Isaiah's father, Ray, the lumberjack-built hobbit dwelling in the suburban mounds of Miamisburg, admitted that "As soon as my third son could pick up a controller, he was smashing buttons, and screaming out war cries as if he was a Spartan in the Battle of Thermopylae. When he wasn't taking out waves of zombies on some video game called, Call of Booty, he was writing in his thick paged journal like Tolkien himself. I remember when he would come up to me and scream, Dad! I finally finished the world I'd been building for three years now! Oh, to see a smile that big on his face again would mean this world to me." Ray paused for a moment, on the verge of puddles in his eyes. I remembered his father looked down. His chin touched his chest, let out a heavy breath, then continued. "But now, he's all by himself in his own hole in the ground. He's been writing for about ten years now, and gaming for about twenty! Sometimes, he calls me and tells me about all of these games he's beaten, and also the ones he's given up on. And there's only been a few of those, some game called Dark Soles?" His father said, lips puckered at the word souls, and pointing to his feet. "Subnautica, he talks about the most. Some underwater 'Mine and Craft-kind-of-game'. He said it had a better story than 'Mine and Craft', but a smaller world, and less things to do but he said if he could make a game, it would be something like that or maybe something like Assassins Creed where you have to live through the story and survive off the land at the same time. Talked about some game called Green Hell. I don't know where on God's green flat earth someone could put green and hell in the same title, but Isaiah said it was both very accurate for the game. He loves those survival games, competitive as a dog over a bone, and writes fantasy novels like Stephen King.