'd never seen anything like that before, not even for Grand Theft Auto, so I sat down at the kitchen table laptop to check out the website listed on the flyer. As far as I knew, Spirit Scheme II didn't involve running around shooting people while committing grand larceny, sleeping with prostitutes to recover lost health points, and then killing the unlucky hookers to get back your stolen cash. Now that's a game for parents to get upset about!
According to GoGeekGames.com, the publisher's website, Spirit Scheme II seemed to be a problem-solving strategy game for young adults. Its wild popularity had spawned a whole cottage industry: online multiplayer games, real-life roll-playing games, fan fiction, and Halloween costumes. Its unique features included gameplay options for "Prayer" (you sometimes received a response) and "Sin". Ah-hah.
A quote from a mother on the back of the flyer read, "These are 14-year-old kids. Their minds already want to go there. Is this what we want to be teaching our children?" The website I was directed to for further information, FaithfulFamily.com, looked more professional than GoGeekGames.com. It contained testimony from irate parents as well as from concerned pastors and Christian child psychologists. The gist seemed to be that they felt it was harmful for kids to be allowed to "play God" and to give them the option to "sin" without penalty. It all looked like a bunch of silliness to me. Maggie was way too young for computer games, but when she's old enough, I hope that Jonathon and I will be able to talk to her about stuff like morals and sin rather than forbidding her to explore on her own. Still, she'll never play Grand Theft Auto in this house. Hypocrite? Me? No way.
Out of curiosity (certainly not procrastination!), I did a "whois" search to see who owned FaithfulFamily.com. The site came back registered to a William Robert Hughes, who looked vaguely familiar to me. I was about to continue not procrastinating by Googling Hughes, when Maggie woke up. Oops! Another brief period between nursing sessions frittered away.
I'd just have to go out in the car later tonight to place all the clues.
What did they mean that Divinity was missing? And was it possible that a game designer could have so much control over the production of a game that a distributor could be left out to dry like this? Surely Divinity wasn't trying to hurt the Fantasy Shoppe; they'd launched her career. And now was a very bad time to drop off the face of the earth; she and her game were expected to win top honors at this year's Interactive Achievement Awards. Something must have happened to her to keep her from producing the game on schedule. The possibilities seemed really grim.
Churches are pretty quiet places on Sunday afternoons. I hid the clue envelope on the back of the Welcome sign out front, and then tried the door out of curiosity. I was surprised to find the church unlocked. Cool! I loved deserted churches the way some creepy folks love graveyards at midnight. I slipped inside and pulled the heavy door closed behind me. Few places feel more solitary than darkened, empty churches, and if you've ever been a new mom, you know how appealing that feeling can be. I slid into a back pew and sat there quietly, trying not to think.
I had almost drifted off to sleep when I noticed a shadow under the pulpit. I squinted my eyes to see if there was someone there or if I was imagining things. The shadow moved forward and was suddenly backlit by the stained glass windows behind the chancel area. It was a man, and he was not familiar. "You came," a voice said from behind the newcomer. I recognized Felix the organist as he stood up from where he'd been hidden behind a sheaf of sheet music.
"Of course I came. Do you have it?" the stranger drawled impatiently.
"I do."
The two men moved closer together, and dimly I saw Felix pass a small bundle to the larger man. He turned and left out a side door without a word. I sat perfectly still, waiting for Felix to leave. Surely any business conducted in the dark like this could not be perfectly wholesome. Suddenly, I was startled by a loudly blaring rendition of "Old Kentucky Home." My wireless phone! I fumbled it trying to get it out of my purse and turn it off as I ran out the back door and through the narthex. I dashed across the street to the bank and hid in the landscaping.
With any luck, Felix hadn't recognized me in the dark. Still, I stayed hidden while I checked my voice mail. Look at the time! I'd been gone for over an hour and Jonathon was reminding me that the baby needed to nurse and he needed me to watch her so that he could dial in to one of his marathon weekend conference calls. I stayed in the trees as much as possible until I was a block away from the church, then I jogged home as quickly and gracelessly as I could without stroking out or falling over.
I made it home in near-record time, breathless, and still trying to figure out what I had witnessed at the church. Seeing my house always makes me smile; we have such a great place in such a great neighborhood. The peacefulness was immediately shattered as I stepped through my front door. Maggie was screaming, never a good sign, and I tripped over an overwhelming stack of mail in the middle of the foyer as I ran to her. Where do other people keep their mail? Why do I seem to be the only one completely overwhelmed by stupid, stupid mail?
It turned out that Maggie was fussing because, well, babies fuss. But Jonathon got flustered because he didn't know how to get her to stop. And she fed off of his anxiety, and so on. It's so nice having the mommy-weapons (free milk!) that are useful for stopping crying in all situations. A mostly relaxing hour later, I was ready to set out again. This time I plopped Maggie into the baby sling so that she could come with me and enjoy the perfect September air. Also, this way I didn't have to come home every hour or two.
I'd given up on trying to place the clues in order, so I had the envelopes sorted by location – I wanted to do as little walking as necessary to deliver all the clues and get back home before hunger drove me to stop for junk food. Before I even made it back out the door, I stepped on the pile of mail again, and one colorful piece caught my eye. It was a promo piece for Spirit Scheme II.
I picked it up to get a better look. Nope, nope, definitely not a promo piece. The slick glossy turned out to be a warning to parents about Spirit Scheme II, telling us not to let our kids anywhere near the evil game. I'd never seen anything like that before, not even for Grand Theft Auto, so I sat down at the kitchen table laptop to check out the website listed on the flyer. As far as I knew, Spirit Scheme II didn't involve running around shooting people while committing grand larceny, sleeping with prostitutes to recover lost health points, and then killing the unlucky hookers to get back your stolen cash. Now that's a game for parents to get upset about!
According to GoGeekGames.com, the publisher's website, Spirit Scheme II seemed to be a problem-solving strategy game for young adults. Its wild popularity had spawned a whole cottage industry: online multiplayer games, real-life roll-playing games, fan fiction, and Halloween costumes. Its unique features included gameplay options for "Prayer" (you sometimes received a response) and "Sin". Ah-hah.
A quote from a mother on the back of the flyer read, "These are 14-year-old kids. Their minds already want to go there. Is this what we want to be teaching our children?" The website I was directed to for further information, FaithfulFamily.com, looked more professional than GoGeekGames.com. It contained testimony from irate parents as well as from concerned pastors and Christian child psychologists. The gist seemed to be that they felt it was harmful for kids to be allowed to "play God" and to give them the option to "sin" without penalty. It all looked like a bunch of silliness to me. Maggie was way too young for computer games, but when she's old enough, I hope that Jonathon and I will be able to talk to her about stuff like morals and sin rather than forbidding her to explore on her own. Still, she'll never play Grand Theft Auto in this house. Hypocrite? Me? No way.
Out of curiosity (certainly not procrastination!), I did a "whois" search to see who owned FaithfulFamily.com. The site came back registered to a William Robert Hughes, who looked vaguely familiar to me. I was about to continue not procrastinating by Googling Hughes, when Maggie woke up. Oops! Another brief period between nursing sessions frittered away.
I'd just have to go out in the car later tonight to place all the clues.
© 2004 by Sarahlynn at 1:18 AM
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