Oh, this looks really good. Lots and lots of sites that provide visuals, facts, and suggestions for game plot/story/background types of stuff. Ancient ruins. Geographical info. Photo collections. A random word generator.

Nice.

Actually, a lot of these are still in use today.

Despite some inacccurately paranoid bits about radiation, this Flickr set of an abandoned and slowly decaying DEW Line radar station in Alaska is … really cool. And great setting fodder.

Kids, don’t try this at home. Writers, though, might find it handy.

Occured to me I should note this over here as some great background photos to inspire scene descriptions in an underground base / bunker / facility:  an abandoned Russian submarine base.

I tend to be a tad pedantic in my proper, formal English — but I also recognize that English has a lot of exceptions, colloquialisms, and various rules that are design more for the sake of rules than for clarity of communication.

Here’s a fun list of some of the “rules” that aren’t.  The fact is that, really, there are no rules to a language.  There are conventions, styles, and gentlemen’s agreements as to how to be clear in communication.  The closest we have to “rules” are spelling, and beyond some fundamentals, a lot of what the grammar cops nail folks on are not really rules at all.  And while grammar is critical for clear communication,
recognizing how communication is already clear (in spite of the “rules”) is also important.

Regime vs. regimen

Some people insist that “regime” should be used only in reference to governments, and that people who say they are following a dietary regime should instead use “regimen”; but “regime” has been a synonym of “regimen” for over a century, and is widely accepted in that sense.

Near miss

It is futile to protest that “near miss” should be “near collision.” This expression is a condensed version of something like “a miss that came very near to being a collision” and is similar to “narrow escape.” Everyone knows what is meant by it and almost everyone uses it. It should be noted that the expression can also be used in the sense of almost succeeding in striking a desired target: “His Cointreau soufflé was a near miss.”

“None” singular vs. plural

Some people insist that since “none” is derived from “no one” it should always be singular: “none of us is having dessert.” However, in standard usage, the word is most often treated as a plural. “None of us are having dessert” will do just fine.

Note also that the first two (and, arguably, the third) of the above are not so much grammar (how language is structured) as definitions (what words mean).  And, as anyone will tell you, dictionaries are meant to be descriptive, not proscriptive.  I.e., they describe language as used, not define how people “should” use language (except insofar as people should try to communicate clearly).

Beyond this, note that all the rules are tossed out the window, pretty much, when writing dialog.  Dialog is how people talk.  It is rarely fully grammatical (unless that’s what a character is noteworthy for).  It’s conversational, something very different.

Good stuff, and worth a read.  In addition to grammar, there’s spelling and definitions and even folk etymology discussions.  And, as always, consider what you’re trying to convey and what your audience is likely to understand (or misunderstand). 

But don’t try that “irregardless” crap on me.  Or I will hurt you.

Victorian Criminal Slang (part of the broader Victorian Dictionary). E.g.,

‘Crankey Jem has done it brown, has’nt he?’ said policeman Crisp.
‘He has indeed,’ replied the inspector. ‘But what could he have done with all the swag?’ 1
‘Oh! he’s fadded2 that safe enough,’ observed the officer. ‘My eye! What a slap-up lily benjamin3 he had on when he was nabbed.’
‘Yes – and sich a swell bandanna fogle4 in the gropus.’5
‘He hadn’t any ready tin though; for he wanted to peel,6 and put the white-poodle up the spout7 for a drop of max.’8
‘And because you wouldn’t let him he doubled you up with a wallop in your dumpling-depot,9 didn’t he?’
‘Yes – but I bruised his cannister10 for him though.’
‘This’ll be the third time he’s been afore the beaks11 at the Old Bailey.’
‘Consequently he’s sartain sure to be lagged.’12
‘Ah! it must be a clever nob in the fur trade13 who’ll get him off.’
‘Well – talking makes me thirsty,’ said Crisp, ‘I wish I’d some’ot to sluice my ivories14 with.’
1. Booty, plunder. 2. Secured. 3. White Upper Coat : synonymous with ‘White Poodle.’ 4. Handkerchief. 5. Pocket. 6. Strip. 7. Pawn the coat. 9. Gin. 9. Stomach. 10. Head. 11. Judges. 12. Transported. 13. Barrister 14. Teeth.
George Reynolds, The Mysteries of London, 1848-52

The Fantastic in Art and Fiction, a collection of old Medievalish images and woodcuts, from Cornell University’s Institute for Digital Collections (CIDC).

In the context of western literature of the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, The Fantastic involves dread, fear and anxiety in the face of phenomena that escape rational explanation, or that reveal the notion of reality to be no more than a construct. A fantastic experience can therefore be likened to the breaking or shattering of a frame. While the literary fantastic is limited to the last 200 years, the Fantastic in art can be construed more broadly. This elasticity allowed us to choose images from works spanning a period from medieval manuscripts and printed incunabulae, to the early twentieth century.

The Dictionary of the Vulgar Tongue, by Francis Grose (1811)

A DICTIONARY OF BUCKISH SLANG, UNIVERSITY WIT, AND PICKPOCKET ELOQUENCE.
UNABRIDGED FROM THE ORIGINAL 1811 EDITION WITH A FOREWORD BY ROBERT CROMIE
COMPILED ORIGINALLY BY CAPTAIN GROSE.
AND NOW CONSIDERABLY ALTERED AND ENLARGED, WITH THE MODERN CHANGES AND IMPROVEMENTS, BY A MEMBER OF THE WHIP CLUB.
ASSISTED BY HELL-FIRE DICK, AND JAMES GORDON, ESQRS. OF CAMBRIDGE; AND WILLIAM SOAMES, ESQ. OF THE HON. SOCIETY OF NEWMAN’S HOTEL.

All quite nice.

Various doomsday scenarios. Always good for the end of a story … or for its beginning …

Friends don’t let friends write about this stuff. Though I suddenly have a desire, in the next storyball, to see how many of these I can cram into a single tale …
(via GeekPress)

A map of wealth distribution and poor areas in London, 1898-99, and a story in the Economist on the same:

AT THE end of the 19th century, an intrepid social scientist visited Stockwell, in south London. He was involved in an ambitious project, led by the shipping magnate Charles Booth, to colour-code every street in the capital according to its social make-up. In general, the area struck him as comfortable. But just east of Stockwell Road he found a pocket of filth and squalor, with rowdy residents and broken windows. It was, he believed, “far the worst place in the division”.
Since then, the area has been transformed. Dismal two-storey cottages have been swept away and replaced by grass and the apartment blocks of the Stockwell Park Estate. But the appearance of the neighbourhood has changed more than its character. Julie Fawcett, who lives in one of the blocks, characterises her neighbours as “the mad, the bad and the sad”. Unemployment is more than double the borough average. Next to the very street that appalled the Victorian social scientist is one nicknamed Heroin Alley.

(via BoingBoing)