EpiphanyMill Presents: The First Third

Once the gift-giving was over, Sir Scabby took the burlap that had covered our new weapons and draped the pieces in a crisscrossed formation over the pile of heads and hides at the edge of his camp. He then broke down the wooden crate and built what looked like a teepee over the pile. After packing away or piling up any evidence he’d ever been there he took a flint out of one of the half dozen pouches at his waist. With a few well-placed sparks, he had an impressive, if not foul-smelling fire raging.“Won’t that attract unwanted attention, my lord,” Aconitum asked, appearing chaotic-nervous.“Better the attention beest hither, than whither we're headed,” Sir Scabby replied. “And unless thou art joining us, thee should be’est returning to the castle, post-haste.”The warlock offered a facial expression that looked like a kalanchoe stalking its prey, yet I’m pretty sure it was meant to be a smile. He should seriously stick to frowning or poker faces. “As you say, my lord.” Turning to the rest of us, he said, “You’ll get what’s coming to you when you return with the prince, unharmed.” That completely not creepy, non-foreshadowy speech given, he darted off into the woods like the filthy, crazed murder-hobo I suspected him to be.Cool, as innocent as a newborn baby, laughed as Aconitum scurried off like a rat into a maze. “Heh. He was nice, but he could use a bath. And a toothbrush. Maybe a pedicure, too. Hey, when we get our rewards, we should all chip in and get him a gift certificate for the kingdom day spa!”Scalar hefted his huge axe over his shoulder and hung it across his back. He’d fashioned one of the kalanchoe hides into a makeshift bandoleer. He used an additional hide to make twin axe-holsters, which hung loosely from his belt, one on each hip. Scalar was handy with the hides, that was for sure. “Please, Cool, my dear friend, take no offense when I say, hell no. That stinky culo is the king’s advisor. If he wishes to spend a day cleansing his body to make himself look and smell like a respectable creature, then I am quite sure the king would be happy to accommodate him.”Sir Scabby laughed heartily at Scalar’s response, giving one of Santa’s guffaws a run for its money. “Friend Minotaur, thee feeleth as most of the kingdom doth feel. T’is a mystery wherefore the king alloweth Aconitum to remain at his side. His loyalty and motives has't at each moment been in question amongst the knights of the royal court.”Cool snaked his head around the trees, his neck winding like a creeping laurentii, and whispered into Sir Scabby’s ear. “He’s not a Minotaur, dude. He’s a cursed prince. He just looks like a Minotaur.”Both Cool and the knight glanced back at Scalar, the revelation burning between them. Sir Scabby whispered back. “Forsooth he doest. I shalt be’est more careful in the days to come.”Scalar snorted and plodded into the woods to await directions and grumbled. “I can hear you whispering.”~The witches’ lair, cave, tent, teepee, whatever they lived in, was in a region north of what we’d always considered north. Like, so far north, no one from Capitula ever ventured there. It was, as it turned out, beyond the land of the dragons, a place no one ever returned from. We, in our haste, um, my haste actually, agreed to go. Pharaoh offered more than one ‘I told you so’ or in his case, ‘Me did tell yuh suh’, as we made our way into the lands to the west of Candytuft.We’d briefly considered going directly through Candytuft, but the risk of the queen, or one of her many handmaidens or advisors, seeing Sir Scabby was too great. We chose to circumvent the castle, and everything in its vicinity, by taking the western route.I know what you’re thinking. What? The western trail? Are you out of your mind?And yes, you’re right, taking the western trail was going to be dangerous. But think about it. Facing...

Purchase indGame in paperback, e-book, or audiobookOkay, my life’s really weird. I’m the first to admit I’m not the most normal kid. I’m not a superhero or anything quite that cool, but I do know several.Let’s see. There's Pharaoh, Cool, Scalar, Hex, Yin-Yang, Dirk Claymore of the Clan McJagger, Santa Claus, and, um, Steve.Pharaoh and Cool are a part of a superhero team called The Evolutants. Pharaoh, also called the Prince of Beasts, is a hyper-evolved lion with dreadlocks for a mane. He’s wicked strong and built like Arnold Schwarzenegger – if Arnold was a lion who walked upright, wore denim coveralls, and spoke like a Rastafarian. That makes sense, right? Cool is an elastic giraffe. When I say elastic, I mean that dude can stretch high enough to high-five a 747! Yeah, that would be dangerous. It would probably frighten the passengers too. Like, who wouldn’t be scared if some cartoon-looking giraffe with a huge Crest toothpaste grin and big shiny horsesh- um, giraffeshoes? Is that a thing? You know, tried to high-five their plane midflight? He’s impressionable, so I won’t suggest it. Cool is hyper-evolved, too. Aside from stretching, he can shape-shift. He’s great at it. I’ve seen him impersonate Elvis, Mr. Rogers, Bob Ross, Batman – the ‘60s version, he even does the funny little vogue dance, and a hundred different animals! It’s amazing, provided you can get past the fact that he’s always yellow with brown spots. Every person, every animal, yellow with brown spots. I will say, a yellow T. rex with brown spots is still freaking terrifying. And he’s scary good at the T. rex thing.Scalar is also a man-beast sort of dude. He’s a Dwayne Johnson-sized Minotaur, but with the head of a bison instead of a bull. Unlike Pharaoh and Cool, he wasn't hyper-evolved. He’s a human prince, but an evil shaman cursed him more than a thousand years ago for falling in love with the wrong woman. He and Pharaoh have an odd relationship. Not really a bromance, more like some weird high school rivalry. They’re constantly flexing on each other. Honestly, Pharaoh’s stronger, but Scalar’s a natural-born warrior. If they ever really threw down, it would be like the Punisher vs. John Wick. Pop some popcorn and pick a side because it’s anybody’s game!Hex is a dinosaur from another superhero team called Team-Rex. She’s a Tyrannosaurus-Hex if I understand correctly. Basically, she’s a teenage Tyrannosaur who’s also a witch. She’s also kind of a b- um, blunt speaker. Oddly, her accent makes her sound like she’s from somewhere in New England. Not exactly New York, more like Boston. ‘Pahk the cah in Hahvid Yahd.’ You know?Hex is an odd bird, but she’s, um, how would she put it? Wikkid powaful. Her feet rarely touch the ground, since she prefers to hover or fly, she can control lightning with her bare hands, make herself and other things invisible, control minds – she calls it chahming, and even bring dead plants back to life. Unfortunately, you can’t reanimate animals. The brain activity becomes an issue. Brain death is forever unless you’re lucky enough to have a backup of the patient’s brain handy. But come on, this is the real world we’re talking about, right?Fun fact about Hex: her dead grandmother’s spirit follows her everywhere she goes. A time travel experiment gone wrong sucked them both through a tem-portal, and now they’re constantly together. Sounds awkward to me, but whatever. I thought she was nuts at first, hearing her talk to her grandmother like she was there with us. Only she can see or hear her. Who knows? Maybe she really is nuts.Did I mention we’re on a quest? It’s wild. I feel like that little guy with the Robin Hood hat in the old Zelda game. “Take this sword, ‘cause shit’s about to get...

Purchase indGame in paperback, e-book, or audiobookI caught my breath, an irrational wave of fear washing over me, like when you wake up from a nightmare you’re on the cusp of forgetting.All I could recall was my face burning before the dream faded like a sigh in a hurricane.It took a moment to gather my bearings, but before long the Earth came back into focus, and I remembered where I was. Safely soaring high above the planet I’d sworn to protect with my life. To date, I hadn’t found anything that could even remotely harm me, except maybe old age. I do age, slowly, but eventually entropy even catches up with superheroes. Entropy is the real grim reaper.The world’s beautiful from up here – just a big blue marble, with white swirls over odd-shaped patches of gray, brown, and green. I had a cat-eye marble that looked like it when I was a kid. Somewhere down there, it still existed. Maybe in a landfill, in the backyard of my old house, or even in the possession of some new lucky child, but it still existed. That’s the nature of matter and the law of conservation of mass. Entropy be damned. When I eventually cease being me, my molecules will become something else. Hopefully, something amazing.But for now, and I expect for a very long time, I am the Golden Sentinel, sworn defender of Earth and her almost eight billion inhabitants.I floated quietly, miles above the surface of the breathtaking blue planet, watching, listening. My pristine white cape floated loosely around me, as there was no atmosphere to disturb it, nor gravity to tug at its hem.Let me tell you, when it rains, it most definitely pours. In my case, it usually hails, sleets, snows, and throws in some frogs and locusts for good measure. The world went from relatively quiet – you know, stuff the global police forces and militaries can safely deal with – to absolute hell in a handbasket in a matter of seconds. Only this handbasket is almost a hundred and ninety-seven million square miles. That’s a huge handbasket for Hell to eff-up.You can plan and prepare, but much like the Spanish Inquisition, you can never actually expect the unexpected. That’s why it’s called the unexpected. Trust me, my life revolves around it.As I was saying, the world went from quietly sleeping baby to colicky quintuplets in the blink of an eye.It all started with a volcano erupting on the island of Nea Kameni, a tiny island in the cluster that makes up Santorini, Greece. Hundreds of tourists would be in the path of any resulting lava flow, and traditional evacuation processes would be too late, so it was a priority-one emergency.Before I could fly in and save the day, though, the city of San Francisco, all the way over on the West Coast of the United States, began to shake like one of those tacky hula dancer figurines people put on the dashboard of their car. San Francisco’s car clearly had bad shocks and was driving through potholes.To make matters worse, a massive sinkhole nearly a mile in diameter suddenly formed in the Sea of Japan. Midway between Japan and South Korea, the liquid black hole guzzled seawater like a beer drinker at a football game. Its gaping maw pulled in a luxury liner, the ship’s superstructure shuddering and groaning as it careened sideways.As I formulated a plan of attack, yet another hero-sized event let down its unruly hair. A small, undetectable fragment of meteorite struck the JEM – Japanese Experimental Module – of the International Space Station. The damage was so minor, the naked eye could barely see it. However, in a very short time, that segment of the ISS’s artificial atmosphere would fail, and all the current residents of the JEM would suffer an unpleasant demise.I could see

Purchase indGame in paperback, e-book, or audiobookStan laid on his stomach at the back of the room, an M2 Browning – a .50 caliber badass mo-fo were Stan’s exact words – positioned on a low, wide-based tripod in front of him, aimed directly at the door. Brad and Becky were hunkered behind a metal table we’d upended and set up as a potential line of defense against the spiderlings and whatever else might have joined the unholy, alien congregation in the hall. They were both armed and ready to fire at the potential wave of monsters, just like Stan taught us. And me? Well, like a dumbass, I volunteered to open the door. I mean, I had grenades to throw into the hall, and I was ready to dive behind the table with Brad and Becky as Stan unloaded his .50 cal on the bastards. But hey, somebody had to open the door. Why not me?To my dismay, the evil, tap-dancing mimes were still in the hall, and the alarms were still blaring like angel’s trumpets announcing the end of the world.“On three,” Stan finally whispered, disengaging the safety and gripping the twin handles with both hands.Brad and Becky, heads and guns sticking out from behind the table, were ready to join in the action if necessary. They looked like something straight out of an old World War II movie. It was like trench warfare, but in a big, concrete conference room. A conference room with guns on the wall… like a conference for gangsters… aw hell, you know what I mean.“One.”No turning back now.“Two.”My feet felt like lead. I wasn’t sure I’d be able to move once I’d pulled the door open. I was about to find ou-“Three!”I turned the knob and pulled. The minute or so that followed was probably the worst and longest of my life.More than a dozen spiderlings practically fell through the doorway. Before I could enjoy tossing a grenade into the opaque mass of legs, tongues, and bodies, Stan began firing his beast of a gun. Spent casings pinged to the floor by the dozen, and I suddenly understood what it would be like to work in the quality control department testing Zeus’s lightning bolts. To say the sound was deafening would be a gross understatement. My eardrums felt like speaker cones at a metal concert. To add insult to injury, or just to pile on more injury, the shrapnel and body parts produced by the constant spray of bullets was like cleaning up a driving range while the golfers were still practicing their swings. Legs, guts, Vaseline-blood, and golf ball sized chunks of concrete and wood pelted my legs repeatedly.I dove behind the table and found Becky and Brad screaming. At least I think they were screaming. Their mouths were open like they were screaming, but all any of us could hear was Stan’s 90 pound monster-shredder. The firing slowed for a moment while Stan fed another belt of ammo into the gun. I think I heard Stan laughing in that brief moment. Good for him, man. Good for him.A minute or so later, the spiderlings, the door, and the walls surrounding it were no more.The firing stopped, but my ears would be ringing for days to come. Stan suddenly put a hand on my shoulder. I looked up and met his eyes. He gestured towards the duffle bags behind us. I tapped on Brad and Becky’s shoulders, nodding towards the bags.It was time to go.~After loading up, the four of us moved stealthily up the corridor towards the particle accelerator and the rest of our friends. One thought dominated all others as we headed towards an uncertain future, and all-too certain doom. Pink! Her bra was pink!Our enviro-suits were combat ready, and the helmets outfitted with small, but powerful LED spotlights around the face shields. The added light made the run back to the...

Purchase indGame in paperback, e-book, or audiobookLaboratory 311, home of the Waller-Lobue Particle Accelerator.It was the perfect day for a high school field trip. The sun was shining, birds were singing, and the staff was… well, dead. All of them. Dead.“Welcome to Laboratory 311”, the tour guide had said, but when she went to check on the screams coming from the particle accelerator viewing chamber, she never came back.To the best of our teacher’s understanding, some sort of accident caused the emergency protocols to kick in. That meant a complete lock-down and containment of any breach. Now I’m trapped in the complex with the other students and our teacher, Mr. Panacharian, waiting for a rescue team.~“Kids, please stay together,” Mr. Pan said gruffly. Pan was a big man. He wasn’t fat, but he wasn’t muscle-bound either. He was powerful looking, with huge hands and an overly expressive unibrow that looked like two caterpillars practicing the Kama Sutra on his forehead. Picture a Greco-Roman wrestler, but shorter. Probably just a higher concentration of Neanderthal DNA. I mean, give the man a cigar and mutton chops, and he would have been the perfect guy to play a comic book accurate Wolverine.“Mr. Pan, I have to go to the restroom,” Becky Anderson whined. “Really bad.”Pan’s shoulders drooped, and he sighed like a man whose job it was to tell the world that humanity was on the brink of extinction. “Becky, we’re supposed to remain in this room until someone comes to let us out. I don’t think anyone will hold an accident against you. To be honest, I have to go too.”Brad Wilson, team quarterback, snickered. “Don’t be too sure of that. I’m sure there’ll be plenty of judging.”Pan swiveled his head on the tree stump serving as his neck and glared at Brad. “Don’t be a dick, Brad,” he said, clearly unafraid of potential repercussions. “You’ve been doing the pee-pee dance for the last twenty minutes.”The rest of the class, including Becky, laughed as Brad’s face flushed a deep, warm crimson.It took a moment to register amidst the laughter, but a hush rolled through the room as we all recognized the sound of what could best be described as a guttural, primal roar. The roar echoed through the room like a train passing through an underground terminal, and Becky began to cry. I put my arm around her, hoping to provide a little comfort, but I wasn’t feeling all that comfortable myself.A series of shrieks and screams rang out in the halls, followed by a high-pitched squeal that sounded like the mating call of a cyborg dolphin. Becky, voice shaking like a Yahtzee cup, whispered, “Brad just peed himself.”~We stood in the closest thing to silence we could muster. I mean, there were whimpers, whispers, and outright crying, and of course Mr. Pan was busy hushing all of the above, but it wasn’t as bad as the pandemonium going on in the hall and particle accelerator chamber.Suddenly, the door from the adjoining viewing room flew open and a tall Japanese man wearing a lab coat and yellow safety glasses stumbled through. He quickly closed the door behind him and cursed when he remembered there wasn’t a lock on our side. He turned to look at us, seeming surprised for a moment, and then wheezed, “The field trip! Thank God. Are you all accounted for?” He looked to Mr. Pan for an answer, his eyes desperate.“Everyone’s here, except Jodi, our tour guide,” Mr. Pan replied. He looked just as shaken as the man standing in front of us. His name tag identified him as Fuun Shishido – Senior Controls Engineer. “Can you tell us what’s happening here?”Fuun shook his head. “Classified,” he muttered.Mr. Pan wasn’t a fan of the engineer’s...

Purchase indGame in paperback, e-book, or audiobook My horse shuddered nervously as I guided her into the narrow passageway between the boulders. “Easy girl,” I whispered, stroking her mane gently. “We’re okay.” I was lying, of course. Whisper knew my vocal tones as well as the flies that followed us knew the reach of her tail. I knew the canyon that lay ahead of us was a deathtrap, plain and simple. Between the bloodthirsty savages still calling the territory home, and the murderous train robbers I was trailing, and were almost certainly lying in wait for me in the narrow expanse ahead, I’d be lucky to make it out alive. I’d never been one to be frightened off by a little danger, and I had the scars to prove it. As lawmen went, my quarry knew there were three possible outcomes once Packard Campbell, known in lawful circles as Marshal Blood, and by lowlife varmints as the Bloodhound, was on their scent. One, you ended up in jail, two, you ended up dead, or three, I ended up dead. It was usually number two. Seeing as I was still kicking up dust and bringing ne'er-do-wells to justice, option three had never played out. I'd been close, but close didn't offer up very favorable odds to those on the wrong side of the law. “Woah girl.” I drew back on the reins, though Whisper had already stopped. She knew my body language, after all. She snorted nervously, clearing her sinuses, and took a whiff of the scent on the wind. Gun oil. Fresh. I smelled it too. It traveled the breeze accompanied by the faint aromas of gunpowder, chewin’ tobacco, and sweat.~ I dismounted and tied the reins to a loose branch of scrub brush jutting out from the wall next to us. I crept away from Whisper, who remained as silent as the eye of a storm, and ducked into a crevasse large enough to shield me from three of four sides. Digging a small, cracked mirror from my vest pocket, I scanned the narrow passage around me. The Lubbock Gang consisted of six men: three brothers, two lifelong friends, and a well-paid hired gun. The odds of them scattering like exposed cellar rats at the first sign of danger were slim to none. I spotted the first two men quickly. The hired gun, a former Confederate soldier turned mercenary known only as Bly, perched about twenty feet ahead and thirty feet up, at the top of the canyon wall. Bly carried a Marlin 1893 lever-action 30-30 and wore his pistol slung low on his right thigh. The butt of the gun faced forward so that he could cross-draw with his left hand. He was at close enough range to put a hole in me the size and relative messiness of a whorehouse spittoon. Bly crouched behind a sizable boulder, perfectly shielding him from the canyon’s point of entry, though from my vantage point, he was nothing more than a sitting duck in an old, tan leather duster. Closest to Bly was Garrett Long; one dangerous third of the murderous Long brothers. The Long brothers were inseparable and had a strict fraternal code of honor that bound them more tightly than blood-brothers, making them some of the most feared and unpredictable outlaws to ever ride the range. Garrett was stretched out on his belly roughly ten feet from Bly, and resembled a huge rattlesnake, sunning itself casually in the desert heat. He was armed with a rifle, bolt-action, though I couldn’t determine the make from his hidden position. I like to know as much as possible about my quarry before heading into a firefight, including what kind of guns they’re packing. In the right hands, a firearm is nothing less than a physical extension of the wielder. Just like a boxer needs to know if their opponent is a right-hander or a southpaw, I need to know what manner of gun a man is holding. It took another minute...

Purchase indGame in paperback, e-book, or audiobook Like I said, my name’s Packard Campbell. Most people just call me Pack, except my dad, but I don’t mind Packard. So many people stress about how their birth name sounds. Rodneys become Rod, Jakobs become Jake, Richards become Dick. You know what I’m talking about. And why? Because it sounds more mature? Because it rolls off the tongue more easily? Whatever. My name is my name, and I’m proud of it. Anyway, my name isn’t the problem. It’s everything else.It’s weird. I mostly know who I am, but it’s like I’ve got memories of past lives, or I see glimpses of alternate versions of myself somewhere in the multiverse. It makes zero sense, right? Especially since I think I know where all these memories came from. I beta-test new first-person neural-interface games for my dad’s company, indGame. Funny, back to the name thing again. The real name of the company is Individual Gaming, but he calls it indGame. That doesn’t sound more mature to me. If you ask me, indGame sounds better as a video game or movie title. Check us out at IndividualGaming.com if you’re interested. I’ve got my own profile and everything. Take that, Vic E. Parker! Oh, sorry. Vic was my middle school bully. I occasionally need to remind the universe I’m not the slaghead he always made me out to be. It’s cathartic. I’ll get over it one day, you’ll see. Oh, dang, I squirreled, didn’t I? Where was I? Richard becomes Dick… Oh, yeah, beta-testing. I’m the primary tester for all the new games that indGame releases. You’ve probably played at least a few of them: Tournament of Warlords, Marshal Blood, Gifted, Animehem, and String Theories are all currently available. I’ve tested more than twenty others that haven’t even been released yet. I think Tom Mux: Space Marine was my favorite, but LepreKong was a flippin’ trip, and I actually peed a little while playing dad’s latest cosmic horror game, Crawlspace. Hey, don’t laugh. I pee a little during lots of the games. I don’t even have to be afraid or excited. See, when I was in middle school, doctors diagnosed me with a previously undiscovered neuromuscular disorder, Atrophic Lamin A Sclerosis, that’s been slowly but surely eating away at my ability to use my own body. I call it ALAS, since it’s like Progeria and Lou Gehrig’s disease had a really colicky baby, then put energy drinks in its bottle. Yeah, I joke, but it sucks. The first symptoms reared their ugly head during my freshman year in high school. By the time I was a junior, I was completely numb from the belly button down. At least Vic never saw me like this. Slaghead would have been a compliment compared to the bullshit comments I would have had to endure as my body forgot how to walk. I’m mostly glad mom didn’t have to watch dad and me go through this. She died when I was nine. The doctors think her condition and mine might be related, but they can’t be completely sure. She was wonderful and I miss her every day. Dad does too, but he’s strong in ways I don’t think she could have been. If she hadn’t died, watching me die would have killed her anyway. Oh, yeah, I’m dying too. I’ve got three to five years tops before my body won’t breathe on its own. I told dad that I don’t want to end up a vegetable kept alive by machines. Even though I know it hurts him, I’m old enough to request a do not resuscitate order. Crap, I squirreled again. Sorry. Rodney, beta testing? Peeing myself, that’s it. I’ve played all of dad’s games from start to finish and found all the gold star items and platinum levels to boot. I’m proud of that accomplishment, to be honest. Okay, so this is where it gets weird. My consciousness gets cloned into the system when I jack in, so

Purchase indGame in paperback, e-book, or audiobook 1Tournament of Warlords         The beast drew back his arm, clenching his broad, blood-encrusted fist so tightly, it shook like a centenarian with a bad case of the tremors.  Sharp, bony protrusions appearing to serve as knuckles popped audibly, and I braced myself for the next blow. The crowd roared as I raised my arms in a defensive move, activating a plasma shield that ran between ceramic nodes permanently implanted in my forearms.  With my fists balled, and my arms in close enough proximity to one another, the nodes filled the gap with a near-impenetrable energy field that would last as long as I maintained my position. I braced myself.  The view through the energy field was like wearing blue aviator sunglasses.  Light filtered through in a cool haze.  The beast swung, striking the makeshift shield with the force of a freight train.  Bone chips and sparks flew in all directions.  A shockwave rippled across the energy field, causing parts of its surface to change momentarily from blue to a shade of violet, a clear sign the barrier had almost been compromised.  I winced as the impact jarred the nodes, resonating all the way down to the anchor points in my bones.  Immediately, thousands of nanops went to work on the resulting hairline fractures.  Within mere seconds, the anchor points were as good as new. A second blow came just as the nanops finished their task, almost dislodging one of the nodes completely, sending the tiny medical technicians back to work.  It appeared their day was just getting started. The shield’s surface became darker.  My pain threshold was exploring a new definition for the word ‘excruciating’, but I held my ground like a retiree with coupons at the cash register. A third, well-placed strike changed that. I cried out involuntarily as the powerful fist finally crashed through the barrier, ripping most of the nodes from my bones, leaving them dangling loosely from the flesh of my already battered forearms.  The fist connected with my face, smashing my nose and shredding my lips.  Teeth flew to the back of my throat, making me gag as the beast’s other hand wrapped tightly around my throat, cutting off my air supply. The beast, known on his home planet as L’OthruC’ant, was an arthrolopithicus.  Like many desert-dwelling predatory species, he wore his skeleton on the outside.  Virtually covered in bioresponsive armor and possessing unparalleled strength, he was insanely difficult to kill.  Yet, with a face resembling a spoiled package of ground beef, and my primary defenses equally disposed, I still wasn’t ready to throw in the towel. L’OthruC’ant noticed as I brought my right knee up between us.  I half expected him to react, but his arrogant expression said everything.  In his eyes, he had already won.  He would let me suffer the pain of a broken knee as a final indignity. I knew I had precious little time before the arthrolopithicoid ended the fight.  All fights in the Multiversal Tournament of Warlords ended with at least one fatality. “Finish it!  Finish it!  Finish it!”  The chant had become the crowd’s mantra, and L’OthruC’ant drank it like grape Kool-Aid from a...

Purchase indGame in paperback, e-book, or audiobook“Take one.  indGame commercial.  Mic live in 3… 2… 1…” Exciting electronic music begins to play.  It sounds like the ‘80s are getting a second wind.~ Welcome to indGame! Welcome to a future without boundaries! Have you ever wanted to scale Mount Everest?  Maybe your secret dream has always been to explore the Mariana Trench.  Or perhaps a game of hopscotch on the dark side of the moon would be more your speed. Tired of your day job?  How does facing down gladiators in an alien arena sound to you?  Not really your thing?  There’s always a need for a new U.S. Marshal in the Arizona boomtown of Rotgut.  Then again, there are always vampires, aliens, and feral humans to take down if you just want to save the world, or nearly indestructible battle suits, if your goal is to enslave it. Greetings!  My name is Hal Campbell, CEO of the indGame Corporation.  You can see my son Packard over there, testing out our latest simulator, Marshal Blood.  He'd wave if he knew he was on camera.  Right now, though, he’s lost in another world, hot on the trail of a ruthless band of train robbers.  He might even catch ‘em if the locals don't scalp him first! You see, using our patented cerebral scanner, coupled with our quantum universal anamnesis database, Q.U.A.D for short, we can import your very essence into our servers.  We record your memories, emotions, fears, everything that makes you who you are, to create an in-game character with your precise personality, right down to ticks, twitches, and nasty habits.  For all intents and purposes, the character in the game believes itself to be you. All you need to do is jack into the game and immerse yourself in an experience that is part simulator, part interactive play, and, as far as your brain will be concerned, 100% real. The best part is, you'll return to the real world without a scratch, but with real memories of your adventures in cyberspace completely intact, like a dream you actually remember.  Or a nightmare, if that's your bag. So whether you’re a n00b or l33t, old or young, ability-challenged or triathlete, indGame has something for everyone. No joysticks or button-mashing required. indGame - individual gaming at its finest.~ “Aaaand cut!  Alright, folks, that’s a wrap.  Nice work, Hal.”

Purchase indGame in paperback, e-book, or audiobookCredits, Dedications, and QuoteindGame, Written by Rod R Garcia, Narrated by Rod R GarciaFor Dylan ‘Doritos’ Dirodis, my friend.You are missed.P.S. Packard would have appreciated your t-shirt collection almost as much as me.SPECIAL THANKS TO:BETA READERS:Patrick MatthewsPat MuxieJeremy LelleMichael FosterCOVER ART CLEANUPWhendell SouzaCOVER ART PHOTOGRAPHYBetsy PonceCOVER ART MODELJake AshtonQUOTEVideo games are bad for you?That’s what they said about Rock ‘n’ Roll.~ Shigeru Miyamoto

Purchase indGame in paperback, e-book, or audiobookComing to iTunes, Spotify, Audible, and more in November of 2022, indGame, the electrifying 1st book in the indGame series, written by Rod R Garcia.Packard Campbell has made a life out of gaming. He’s logged thousands of hours in Neural Reality simulators, playing the most in-depth, mind-bending games available.When an accident forces an unconventional fusion between the NR and cutting edge, experimental tech, Packard’s understanding of reality changes forever.Now, Packard and the people he cares about most, will have to take a stand against an enemy intent upon redefining the very nature of existence.To win, they must find a way to stop an entity that operates on the fringe of the rules of science and nature.Packard’s in-game experience might just be what they need to tip the scales in their favor.Hear the first incredible 8 chapters of indGame, here, exclusively on EpiphanyMill Presents The 1st 3rd!

Coming to Audible, Amazon, and iTunes in the Spring of 2022 – Exploding Buddha – the breakout first book in the exciting 'Gideon Jones Detective Series', written by Paul Leonard Williams.Business has been slow, which is never a good thing when you have bills to pay. It’s much worse when you owe money to the most notorious crime boss in San Francisco. So, when a beautiful anthropology professor walks into Gideon’s office asking him to determine the whereabouts of an ancient artifact called the Horn of Ryujin, he naturally takes the case.Gideon is not the only one looking for the horn, and soon, mob enforcers become the least of his worries. Our hero quickly finds himself in a life-or-death race against deadly ninja assassins and ancient, dark forces, to see who can claim the mystical horn first. To make matters worse, if the horn falls into the wrong hands, the world’s delicate balance of power will shift, and millions of innocent souls will be eradicated.Is this tough-as-nails private eye in over his head? Will street-smarts, a mean right hook, and a Colt .45 be enough against demons and dark magic?No pressure, though… It’s all in a day's work for Gideon Jones, Private Eye.

Welcome to EpiphanyMIll Presents, The First Third!Here, you will find the first third (give or take) of every book that EpiphanyMill produces as an audiobook. Each chapter will be released weekly as an episode until roughly 1/3 of every book has been shared. This hybridized experience bridges the gap between podcast and audiobook, presenting a unique, extended 'try before you buy' opportunity for our fellow audiobibliophiles.It is our hope that you'll find something in our ever-expanding library, that you will ultimately wish to add to your own digital bookshelf!On the very near horizon, we've got: Detectives, Ninjas, Superheroes, Monsters, and Serial Killers. Action and adventure, horror, young adult's literature, Sci-Fi, a Brave New Multiverse, and so much more!My name is Rod R. Garcia, author, and CEO of EpiphanyMill LLC.  I'm honored that you've chosen to join us here today, and I sincerely hope that you'll find one of your next, most-treasured tales, here, on this podcast.If you haven't already done so, please subscribe, as fantastic new books will be popping up regularly, and we'd be thrilled to keep you in the know!Once again, welcome to the podcast, and welcome to the world of EpiphanyMill!K133gtd00efQ2edHpV9W