FUNDED! And unlocked our FIFTH stretch goal!
over 2 years ago – Thu, Jul 13, 2023 at 11:59:41 AM

Bacon Master of the Apocalypse ended up almost 350% funded!

THANK YOU all for your enthusiastic support, and for believing in this product enough to back it up front. I am deeply honored by that trust, and am eager to fulfill all of the rewards as soon as possible.

We also unlocked our FIFTH stretch goal! Yay! Here's the list of all of the final stretch goals we unlocked.

We already held the Zoom call, which was really fun, even though many of you could not make it.

I'll be sending out a poll very soon asking for your opinions on the bonus scene that will be included in the novel.

Other than that bonus scene, edits for Bacon Master of the Apocalypse are complete! And edits to book two in the series (working title - Pawn of the Pantryon) are well underway.

I will be using Backerkit for fulfillment, so stay tuned for information about that process and the questionnaire regarding addresses for shipping, etc.

Again, Thank you! Have a wondeful day.

Frank

A Great Review, A Chapter Preview, and A Reminder of Tonight's Zoom Call
over 2 years ago – Mon, Jul 10, 2023 at 11:21:25 AM

Good morning! As the campaign rolls into the final couple of days, we're still making solid progress and I have three fun updates for you.

First, reminder to all backers of the Zoom call with me tonight at 6 PM PST. 

The Zoom details were included in the last backer-only campaign update. Any new backers who sign up today prior to the call are also welcome to join us.

I hope many of you can make it. We'll chat about the story, the world of Bacon Master, the characters, the magic, our best dad jokes, favorite recipes, and whatever else you want to bring up.

Second, I received a very positive review from Midwest Book Review today!

MBR is one of the premier, trusted book review sites, and I'm thrilled with the review. I'll post the entire review on the Bacon Master of the Apocalypse FB group page, but here's an excerpt:

Bacon Master of the Apocalypse is a rich introduction to the Bacon Master series that sets the stage for a mouth-watering romp into apocalyptic and culinary circles. Frank Morin's ability to create richly mouth-watering scenarios of fast-paced action touched with a topping of ironic humor makes for a story that is unpredictable and delightfully full-bodied.

The social and political intrigues which swirl around the unlikely savior are delightfully rendered throughout. Think The Princess Bride, with its undercurrents of serious action, tempered by the sassy irony of a bacon-infused personality whose bumbling powers work against one another way too often.

It's highly recommended. Its ribald humor and world-romping encounters are vivid, nicely presented, and flavored with all the attraction of culinary art and fantastic encounters alike.

(D. Donovan, Senior Reviewer, Midwest Book Review)

Third, here's the full text of Chapter One for you to enjoy!

Chapter One - The Bubble & Squeak

Rasher Dilskin shoved an entire cream-filled pastry into his mouth and savored the explosion of sugary sweetness. No enhancements by confectioners or muffin mages. Just pure, uncomplicated pleasure.

"I can't believe you can eat so much," said the captain sitting across the game table, a look of awe on her face, which was shaded by her wide-brimmed hat.

Rasher glanced down at the stacks of empty plates scattered around him and shrugged. "Some days I need the boost."

"I'd be comatose by now," admitted a fresh-faced legionnaire whose hat barely counted as a cap, and who had watched Rasher eating with growing amazement.

"I can keep this up all night," Rasher replied with a grin, eliciting chuckles from the other players who were doing well, and scowls from those who weren’t.

He glanced at his hand of brightly colored playing cards. That last draw had filled it in perfectly. The only thing better than a winning streak playing Thirteen Courses was a long winning streak at the Bubble and Squeak. The popular gaming tavern was packed, and his opponents had enough money and skill to bet with confidence and lose with grace. Mostly.

As he glanced around the table, he adjusted his golden frying-pan-shaped hat and released a partial slice of crispy bacon into his smile, adding that hint of charisma unique to bacon masters. The men and women sitting around him couldn't miss it, not when he laid it on as thick as fresh butter on warm toast.

Most of them glanced at their hands, suddenly nervous. If he was so confident, should they be worried?

More than a few people clustered around his table, dressed from soup to sandwiches to impress. Some wanted to watch the game, hoping to sip off the energy of gambling without making their own bets, like a date who refused to order her own dessert but liked to sample everyone else's. Others came looking for a chair, eager to join the game, or came to spread the latest rumors about him. A few even looked ready to fry up enough courage to take up the open challenge, share a new recipe, and pose the latest theory.

He already knew most of the public-level recipes, and most of the theories were thankfully way off the mark, but the intrigue kept them coming and kept the plates in front of him full. Rasher applied a bit more of the bacon power stored inside of him onto his pleasantly full stomach, and the food began dissolving into pure energy.

As far as he knew, he was the only bacon master to have discovered the trick. He doubted anyone else needed it so badly. He called that energy his extra sizzle, and that sizzle played a vital role in his success.

Tonight was turning into a delicious evening. The sweet cream on it all was the fact that he got to play with legionnaires of the Reaper legions, stationed together in the Acropolis, the walled mini-city that was their home on the edge of the great capital city of Afitur. 

Across from the young private, who played with far more enthusiasm than skill, sat a grizzled sergeant who wore his cap placed precisely, the short front brim polished to a shine. He placed every card with exactness. Next to the sergeant sat the captain of a hundred-man archery Platter.

"I've got one," the private said with a hopeful grin, eliciting a groan from the sergeant.

"He knows all your recipes," the sergeant complained.

"I bet he doesn’t know this one," the younger man insisted. "Got it from my mom. If I'm wrong, I'll buy all of you a round of drinks."

That lightened the mood, and the sergeant shrugged and said, "I hope you haven't lost all your coins, son."

Rasher snagged the last bacon-wrapped cheese ball off a plate, again lacking any enhancement but the bacon, and gestured to the private. "Hit me with it."

"Okay." The young man glanced up at the crowd encircling the table, many of whom looked as eager as he did. No one had shared a recipe Rasher hadn't known all evening. "I've got a recipe for maple-glazed, bacon-wrapped broccoli. Should enhanced your powers and also grant low level strength boost."

"That sounds gross," the captain said with a grimace.

"Well, I never liked it much," the private admitted, eliciting a round of laughter. "But I figured a bacon master might."

"Nice try," Rasher told him. "The enhancements sound good, but the flavor combination doesn't entice me much." The young man seemed to wilt, and the watching crowd groaned.

They wanted to hear a theory, and squashing their hope would curdle their curiosity. So he spread his hands wide and added, "But the deal was, share a recipe I didn't know. I've never heard that one, so ask."

"Really?" the young man's face brightened and the crowds drew closer, whispering excitedly.

Few people besides Rasher wore their uniforms. Men wore fashionable suits in conservative pastel colors, while the women's outfits ranged from bright sun dresses to elegant gowns in vibrant colors. Hats of all shapes and sizes adorned their heads, ranging from simple legionnaire caps to vast, multi-leveled creations popular in the highest levels of society.

The sergeant scowled and asked, "So if I invent some stupid recipe that doesn't make sense, I can pose another theory?"

"When skill is lacking, enthusiasm sometimes saves the day," Rasher said.

"And which of Rasher's Rules of Engagement is that?" asked the captain, an amused smile on her lips.

"Number forty-nine."

The young legionnaire blurted out, "Do you have a terminal illness?"

"Not the first time I've heard that one," Rasher said with a shake of his head. Of the dozens of increasingly wild rumors about why a bacon master would be stuck as a paint battle trainer, that one came closest to one version of the truth.

The young man cursed softly to himself, glancing at his tiny stack of remaining coins. "I needed the money."

"So play your card already," grumbled the stocky legionnaire corporal to Rasher's left. He hunched over his cards as if to protect them from another loss, his dirt-smudged cap slightly askew.

Thirteen Courses was part cuisine planning and part strategy, a delicious blend of challenge and skill as each player worked to design the most powerful hands to deal damage to their opponents while enhancing their own abilities and boosting defense. Playing it not only required nimbleness of mind and a solid grasp of culinary magic crafting, but also the ability to read one's opponents, a skill that Rasher excelled at.

He played an oatmeal cookie card onto the table near his other face-up cards. "Power up to my mixing and baking skills. I can now produce one extra incendiary muffin per turn."

The others groaned. The confectioner enhancement magnified his already-strong hand to a tipping point.

The corporal next to him tossed his cards to the table with a scowl. "I'm out. How do you always manage to find the one card you need?"

"It's all about the planning," Rasher told him as he scanned the rest of the table, reading defeat in their eyes. All quickly folded, not wanting to waste time drawing out the inevitable and losing more money in the process.

As he swept coins into the growing stack in front of him, Rasher's attention was drawn to the front door, where a crowd was gathering. The Bubble and Squeak always bustled with activity. The expansive front room served drinks and meals prepared by a talented staff, led by a full tournant chef. The man often left the kitchens to tour the dining area, proudly wearing his tall toque hat topped with three colored bands of black, red, and blue.

A low wall separated the dining area from the huge gaming hall where Rasher sat. The hall offered one of the best selections of entertainment in the sector. Round tables for card games and tabletop games were interspersed with rectangular food challenge counters surrounded by narrow tables, packed with patrons. The chefs running each station cooked recipes using ingredients prepared in advance by the various guilds of magic.

The sound of sizzling meat and the staccato chopping of vegetables by fast-moving knives blended with the constant low rumbling of hundreds of conversations. Dozens of scents melded into a warm, mouth-watering aroma that blanketed the high-ceilinged hall. The juicy scent of grilled steak mixed with the sharp scent of cut spices and the warmth of fresh-baked pastries that wrapped Rasher's nose like a tantalizing blanket. Other scents piled on top, creating a unique blend that stirred the blood and made him grin when he breathed deeply.

Betting was growing heated at the nearest chef station as the patrons tried identifying the mystery recipe. In a moment, they would have to put their mouths where their money was and try the recipe. The results were often hilarious, sometimes painful, and occasionally spectacular. Three Milk Mages and their healing staff remained on hand to deal with any culinary emergencies.

The most interesting areas were at the back of the hall, where the guilds often demonstrated new recipes they'd devised with the chefs, and unleashed samples of devastating new battle cuisine within the protected confines of the food fight arena. An upstairs balcony offered excellent viewing of new recipes and food fights. He was planning to go up there to witness an exhibit of a new gingersnap wheel scheduled for later. Supposedly it reduced friction to nearly zero.

It was not unusual for famous people to drop by the Bubble and Squeak, and that's what seemed to be the cause of the crowds around the door.

"Is that Sumwinkle?" asked the enthusiastic young legionnaire, who had just risen from his chair, having lost most of that week's pay.

"Don't disappear," the sergeant warned. "You still owe us that round."

The young man sank back into his seat, looking worriedly at his coins again as Rasher peered at the distant door.

Sumwinkle Flink was indeed weaving through the tables, heading toward the gaming area. There was no mistaking that distinctive green tricorne Reaper hat. Sumwinkle's bore the Reaper butcher knife emblem on the right side, and the noodle emblem on the left. The tall man cut a heroic figure in that hat, his black uniform also bearing the Reaper emblem on the chest.

The sight of the white butcher knife on a red field filled Rasher with pride, as always. Everyone in the legions dedicated their lives to serving and aiding the Reapers in their gods-proclaimed duty to defend the Rubric Empire from the threat of apocalypse.

"Hey, that's Otamot too," said the archery captain, her face flushing as she jumped to her feet, literally hopping on her toes for a better view.

The rest of the players rose from the table. Even though the entire purpose of the legions were to support and fight alongside the Reapers, most of the troops rarely got to see the famous Reapers up close.

Sumwinkle was a renowned noodle warrior and one of the most popular of the Reapers, a hero who embodied all their best attributes. He waved and smiled as he moved through the room, greeting many people by name. Otamot Lyterian was tall, with famous good looks and an athlete's physique. His black hair and bright blue eyes framed a ruggedly handsome face.

He was also a bacon master, at least ten years older than Rasher’s twenty-one. Rasher had wanted to meet him for a long time. Looked like he’d finally get his chance. He shoved his coins into his pouch, then flipped a silver spoon to the young private, who stared at the heavy coin in shock. The lad had started the night with barely three silver spoon's worth of coins.

"What's this for?"

"You have good posture. Don't move for a second."

Rasher sprang to the table, then launched off the lad's head, leaping ten feet up into the air to catch a horizontal pole hanging from the high ceiling.

"There he goes again," the sergeant grunted as Rasher swung from the pole, flinging himself across a wide gap to a vertical pole, which he used to slingshot himself farther.

He released bacon to fuel his reflexes and quickly crossed the hall, swinging and flipping and jumping between fixed poles and free-swinging rings on chains.

The fixtures were usually only used by acrobatic performers who entertained the crowd from above some nights, but Rasher loved borrowing them. Many looked up to watch him, some laughing, some scowling, and no doubt a few generating a new rumor or two. Rasher simply enjoyed the thrill of flinging himself across the room, trusting to his skill and his bacon to avoid a painful crash.

In seconds, he intercepted Sumwinkle's party, and with a triple backflip dismount, he landed lightly on his feet between two tables. A scattered ripple of applause greeted the move, and he bowed, sweeping his hat wide in thanks.

When he rose, he found a big, burly fellow, half a head taller than his own six feet, standing in his way. He possessed the golden eyes of a tiger-enhanced warrior. Indeed, he wore a black leather bowler-style hat with a stylized tiger on the crown. That was the hat of the Gleaners, the most elite of the legion forces, who worked as close support to the Reapers. He also wore a lieutenant's emblem, meaning he led a full Fist of twenty-five soldiers from five separate squads.

Rasher smiled, trying to slip around the big fellow, but the soldier held out a thick arm to block his way. "Where do you think you're going?" 

His voice wasn't friendly, and he'd failed to note Rasher's captain insignia. Rasher decided to ignore the slight and did not let his smile slip. "Excuse me. I just need to say hello."

The big soldier grunted, a scowl turning his square face menacing. "You've got a lot of nerve, little man."

"Excuse me, but have I defeated you before?" Rasher asked, surprised by the hostility in the man's cat-like eyes. He had an excellent memory for people and names, but couldn't remember interacting with the grumpy lieutenant.

"If you tried, you wouldn't still have all those shiny teeth."

That kind of aggression was as familiar to him as the weight of his favorite hat. He released half a slice of crispy bacon, fixed the big fellow with a steady gaze and said, "Was it a paint battle tournament, or did I simply best you walking in a straight line?"

The big fellow growled and lashed out with one huge fist, moving with supernatural speed.

Rasher smoothly leaned back, his own movement speed enhanced by bacon, just avoiding the fist. He'd expected the reaction and guessed the fellow's reach. He adjusted his stance and smiled, savoring the thrill that raced through him at the thought of impending conflict.

Half a slice of bacon would double his speed and agility for about thirty seconds. He had plenty more already absorbed into his body, pooled like a low-stoked fire in his joints, ready to be released.

"Balter, what's going on?" Sumwinkle asked, moving up beside the big fellow.

"Just a fool who needs to be taught a lesson," Balter growled.

"At least you're self-aware enough to realize you need help. That's promising," Rasher said.

"I'll rip off your ears," Balter growled, taking an angry step forward until Sumwinkle ordered, "Stand down."

His voice stayed calm but carried absolute authority. Balter stopped instantly, and Sumwinkle added, "What started this?"

"Nothing," Balter growled.

Otamot joined them, and the eager crowd pressed in around. Otamot's easy smile faltered as his gaze flicked over Rasher. Before Balter could stop him, Rasher stepped forward and extended a hand in greeting, eager to finally meet the famous bacon master.

"It's a sincere honor to meet you, Reaper Otamot." Even though they were the only two bacon masters in the city that Rasher was aware of, he'd never gained a one-on-one meeting.

Otamot hesitated, his eyes flicking toward the watching crowds. Then he took the proffered hand and spoke in a slightly nasal voice. "Rasher, isn't it? I heard you've got a standing bet of fifty golden spatulas no one can guess why your career has stalled."

Well, that was not the reception he'd expected.

"No one's guessed it yet. If you want to give it a go, you have to tell me a recipe I haven't heard before."

"Tempting, but why ruin everyone's fun so fast?"

The look in his eye suggested he knew. Fish sticks. Rasher flashed his trademark grin again, while inwardly he seethed. That liver-licking turkey chewer must have talked with the guild leadership in Weghiv.

All he said was, "That's the spirit. In fact, how about I give you a free training lesson? I'd be happy to raise your skills a notch."

The comment triggered a round of laughter, and Otamot tried to look amused. The Reaper's unfriendly eyes never left Rasher's. "I heard you're reckless."

Otamot might know his secret, but Rasher had taken control of the conversation. He hadn't planned to push the Reaper, but like he taught his students, when hostility could not be avoided, stomp it like a grape.

"If training with me intimidates you, why don't you sign up for the paint battle championship, and we can meet in friendly competition?"

That generated a round of surprised mutterings, and a few people even encouraged Otamot to pick up the challenge. He never would, but the pressure irritated him, and that was a beautiful thing.

Otamot leaned a bit closer and said softly, "I don't play at war. When I fight, people get hurt."

That triggered a round of whistles and cheers from the crowd. It was disappointing to realize he'd never had a hope of a positive meeting with the man, but he'd long ago learned to adopt flexibility of mind like a well-cooked noodle.

Sumwinkle smoothly interjected before Rasher could respond. "Excuse us. We've got a private function to attend."

Rasher turned to him, hoping to rescue something out of the rare opportunity. "Reaper Sumwinkle, I apologize for interrupting your evening. Balter, I have no idea what I did to offend you, but I apologize for that too."

"Figures. You're clueless as well as useless," Balter muttered.

His hopes fell like a cake pulled too early from the oven. If he backed away now, he'd only make them think he was cowardly.

So he said, "Balter, you've repeatedly insulted me without provocation. Your mouth is bigger than those giant elephant ears plastered to the side of your head. I'm afraid I'm going to have to teach you a lesson in manners."

Balter swelled with menace, and the people pressing in on every side recoiled with audible gasps. Expectant silence blanketed the crowd like a top crust dropped over a freshly prepared pie. Balter's corded muscles bulged as he clenched his huge fists and growled, "I think the two of us need to step outside."

Rasher grinned, a plan forming. Brawling in an alleyway would not serve any useful purpose, but he had Sumwinkle's attention and was not about to waste the opportunity.

"All those muscles have squeezed your brain space. Here at the Bubble and Squeak, we don't step outside." He lifted his hands high, glancing around at the crowd.

As one, they all shouted enthusiastically, "Food fight!"

I hope you enjoyed it. I look forward to speaking with many of you tonight!

Frank

The last week - and ZOOM call scheduled
almost 3 years ago – Thu, Jul 06, 2023 at 10:18:20 AM

This post is for backers only. Please visit Kickstarter.com and log in to read.

$5000 Stretch Goal Unlocked! Exceeded 250% funding!
almost 3 years ago – Fri, Jun 30, 2023 at 06:10:23 PM

The momentum continues! We've just unlocked our FOURTH stretch goal!

Super thrilled to announce that we'll be including the Bacon Master world map within the digital art package every backer will receive!

Check it out:

Love the custom artwork on this one.

I've also updated the list of stretch goals on the campaign, detailing the next few, leading up to the inclusion of full color artwork pages at the beginning of the special exclusive faux-leather edition hardcover!

If our momentum continues, we have an excellent chance of unlocking that one, which will raise the already-epic special edition to an even higher level.

Thank you for helping make this a reality!

Frank

ZOOM call UNLOCKED!
almost 3 years ago – Wed, Jun 28, 2023 at 01:27:50 PM

Today we hit $4,800 and unlocked the special stretch goal I added this week - the Zoom call with me to discuss the book, the magic, the world of bacon master, along with favorite recipes and the best dad jokes!

I want to hold the Zoom call in just over a week, so here are the available date/times. Please respond with the one(s) that work best for you, and I will do my best to find the best possible time.

• Friday, July 7 at 5 PM PST
• Saturday, July 8 at 8 AM PST
• Saturday, July 8 at 5 PM PST
• Sunday, July 9 at 3 PM PST
• Monday, July 10 at 6 PM PST

This will be a backer-only call, so anyone watching the project and seeing these public updates, you will need to back the campaign at some level to get the Zoom invite.

Please also submit any questions or discussion topic ideas you have prior to the call.

I am really looking forward to chatting with many of you in person!

Thanks!

Frank

P.S.  Check out this cool Pantryon art I generated for fun this morning.