Flash Fiction: Shining Force Project #2: Gort

Gort (2/63)

Game Boy Advance - Shining Force Resurrection of the Dark Dragon - Mugshots

If sleep took him now, he was doomed.

Gort stirred in his seat.  For a moment his body protested against the movement, but eventually gave enough ground for his senses to awaken.  The clamour of the force headquarters came into focus, conversations battling with the sharp retorts of steel on steel and the smell of stew and ale.  Comforts all, indulgences that Gort had found himself leaning on whenever he was guarding the place instead of fighting on the battlefield. Which was most of the time these days.

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Flash Fiction: Shining Force Project #1 – Alef

This month marks the 15 year anniversary of the release of Shining Force: The Resurrection of Dark Dragon on the GBA, itself a remake of the Sega title Shining Force: The Legacy of Great Intention.

Shining Force remains one of may favourite RPG experiences on any system, and I sank a ridiculous amount of hours into both this and its sequel.  The turn-based battles alternated between being great fun skirmishes and frustratingly difficult epics, and the worlds themselves were steeped in high fantasy tropes and concepts.


It’s like Fire Emblem, only (whisper it!) better.

The anniversary comes at a pretty neat time for me.  I had recently started playing through the first game anyway, and it reminded me of two things:

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The Mermaid Who Was Between Colours


The moments when Nooka slipped through the grasp of the darkwater were becoming the most exhilarating, and terrifying, of her life.  Just like every journey before, she could feel the insistent press of the water against her skin and scales fade as she coiled closer to the surface, the powerful muscles in her tail able to now propel her at speeds that shifted the blur of her world into something intoxicating.  Nooka felt so powerful in that moment, it was as if she had become the strongest mermaid in all of the Blueshade.

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Flash Fiction: Where’s My Sand, Witch?

“No, you’ve got it all wrong.” Lul pushed strands of seaweed from her eyes and smiled reassuringly up at her customer. “It’s ‘sandwich shop’, not ‘sand witch shop’—Silent ‘t’, see?”

The skeleton looked at the sandwiches on Lul’s cart, sockets glowing. “You stupid? Nobody eats around here. Now where’s my sand sculpture?”

Shame pricked Lul’s cheeks as she flicked her tail, conjuring a twisting edifice from the sand. “There you go,” she said thickly. “Good luck with the contest.”

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