"Damnation Angels: The Vailiant Fire" review

Here's a review I did for the latest album by a band I'm really into at the moment called "Damnation Angels"

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Damnation Angels

The Valiant Fire

Damnation Angels are a UK based Symphonic metal band fronted by popular youtube star
and power metal vocalist PelleK. However, there's more to this band than just a pretty face.
I was a huge face of the bands previous album, Bringer of Light, as if had a familiar sound
reminiscent of (and comparable, I feel, in terms of quality) to much bigger bands such as Kamelot
and Seventh Wonder but with a definite memorable quality in the compositions and superb vocals.
These are two qualities that definitely carry over to their second album. With most of the (incredibly
technical and instrumentally rich) songs coming in over the 7 minute mark, every song still manages to carry incredibly catchy melodic hooks that I'm always finding myself humming out loud (not always a good thing if you're at work). The use of synth is what really elevates these songs above mere standard symphonic metal, ranging from oriental string instruments on "Under an Ancient Sun" and "Everlasting" to the trance style tape-stops on "Icarus Syndrome". The sweeping orchestral sections also drive the aggression of the heavier riffs as well as add depth to the melodic parts;
a perfect atmosphere for the lyrics about dying on a battlefield or being separated from loved ones by
the horrors of war (A theme they like to visit a lot). My favourite song on the album at the moment is "The Passing" which is like a power metal ballad crossed with the "Star Trek Voyager" theme song that results in one of the catchiest sing-along anthems I've ever heard in ages.

In short, with "The Valiant Fire", Damnation Angels have bypassed the difficult second album syndrome by essentially making the same thing but better. I can't wait to see what they've got in them next.

9/10

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A Dystopian Future story...

This was a story I wrote a really long time ago (I was about 17). It's a dystopian future story from the point of view of a kid who only really cares about eating junk food and playing video games. After a couple of hundred words it descends into typical, teenage, existential waffle but I really like the beginning so I tweaked it a bit and now I'm going to post it here:

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Dexley's Dystopia

Whrrrrr *click*......
.........Whrrrrr*click*...........
......................Whrrrrrr*click*....

It was already shaping up to be a bad day for Dexley. He did not appreciate being woken up this early.

If the Ruling Committee were going to make 'Cleansing Programs' a mandatory installation for all working computers, couldn’t they at least design one that wouldn't start at god-know when in the morning and make such an aggrivating noise? This would be Dexley's last non-school day for 6 weeks. Wasn't he entitled to at least one last snooze until at least well after 11am?

He shook himself awake and banished this line of thought.

In the dark, he crawled out of bed and waded over to his computer. What time was it? He checked his alarm. 

 

6am

He'd never get back to sleep now. Guess he'd just have to get up an game until Mum got up and made breakfast. However, he might not be able to game if the Cleansing Program had wiped any relevant files off his computer. He bashed his toe on the clunky silver button on the front of his computer. 

Click. 

A tiny green halo emerged in dark. The monitor swam into life. An electric blue sunrise dawned on Dexley's room. He quickly checked his hard drive. 20 files were now gone. "Vicarious (TM) entertainment presents: 'National Defence Regiment 15 II" still remained. Thank fuck for that.

Which 20 files had been deleted? Some music? A few videos? Meh. He'd get over it. Besides, all his important stuff was still on here...

He double clicked on the DEF-REG 15 Icon; a blood red sun setting over a bayoneted assault rife jutting end first out of the ground, and signed in. 

 

Suddenly, his speakers assulted him with a faint pinging noise. His bright, blue desktop decayed and revealed a blunted grey box that delivered this friendly message:

"Network Access denied. Unregistered user. Register yourself within the next 60 seconds or this terminal will power down permanently!"

Dexley hadn't taken his daily does of Nani-Tab yet. 

 

With a push, his chair carried him over to his wardrobe. Without needing a light, his hands found a mass of tiny plastic containers. He pulled one out, tore off the top and downed the contents in one go. His face clenched at the battery acid taste. The bionic implants in his face and hands stirred in magnetic arousal as he let the nanites course though his system. It was a little early in the morning for something that strong. Dexley noted the plastic container and the the bubbly, kid friendly letter's advertising that this version of Nani-Tab was a "Yummy Strawberry flavor". It only tasted like liquid rust to Dexley. He couldn't wait until he was old enough to have it in a quick injection form like Mum and Dad.

His computer responded the invisible electrical fields now eminating from his finger-tips and let him sign in...   

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Introduction + Chester Lamkin story

I discovered that I have a lot of creative projects just lying around on my hard-drive and would like to make some kind of blog-thing to put them on. So here we go!
Here's an exerpt from one of my short stories about a scruffy metal-head/reluctant dimesnion-hopper named Cheser Lamkin and the adventures he get's up to...

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Let me tell you my story.

Once upon a time, on a casual night out with four very good friends, a dark cloud came over me. I was blacking out on the floor of a Night-club bathroom. The last thing I remember was the side of my face splashing in something that could have been bleach, piss or beer and smelt like all three. I remember turning my head and seeing a pair of legs marking their territory next to a white, porcelain drinking hole. I remember shrill voices shouting down at me. I remember vodka smelling hands slapping my face. I remember a bevy of fading shadows and arms rattling my head into violent agreement with whatever it was they were saying. I was slipping further and further away...

Then I woke up in the middle of the ocean.

I felt my body rocking. I heard the clap of water against laminated wood. Above me, sails fluttered in a tepid breeze. My mouth tasted and smelt like a small creature had been living in it. I was wearing an awful Hawaiian T-shirt which I remember burying in my closet 3 years ago. My Dad had bought it for me becuase he thought that the money he leant me was to spend on a holiday and not to buy drugs with.

I had no idea who's Yacht this was.

There were two recently used cigarettes in he cabin's ash-tray. I didn't smoke (not my kind of drug). Hiding in the captain quarters; parked under a wooden desk, was a chrome briefcase. It was sealed with no clear lock.

My initials were engraved on the top.

C.L.

It was navy blue half-light outside. There was no land around as far as I could see. I did, however, notice a twisting, gurgling wormhole in the ocean just within leaping distance of the bow.

This was all a little weird (at least by my measurement of 'weird' at the time). I was about to raid the captain's brandy supply and drink until I blacked out with the intention of hopefully waking up somewhere a little closer to home...

That was when I noticed the black shapes in the water.

I peered over the bow and caught sight of the moon being sliced on the waves. Suddenly, it was swallowed up completely and made way for a single black circle, a blob of tar, standing upright on the ocean surface. The shape grew. Larger and larger it became. Soon there were many shapes. Before long, the shapes had morphed into an army of glistening black shadows. Their trickling bodies hovered out of the water. The shapes were not un-like men. They had blind, lunging arms and winding weeds for clothes. They glistened in the glow of the moon. The three of them, each floating 3 inches above the water, glided over to the boat. Their gaping mouths groaned. Their arms thrashed. They reached out to me as if for friendship but they certainly weren't friendly...

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This encounter leads poor Chester into being kicked into another dimension: Ours! His dimension is exactly the same as ours in every way except for one difference: all of the famously dissapointing films in our universe were really good in his one. He rants about them in great detail while constantly evading a menacing pressence that has followed him between worlds.