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A writer’s bio

I was born on year 1988, in Lille, France, a nice metropolitan city that will always hold a special place in my heart. At that time my father worked for one of the national TV channels, editing video sequences for the news, while my mother worked in a public library. Both of them followed cinema studies and shared an uncommon love for literature.

“When you began talking it became impossible to stop you!” my mother once told me.

It’s true that as a little child I talked a lot, no matter someone listened to me or not. In kid’s garden I was often found alone in a corner of the court, telling the stories coming to my mind. While my mother worried a bit the carers did enjoy my vocabulary and imagination.

Regarding the other children I spent a lot of time observing them to understand why they could be so nice, mean or scorning with each other. As a four-year old kid one of my favorite games was to look at other children and try to picture what could be seen from their point of view.

We all have a special vision of the world, it’s our vision, not only defined by our position in space and the direction we look in, but also defined by the way we interpret the images we see, by the feelings they induce. I wanted to get how feelings and reason work.

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Like all children I wanted to know and understand everything, why the sky is blue, what traffic lamps are made for, how rainbows are created…. And why the word “word” means word? Who decided that?

I was fond of language and the magic of letters. …It didn’t help me writing properly though. I couldn’t write without minor mistakes until the middle of Jr. High school despite all my father’s crazy efforts to teach me French. I just didn’t care for rules, trying to break their conventions before being able to apply them properly.

Like most children I was read a lot of stories and tales, by my father, and watched a lot of cartoons (of all kinds except animes). However I was really hard to entertain. Weak scenarios, bad plot devices, time line incoherences, characters acting out of characters, poor dialogs… I spotted everything. I hated anything simple, I hated to know the end of the episode before it even started, I hated soulless plain characters, I hated flat universes. And bad humor.

How many times did I found myself staring at the TV screen in horror and shame for the creators?

Things had to be fixed. As I loved to draw I decided I wanted to become a drawer. But as I was putting texts on most of my drawings I decided I wanted to become a comic artist. But as I starting playing and listening to music with more attention I decided I wanted to become a storyboard artist. But as I started to play video games I decided I wanted to be a writer in the game industry.

I wanted to see images telling an interactive story, to touch the heart through sight, hearing and touch as you hold a game pad in your hands.

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At this point I was fifteen, I collected all the dictionaries I could find, had written many story plots, even complete stories, adapted some into comics and adapted comics into books, I was working on a video game plot, digging a new universe and characters, designing them and letting them live in small storyboards.

It was also when my father died, leaving us within a year of illness as a cancer corroded his body.

As a child I used to be so afraid of death and fear itself that I wished to die soon to be afraid for a shorter time. I knew it could cause sorrow to the people who loved me but thought I wouldn’t be a great loss since I was of no use to society. I was extremely pessimistic as I couldn’t find a meaning to life.

When my father died was the moment I started to be truly optimistic. I saw the beauty in the tragedy. As I arrived to the crematorium for the ceremony I felt an immense joy at the sight of all the family and friends I hadn’t met for years, seeing they all came to honor my father’s memory. There was sadness and I cried but I also laughed as I hugged my cousins. To me this moment was full of love warming the cold void in my chest.

From there on I never stopped writing to the point of dreaming I was writing, eventually waking up and finding me trying to type while sleeping. I wrote original stories, poems in prose or rhymes, songs, philosophical essays and fanfictions as well. All mattered was to give my best in those texts, to convey a message and feelings right through the reader’s heart. As I seek for perfection in every word and punctuation mark I greatly improved within few years.

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Soon though I found myself limited by my native tongue and felt the need to explore other languages. I had been learning Spanish as second language in Jr. High school but found out that despite my good level I forgot about everything after my father’s death. As I entered High school I had Japanese classes. I hadn’t picked this for the fashion, at that time I read only one manga so far, something not much famous called “Naruto” about ninjas… No, if I picked the Japanese class it is that I wanted to learn a language in all ways different from all I knew and blow my mind with the new vision of the world coming along.

So I started playing with Japanese, the kanjis fascinated me with their meanings, the kanas amazed me with their graphic shapes.

Still as beginner I couldn’t write the true stories I wanted to express, I needed to break free from conventions and of course went for English. English and its magic of changing any word or onomatopoeia into a verb, a noun or an adjective as you wish, again and again.

I would write in English and my first project was going to be a fanfiction based on Final Fantasy VII and its wonderful plot holes, infinite dark pits for any writer to dive in and put light on anything feeling good to be found there.

I bet I could invent the most twisted and foolish theories and make them look credible, I shook the scenarios and characters into a maze of connections beyond everything I could imagine.

And I wrote.

And I did it.

I made the incredible come credible while keeping the characters in character.

Because there’s no wrong idea and nothing’s impossible if you find the way to explain it. It’s just a matter of adjusting your logic. Because there’s no bad concept, only bad writers. Because characters are people too, with desires and doubts, fears and hopes.

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In parallel to this I’ve been following video game studies in the Haute École Albert Jacquard, Namur, Belgium. I’ve developed a certain admiration for technical challenges with the teaching of Franck Sauer (Arts & Magic, Appeal, Fresh Engine) and a particular interest for the PSP. I’ve always been more attracted by old gen than next gen games, while I can appreciate the rather realist look of games such as Metal Gear Solid 4, Uncharted 2 or the latest Final Fantasy episodes.

The reason is probably that once all the money has been tossed in fantabulous renders it seems that few is left for writers and we get games as marvelously designed as flat-plotted. Of course there are few gorgeous exceptions like Metal Gear Solid but what would it be like without Hideo Kojima? If he really was to leave the industry I doubt the series could survive him with all the depth and plot twists we love.

Now I don’t want to keep on criticizing like back when I was a little child watching TV, it’s time for a little less conversation and a little more action.
I still have the eyes of the child I was and they’re still amazed by anything they see, unleashing imagination before I even notice it, tuning me into a concept machine. I’ll make a vast concept from scratch and your constraints will be as many playful challenges for me, I’ll adapt the scenes to the changes in production with ease and care, I’ll give a result as flexible as you want it to be and I’ll make sure it is ready to enjoy.

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Sakin the Dwemer Smith
This book is the sequel of Sakin the Dwemer Smith, the first book is Sakin the Ash Smith.

Several drawings in this one and you can see Sakin has improved over the years =D The vision from his dream is more naive but at the same time I think it fits. I’ve always tried to picture what those dreams we had in Morrowind could be like, I regreted that it was only a text sum up and not some ingame vision…

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3E214 Second Seed
“How do we get out of here?”
“Why get out? Don’t you feel the breathe of Charma? The intensity of past mingling into a new brew of worlding?”
“Do you realize your words make less and less sense?”
“That is for you have to dive in them with your hearth. Follow the pace and breathe the words.”
“You look strange… What’s happening to you, Ralas? What’s going on here?”
“I’m about to awake, my friend, I feel the embrace of my lord in my dreams, I’m dancing with him… The blessing is coming. The true blessing. Not the curse like them.”
He looked at some Corprus stalkers further away. For some reason they weren’t attacking us but I wasn’t sure if it was a good thing or not.
“You mean Corprus? That’s the …blessing?” I freaked out.
“Yes, friend. But fear not. It might scare you but I will not harm you. You have mercy beyond the hatred you bear for those poor souls that were unable to appreciate the knowledge of the lord bloating their bodies. Their flesh suffers from what the mind cannot accept and they will be swallowed as long as they can’t find the way, the true path, the right pace. The peace.”
I felt dull, still exhausted.
“I like you, Ralas… I don’t want to loose you like this…”
“As Dagoth Reler told me, there is no loss in salvation, Sakin. I am peaceful, dreaming softly. I am ready to awake but I swear I will not forget about you. You’ll join us when the time comes for you to do so. I will lead you to Charma’s Breathe and maybe you’ll wish to breathe the real air outside but I know you’ll come back. When time comes.”
“Did you talk about getting outside?”
“I will show you the way. But in time. Sleep now, child, sleep.”

Sakin the Dwemer Smith
This book is the sequel of Sakin the Dwemer Smith, the first book is Sakin the Ash Smith.

There’s a little drawing at the end of the book and more to come in the next one :) I really like the lines of Ralas, it was great to write and I hope you enjoy.

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3E214 First Seed
I’ve found a rather safe spot. I’m still shocked. Very much so. I was in the stronghold, searching. A true labyrinth! I got completely lost, everything looked the same and I felt like running in circles again and again so I tried to get down some stairs for I thought maybe I climbed some stairs and didn’t remember it. I thought I remembered there were stairs involved at some point. Down there it was even more or a labyrinth and I couldn’t find where I came from. I’m so stupid! Stupid! Stupid! Stupid Sakin!

[…]

“Only our lord, Dagoth Ur is true as he always was, loyal Dagoth Ur.”
“It’s the one that lives in the volcano, somewhere atop the Red Mountain. It’s your lord now?”
“I heard his voice, Sakin. He spoke to me, he gave me comfort and opened my eyes to the reality of this world. All is inversed. The chairs are on the tables. The Tribunal is evil and the dream is real. The false gods will fall while he rises.

TES – Telvanni Sweets

Telvanni Sweets
This book is written by Felix Beauciel, the fictive author of Children of Shame and gives an insight on the cultural and noble aspect of slavery in Morrowind seen by a Telvanni House Dunmer.
It was a lot of fun to write and I love the Telvanni, they’re so twisted…

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“Milah prepared some sweets,” he simply said as we sat in the living room.
I gave him a nervous smile. “The sweets that you told me not to eat the other day… what was the problem with them?”
“They were poisoned of course. It wouldn’t have killed you but you would have been terribly sick…”
“Did I do something she didn’t appreciate? I’ve never talked to her directly, did it make her mad?”
He gave me a slightly amused look with the perfect amount of disdain and sorryness to make me feel absolutely stupid.
“I guess this question is irrelevant… non-sense?”
“It is. You’re such a funny thing, Felix… Milah is a slave, she has no word to say and what she did could be a terrible insult and act of rebellion. But it is not.”
“Was it a mistake, so?”
“Oh, you really don’t understand? She poisoned the sweets and that’s all, those things happen…”
I wasn’t understanding indeed. “But she’s your slave… and she poisoned the food we were going to eat… What was the purpose if not to kill us?”
[…]

TES – Another Book of Daedra

Another Book of Daedra
You can read below what’s the aim of this book, in short it’s with not surprise a book about the 16 Daedra princes. This is again a production from that RP session, I’m not telling it’s entirely canon but I think it’s still a vision matching the lore.

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You probably already know the wondrous Book of Daedra describing the spheres of the Daedra princes and maybe you think this present book is a rip off. Not exactly I would say. This book is also about the Daedra princes and their spheres but the focus is more on the “why” than on the “who and what”.
[…]
To begin I will remind you first what Daedric planes are: Daedra princes themselves. There is no real difference between the prince and the realm, neither between the prince and any lesser Daedra. They are all a same energetic entity divided in different aspects, what we call the prince is the concept governing this energy. So when you conjure a Daedroth you’re actually inviting a little piece of Molag Bal on Tamriel.
[…]

The Book of Q'amsha
Ooookay, so this is not a book for everybody I assume. It’s the anuad I told about time ago, the text was done but I needed to find time to make the illustrations. Those who’ve read many TES books may think I’ve smoked the Mysterium Xarxes stuffed with the Lessons of Vivec I guess
Actually the Q’amsha is some sort of weird little tribe composed of characters “who have changed” along an irl RP session of several months, few months ago. Raton was a rat that was changed into a young Dunmer after eating bits of the “Great Mushroom of the Dremora-mer” (you can lol).
I played his role and at some point had to tell his vision of the anuad and this book is almost exactly what I improvised, I just detailed a little more the part about Mythic Dawn and made the part about Alduin more clear after playing Skyrim few hours.
For total improvisation I think it’s not bad XD

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[…]
Light Brother looks and stops Dark Brother as he’s about to kill Creation again.
“This is Nirh and I give her my perfecting love for love is the miss.”
“You do not understand, Creation is my love for Creation is me. That is why I will destroy it again and give it birth again for that is how I love.”
[…]
The truth was so strong though that even rightly born the Dragon of Time is wounded and from this wound his love is spilled as his first son is born, the Devouring Time bearing the original will of Dark Brother, the Dark Hour that revolves itself endlessly like the spinning serpent.
[…] (yes, these are Akatosh and Alduin)
But the Khajiit did not fit perfectly in the Earth Bones and their shape was unstable.
“Not this mistake again,” Lorkhan said. “Change is a good thing. The Earth Bones are too tight for the cat people so I will give them my bones. Look how I walk and follow me, on the tip of your toes or on flat foot as I do, with all your mass weighting strong on the ground or swift dexterity to stand up with a perfect balance.” And so the Khajiit would look like Lorkhan walked.
[…]
Lorkhan was then mortal and his body was torn and crumpled into balls of flesh that became the moons. But one of the Aedra had come to love Lorkhan with whom she had many children that were the men of the North. It was Kyne that became the sky where she could lull the moons at night.
[…]

Sakin the Dwemer Smith
This book is the sequel of Sakin the Dwemer Smith, the first book is Sakin the Ash Smith.

I must warn you, there are few illustrations in this book and one is supposedly explicit and mature content.

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3E208 Frostfall
Something very strange happened with the radio-wave detector. It was buzzing again and I tweaked a little the buttons to put make it do the right sound again but in spite of the drunk Silt Rider sound I started to hear scratchy noises. And something sounding like voices. I freaked out a little and dared ask a question to the device. It was something like this:
“Are you the voice I hear speaking in that wicked language?”
It answered after a little time. “In which realm are you?” it said.
“Morrowind, I guess. The land of my Dunmer ancestors I’d say. Who are you for the sake of Azura? Will you damn leave me alone at night?”
It took a little time again. “Who are you?” I wondered if it was some sort of echo.
“I’m Sakin Odinsar-Tibashipal. Does it matter? Will you stop your freaky talking?”
“Is that you who’s messing the communications?” It asked. It then said lots of stuff I didn’t understand apart “radio-waves”.

Sakin the Dwemer Smith
This book is the sequel of Sakin the Ash Smith

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3E204 Sun’s Height
I don’t understand! It’s frustrating! I’ve found a similar piece in all those machines including that detector device but I don’t get what it does. It seems to have no effect, removing it doesn’t change anything… But there must be a purpose… I shall find out.

I hope there’s a forge in the next room. All that Dwemer stuff is frustrating me, I feel like my rats in their cage except that they have company of their kind and seem to enjoy life as they fuck each other all day long. I’m so alone… I’m upset, I can’t bear their sight today. I miss Eli, I miss my father, I miss the tribe… I want to go home and I hate those horrible creatures outside!

Azura, please, hear my prayers! I can’t spend all my life here! Please, please… Make those monsters go away so I can get out…

Another Book of Daedra
This is the first book of the story of Sakin Odinsar-Tibashipal, the Dunmer Ashlander blacksmith. It’s beginning prior to the events of Morrowind (and all other previous TES games actually), it’s a quite fun adventure written int he form of diaries.

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3E203 Frostfall
The wise woman told me I should care about what I write in this diary in case it’s found by an outsider. So I won’t talk about the tribe.
The other day I went to Ashurnabitashpi with Elirabael, my best friend. We found a clanfear and killed it then took its claws. I’ll make pretty pendants with them. I like making jewelry time to time. In the ruin I tried to mine the walls a bit. Elirabael says it’s useless because even if I can cut a piece of Daedric stone off the wall I can’t melt it. I say it must be possible with a fire hot enough. I’ve heard there’s hot fire in Dwemer ruins so one day I’ll take a piece of Daedric stone to a Dwemer ruin and I’ll show them it’s possible.

3E203 Evening Star
It took time but I finally got that piece of Daedric stone! It’s not huge but I’m sure there’s enough to make a blade. Elirabael says I’m crazy but he still came with me everyday. He says it was just because he likes sneaking and backstabing the Daedra but I know he believes in me. That’s how we are. Manly friends.

TES – Red Riding Hood

Another Book of Daedra
What would be the story of the little red riding hood in The Edler Scrolls? Firt the wolf is not a wolf… I set the story in the Alessian period, a quite harsh time with straight religious minds.

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“What about I bring Granny one of your delicious pies, mother?” Red Riding Hood proposed. “I am done with my work, if I leave in one hour or two I’ll be there before night and back in the morning.”
Her mother smiled. “This is a good idea, dear daughter. But promise me you will not leave the road and will talk to no one on your way, there are dangerous people out there.”
“Yes, mother, I know, all are guilty until they have proven themselves innocent. I will follow my way and won’t talk with anybody,” Red Riding Hood promised.

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And so within one hour the pie was done and the daughter was gone. She went her way through the forest, following the road. As she had been walking for one hour or so without seeing anyone she heard some noise in the bushes. She screamed in terror when a mighty wolf came out.
“Wait, don’t scream,” the wolf said.
Red Riding Hood now screamed in horror as she heard the beast speaking.
“Please, don’t worry, I’m not a werewolf. I am just a poor man and I have been changed into a wolf… The only way for me to become human again is to pay my debt by helping people.”

Wild but not savage elves
[upate: pdf is up, excerpt below!]

Actually I think this book is the first I wrote since I began playing Skyrim… It’s about the Ayleid of course, the wild elves. I wrote this book in a single dash, very quickly but came with the theories inside during a RP session that lasted for a good time. There was lots lots of improvisation during the play but things just fit together on their own I guess. I hope you enjoy, I had a lot of fun writing this, especially since the character of Leon Vilmont isn’t as brave in life than he is with his quill (you know that kind of “shit happens” person?). Leon is part of the +200 characters I had to come up for this few months RP session and I really like him.

The text is a little long, barely formated like this, sorry… I used to make clean pdf. Then I took an arrow in the knee.
Next to come: another anuad and a series about male High Rock witches (vampires included) and another book of Daedra! And more again…

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[…]
To begin with I will say simply that most scholars who study the Ayleids are idiots, and the ones who are surprised that so few information can be found about them, are twice this idiot. The only lesson my father actually taught me would resume this simply: History is written by the winners and men were the winners after Alessia led the rebellion that drove out the elves up to the foundation of our great and beloved Empire. Sadly back then humans were as stupid as most still are in some places I won’t name and they merely destroyed about everything that could give us any clue about the Ayleid civilisation they so loathed. They kept only what seemed good to them, they took the White Gold Tower, they settled their quarters in what was now the Imperial City, unaware of the might of the place, never even minding about the purpose of such a construction…
[…]
We figured out that the large stones that would raise to crush anything up the ceiling and the pierced ones that would descend to impale anything on spikes weren’t trigger as much by the pressure of weight but that of magical energy. So to say, anything alive or undead. If such a being ever walked on the trap their own energy would disturb the energy field of the trap and trigger it. You could compare those stones to the arrow hold by the archer as the bow is banded. If you tickle the archer at this precise moment — which I do not recommend just as I do not recommend walking into any trap; then the archer will likely let go the arrow. Note that eventually he’ll also get mad and beat you while the Ayleid trap has no such concerns.
[…]