From The Vault: Drill, Baby, Drill

From The Vault: Drill, Baby, Drill — Blue Ink Alchemy

Watching Gurren-Hen last night, I come back to the reasons why I fell in love with Gurren Lagann in the first place. I want to revisit that.

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Courtesy Rabbitpoets, will credit original artist! When I encounter a new story that I find myself enjoying thoroughly, there's a part of me that can't just leave it at that. I have to look deeper than my superficial glee and take a look at what really calls to me about the tale. I have to examine characters, plot points, meanings and development. I don't know if it's my background in doing so for years at university, or my desire to better understand other stories so I can write mine better, but in any case, it's what makes me review and critique stuff on a regular basis. Case in point: I just finished watching the anime series Tengen Toppa Gurren Lagann and I enjoyed the hell out of it. I'm no stranger to big robot anime. Voltron and Robotech (Macross in particular) were staples growing up. When I hit university I was introduced to more - Macross Plus, Gundam Wing and the brilliant but bizarre Neon Genesis Evangelion. There are plenty of other mecha anime out there, and plenty of anime that get classified as shounen - aimed primarily at young or teenage boys with exciting action and plenty of fighting. One might think, with a cursory glance, that Gurren Lagann is in the same vein as these, even with its unique aesthetic, but it doesn't take long for the series's true strengths to reveal themselves. In a few other series I've dipped my toe into and even enjoyed, the main character gets his special power or destiny, and pursues it with dogged determination that, while admirable, does not vary his character much. Gurren Lagann, on the other hand, lets its characters develop naturally. The character of Simon, in particular, goes through a lot of growth from the beginning of the series to its end. In addition to the respect I give a story for the willingness to actually end legitimately and well, there's the fact that the Simon at the end of the story is a different person, a more developed person, than he was at the beginning. The same goes for Yoko; a character that easily could have been relegated to simple fan service is also allowed to grow, breathe, develop, and take on a life of her own. Another way in which the series sets itself apart is in the fact that actions have consequences. Each victory that our heroes gain take them deeper into a world they did not anticipate, and as much as the show likes to treat the laws of physics more like loose guidelines than actual rules, there's no cheap resurrections and no going back. Changes are irreversible, and consequences must be dealt with. In a general genre and specific sub-genre that is usually all about an empowerment fantasy free of consequences, seeing a show that drops the hammer on its character multiple times for things they do is refreshing. As cool as it would be to pilot a giant mecha, Gurren Lagann seems to treat its unique and strikingly designed machines as exactly what they are: vehicles. They're the means by which the story and its meaning are delivered, and the meaning is this: it's okay to be yourself. In fact, the ideal way to live one's life is to forge ahead making one's own destiny with a sense of self-belief. Believing in yourself can be hard to do, especially when it feels like the whole world is against you, but when people have faith in you, and you have faith in yourself, there is literally nothing you can't do. Rather than relegate such things to occasional character moments or after-credits messages, Gurren Lagann makes this the driving force behind its narrative, a massive drill that bores a hole right through your expectations. The individual's sense of self-worth is a weapon in and of itself; when fully realized, it's an extremely potent one. I may be reading too much into an anime series, or drawing an inordinate amount of inspiration from it, but that's who I am. I take the lessons I find from what I experience and I try to make them a part of my life. I am, as always, a work in progress. I will never stop learning, never stop growing, and never stop writing about it. That's what I do. And the more I do it, the more proud I become of what I'm doing and what I will do in the future. I may not live up to some expectations, I may make mistakes, but I will make my future my own, because that's what you do when you come to realize who you are and what that means to you and to the world around you. I'm a writer. I'm a fanboy. I'm a critic and a philosopher and I fight for what I believe in. Who the hell do you think I am?

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Blue Ink Alchemy

500 Words on Momentum

500 Words on Momentum — Blue Ink Alchemy

With everything that's been happening, I am more and more aware that it can be extremely difficult to maintain a consistent pace. From running to writing to preparing for life's next adventure, things seem to be happening in short, irregular bursts, rather than unfolding according to any sort of plan. I keep telling myself that I'm going to do X, or set things up for Y, or be more vigilant regarding Z, but more often than not, I'm just satisfied in getting home and being free from responsibility for at least a couple hours. A big part of it is, I believe, momentum. Last year at this time, I was working out regularly, pretty much every day, and pushing myself to write more. I'm not sure where all of that energy went, or if it never left and I simply lost my pace of the long, cold winter and the rough road I've been on over the last few months. It can be hard to start certain things, like an exercise regimen or an intense artistic endeavor, but I've found that once you do get started, it can be equally hard to stop. There are a lot of things you can do to jump-start your endeavors. An adjustment in sleep or diet can be a good place to start, as can changing your surroundings. Leave what's holding you back behind, at least for the time being, and let one of your new ideas have some time in the spotlight. You really don't know how something is going to turn out until you try it, after all, so even if a new project goes nowhere, if it leads to you coming back to something you were struggling with stronger than ever, it will not have been a waste of time. In fact, time you spend trying to regain momentum is not a waste, either. I've never been mountain climbing, but I imagine the same applies. The first few steps up a mountainside are not a waste of time, no matter how deliberate you make your pace to prepare yourself for the climb, take in the scenery, snap photos, or take another inventory. When you're preparing to run, you may spend time making sure your water, your music, your shoes, everything is in order. Again, not a waste of time. It helps organize your mind to deal with what's ahead. And it's likely to make the event even more rewarding. This is a case of saying it to myself as much as to anyone reading: Don't give up. Keep trying. Continue to push forward. Even if you've stumbled, tripped, or slowed to catch your breath, the race is not over. Life is a marathon, not a sprint. If you've lost your pace, don't worry. You can get it back. Just keep breathing and measure your steps. Before you know it, you'll be beating your old times and on the road to victory. You just have to want it. You can do it!

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Blue Ink Alchemy

Bad Shed

Bad Shed — Blue Ink Alchemy

The time was right. The scales were old, and worn. New skin was eager to emerge beneath. She rested, waiting, avoiding food, her eyes cloudy and unfocused, all but blind. She curled under her favorite rock, out of sight, out of the light. The surface of the rock was rough, as was the bedding in the enclosure. The air was moist and warm, perfect for her. The time was right. Slowly, deliberately, she rubbed against her rock. She pushed her head forward towards the hazy light ahead of her. The moisture of the air in the open areas of the enclosure kiss her new scales. Inch by inch, she emerges from her old skin. White and dry, it begins to fall behind her. It is a long, difficult process. But it is necessary for her to live. It isn't quite halfway along that things start to go wrong. She's moving forward but nothing is happening. It feels like she's going nowhere. The more she moves, the tighter the ring of old skin becomes. Her tongue flicks out. The air has gone dry. She is trapped in her own skin. It is irrational to hate the air, hate the tank, hate the rock that is no longer assisting her. But she can't hide the frustration. There is a hiss. A waste of precious air. The air is closer, now, more entrapping. It's getting harder to breathe. This isn't right. Our skin is not supposed to be our enemy. This is supposed to be an exciting time, a new beginning, the next step forward. Instead, with each passing, gasping moment, it feels like the end. There is a large shape outside the enclosure. Noise, movement, things that seem superfluous because it's getting harder and harder to breathe. There is a rush, a breath, moist and warm and welcome across scales old and new. A surge of hope. A burst of energy. Maybe just one more inch. It would be easier to quit, to lay down, to rest, to sleep. Forever. Maybe just one more inch. She sheds another inch. And another. And another. When it's over, she curls up on her branch, near the light she doesn't comprehend. It's not as distant or warm or complete as the one outside with the noises and the breeze. It's closer, and it hums, but it's warm and welcome and she rests. Her old skin lays forgotten near the rock. It would have killed her. But she was stronger. She was more determined. And she had help, help unlooked for, but help she had needed, help she adored nonetheless.

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Blue Ink Alchemy

Change The Scene

Change The Scene — Blue Ink Alchemy

I've been finding it difficult to write lately. I have a ton of ideas chasing themselves around in my head, projects to complete and new novels to start, yet I'm running into some serious roadblocks. I have to assume that I'm not alone: a lot of writers are pre-occupied with many things, from life events to other endeavors to all sorts of personal issues. You should be writing - we all should - and if you're not writing, something has to change. If nothing else, you have to change your scene. A lot of writers have a particular area set aside for their craft. Away from foot traffic, secluded in some way, or just portioned off from the rest of a room, it is their fortress of solitude. When I move, I will be taking my writing desk with me, and it will be in a different corner from my computer desk. Even if it's just across the room, that separation is crucial. When life gets tossed into upheaval, it can be difficult to maintain the things that are essential to both our futures and our happiness. There's a great deal of immediate tasks to deal with when changes occur in life, and not everybody has the same reaction time. To get back to the good places from where we can be productive and happy, sometimes the scene has to change. I'm going to keep working on getting myself to that place. That's how I'm going to beat back the dark things and stay on track with my goals.

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Blue Ink Alchemy

The Appeal of Hearthstone

The Appeal of Hearthstone — Blue Ink Alchemy

I will, in fact, fight with honor. I'm working on a post that talks about time management. It is, from my perspective, one of my biggest flaws. I find it difficult to parcel out my time in the most efficient way possible. The dayjob, exercise, writing, home maintenance, eating, sleeping... things get pushed around and I get distracted, and I end most days wondering where the time went. I know, consciously, that I need to make more time for things that are important to me. Why, then, am I setting my sights on playing more Hearthstone? Specifically, I'm going to be playing more Constructed - I'm not that great at Arenas. I'm brushing up on advice for more effective laddering, choosing a deck that I will stick with - probably DKMR's Paladin deck - and pulling myself back when I begin to tilt. Ideally, I'll be putting in time on this every day after I take the time to write, and that in turn would be happening after I get home from the dayjob. The reason for this is simple: I miss high-level competitive play in these sorts of games. The events of Magic: the Gathering I've attended, both when I was younger and more recently, were at their most enjoyable when I was locked in competition with another player. I haven't been part of that scene in a while, and I won't be getting involved in a Netrunner community until after I move. The advantage of Hearthstone is that it's a digital form of the same type of competition. The barrier for entry is lower than StarCraft 2, and personally, I find the experience of playing Hearthstone less clinical than playing StarCraft, even if I do enjoy both games. The in-depth interactions of cards, the delicate nature of move-countermove over the course of a match, and the visceral feeling of both winning and losing - these are things that really appeal to me. Part of this is certainly Hearthstone's glossy coat of that certain Blizzard magic. Their games are always high quality in terms of graphical presentation and sound design. But on top of that, the more I play the game, the more I find things very finely balanced. With a variety of ways to play a class, to say nothing of different classes, success or failure ultimately comes down to the individual player. Without the immediacy and attention demands of a real-time strategy game, careful decision-making and precise timing are rewarded in a very satisfying way. This could just be my take on things, but I can't deny that this, too, is part of the appeal. I want to get better at Hearthstone. My goal is, eventually, to compete in a tournament with the confidence to advance at least once through its brackets. To do this, I will aim to climb the Constructed ladder into the Legendary ranks. When the new season begins, I may even begin streaming and recording my games. Who knows? This could open new doors for me, and that's never a bad thing. It's another step in my journey forward, and it's my hope that folks out there will be willing to take that journey with me. Or at least point out whenever I miss lethal damage.

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Blue Ink Alchemy

From The Vault: An (Old) Writerly Rant

From The Vault: An (Old) Writerly Rant — Blue Ink Alchemy

It's been two years since I first went off on this particular rant. I've updated some text accordingly.

"[A] writing career is about putting a bucket on your head and trying to knock down a brick wall. It's either you or the wall."

~Chuck Wendig

Reality's a stone-cold bitch. That's why I mostly write fiction. I identify first and foremost as a writer, not necessarily a programmer or a social media guru or mediocre gamer. As such I've come to accept several truths about myself.

• Any emotional problems from which I actually suffer will be exacerbated by the short-sighted stubborn sociopathy inherent of being a writer.
• If I take up writing as a full-time profession I am going to dodge debt collectors and utility bills even more than I do now. (Don't panic, family members, my knees are unbroken and will remain so. I'm just not dining on steak and drinking cognac. More like dining on pasta and drinking cheap pop.)
• The longer I do not write full time and cram writing in whenever I can into the nooks and crannies of a packed schedule, fueled by whatever energy I can spare, the more my writing is going to suffer for it and the less likely I am to get published before I'm facing off against Gandalf and Dumbledore in a long white beard growing competition. Which I'll win because they're fictional.
• While writing is an evolutionary process that requires several drafts, torrents of trial and error, and accepting that one's final effort might still be a flaming pile of poo, processes in the professional world are very different, and being writerly will rarely be tolerated long in the face of clients who want what they want yesterday for less than they want to pay. If you don't get something right the first time, there's the door, don't let it hit you on those fancy pants you thought you were wearing.
• I am never, ever, for as long as I keep breathing, going to give up writing.

Sure, I'll be miserable more often than not. Who isn't? I've learned to seize and capitalize on my joy when I find it. The smile of a loved one. Pulling off a win in Hearthstone. Meeting fellow geeks in person instead of just over the Tweetsphere. The open road on a sunny day. Enforcing. A decent movie or video game with a coherent story and three-dimensional characters. My mom's cooking and my dad's laughter. Good pipe tobacco. And finishing a story. That's the hidden beauty of writing. If you do it right, you get to finish it multiple times. After your first draft, you go back and edit it. And when you get through the edit? Guess what, you finished it. Awesome! Now go do it again. Work, edit, revise, cross out, swear, drink, work, write, grind, swear, edit, DING. In my experience it's not a case of diminishing returns. The next round of edits might not be as heady in its completion as the last, but it'll be different and it'll still be good. And let me tell you, it's a long hard road to get there. Even if you do write for a living, you still have to produce. Instead of the aforementioned clients you have looming deadlines, a constant and gnawing doubt that your writing just won't be good enough and the cold knowledge that at least a dozen younger, hungrier and more talented penjockeys are just waiting for you to fuck up so they can take your place, and your paycheck. Pressure from clients or deadlines or those lean and hungry wolves becomes pressure on you, pound after pound after pound of it, and when you go home at night with even more words unwritten, you're going to feel every ounce of that pressure on your foolish head, and every word you haven't written will pile on top, each one an additional gram of concentrated dark-matter suck. It's a love affair with someone who never returns you calls when you need them but always calls just when you think you can't take another day of this tedious, soul-eroding bullshit. I said earlier I mostly write fiction. This, for example, isn't ficton. I wouldn't mind writing more recollections like this, but guess what, I'm not getting paid for it (I could be if somehting hadn't gone wrong with my ad block, thank you SO much for that, Google Ads). My movie & game reviews, short stories, commentary on geek minutae, Art of Thor series, IT CAME FROM NETFLIX!, the Beginner's Guide to Westeros? Not a dime. I don't write any of that because I get paid for it. I do it to entertain those couple dozen of you who cruise by here every day. I do it because I feel I've got something to say that hasn't quite been said this way before. And yes, I do it because I love it. It's in my blood and my bones. It keeps me awake at night more than bills or code or politics or Protoss cheese or ruminations on the Holy Ghost. And since I doubt I'm going to be getting rid of it at this point in my life, I might as well embrace it and make the most of it. I'm going to suffer more hardship. I might have to move, or change jobs again, or go through some embarassing procedure because I tried to hock my words at passers-by on the train and had made one of the first drafts of my manuscript into what I felt was a fetching kilt (nae trews Jimmy) and a matching hat that may or may not have been styled after those conical straw numbers you see atop badass samurai in Kurosawa movies. So be it. Say it with me, writers.

I will not whine. I will not blubber. I will not make mewling whimpering cryface pissypants boo-hoo noises. I will not sing lamentations to my weakness. I am the Commander of these words. I am the King of this story. I am the God of this place. I am a writer, and I will finish the shit that I started. Amen.

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Blue Ink Alchemy

Making Twilight Imperium Mine

Making Twilight Imperium Mine — Blue Ink Alchemy

I've written up a couple in-depth after-action reports of Twilight Imperium before. I'm willing to do it again for the game that happened yesterday, but I find myself spending time and brain-power analyzing the game in terms of its structures, house rules, and interaction with the players. I've only played the game a few times, so I'm by no means an expert, but I've seen a variety of races bounce off of one another, and I've tried bringing different sets of rules to the table.
Our galaxy on 6/21. One of my favorite discoveries is 'Star By Star'. Part of the fan-created set of mods called Shattered Ascension, 'Star By Star' modifies the initial setup of the galaxy. Instead of everyone's Home System sitting on the outermost rim of the galaxy, the hex containing that system is in with all of the other hexes, which are dealt to all players and held like a hand of cards. This allows more dymanic placement of systems and intriguing gameplay. You can't put your home right next to Mecatol Rex, the former throneworld of the Lazax Empire, and the Embers of Muaat need to start on the outermost rim. The other major change in house rules that I feel makes the most of the game is the modified nature of the objectives. Normally, Preliminary Objectives are dealt to players in private, and Public Objectives remain in their deck face-down until the Bureaucracy strategy reveals one. And in that case, the person with that strategy can reveal an Objective that very suddenly ends the game. There is an option rule called Age of Empire that makes Public Objectives... well, public... from the very start. I modified our Bureaucracy strategy so that the Objectives are tied up in 'red tape', requiring them to be 'unlocked' before they can be scored. Additionally, the Preliminary Objectives are shuffled up and one for each player is set out. Any player can claim any Preliminary Objective, allowing them to score a Victory Point and draw a Secret Objective, but each player can only score one Preliminary Objective. This is a bit more balanced and allows players to play to their strengths and positions, rather than wasting time and energy on something that's outside of their plans.
A clash between the Barony of Letnev (red) and the Federation of Sol (blue) I've played Twilight Imperium with several different players. While the randomized nature of the procedurally-generated galaxy, the Objectives, and race selection always ensure that every game is a different experience, it's become clear that some races favor a particular style of play. Those that give advantages in terms of combat strength, such as the L1z1x Mindnet, Barony of Letnev, and the Mentak Coalition, seem to shine under the control of an aggressive player, while others like the Emirates of Hacan, Xxcha Kingdom, and Universities of Jol-Nar reward more patient play. There appears to be a balance between those types of races in the base game, with the Federation of Sol right in the middle. As for the expansions, it may seem that the Embers of Muaat are incredibly overpowered, but the advantage of their starting War Sun can be blunted by players on the lookout as well as those racing towards War Sun technology of their own. Some of the races favor a longer game with patient play, such as the Arborec or the Ghosts of Creuss, while the Nekro Virus rivals the Mindnet in terms of naked aggression. There are a few races I haven't seen in action yet - the Clan of Saar, the Winnu, and so on - but they're certain to make an appearance sooner or later.
The Barony beating out the Arborec (gray) for the win. Regardless of the races in play or the rules you use, I have yet to play a game of Twilight Imperium that's disappointed me. Every one has been a day-long experience, every one has left me intellectually drained, and every one has been deeply satisfying. I love that it can both play right into your individual play-style and push you to try new things, as well as providing ways to get to know your friends. Who will stab you in the back while you're pursuing a particular Objective? Who will send a Spy to the Galactic Assembly when they've been talking about making peace? If you have the time and resources, I highly recommend playing it at least once. Despite its scope and complexity, it is an excellent game; perhaps one of the best that I have ever played.

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Blue Ink Alchemy

Throwback Thursday: Making Time To Write

Throwback Thursday: Making Time To Write — Blue Ink Alchemy

Last night was a bit rough. Workday stresses lead to an evening bereft of energy, and then I was awakened at 2 in the morning by a particularly aggressive peal of thunder. I find myself struggling just to write a few hundred words a day, which is never a good thing. I know a realignment is coming in the very near future, and I need to prepare for it, but there's still frustration I have to deal with. Anyway. Here's a Throwback Thursday post from 2010. Some of my early posts were quite unfocused, even downright embarrassing. This isn't one of them.

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I am in the unfortunate position of not getting paid to do what I love. I know, that doesn't make me special. A lot of people are passionate about things that are very different from what they do. I doubt that most people that work for, say, Bridgestone or Michelin are passionate about making tires. Your average folks get up in the morning, put on some clothing that allow them to conform to the expectations of peers and coworkers, and commence a commute to some sort of job during the day that pays the bills, keeping the family feed and the lights on. I'm glad to have people in my life who've broken this mold. They do what drives them, what fuels their imaginations and haunts their dreams. I know that sometimes the money that comes in from this lifestyle can be a bit more sporadic than the steady day job paycheck, and that bill collectors sometimes need to be dodged or placated. It might seem glamorous at first, but going for long periods of time with little to no income is no picnic. I've been there. I was unemployed for quite a long time not too long ago. And even now, with this steady job I hold, things easily become strained. The combination of my pay rate with the necessity of supporting what I support takes a toll. But before I degenerate into self-indulgent whining, let me get to my point. I need to make time to write. You might, as well, and here's why it's so important to do. Nobody else can write what you're going write. The original idea, the seed from which your work is going to grow, is all yours. You might look to write it yourself, it might become a collaborative work or you may feel the need to hire a ghost writer. But however you plan to do it, there's a big yawning gap between shaping the core of your idea and coming up with a finished product that's capable of being sold. One of the biggest components of that gap is time, and to get across it you need to take time away from other things. I say, when you get right down to it, sometimes you have to shut the world away. Disconnect the phone. Unplug the television. Turn off the Internet. Yes, believe it or not, you can turn off the Internet! Tweets, blogs, memes and streams will still be there when you're done. Set goals for yourself, be it to write a few hundred words or a few thousand. Then, stick to those goals. Sometimes I have trouble with this, myself, so I'll be struggling right along with you. If you have any other tips on how to make the most of the time you try to set aside to write, please let me know. Because as much as guys like to project a "lone wolf" image, I know that until I reach that point where I can roll out of bed, amble over to the home office and flip on the espresso machine, I'm going to need all the help I can get.

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Blue Ink Alchemy

Movie Review: How To Train Your Dragon 2

Movie Review: How To Train Your Dragon 2 — Blue Ink Alchemy

I'm not sure why I didn't see How To Train Your Dragon sooner. Other than the fact that it has dragons in it, it also features Vikings, who tend to make things more interesting and fun as a general rule (see also The 13th Warrior). While I was aware that its protagonist wasn't a physically capable specimen and relied more on brains than brawn, which is another interest of mine when it comes to characters. Even with all of these elements I was all but guaranteed to enjoy, How To Train Your Dragon surprised me with its writing, its vivacious and highly detailed art, and the fact that actions had consequences that were not easily dismissed or explained away. In the interest of supporting such art, I made it a point to see How To Train Your Dragon 2 on its opening weekend. Five years after defending Berk and teaching its people to embrace dragons rather than hunt them, Hiccup is exploring both the ocean around his home and new ways to expand both his abilities and those of his dragon, Toothless. His father, Stoic the Vast, wants him to become chief so Stoic himself can retire, but Hiccup fears he is inadequate or ill-suited for the task. Hiccup and his girlfriend Astrid run afoul of some dragon hunters, who are capturing the beasts to join the army of someone named Drago Bloodfist. Determined to try and talk some sense into Drago, Hiccup sets out in defiance of his father's orders, and is quickly caught up in events that teach him more about dragons, people, and himself. A proper sequel should spend the bulk of its time on expansion. Since characters, locations, and plot points were established in a previous outing, there's no need to rehash them in the new story. Those that do tend to feel bloated, boring, or both - for examples, look no further than the sequels to The Matrix or Michael Bay's Transformers. How To Train Your Dragon 2 is very quick to get a bit of exposition out of the way through a voice-over from Hiccup, and then gets right into telling its own story. The world outside of Berk is expanded rapidly, and established characters show varying degrees of growth, holding on to attributes that made them memorable while demonstrating how they've changed.
There's a lot going on even in the backgrounds of this movie. There is a great deal of good storytelling here, and much of it is not contained within the dialog. DreamWorks Animation has shown that it can convey a great deal of meaning and emotion in quiet scenes bereft of dialog, and How To Train Your Dragon 2 is proof that their skills are only growing. Toothless, in particular, is even more expressive than he was in the previous film, interacting with Hiccup and other dragons in fascinating and endearing ways. We feel we know this otherwise inscrutable and even alien creature as well as we do Hiccup, and Toothless doesn't speak. We are shown, time and again, that the two have an indelible bond, and its depiction is lovely to behold, even moving at times. The art in general is gorgeous, with characters well-defined and bearing unique facial features and mannerisms, and landscapes all but leaping from the screen with their fresh and breathtaking vistas. This is even the case in non-3D viewings. When characters do speak, they do so in spite of any celebrity association. Nobody's a stunt voice, and nobody's phoning it in. Despite multiple opportunities, the likes of Gerard Butler and Cate Blanchett never wink at the audience or make clever references to other established characters. Indeed, the film avoids pop culture references altogether, and while Jay Baruchel and the other voices of younger characters speak with a more modern affect, it feels natural given the disposition of said characters. Our immersion doesn't break when Astrid and her friends plan their next move. Instead of relying on their voice actors as gimmicks, the creators of How To Train Your Dragon 2 ensure that what we're hearing underscores rather than overshadows what we're seeing. The scene where Hiccup's mother and father see one another for the first time in twenty years is particularly moving for this reason. Butler and Blanchett emphasize the emotions we're seeing, and we're shown rather than told the depth of feeling between these two characters. It's absolutely brilliant. I really don't know if there's anything more I can say about How To Train Your Dragon 2. Its story focus is tight, its visuals are breahtaking, it moves at a healthy but not breakneck pace, and its characters are extremely likable. Any quibbles I have are relatively minor ones: Drago Bloodfist is somewhat one-dimensional as a psychopathic anti-Hiccup, and Valka (Hiccup's mom) could have demonstrated more combat skills and shown why she's been able to hold off Bloodfist for so long. While it's difficult for any story to be completely free of concerns, How To Train Your Dragon 2 is refreshing in its earnest intent and nearly flawless in its presentation. It doesn't shy away from intense scenes, continues to show us that actions have lasting consequences, and while bad things can and do happen to good people, there are forces that will always be more powerful than tragedy and mad ambition. It's very much its own animal but it undoubtedly shares its DNA with the previous film: it is a true family film. There's comedy and bright colored animation for children, and compelling storytelling with rich characters for adults. It hits all of the right notes and balances things out pretty much perfectly. I thoroughly enjoyed it, and I'm considering seeing it again, in 3D this time to get the most of those fantastic visuals. How To Train Your Dragon 2 is a wonderful time at the movies for all ages. It's not just a treat for the kids; it just might awaken your kid at heart, as well.

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Blue Ink Alchemy

From the Vault: Failure to Carve

From the Vault: Failure to Carve — Blue Ink Alchemy

Almost exactly one year since I made this post, I still feel this way. I also feel very tired.
Courtesy Floating Robes A question that I've seen asked of those in my profession is, "How do you know if you're a writer?" To answer, let me give you a real-life example of what it feels like. The last few days have been, for me, alternating exercises in fatigue and frustration. Difficulties I've been dealing with for weeks are so tantalizingly close to resolving themselves, and I find myself both wanting to push harder to get the results I'm after and holding back for fear of being a selfish prick. Add the dayjob workload and maintaining things around the apartment, and you get a recipe for wanting to do exactly zero when you finally have a little time to yourself. This is incredibly frustrating to me because I know that should be my time to write. Disapproving voices would tell me to write anyway, regardless of how tired or worn out or seethingly furious I might feel. I know. I'm one of those voices. I need to bite that bullet, make more coffee or chai, put on good tunes that shut out the world, and plunge into the word mines. There's no other way they're going to get written. It's down to me, no compromises, no excuses. If I write, I write; if I don't, I fail. The gnawing, growling, nigh-constant feeling of irritation at my own inability to maintain high energy levels is how I know I'm a writer. If I cared less about it, if I didn't have faith in my abilities, I'd cut the stressor from my life and stop worrying about it. But I can't. I won't. The need to tell stories and give people the gift of escape to another world, other lives, a new experience or even just some distraction from what's in front of them is too great to be ignored, set aside, or discarded. The spirit is willing, and angry, and full of notions and dreams. The flesh is weak, and flabbier than I'd like, and smells funny if I don't bathe often enough. I'm going to try and turn this around. I can't be on the bad end of bullshit forever. I'm sharpening my knives and inking my pens. You can knock me down, sure. But there's no way in hell I'm staying down.

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Blue Ink Alchemy

From the Vault: Failure to Carve

From the Vault: Failure to Carve — Blue Ink Alchemy

Almost exactly one year since I made this post, I still feel this way. I also feel very tired.
Courtesy Floating Robes A question that I've seen asked of those in my profession is, "How do you know if you're a writer?" To answer, let me give you a real-life example of what it feels like. The last few days have been, for me, alternating exercises in fatigue and frustration. Difficulties I've been dealing with for weeks are so tantalizingly close to resolving themselves, and I find myself both wanting to push harder to get the results I'm after and holding back for fear of being a selfish prick. Add the dayjob workload and maintaining things around the apartment, and you get a recipe for wanting to do exactly zero when you finally have a little time to yourself. This is incredibly frustrating to me because I know that should be my time to write. Disapproving voices would tell me to write anyway, regardless of how tired or worn out or seethingly furious I might feel. I know. I'm one of those voices. I need to bite that bullet, make more coffee or chai, put on good tunes that shut out the world, and plunge into the word mines. There's no other way they're going to get written. It's down to me, no compromises, no excuses. If I write, I write; if I don't, I fail. The gnawing, growling, nigh-constant feeling of irritation at my own inability to maintain high energy levels is how I know I'm a writer. If I cared less about it, if I didn't have faith in my abilities, I'd cut the stressor from my life and stop worrying about it. But I can't. I won't. The need to tell stories and give people the gift of escape to another world, other lives, a new experience or even just some distraction from what's in front of them is too great to be ignored, set aside, or discarded. The spirit is willing, and angry, and full of notions and dreams. The flesh is weak, and flabbier than I'd like, and smells funny if I don't bathe often enough. I'm going to try and turn this around. I can't be on the bad end of bullshit forever. I'm sharpening my knives and inking my pens. You can knock me down, sure. But there's no way in hell I'm staying down.

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Blue Ink Alchemy

The Rains of Castamere

The Rains of Castamere — Blue Ink Alchemy

I was up rather late last night, and I think the best way to illustrate why is the following song. Hum along if you know the tune. And who are you, the proud lord said, that I must bow so low? Only a cat of a different coat, that's all the truth I know. In a coat of gold or a coat of red, a lion still has claws, And mine are long and sharp, my lord, as long and sharp as yours. And so he spoke, and so he spoke, that Lord of Castamere, But now the rains weep o'er his hall, with no one there to hear. Yes, now the rains weep o'er his hall, and not a soul to hear.

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Blue Ink Alchemy

500 Words on Dragons

500 Words on Dragons — Blue Ink Alchemy

Our stories are rife with mythological creatures. The minotaur, the phoenix, the hydra, ogres and fairies and vampires and wizards - the list is exhaustive. While I'm a fan of all of them, writing about some and playing others, there's yet to be a creature that, in my mind, truly outshines the dragon. It's not just that these are giant lizards that can not only fly but also breathe fire (or ice or lightning or toxic gas or acid). The thing that tips dragons over into my mental tray of 'best things ever' is the fact that they're highly intelligent. While the Minotaur rages through the corridors of a labyrinth, and hydras try to feed all of their various heads, dragons often have agendas. Even if that agenda begins and ends with "roll around in enough gold to make Scrooge McDuck jealous." This isn't always the case, of course. At times, dragons are simply smart animals. But intelligence is intelligence. For a case in point, I highly recommend How To Train Your Dragon. Specifically, play close attention to the character of Toothless. Without speaking a word of dialog, Toothless communicates exactly what he's thinking and how he feels. He moves naturally, like a large lizard would, but he also has the body language and expressions of a very intelligent being. In addition to being a compelling character, and the adorable and unique mascot of an excellent storytelling series, he's an exemplary dragon. When it comes to articulate dragons, there are other examples. Draco from Dragonheart is a noble creature, while Smaug from The Hobbit is completely malevolent. Both are ancient and noble, in their own way, both are the last of their kind and both are massive in size with speed that belies their bulk. But while they're similar in form and function, their characters are very different. Draco is interested in survival, and when presented with an opportunity to make something of himself, he tries to bring out the best in those around him. Smaug, on the other hand, is a creature of pure pride and avarice, reveling in his bountiful lair, and when a certain barrel-rider stumbles in, Smaug toys with it the way a cat toys with a mouse. Draco sees humanoids as both potentially dangerous and capable of better natures; Smaug can only perceive vermin to be exterminated. Dragons, like our heroes and our villains, come in all shapes and sizes. But they are always fascinating, often beautiful, and terrifying in their core natures. Even exemplars like Toothless and Draco are still powerful, mythical creatures; dragons are true apex predators no matter how they express themselves. That's part of what make them so interesting. Dragons that feature in the stories that stick with us either defy or indulge in their natures, and in both, they become reflections of ourselves. Like any good characters, they're people, even if they have scales on. The lens that takes the shape of a dragon is an interesting one, and always will be.

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Blue Ink Alchemy

500 Words on Dragons

500 Words on Dragons — Blue Ink Alchemy

Our stories are rife with mythological creatures. The minotaur, the phoenix, the hydra, ogres and fairies and vampires and wizards - the list is exhaustive. While I'm a fan of all of them, writing about some and playing others, there's yet to be a creature that, in my mind, truly outshines the dragon. It's not just that these are giant lizards that can not only fly but also breathe fire (or ice or lightning or toxic gas or acid). The thing that tips dragons over into my mental tray of 'best things ever' is the fact that they're highly intelligent. While the Minotaur rages through the corridors of a labyrinth, and hydras try to feed all of their various heads, dragons often have agendas. Even if that agenda begins and ends with "roll around in enough gold to make Scrooge McDuck jealous." This isn't always the case, of course. At times, dragons are simply smart animals. But intelligence is intelligence. For a case in point, I highly recommend How To Train Your Dragon. Specifically, play close attention to the character of Toothless. Without speaking a word of dialog, Toothless communicates exactly what he's thinking and how he feels. He moves naturally, like a large lizard would, but he also has the body language and expressions of a very intelligent being. In addition to being a compelling character, and the adorable and unique mascot of an excellent storytelling series, he's an exemplary dragon. When it comes to articulate dragons, there are other examples. Draco from Dragonheart is a noble creature, while Smaug from The Hobbit is completely malevolent. Both are ancient and noble, in their own way, both are the last of their kind and both are massive in size with speed that belies their bulk. But while they're similar in form and function, their characters are very different. Draco is interested in survival, and when presented with an opportunity to make something of himself, he tries to bring out the best in those around him. Smaug, on the other hand, is a creature of pure pride and avarice, reveling in his bountiful lair, and when a certain barrel-rider stumbles in, Smaug toys with it the way a cat toys with a mouse. Draco sees humanoids as both potentially dangerous and capable of better natures; Smaug can only perceive vermin to be exterminated. Dragons, like our heroes and our villains, come in all shapes and sizes. But they are always fascinating, often beautiful, and terrifying in their core natures. Even exemplars like Toothless and Draco are still powerful, mythical creatures; dragons are true apex predators no matter how they express themselves. That's part of what make them so interesting. Dragons that feature in the stories that stick with us either defy or indulge in their natures, and in both, they become reflections of ourselves. Like any good characters, they're people, even if they have scales on. The lens that takes the shape of a dragon is an interesting one, and always will be.

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Blue Ink Alchemy

Throwback Thursday: The Fine Art of Selling Yourself

Throwback Thursday: The Fine Art of Selling Yourself — Blue Ink Alchemy

Technically, this is a From the Vault entry. But it's Thursday! So let's call it Throwback Thursday instead, just to mix things up. I've been running this blog for over five years now. This is an entry from the very early days. Enjoy!

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So you've written the next great American novel, or at least a Twilight-killer. It sits pristinely on your desk or hard drive and you can't wait to get it into the hands of the public who are hungry for something new and interesting to take them away from the dark soul-draining mire of everyday life, spinning your words into gold. But there's something you need to do first. You need to sell yourself. Now I don't mean that it's time to pull on the fishnet stockings and hit the streets of the nearest slum. No, I mean you need to send the right queries to the right people. Would You Buy This? I might go into more detail and give examples on what not to do in a query letter in another Thursday post, but suffice it to say that the old adage of KISS applies - Keep It Simple, Stupid.

• Open with a hook. Introduce a character or situation that you think will drive the work.
• Give a synopsis of the plot. Let the reader of your query know what they're in for in general, but don't give away all of your twists & secrets.
• Thank them for the time they've taken to read the query.
• Offer them an outline and sample chapters if you're pitching a book.
• Let them know you're looking forward to a prompt reply.

Again, I'll elaborate on these points at another time. Let's talk about where these queries are going. The Knife Guy I have an old edition of the Complete Guide to Novel Writing, and one of the authors describes agents as "knife guys." Basically, the agent's job is to cut through the slush piles and red tape of publishing houses, going right to the heart to someone they know on the inside who can help your work see print. Finding an agent is the most expedient way to get your work published. And by most expedient, I mean that if you get your work accepted, an agent will be more prompt in responding to you than a publisher will be, in most cases. This is because an agent is part writing partner and part mercenary. They understand your need to express yourself and tell your story, and they're willing to do your dirty work if you pay them enough, usually on commission from your advance & sales. If you win, they win. I'd advise going this route, even though I myself have had zero success in hooking one. Though it has occurred to me I might be fishing in the wrong pond. Go to the Source You can, if you prefer, send queries directly to the editors at publishing houses. While this means you don't have to share your spoils with an agent, it also means it's much harder for your work to stand out. An agent tends to work face-to-face with publishers, whereas your query letter is one of quite a few that flood into publishing houses on a regular basis. However, a work that is unique enough or fills a void a publishing house is hungry for might survive the bucket of swamp run-off that is your typical slush pile. Your mileage will vary depending on your genre and the nature of your work. While nobody else on the planet can write exactly in your style on the subject you've decided to work with, there might be enough similarities between you and another author that the recipient might decide neither are worth an investment. Don't Give Up Sending queries is a long, thankless, and depressing process. You're facing entry into a field of entertainment that is crammed with both existing authors looking to continue their careers and new talent frothing at the mouth to get noticed. Know this: you are going to get rejected. Maybe you'll get lucky and get a letter of interest within the first wave of your queries. But it's more likely that you'll get a bunch of form letters saying that your work isn't quite what they're looking for and thanking you for your effort. Try not to think of it as a reflection on your work, but rather an increase in your chances of getting a positive response. Another book I own, I believe it's What Color Is Your Parachute? says something about the interview process that applies to sending queries. Your responses are going to look something like this: NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO YES That "Yes" will make the mountain of rejections disappear so fast it will make your head spin. Do It Yourself You could always try to publish your book yourself, but this is an expensive and time-consuming process and you're better off writing instead of going through it. Even if it's just writing & sending more query letters.

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Blue Ink Alchemy

Podcast Roundup

Podcast Roundup — Blue Ink Alchemy

One day, this lovely Blue Yeti will be mine. I've come to really enjoy podcasts. They help pass the time at the office, they inform and entertain with fresh content on a regular basis, and they've even replaced the music I used to listen to while running. I've been slowly expanding the amount I listen to on a regular basis, and I'd like to share some of the highlights with you.

Welcome to Night Vale

The brainchild of two authors at Commonplace Books, Welcome to Night Vale is evocative of old-school radio dramas like Suspense or Inner Sanctum Mystery, using description, sound, and evocative music to set the scene and spark imaginations rather than relying on sight gimmicks. The sonorous voice of Cecil Baldwin narrates the goings-on in the quiet desert town of Night Vale, where the odd is everywhere and things are usually not what they seem. Sometimes they are. Most times, they're not. While it might not be for everyone, there's something delightfully old-fashioned about Night Vale that keeps me coming back every two weeks.

Hello Internet

The description of Hello Internet is extremely simple: "Conversations between CGP Grey and Brady Haran". Given the nature of their individual YouTube channels, it should be no surprise that this is perhaps the most informative and thought-provoking podcast I currently listen to. Their discussions are intelligent, well-researched, and balanced, and their personalities make it entertaining. I actually feel myself getting smarter listening to these guys. Highly recommended.

9Bit Podcast

I listen to a few video gaming podcasts, like The Co-Optional Podcast and Daft Souls, but one you might not have heard of is the 9Bit Podcast. Described as 'a podcast about games for gamers', it does a good job of providing a balanced review of video games, engaging in discussions of gaming news, and keeping listener interest with interplay between the hosts. It's a smaller production, but it's a great one.

Shut Up & Sit Down

Ah, Shut Up & Sit Down. Great videos, great reviews, and now a great podcast, all about board games. Paul and Quinns have some interesting viewpoints on this hobby, and are more than willing to share them with an audience. I like the podcast because the discussions are far less rehearsed and, in a way, more informative than the video reviews. Like their videos, the podcast has high production values and are just as entertaining as they are informative.

Terminal7

I'm a big fan of NetRunner, and I'm looking forward to finding more players. Until I do, the guys at Terminal7 are keeping me up to speed on what's happening in this exciting revival of the cyberpunk living card game. They have great guest stars, like Quinns and Leigh Alexander, and they discuss strategies and individual cards with gusto and intelligence, exploring all sorts of combinations and tactics that often make them clearly enthusiastic. While somewhat of a niche podcast, it's still a great one.

More?

I'm looking to expand my collection of podcast subscriptions. So far I have yet to find one I don't like. With high-quality microphones becoming more affordable, Internet connections allowing people to contribute without being in the same room, and the ease of posting things to the Internet, it seems like more and more of these shows are emerging, and some of them are absolutely worth your time. Hell, given the success of some of these podcasts, I may get back around to starting one of my own.

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Blue Ink Alchemy

Let's Talk Net Neutrality

Let's Talk Net Neutrality — Blue Ink Alchemy

I love the Internet. I love all the things a free flow of data can do. It's how I've met some of the most important people in my life. It's how I not only got to PAX but became an Enforcer. It's how people bought my writing for the first time. The Internet is awesome! There are those, unfortunately, who want to make it less so. This is the Comcast building, just down the river from me in Philadelphia. It's a titanic construct. It's an interesting architectural design. It's a massive middle finger to fair business practices and net neutrality. Let's leave aside how Comcast muscles out smaller potential ISPs, and how atrocious their customer support can be. Our focus has to be on how this powerhouse of a provider wants to deal with 'net neutrality', a term that encapsulates the idea of all data on the Internet being treated equally the way electricity and phone calls and telegraphed messages have been treated in their wires for decades. Basically, Comcast wants to eliminate this concept so it can make more money. Along with Time Warner Cable and others, Comcast has been working to create a two-tier system of Internet service in the United States. They call it "fast lane" or something. It's a woefully inaccurate moniker: in essence, what they would do is put speed bumps all over the current lanes, and the un-bumped parts become faster by comparison. And if you're trying something new in a field they don't want any competition in, they will slow down your data so much that your idea will fail before it even gets off of the ground. And even if you're an established brand - like, for example, Netflix - an ISP in this situation will have every right to throttle your data's speeds, especially if the service does not pay the premiums. Comcast has already done this once to Netflix, and if the initiative to preserve net neutrality fails, it'll happen over and over again. Don't believe me? Think this seems far-fetched? Operating under the belief that United States anti-trust laws limit evil, ruthless, throat-cutting monopolies to game boards with little metal tokens? Try this video on for size. [tube]wtt2aSV8wdw[/tube] Or this one. [tube]NAxMyTwmu_M[/tube] The icing on the cake, though, is here. [tube]fpbOEoRrHyU[/tube] This is the link. You can click the Proceeding number (14-28) and leave a comment on why this issue is important to you. I'll send you there with two caveats: Don't be intimidated. The form is unfriendly to users and demands your name and address. Don't worry about that. These systems are in place to prevent you from posting. They want to have people leaving as few comments as possible so they can ramble on without oversight from the people. Don't let it stop you. If you can't get through, keep trying. Unlike other things I've said, this is unsubstantiated: a rumor is going around that TWC and Comcast are slowing down connections from their users to the FCC website. This is (a) a massive pile of bullshit that clearly illustrates why this is a bad thing, and (b) what a character in Blazing Saddles called "the last act of a desperate man." Keep trying. Keep posting until your comment is taken. Let your voice be heard! I've left a comment. I've given a finger right back to Comcast. Won't you do the same?

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Blue Ink Alchemy

Flash Fiction: To Rise Again, One Must Fall

Flash Fiction: To Rise Again, One Must Fall — Blue Ink Alchemy

For the Terribleminds Flash Fiction challenge, "Rise of the Phoenix", with a little inspirational help from Dragonkitty.

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She looked out over the sea, walking next to her husband. The wind was picking up, waves crashing into rocks far below them as they navigated the cliff. She closed her eyes, listening to the white noise, memories drifting through her mind without a care for her current place and time. "Did I tell you about the war?" Her question broke the long silence they'd been sharing. "You've never been in a war." "Not recently, no. This was Korea." He blinked at her. "But... you were born in..." "Yes, I know." She smiled, holding his hand. "Do you think this life is all we get?" "What?" "I mean, when you look up at the stars, and see into the infinite darkness that surrounds everything we are, and ever were, and ever will be... do you wonder about what we can't see?" "Honey, you're scaring me." She squeezed his hand. "I know. I'm sorry. It just always happens this way." "What does? I don't understand." "This isn't the first time I've lived. I was a soldier in the Korean War. Before that, I hiding with my family in Poland when the tanks rolled in. I've been a slave, and I've sold slaves. I've explored distant shores, and cowered in fear of invaders. The older I've gotten, the more and more I've seen into the past." He said nothing. She turned to him and smiled. "I know what you're thinking. You think I've finally lost it. That I really need to be hospitalized until my head's on straight." "I've never thought that. I mean, you're a little odd, to be sure, but that's what makes you so unique." "You're kind. I know how I sound. I'm sorry I can't say more innocuous things. But things are just becoming more and more clear." "Please stop. Come on. Let's get you home. I'll call a doctor..." "Do you know what I'm afraid of?" He stopped, and turned to face her. The wind whipped at her hair and she brushed it out of her eyes. "I'm afraid I'd take you with me." "What?" "We've been married for, what, almost twenty years now? And it's been lovely. I wouldn't trade a second of it. You're a good man. You've worked hard to take care of me, of our children. And you've never stopped loving me." "How could I?" He took both of her hands. "You're brilliant. You make me laugh. You're just as beautiful as the day we met. You're scaring me because I'm afraid of losing you." "You won't. I'll always have this memory, now. These happy, quiet years with you. It's something precious I'll carry into the future. I just don't want you to be afraid when your time comes." "What do you mean?" "Death isn't the end, darling. I know this for a fact. I just retain more than most people." She paused. "I don't want you to be jealous. It's not something I chose from the start. But it is my destiny. To rise again, we have to fall." He blinked, and she leaned up to kiss him. She knew he'd never understand, but he loved her all the same, and that warmed her heart. After wars and terror and injustice, it was nice to have lived so simple a life. His eyes, full of love and concern, studied hers for a moment, and then he held her hands more tightly and pulled, trying to get her away from the cliff's edge. A powerful gust pushed against the couple. It staggered him, causing him to lose his footing. Even as he released one of her hands to steady himself, her feet also slipped. With a slight gasp of surprise, her leg went out from under her and she fell just over the lip of the cliff. Crying out, he grabbed for her, but gravity and momentum were against him, and after a moment, the forces won out over his grip, and she was falling. On the way down she had flashes of previous moments like this. A fighter jet on fire over Korea. The terror of the camps. Staring down the barrel of a pistol. The sting of the lash. A knife in the back. Betrayal and hatred and duty and tragedy, all flooding against her in a rushing torrent of finality. When she struck the bottom, there was no pain. She rested in the arms that had been waiting for her, looking upwards, heedless of the broken body she'd be leaving behind. This time the appearance of the shepherd was male, dressed in a dark and immaculate suit, untouched by the wind and the surf. She wrapped her arms around his neck. "It's odd," she remarked. "What is?" His voice was deep and rich, like a generous fondue pot of warm chocolate. "Even as I knew I was coming back to you, I never stopped loving my husband." "There are all different sorts of love. Your love for your husband, your children's love for you... ours. Some mortals foolishly try to limit themselves to one. In the short lives you lead, I do not know why one would deny oneself in things like love and joy." She shook her head. "Not everyone sees life the way you do." "I do have an interesting perspective." He paused. "Your family - are you concerned?" "No. He's a good man. We made contingency plans. They will live on." "I know." "You're sweet to ask. People misjudge you. They personify you so grimly. They don't know how lonely you are." He kissed her forehead. "I've missed you, my phoenix." She smiled and nuzzled closer. "So what happens now? Do you shuffle me off to be reborn again?" "Not yet. I've been waiting years to see you again. But just like how you can't rush the moments of your life, you can't rush moments like this, either. Between your fall and your rise there is an infinite number of forevers. Choose one, and let's share it together."

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Blue Ink Alchemy

500 Words on D-Day

500 Words on D-Day — Blue Ink Alchemy

"They fight not for the lust of conquest. They fight to end conquest. They fight to liberate." — President Franklin D. Roosevelt, radio broadcast, June 6, 1944 The boat's probably sprung a leak or two. The seas are choppy. Hardened men and new recruits alike are trying very hard to keep their breakfasts down. Weapons are checked and re-checked. If one were to peek over the edge of the landing craft, a hundred more would be visible on either side. And then, when the boat pushes onto shore and the door drops open, all literal hell breaks loose. Fixed machine gun positions turn the first few rows of men packed together into paste. Men drown in their attempts to avoid the deadly hail. Those that make it onto the beach have to slip around hedgerows of metal and possibly even mines. Mortar rounds from pillboxes send soldiers and their body parts flying into the air. Medics struggle in vain to at least stabilize the wounded before snipers finish the job. Every inch of sand between the sea and the enemy position is paid for in blood. Fifty years ago today, this was reality for over 150,000 Allied troops as Operation Neptune, the amphibious invasion of France to liberate it from Nazi Germany, was executed. While what is described above, and seen in films like Saving Private Ryan, makes the invasion seem costly and brutal, the fact is that things could have been much worse. Thanks to Allied intelligence efforts, the Germans had to defend huge swaths of the coastline, The Allies had air superiority, meaning they could bombard the defensive positions from the sky as well as the sea. French Resistance fighters disrupted bridges and supply convoys behind enemy lines, and the German command structure did not have the alacrity needed to adequately deal with the nature of the invasion. Still, the fight was incredibly hard. Allied casualties were in the tens of thousands, with over 4,000 confirmed dead on the first day alone. None of the Allies' major objectives were achieved by that point, and one of the biggest targets, the town of Caen, would not be captured until well into July. That said, it was a significant day in the war against Nazi Germany. This was a tangible new front opened on Hitler, causing him to split his attention between this combined force of British and American invaders, and the stalwart Russian defenders on his eastern flank. Between the paratroopers, specialized tanks, and air and sea bombardment, D-Day opened up that second front with gusto, even if casualties were high, especially at Omaha Beach, one of the five stretches of land chosen by the Allies in the months leading to the invasion. It was seventy years ago today. It would be remiss of us, living in a world where the dream of free expression and equality is still viable, not to remember the sacrifices made that day. We have a long way to go. But like this invasion, it could be much worse.

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Blue Ink Alchemy

Movie Review: X-Men Days of Future Past

Movie Review: X-Men Days of Future Past — Blue Ink Alchemy

I'd be one of the first to sing the praises of Marvel's cinematic arm from the rooftops. Their connected films have maintained a reasonable baseline of quality, with its weaker films still being decent or fun to watch. Unfortunately, movies of Marvel franchises outside of the actual Marvel Studios have had a rougher road. Spider-Man's suffered through a very dodgy reboot, the Punisher's outings have been divisive, and a lot of comic fans would rather not discuss Daredevil. As for the X-Men, Marvel's team of mutant misfits has been around for quite a long time, and X-Men: First Class made a move towards rendering some of the rougher outings of Xavier's gifted youngers superfluous. X-Men: Days of Future Past goes one step further, driving nails into the coffin of those movies best left unnamed. Things are not going well for the X-Men. Incredibly powerful and highly adaptive robot killers called Sentinels, originally programmed to hunt mutants, now dominate the planet. All of humanity save for its very worst are oppressed and face extinction. Guided by Professor X and Magneto, the few remaining X-Men hatch a desperate plan. The theory is that if the assassination of the Sentinels' creator, Bolivar Trask, by the mutant Mystique is prevented, the future will be altered. Therefore, one of the X-Men must allow their consciousness to be projected back in time to their younger body. The only mutant with the regenerative capabilities to survive this journey is Wolverine, and it is he who suddenly awakens in 1973, looking for Charles Xavier and Erik Lehnsherr. It should be fairly obvious that what we have here is retroactive continuity, or a 'retcon'. This is the third X-Men movie directed by Bryan Singer, and the prevailing sentiment is that things have been inconsistent since he gave up the helm. X-Men: The Last Stand and X-Men Origins: Wolverine are both held in largely universal contempt. The Wolverine had some good ideas, and X-Men: First Class was a welcome return to high-quality mutant storytelling. It seemed, at the time, that Matthew Vaughn was mostly interested in starting the timeline over - the Marvel universe, after all, has acknowledged the presence of multiple universes and timelines for a long time. Singer, for his part, has seized onto one of the most beloved tales from the comics and uses it to whip the mutant franchise back into line with his vision.
The more things change... Unlike the bright color pallete of Matthew Vaughn's film, though, Singer returns to his beloved barely-accented black leather as if it's still 2003 and everybody is chasing the Wachowskis. He is so eager to push characters and elements of the story into position for his glorious return that he skims over a lot of details. This is especially true in his vision of the Sentinel-dominated future: some characters are barely introduced or characterized, others have powers that make no sense or have no explanation, etc. In other words, characters exist for the sake of the plot, rather than moving the plot of their own volition, which is a mark of lazy and lackluster storytelling. And while we're on the subject, I'm still not sure how I feel about the overall use of Kitty Pryde and Mystique in the film. These are powerful, even iconic female characters in this franchise, yet they feel like they're barely there, despite Mystique's central role in the plot. I can't point to any one aspect of their roles that gives me this disturbed feeling, but it hangs over the proceedings like a dark cloud. However, it's not all bad news. Not by a long shot. Continuing to be one of the most inspired casting choices since Christopher Reeves' Superman, Hugh Jackman does a great job as Logan, breathing much-needed life and presence into what could have been a dull plod of a proceeding. Also returning are Michael Fassbender as the younger Magneto and James McAvoy as younger Xavier, and they still have the chemistry, intellectual fortitude and emotional pathos that made First Class so good. The scene between McAvoy and Patrick Stewart as his older self is amazing, and should have been left out of the trailers to make its already significant impact even more powerful. Our nominal bad guy, Bolivar Trask, is actually a nuanced character, and while he isn't given that much to do, Peter Dinklage makes the most of every scene he's in. Much like First Class, there isn't a great deal of action, but what action we do get is staged very well, some of it carrying satisfying tension while one scene in particular is paired with a fantastic musical sting that actually made a 'bullet-time' gimmick fun to watch.
Like First Class, seeing these two interact is one of the highlights of the film. X-Men: Days of Future Past is decent and enjoyable. It's not as good as First Class, but the way it handles the other previous films gives me hope that Singer is moving away from the negative aspects of said films (see most of my criticism above) and towards plots and performances that let the characters guide the story, rather than the story pushing the characters around. Singer is attached to direct X-Men: Apocalypse, and it seems that he has some interesting ideas in that regard. Days of Future Past was a movie all about the restoration of hope, and it accomplishes this goal, not only for the characters, but also for the audience.

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Blue Ink Alchemy

From the Vault: What We Leave Behind

From the Vault: What We Leave Behind — Blue Ink Alchemy

Still recovering from my recent travels - in a way, it feels like I'm shaking off the vestiges of sleep and wondering if it was a dream. Anyway, here's a dip into the past while I work on catching up.

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Nothing lasts forever. It's a narrative thread woven through many, many stories we tell. Ozymandias talks of great constructs of man all but obliterated by time. A lot of tales are set in times long after the collapse of expansive civilizations. We preserve what we can, but it is impossible to escape what comes for each and every one of us in time. Death has been personified in many ways. We want to put a face to the inevitability of our end. We struggle to comprehend the finality of it. That there is nothing more in this world for us. No matter what may come after, if there's more to existence than these mere dimensions we perceive or if there is nothing but silence and oblivion, our hands do no more work, our mouths never make audible sounds again, our eyes fail to see another wonder or another tragedy. And yet, our stories do not end when we do. Time will have her way with what we build and the lines we draw between one another. Our imaginations, however, are much more difficult to destroy. In those imaginations, we remember those who've left us behind, we tell their stories, we wonder and question and laugh and cry. And when we latch onto something, like the arguments made by the likes of Plato or Aristotle, the teachings of pilgrims from Nazareth or visionaries from Mecca, a tale about fairies or the faux history of the epic struggle of noble houses, the creator of the work lasts even longer in our imaginations. In rare cases, we're given more than just entertainment and escapism. We are given hope. I don't necessarily mean hope for an afterlife or immortality or anything like that. In a general sense, we find hope for a better tomorrow. We know the world will keep turning even if someone we admire or love dies. And if the sun does indeed rise on a new day, maybe we can find, in ourselves and in what we and our loved ones leave behind, whatever it takes to make this day better than the one before.

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Blue Ink Alchemy

2013: The Disappointments

2013: The Disappointments — Blue Ink Alchemy

Man of Steel, by Rudyao 2013 was a year that was mostly populated with sequels, and sequels are a double-edged sword. You have an established world and characters to work with and build upon, and an audience already interested in what you're doing. However, you also run the risk of undoing good work done in previous installments, watering down the message previously established, or alienating the audience, or at least some of it, when you move in a new direction. The two movies that disappointed me this year demonstrate these pitfalls extremely well, and I'm going to take some time to detail what I feel went wrong in both cases. Let me clarify something, however, before we begin. I enjoyed watching both of these movies. I will admit there's great stuff in both of them. At no point during either one did I throw up my hands and storm out of the theatre, feeling I'd been spoken down to or that the filmmakers had pulled an untoward bait-and-switch. These are high-quality films with great casts and interesting ideas. But I'll be honest: both of them really disappointed me. When JJ Abrams took the helm of Star Trek, I was curious. After the first movie under his command, I was intrigued. A fresh new cast inhabiting the classic characters in a new timeline with new aesthetics had me highly anticipatory of the direction they'd go in. Unfortunately, the direction they chose was back to the past. Star Trek Into Darkness did quite a few things right in executing one of the best-known storylines from the classic era, but as well as those things were done, they could have been done just as well with new characters unconnected to the previous tales. What's disappointing to me about this is that its demonstrating a trend towards pandering and fanservice. These things aren't necessarily bad, but when they're the core of your creative endeavor rather than a fringe benefit, the entire work can suffer for it. I know this creative team is capable of better. I'm cautiously optimistic that they will learn from their mistakes and give us something new. More than Into Darkness, however, I was deeply disappointed by Man of Steel. Again, we have a very talented cast working within a fascinating aesthetic that breathes new life into a world we already know. However, rather than utilizing these high-quality tools to provide a counterpoint to Christopher Nolan's interpretation of Batman, as Superman is almost always Batman's counterpoint, I can't help but feel like these characters have somehow become virtually one and the same. Where Star Trek leans towards pandering, Man of Steel was more concerned about Superman's messianic overtones and the tendency lately of superheros being dour, grim, stoic miseryguts rather than concentrating on using their abilities to help people. The titular character in Thor: The Dark World acts more like Superman than Superman does in Man of Steel, a clear indication that something's gone wrong with our friends Nolan and Goyer. There are moments in the film where something truly exciting in the world of Superman can be glimpsed, but it gets overshadowed by the darkness and seriousness that dominates the film. It smothers the fun we could be having, it undercuts the talents of the cast, and just leaves me feeling irritated and frustrated. This could have been so much better! What disappointed you the most in 2013?

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Blue Ink Alchemy

Hot, Hot Heat

Hot, Hot Heat — Blue Ink Alchemy

I feel like I brought this heat and humidity back with me. It's punishingly hot out there. It was nice to have a breezy, comfortable spring for a couple of weeks, there. I have the feeling this is just the beginning of our weather woes for the season. I really don't have much else to say, as my brain is fried for many reasons. But let's chalk it up to the heat. That's the easy answer. I need a drink.

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Blue Ink Alchemy

Flash Fiction: The Ugly Sea

Flash Fiction: The Ugly Sea — Blue Ink Alchemy

The title was generated as part of this week's Terribleminds challenge.

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Bruce hauled himself up the rain-slicked, metal ladder towards the top deck of the trawler Mary of the Magdeline. His poncho flapped in the wind, and he shook his head to keep the rain out of his eyes. He reached the top rung and pushed himself towards the door to the bridge. Gloved hands with quick, practiced motions spun the wheel to open it. "Cap'n," Bruce said, shaking off some of the rain water as he reached out to pull the door closed behind him. "How's the egghead?" "I think he's about done, sir. He's got to be, he's been in the aft head since the chop started." "He better be done," Captain Hopkins growled as he wrestled with the wheel. "We're going to need him." "I checked below decks. The team's ready to go." Hopkins shook his head. "I don't like having those jarheads on my boat, Bruce." "What choice do we have, sir? You saw the sonar reads as clearly as I did. This... phenomenon, I think the doc called it... it's big, and it's getting closer to the surface. The government..." "Hang the damn government." "See, Cap'n, that's why nobody likes making small talk with you." "Make your point, Bruce." "My point, sir, is that we're neither have the equipment nor manpower to handle this thing ourselves. We're not part of the government, which I know you prefer, and that means we can operate in international waters without raising a lot of heckles." "I'm not an idiot, I know all of that. All I said was I don't like having these jarheads on my boat. Why, do you?" "Their sergeant plays a mean hand of poker." "Bruce." The first mate crossed his arms. "Yeah, I don't like this either. The whole thing gives me the creeps. I mean, it's been a long time since my Navy days, Kevin, but things that big and that deep just don't exist in nature." Kevin nodded. His clear, blue eyes never left the windscreen getting assaulted by rain and hail. His salt and pepper beard crinkled as he scowled. The Mary was an older boat, rusty in places and very friendly to barnacles in others, and keeping her on an even keel in weather like this took strength and awareness. Bruce didn't actually like talking to his friend at times like this, but in the situation at hand, he had little choice. "If it's as big as they're saying," Kevin Hopkins finally said, breaking the white noise of the storm and engines, "what's a platoon of Marines going to do?" The door to the exterior opened again. The Marine commanding the platoon in question, Lieutenant Diaz, slipped into the cabin. "Choppy seas, eh, gentlemen?" Hopkins grunted in reply. Bruce folded his arms and watched Diaz shake off the rain. She was on the shorter side, dressed in dark camouflage BDUs and wearing her sidearm at her hip, a carbine kitted out for special operations slung across her back. Her beret looked crisp thanks to the hood on her poncho. "We're almost there," Bruce offered. "I had a feeling weather like this wouldn't slow your crew down. It's a fine boat with fine men, Captain." "Thanks." "Ma'am, it's always good to see Marines, but i think Cap'n Hopkins is trying to keep us afloat so you can get down to your business once we arrive." "I have the boys assembling just below the foredeck now, Mister Kiley. Sergeant Howser will bring them up the moment I give the word." The Mary shuddered. Bruce and Diaz flailed for handholds. Hopkins cursed and spun the wheel to reaffirm his grip. "Chop's gotten rougher!" Bruce heard the note of nervousness in his friend Kevin's voice. He turned to see Doctor Roslovich, pulling himself hand over hand along the corridor behind the bridge, approaching the,. "How's the accommodations, Doc?" Sometimes, Bruce just couldn't resist giving someone like Roslovich a hard time. "Wretched," said the scientist. "Ideal for all sorts of foul adventure." As if on cue, the portable terminal Roslovich had deployed on arrival aboard the Mary pinged, loud and clear over the din outside. The scientist made his way there and tapped some commands into the prompt. "Sonar readings confirmed! Anomaly is 300 meters off the port bow! It's surfacing!" Diaz leaned towards the radio clipped to her shoulder strap, eyes on the storm. "Howser! Port at 300! Hustle!" Like clockwork, a stream of Marines in ponchos with automatic weapons and rocket launchers appeared on the foredeck. Bruce watched as Howser shouted orders, three Marines took up kneeling positions, and rockets streams into the stormy night. The light of the rocket's trails reflected off what seemed to be a solid wall of what appeared to be very, very fine scales. Bruce, Diaz, and Roslovich looked on without a word. Hopkins reached towards a handle over his head towards the right side of the cabin. It turned a spotlight towards... Roslovich began screaming. Diaz's lip quivered, reaching behind her for her primary weapon. Bruce just stared. He stared up at the mass of appendages where a head might be on a creature that made natural sense. Within the quavering, dangling tendrils a pair of glowing yellow points, flickering like dire candles, narrowed at the vessel. A huge tentacle, easily the length of an aircraft carrier, rose out of the water before them, poised. What can a platoon of Marines do? What can any of us do? Sent from my iPad

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Blue Ink Alchemy