Epilogues: Essential or Evil?

Epilogues: Essential or Evil? — Blue Ink Alchemy

The novel rattles along towards its end. You've been with these characters for hundreds of pages, followed their stories for thousands of words. Now, at last, you're in the final chapter. The drama and action are at their peak. The conclusion rushes up on the last page of the chapter, and... What's this? There's more? I thought the story was over! Epilogues are interesting creatures. On the one hand, they allow a "where are they now" recap of the stories of your characters, the opportunity to tie up loose ends. On the other, they take place after the principle action of the narrative, perhaps in an arbitrary or artificial fashion. Let's take a look at these specimens in more detail, to see if there's a right or wrong way to implement them or if they're even necessary at all.

Epilogues Are Not Bad

Once you get to the end of the story's major plot, there may be minor ones that still need to be resolved. And that resolution might not come right away. The major plot may require cleanup, say if the evil overlord's exploding hideout set the nearby forest on fire or the police need to take statements and make a case that the hero was actually breaking the law and needs to serve time. The protagonist may need to disappear in the wake of that explosion, or maybe they won't see their significant other until they get out of the slammer on good behavior. Yet you still want to resolve some things for them after that time period. Epilogues let you do that. Putting these story points in an epilogue instead of an additional chapter indicates that this final part of the narrative is occurring outside of the timeline of the main plot. Readers spend a bit more time with characters, see the resolution of certain situations and get the opportunity to decompress after the experiences within the climax. If nothing else, it allows the writer to tie up loose ends.

Epilogues Are Not Good

Then again, if you have a lot of loose ends to tie up, maybe you need to rethink where those threads came from in the first place. Why tack on additional words after you resolve all the action? End on a high note, as they say. Less is more. Resolve what needs to be resolved and no more. Let the reader fill in the blanks themselves. Also, epilogues can be arbitrary or even artificial. If you're writing a novel, it's already a long work. Do you really need to make it longer? Epilogues are also breeding grounds for things like sappy reconciliation, forced relationship resolution and groundwork for a sequel that may never come. At worst, they're vestigial growths that operate like the human appendix: unnecessary and possibly poisonous to your creation.

Epilogues Are Both. Or Neither!

I think it might be a case-by-case basis. I see both the merits and flaws in an epilogue. I can understand cases where they might be necessary and cases where they serve no purpose other than lengthening the story or providing setup for future works. And as far as my own work is concerned — Citizen in the Wilds in this case — I'm on the fence. What do my fellow writers think? Are epilogues good things from time to time? Or do all of them need to die in a fire?

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Blue Ink Alchemy

Book Review: Mogworld

Book Review: Mogworld — Blue Ink Alchemy

One of the most wonderful and terrifying things about becoming a novelist is there's no one "right way" to do it. It's wonderful because it means anybody with writing talent (and some without) can do it, and it's terrifying because it can be daunting to choose how to begin, where to go and what to do once you get there. Yahtzee Croshaw started out writing reviews of movies and games, short stories and freeware adventure games, and Mogworld is his first novel. After finishing it, I found myself hoping that it won't be his last. With Sir Terry Pratchett ill and Douglas Adams dead for almost a decade, someone had to step up and fill the shoes of the sarcastic British genre novelist. Jim is an apprentice wizard, studying arcane magic and thankful to be away from his fathers' disgusting farm when his school is attacked by the neighboring war college. He's killed, only to wake up sixty years later as a zombie under the command of a necromancer. It's soon apparent that his world has become afflicted by some odd global condition that makes death a temporary inconvenience, but while some people wake up in a nearby church swathed in white robes when killed, Jim remains zombified. The prevailing sentiment among those still capable of coherent thought is that this condition needs to be fixed. Jim, however, could care less. Jim just wants to die permanently. Unfortunately, being an NPC in Mogworld, a massively multiplayer online game boasting revolutionary AI, this is easier said than done. Yahtzee's writing shows evidence of subscription to two of the biggest rules for good writing: "show don't tell" and "less is more." Tackling the first, Yahtzee is careful to never just have his characters spout their feelings verbatim. They are shown through the timbre of the conversation, their expressions and actions, the decisions they make and so on. Likewise, Yahtzee avoids the tendency of many, many modern comics with his "less is more" mentality, using running gags sparingly and instead using circumstance, intelligence and sarcasm to maintain a high level of humor throughout the book. And make no mistake, this book is very, very funny. Of course, this is Yahtzee we're talking about, so folks were probably expecting the humor. The existential angst, philosophical ramifications and metaphysical discussions, on the other hand, might catch some readers off-guard. The humor, in point of fact, begins to feel like something of a gateway drug. It's the hook that pulls you into the story so Yahtzee can drive home what he's really on about. The narrative goes some very dark places. It's well done and presented in a very interesting way, so it wasn't that jarring for me, but readers expecting the rapid-fire dirty jokes of Zero Punctuation may be filled with confusion. If Mogworld has a flaw, it's the decision Yahtzee made to write the novel in the first person. While it does draw in the reader and underscores the sort of immersion Yahtzee is always discussing in his reviews, there are a few moments where it feels less like Jim is his own character and more a mouthpiece for Yahtzee's personal opinions and philosophies. Considering how much of Yahtzee's voice and humor permeates the novel, Jim comes dangerously close to becoming an Author Avatar. Thankfully, as the novel goes on it feels more like Yahtzee is flirting with that distinction rather than being completely ignorant of it or knowingly crossing the line to speak to us directly about how silly or stupid we are to believe whatever we do that he does not. It's gotta be hard to carry on a serious discussion on these subjects when your tongue is planted in your cheek, after all. It's really hard to hold a flaw this minor against the overall result when the humor is this funny, the characters this memorable and the jibes this cutting. For a novel, Mogworld is very good. As a first novel, it's excellent, bordering on the fantastic. And for anybody out there struggling to put a novel together, it's a challenge. Yahtzee got this written, edited and published while maintaining his web series and opening the Mana Bar. It puts the following question to other writers: "What's your excuse?"

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Blue Ink Alchemy

Into The Nentir Vale, Part 1

Into The Nentir Vale, Part 1 — Blue Ink Alchemy

The Nentir Vale is a campaign setting provided to new players of Dungeons & Dragons 4th Edition. It's present in the Red Box and most of the starting materials. For a party almost all completely new to D&D and a DM re-familiarizing himself with the latest edition, it's a great place to start a campaign. This will be an ongoing recollection of what happens to the party as they make their way through the Nentir Vale. Enjoy. Trade caravans often travel the King's Road in the Nentir Vale. With bandits, wild animals and monsters roaming unchecked throughout the countryside, traders attempting to bring much needed goods to the town of Fallcrest and beyond often welcome the company of adventurers. They're not always paid, but even the most inexperienced sword or spell can ward off unwanted attention. This was the situation on a sunny afternoon. Traevus, a wagonmaster coming north through Harkenwood, had a few young adventurers with him when his wagon was beset by goblins. The adventurers sprang to his defense and managed to drive the goblins off. A distant rider shook his fist in contempt of his failed minions and rode off. None of the travelers was seriously hurt. However, a valuable box was stolen from Traevus' wagon, and he commissioned the adventurers to bring it back. Andrasian wasn't about to let thieves escape without facing justice. He also was looking forward to not being so close to so many humans. Their city-folk ways put him a bit ill at ease. He was a warrior of the wilds, and his simple greatsword thirsted for more blood of the wicked.

"Like my Dalish character in Dragon Age, but with a Y chromosome and actually nice to some people." - Mike, Andy's player

Melanie Good-Melons, on the other hand, couldn't care less what the goblins stole or why. The offer of payment, however, persuaded her to join the party. A seer had seen Mel as an infant and predicted both her arcane inclination and her voluptuous body shape. Not one to hide her assets, Mel made it a point to wonder why Lyria wore such tight, dark leather. "The body is something that should be cherished," she said, "instead of hidden in disgrace."

"A magically voluptuous freelance adventurer with a taste for danger and minimal coverage." - Eric, Mel's player

Lyria, for her part, didn't want these goblins giving honest thieves like her a bad name. Stealing from a fat nobleman who pissed on the peasantry was one thing, but stealing the goods of a struggling merchant just trying to make it as far as Fallcrest? She wasn't having any of that. A lithe halfling that moved like a dancer and always had a dagger handy, Lyria seemed interested in the adventure as much for helping Traevus as for the promise of treasure.

"Think Bayonetta, only three feet tall." - my comment on Danielle's description of Lyria

The three interrogated one of the remaining goblins. Before expiring, the goblin confessed to the rather intimidating elf asking the questions that he came from a ruined, half-buried temple deep in the woods. Andrasian lead the ladies down the indicated path without incident. They came across the ruin and made their way inside, finding two corridors leading into the rock. They chose one and came across a surprise. Instead of goblins, the trio encountered a cadre of kobolds wandering the halls of a section of the temple. The kobolds chatted amongst themselves as to how to deal with the intruders. Not wanting to betray that she speaks the language of dragons, Lyria kept quiet as Andrasian asked to be taken to their leader. The kobolds' master turned out to be, rather than the disgruntled rider, a fledgling white dragon named Farallax. Farallax told the trio that he saw the temple as his, and the human who they'd seen, Malareth, was an intruder. If they drove Malareth and his goblin cohorts out, he'd reward them. Considering he was both sitting on a pile of treasure and looked poised to wipe the floor with the party if they refused, the adventurers agreed. The dragon pointed to a door that would take them to Malareth. Beyond the dragon's lair was a storage area where goblins milled about. The trio sprang into action. Andrasian met the goblins head-on, Lyria snuck and danced around the fight looking for the best angle at which to stab a given opponent, and magic missiles flew from Mel's fingertips. A hulking bugbear with a nasty-looking greataxe entered the fray. It took a coordinated effort between the three adventurers to deal with the captain of Malareth's guard, but despite being bloodied and bruised, Andrasian found the heft of the bugbear's axe rather satisfying, resolving to take it with him. Malareth's lair was a dark laboratory full of bubbling vials, moldy books and a few skeletal servants. Out of the corner lumbered a stitched-together monstrosity, a huge zombie that was not likely to fit through a standard door. Malareth dismissively told his servants to deal with the intruders. Mel's spells kept the zombie at bay, pushing it back and causing it to tear the arm from one of Malareth's skeletons in its rage. Andrasian's new axe hewed into bone. Lyria played with her opponents, often slipping in for the killing blow as the fighter's strength put them off-balance. Malareth's dark powers often froze the adventurers in their tracks and repaired the damage to his minions. For a while, the fight could have gone either way. Then Lyria leaped onto the shoulders of the zombie and stabbed it in the base of the skull, severing the connection between its rotting brain and animated muscles. The beast toppled to the floor in a heap of body parts, the magic animating it draining away and its stitches coming undone. Malareth stood alone against the party, and despite his affinity for the magic of death, he was no match for them. Melanie eagerly claimed his staff for her own. The box that had been stolen from Traevus sat on the necromancer's table. It contained an immaculate skull that radiated dark energy. The trio discussed the possible ramifications of this on their way out. Farallax thanked them for taking care of the pesky human, reached into his pile of gold and treasure, and pulled out a suit of leathers for Lyria. The party found their way back to Traevus, who explained the artifact was being taken to a monastery deep in the mountains where it could be destroyed or, at the very least, kept safe. Satisfied for now with that explanation and paid for their service, the trio of adventures kept the rest of the trip incident-free all the way to Fallcrest...

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Blue Ink Alchemy

Opening The Red Box

Opening The Red Box — Blue Ink Alchemy

Last night was a little different. Normally on Sunday nights I stay at home with my feet up and possibly lacking a pair of pants, and every other week I twiddle my thumbs while I wait for Classholes time to come around. Not last night, though. About mid-afternoon I put on pants and sallied forth to a friend & co-worker's house for something a little different. We opened the Red Box. I never had the red box myself, as a kid. I got into D&D around 2nd Edition, and I had just about wrapped my mind around the nuances and algorithms of THAC0 when 3rd Edition was announced. Naturally, I was frustrated. How dare TSR take away all the complicated algebraic formulae we'd burned lean tissue to memorize! Between 3rd Edition and Star Wars Special Edition, fans had plenty to be butthurt about. 4th Edition, released just two years ago, has been met with a great deal of similar ire from those steadfastly devoted to 3.5, people who've turned up their noses at anything new coming out of Wizards of the Coast and opting to play Pathfinder instead. And now comes the Red Box. D&D for beginners. Hurt butts everywhere. So when we opened up the box, we found the following: Bag of dice. Off to a good start. A two-sided, glossy map with two outdoor locations on one side and an indoor temple/dungeon/really big house on the other. Good for a couple of adventures, sure, but I suspect that unless you slice up the interior locations to be rearranged and thus ruin the outdoor maps, it might get old after a while. Cardboard counters for heroes, monsters and Action Points. I have to admit, this was really nice. Coupled with the map, a lot of the guesswork and ambiguity is taken out of combat. Yes, there's something charming about "picturing it in your mind," but at the same time knowing where you stand in relation to which hulking monstrosity at any given moment is a good thing both as a player and as a DM. For folks just starting out, this is pretty ideal. Painted miniatures and custom maps can come in time, provided you have some to spare. To say nothing of money for pewter and paints. Character Sheets. It was nice of Wizards to toss these in, and on high-quality paper as well. That said, there's something somewhat limiting about them. Granted, the contents of the Red Box aren't intended to take the characters too far past level 2 (more on that later) but giving characters a bit more room to grow beyond the one side of a single character sheet isn't a bad thing. On the other hand, the blank side of the sheet is great for sketches. Power Cards. This is where a lot of the butthurt is going to come from when fans of 3.5 check this out. 4th Edition resolved to make things a bit more streamlined and free-flowing, especially in combat, and while this wasn't necessarily implemented well on all sides — half the skills are gone, which dilutes the versatility of a character somewhat — the Power Cards are probably the best addition to the game. Instead of hunting through the Player's Handbook or a supplemental guide to find the particulars of a given ability, a player has a set of cards giving the name of the ability or power, what it does and how often it can be used. And... apparently... this is a bad thing? Player's Book. This is probably my least favorite part of the new Red Box. Now, granted, I understand why Wizards put it together this way. It's for the total beginner working solo to introduce themselves to D&D. But when you have a few people looking to try it out with ideas of what they want to play, hunting and picking the particulars of the watered-down character creation rules out of what is essentially a Choose Your Own Adventure book is a bit tedious. Again, I'm not ignorant as to why it is this way, and in terms of getting a kid started in D&D it's a really neat way of doing it. It's just not helpful to people starting together as a group, and it feels a little childish in presentation. Dungeon Master's Book. Tied into the Player's Book as it is, there are some rough parts of the DMB. The transition into DMing is presented as a natural extension of the CYOA aspect of the Player's Book, with an owner of the Red Box lending his or her Player's Book to another interested player so they can generate their character. You could probably pass the PB around from player to player and let them figure things out on their own, but that'd be an evening in and of itself, more than likely. Other than that, though, I have to say the DMB is a really solid intro to DMing, which might be the biggest hurdle some people have to clear when it comes to D&D. Laying out an adventure, coordinating a dungeon's encounters and handling things like experience, role-playing and treasure can be daunting when you first decide to try it. The Red Box's DMB keeps things simple, walks you through rules procedures and even reminds you that the players' choices are just as important as your dungeon and its denizens. As much as I felt the Player's Book doesn't help a party starting out, the DMB does that well, once you get over the rough transitional bits. So there you have it. Those are the contents of the Red Box and my take on them. But how does it work with new players, or experienced ones for that matter? Tune in tomorrow, and find out.

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Blue Ink Alchemy

The Blue Ink Bump

The Blue Ink Bump — Blue Ink Alchemy

When Stephen Colbert mentions someone or something of import on his show, he's giving it "the Colbert Bump." Even his constant assault upon Jon Stewart's Rally to Restore Sanity draws attention to that event - which, by the way, I think I might be making time to attend. I'll be bringing my indoor voice, as recommended. Anyway, I thought I'd bring attention to a few of the resources I go to that keep me going in terms of writing and help me maintain sight of my goals.

Terribleminds

Come on. This one's a gimmie. Chuck has repeatedly and brilliantly given writing advice that's head, shoulders and beard above anything I could say. In fact, I hear tell he's working on a book of writing advice which is going to end up right next to my old-school Elements of Style. White & Strunk could probably use a drink, and if I know Chuck, his advice is likely to be soaked in gin.

Do Some Damage

The folks over at DSD primarily talk about crime fiction, but the advice they give on story structure, dialog and pace can often be applied no matter what genre you happen to be in. It's a great collaboration of very smart folks that deserve some traffic and attention. Check them out!

Genreality

Think that getting that book or article published is the route to fame, booze and floozies? Think again. The ladies at Genreality routinely give not only good writing advice but an inside look at the realities of getting into and staying in the publishing game. It's an honest and unflinching look at both how to get into it and what you need to do to stay there. Recommended for anybody even remotely interested in getting paid to write fiction.

Query Shark

Between your red-hot manuscript and that elusive publishing contract is the query. You could have the next big thing sitting in your hands, a total Twilight-killer, but it won't go anywhere without an effective query. There's advice all over on what makes or breaks a query letter, but like understanding the inner workings of a frog, the best way to understand a query is to see one torn to bits. That's where Query Shark comes in. You will see nearly 200 queries, some good and some terrible, with in-depth reasons as to why some lead to requests to read more and some yield only form rejections. You can even submit your own queries. IF YOU DARE. What other sites do you guys use when you need writing advice?

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Blue Ink Alchemy

Extra Credit

Extra Credit — Blue Ink Alchemy

A quick one today: if you haven't already, cruise over to the Escapist and check out a little feature called Extra Credits. So far they've proven to be brilliant, insightful and pretty funny at times. It's a look at what games are made of, how they influence us, what they mean and how we can make them better.

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Blue Ink Alchemy

IT CAME FROM NETFLIX! Moon

IT CAME FROM NETFLIX! Moon — Blue Ink Alchemy

[audio:http://www.blueinkalchemy.com/uploads/moon.mp3] Remember that stuff I said last week about science fiction? In that context, an animated space western was being discussed. On the Moh's Scale of Science Fiction Hardness, I'd probably put Titan A.E. at between 0 and 1 out of 8. Duncan Jones' Moon, on the other hand, comfortably sits between 6 and 7. It also makes itself at home in your brain, and if yours is anything like mine, it's not going to leave any time soon. Earth's energy crisis has been solved thanks to the utilization of helium-3 deposits on the Moon. The mining operation is the sole propriety of the Lunar Corporation, and its base on the moon's far side is run by Sam Bell. Sam's 3-year contract is almost up. Other than the occasional video message from his wife keeping him up to speed on their infant daughter, his only company has been the base's computer, GERTY. The tenure at the station is beginning to take its toll, however, since Sam is starting to see things. He's very much looking forward to going home when one of the harvesters breaks down. Sam goes to check it out, and... well, things gets really interesting really fast. I'll say that much, and no more. In terms of aesthetics, hard science and mood, Moon feels very much like a spiritual successor to 2001. In fact, Duncan Jones does seem to have taken at least a few notes from Stanley Kubrick. Without relying on showy computer graphics or big name talent, Jones has shoot a film that is at times breathtakingly beautiful and shockingly intimate. But remember how in 2001, we had to wait over an hour and watch stuff float around in space before we got a memorable character? Moon gives us a character right the hell away. And it's a damn good one. Sam Rockwell has always struck me as something of an underrated performer. He's been in science fiction since his big break in Galaxy Quest, where among heavyweights like Tim Allen, Sigorney Weaver and Alan Rickman, he provided a memorable and very funny performance in what could have been a throw-away role. Especially since he was the 'red shirt' in the party. It's really a shame that Iron Man 2 didn't have more for Justin Hammer to do, focused as it was on Tony Stark wrestling with his demons and learning to get along better with the people around him. If you don't think Rockwell's got charisma, watch The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy. Yes, I know, it's not as good as the book, but Sam as the vacuous party-president Zaphod has got charisma oozing out of his pores. Here, Sam gives a very poignant and subdued performance, but no less charismatic, as... well, Sam. In fact, Jones wrote the part of Sam with Sam in mind, after Sam expressed a further interest in science fiction. He handed the script to Nathan Parker, who's also familiar with Sam's work and tailored the script to take advantage on a vast well of untapped talent. There's a lot of it here, too, from the still and slow-moving camera work by cinematographer Gary Shaw that underscores many themes of the film to Clint Mansell's simple yet haunting score. However, this is very nearly a one-man show. The bulk of the heavy lifting in Moon is the responsibility of Sam Rockwell. The film's story, emotional drive and thematic meaning all live and die based on Sam's ability to convey those story points, those emotions, those themes. And in every aspect, he displays an adroit mastery. We see so many sides of the same character that... well, again, saying more will spoil things. So let's move on.
Not Pictured: The note reading "HUGE SUCCESS." I say it's "nearly" a one-man show because Sam (the character) isn't 100% alone. The station's computer system, GERTY, interfaces with Sam by way of a mobile device bound to a single rail that traverses the station's interior. GERTY claims to be there to help Sam, as it watches the human through an inscrutable single lens and manipulates the environment with its robotic arms. The computer is voiced by Kevin Spacey, in a smooth and soothing tone that... ahh, there I go again, very nearly spoiling the movie for you. Seriously, this is one of those films you must see to fully appreciate. I can only ramble on about characters for so long without approaching the border of spoiler territory, and talking about all the technical aspects can get kind of dull even when it's nothing but absolute praise. There is, however, something I feel I should touch on that has nothing to do with either the particulars of Moon's story or of its production.
"What do you mean, 'I can't open the pod bay doors'? We don't even have pods!" Remember me mentioning Moh's? It's unfortunate that, on that scale, a lot of the science fiction we see these days barely rates above a 4. Now, there's nothing wrong with this and a lot of good stories are told on the softer side of science — Firefly, Battlestar Galactica, Gattaca and District 9 just to name a few — but some of the best fiction is born out of constraints. Some shorter works have more punch and poignancy than novels, due to the author needing to get to his point and drive it home within a restricted word count. Existing as it does on the hard side of Moh's scale and clocking in at a deceptive-sounding 97 minutes, Moon shows us the kind of story that can be told with the discarding of things like faster than light travel, ray guns and long loving shots of docking sequences set to classical music — a damn good one. Hard or soft, the best science fiction out there isn't just about the trappings of the genre. I mean laser cannons, jump drives, killer robots and space whores are cool and fun, sure. But good science fiction, the kind that sticks with you after the space battles are over and the ship pulls in to dock, uses its awesome trappings to draw you in and then teaches you something about the human condition, about who we are and where we're going. Instead of a grand scale of intergalactic conflict or system-spanning action, Moon has its focus squarely on us here on Earth. By maintaining this tight focus, we experience through the character of Sam Bell some of the things we ourselves deal with despite the fact we're surrounded by other people every day. In spite of that, some of us can empathize with Sam's loneliness. We ask ourselves some of the same questions: How much longer do I have? What's waiting for me after this? Who am I?
Sam can see his house from here. Kinda. On top of everything else, the film captures a sense of mystery and suspense that feels fresh and edgy despite the jaded lens through which many watch movies. If Hitchcock were alive today and interested in science fiction, Moon might be a production of his. Its story moves at its own patient pace, much like GERTY's unflappable patience with Sam. While it's only an hour and a half long, it feels much longer and much deeper. It follows the traditions of Smith, Heinlein and Niven in using elements both familiar and fantastical to tell an intricate and pointed story about humanity. In other words, this is what high-quality science fiction looks like stripped of hyperbolic special effects and presented with the purest intent and passion of the genre. Moon is, in a word, exemplary. It's on your Netflix Instant queue. Or rather, it should be. Right now. Josh Loomis can't always make it to the local megaplex, and thus must turn to alternative forms of cinematic entertainment. There might not be overpriced soda pop & over-buttered popcorn, and it's unclear if this week's film came in the mail or was delivered via the dark & mysterious tubes of the Internet. Only one thing is certain... IT CAME FROM NETFLIX.

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Blue Ink Alchemy

Gamers, Fanboys, Behavior and Respect

Gamers, Fanboys, Behavior and Respect — Blue Ink Alchemy

Since I and others may get worked up over this, here's a picture of our kitten. I try to keep the contents of this blog focused on storytelling and the best ways to do it in modern media. One of those forms of media is games. Video games, to be precise, and it's a form of storytelling and interactive entertainment I've enjoyed since I was knee-high to a corn stalk. It's in my blood. It's part of my life. I am a gamer. And yet, I feel like using that word has come to carry a negative connotation. Some have tried to distance themselves from the hobby to some degree. Some have pointed out that a lot of gamers are doing it wrong. Some are curious as to what's going on with the term in general. And others want the label drowned in the bathtub altogether. By the way, you should really go watch and read all of that stuff I just linked if you haven't already. It's worth your time especially if you're a gamer, and it's the basis for this entry. For my part, I want to make something perfectly clear. I don't think I'm better or worse than the large community of gamers out there. I'm just as guilty as taking joy in the failures of another gamer who happens to be on the opposing side of the Internets as anybody. I've shunned social interaction, ambition and even relationships for the sake of gaming. I've gotten pissed off to the point of physical violence over another failed attempt at a challenging level. After the experiences of suicidal depression, a nervous breakdown, abandonment, divorce and the rigors of the mental health recovery system in this country, I made a promise to myself that when I came across a flaw in my behavior, I'd take a look at the problem, find out where I'd gone wrong and strive to improve my behavior going forward. Sometimes I do that. Sometimes I don't. Sometimes I kick it right into the goal, sometimes I bounce one off the post. Nobody's perfect, right? Yeah, I might lose my cool when I nearly get run over by somebody in an Audi who's in a hurry to get from the local Starbucks to their next high-powered marketing meeting. Who doesn't? And I might invoke the works of other gamers and critics - like I did two paragraphs ago - and be seen as taking them out of contest. Mistakes are going to happen. I'm a human being. My point is: so are you, and so is everybody else out there. I want to be treated like one, and so I make the attempt to treat others like one. Is it really that hard? Am I strange for wanting this? Has common courtesy somehow become taboo, uncool or downright lame? No. It hasn't. And nobody should feel that way. I've gotten into arguments over games, stories, programming procedures, politics, religion, philosophy and the best variety of Pop Tarts. And some of those arguments have gotten pretty heated. But when it comes to an actual debate, even when I bring up a point that I know is going to be unpopular for one reason or another, it's never my goal to piss anybody off, make anybody feel inadequate or ashamed to feel the way they do. I especially have zero interest in perpetuating the notion that disagreement and dissension should be met with blind hatred phrased in abusive language. Now before I get into the meat of this, let me pause to say that some of the discourse I've had recently related to games and gaming has been balanced and respectful. It's heartening to experience respect and debate on the Internet, but the unfortunate truth is that this feels more like the exception than the norm. And that's a problem. I'm also not opposed to the use of profanity. I make precision F-strikes from time to time to get a point across. But using that language in a demeaning, personal attack is a far cry from using it to emphasize a point. Let me give you an example, specifically regarding the word "faggot" or "fag." For a lot of so-called gamers out there, if you present a counter-argument to the prevailing sentiment about a given game or aspect of gamer culture — the characterization of a video game's protagonist or lack thereof, for example, or the virtures of an RPG or turn-based strategy game over the plethora of FPS games out there — you must be a "fanboy" of whatever side you're percieved to be on. Additionally, it's not only acceptable but encouraged to imply if not out-and-out state that as a "fanboy" you are automatically also that aforementioned f-word and all it implies. The reinforcement of a negative sterotype of a particular minority of humanity, the perpetuation of the acts that are wrapped up in that stereotype and the consequences desired by certain political and religious groups for being a part of or even associated with that minority have become the default reactionary response of these so-called gamers. In other words, if you were to say that Team Fortress 2 is a better multiplayer experience than Halo or Call of Duty, the default reactionary response of these gamers is that (a) you play Valve games to the exclusion of all other games to the point of obsession and (b) you should be burned alive for being so clearly deviant from the accepted norms of gamer society. This behavior is absolutely fucking disgusting. Putting aside the fact that this sort of rabid defense of a given sub-strata of gaming makes these valiant defenders of whatever they're defending just as much a "fanboy" as the object of their ire, the virulent vomiting of acidic homophobic or racist hate renders any sort of counter-point they want to make entirely worthless, if they have any point to make at all. People work personal attacks into their commentary all time, be it for the sake of comedy or lacking anything further to say of intellectual importance. And in the interest of full disclosure, in the context of gameplay, busting out the occasional "Your mom" joke when you're among friends is pretty harmless — I've done it & will likely do it again. There's no intent there to harm, which is a point I'll revisit. But in the context of discourse and debate, when all you do is attack the person making the point instead of the point itself, all you're doing is proving just how aggressively juvenile and socially inept you are. Pointing out flaws in an opponent's logic, citing sources that discredit their thesis, deconstructing their argument in a way that's just as constructive for future talking points as it is furthering your point of view — that's interesting, intelligent, thought-provoking and respectful discussion. Invoking lewd sex acts done by or to your opponent or their family isn't any of those things, nor is it all that funny. As I said before, busting out the occasional "So's your face!" among friends is one thing. Constant, unrepentant and abusive behavior is quite another. Making fun of someone aiming to have everybody laughing, including the one being made fun of, is one thing. Spitting out derogatory remarks laced with profanity for the sake of proving your superiority is another. See what I'm getting at here? Are you picking up what I'm putting down? Does this make any sense to you whatsoever?
Another picture of one of my cats associating with games. It calms me. I know it might seem hypocritical of me to be telling people how to behave and to knock off personal attacks in what is looking more and more like a personal attack, albeit directed at a number of anonymous people. But how else do we call attention to this fundamental flaw in our society? What other recourse do we have to point out how bad this makes us look as a community? Why should we continue to let this be accepted, encouraged and in some cases defended behavior? We can, and should, do better. We have a whole lot of language we can use. We are fully capable of rendering our arguments in ways that are not personally insulting, potentially inflammatory or deliberately pejorative. And when you get right down to it, the words themselves are devoid of meaning other than those we give them. George Carlin, may he rest in peace, said the following regarding language:

There are no bad words. Bad thoughts. Bad intentions. And woooords.

So I'm not saying that certain words are taboo and should never, ever be used. Taking words out of parlance is tantamount to censorship, which I'm just as opposed to as I am treating other people like shit because they happen to disagree with you. What I'm driving at here is that, as gamers, we should respect the opinions of other individuals even when we disagree with them. If we want to be respected, we need to show respect to others in order to earn the respect we crave. We are a culture of short attention spans and ever-emerging distractions. We'll get fired up about something for a bit and then move on to the next big release, content update or point of contention. I'm afraid this will happen when it comes to this aspect of our society. If that means I need to jump up and down in my cage, thump my chest and throw some poo, so be it. After all, the only thing necessary for evil to succeed is for good people to do nothing. Now, I'm not saying these gamers are evil. That's just as wrong as all of the homophobia. I'm just reiterating the fact that this kind of behavior, from its roots deep in the insecurities of socially inept gamers to its manifestation as streams of profanity wrapped around racist and homophobic epithets with the intent of degrading an individual for the sake of elevating one's own sense of self-worth, is completely unacceptable. It wouldn't be tolerated to use these words with that intent to someone's face, and it shouldn't be across the Internet, either. If you engaged in this behavior around a gaming table where dice are being thrown, or while sitting on the couch as a guest in someone else's home, it would not go on anywhere near as long or be anything close to this 'accepted.' In fact, you'd be sitting by yourself pretty damn fast in most public situations because nobody wants to associate with the dickhead who thinks it's funny to imply people he doesn't like should be burned alive. You can disagree with me if you like. You can even hate me for pointing this out, even though it's been pointed out before. Send hate mail, engage in the very behavior I'm opposing, vote for projects other than mine out of spite, whatever. If that's the price I have to pay for sticking my neck out in the name of common courtesy and asking that a level of decency be introduced to the interactions we have with one another as human beings sharing the same planet and trying to enjoy the same hobby, I'll pay it gladly.

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Blue Ink Alchemy

Keep Yourself Out

Keep Yourself Out — Blue Ink Alchemy

Phillip Pullman has published an article expressing his dislike of stories in the present tense. He makes some good points about some of the limitations of present tense, which I feel extend to some of the limitations of first person perspective. But that's a subject for another post. What came to mind even as I read the article was that this is coming from a man who called the Chronicles of Narnia "religious propaganda." I can't express my difficulty with this any better than Confused Matthew did, so I'm going to quote his mini-rant on the subject from his review of The Golden Compass:

The Narnia books do not mention any of the following things: God, prayer, Jesus, religion, the bible, the pope, the church, atheism, Satan, mass, the eucharist or anything directly having to do with to any actual faith. Yes, many of stories are directly inspired by Bible stories, but this is perfectly understandable. Lewis had become interested in Christianity at the time he wrote the series — he was recently converted in fact, if I'm not mistaken — and as a writer, you write what you know. THAT'S NOT WHAT PROPAGANDA IS. [...] PULLMAN, on the other hand, has no problem whatsoever putting things in his books like: "For all of [the Church's] history... it's tried to suppress and control every natural impulse. And when it can't control them, it cuts them out" — "That's what the Church does, and every church is the same: control, destroy, obliterate every good feeling" — "The Christian religion is a very powerful and convincing mistake." Now please, please, do not take this to mean that I am either defending or denouncing these lines in the book. [...] My only point is this: Phillip Pullman, you are a hypocrite. You don't accuse someone of writing propaganda, especially when they haven't, and then turn around and write your own propaganda in response.

This is a very particular and irksome example of one of the biggest problems I have with some authors out there, and one I take pains to avoid when I can — the problem of author insertion. In Pullman's case, the themes and story elements of His Dark Materials are rooted in this denouncement of the church, every church, as an evil, soul-crushing monolithic organization that exists to serve itself first and foremost. While there are some churches out there that fall into this category, there are also political parties, so-called 'news' organizations, businesses, social groups and gaming companies that are just as guilty of existing solely for their own sake rather than working or seeking harmony with the community at large. When these things are brought to light in a work of non-fiction, an expose or a historical account, it's fascinating stuff that lays foundations for thoughtful debate, or at least an entertaining argument. When inserted into fiction, it's propaganda. Now, as Matthew pointed out, we write what we know. Some of us don't like certain political, religious, philosophical or sociological points of view, and like it or not it's going to come out in your work. That's okay. I'm not talking about that. I'm talking about making a deliberate and concerted effort to push certain views through the mouths of your characters to the expense of moving the story along or allowing those characters to grow in their own ways. I'm talking sacrificing interesting character-building conversational dialog for overt preaching to the reader. I'm talking about making sure your characters don't turn into Brian the dog from Family Guy.
Remember when Brian was just the intelligent, sarcastic foil to Peter's oafish blundering? Those were the days... These are casing of taking "You write what you know" to the extreme. But some authors go further than that. Some go so far as to write not just what they know, but who they are. And since this is fiction we're talking about, you can be certain they're writing who they want to be. You know where I'm going with this, right? As if the image I slapped up top wasn't a big giveaway. I'm going to quickly touch on three particularly egregious examples of author insertion, starting with what I feel is the least and working my way up to what really pisses me off. A lot has been said about the style and substance of Dan Brown. But one thing that sticks out for some is the mere presence of protagonist Robert Langdon. Smart, reasonably attractive, athletic, able to succeed regardless of odds with only a minimum of personal investiture, risk and negative consequences — I can't think of an art or history major who wouldn't mind being in the situations he's thrust into with that sort of setup and their vast acumen of knowledge. And more often than not, coupled with a love interest who is head over heels for them at first sight. Now, to be fair, Langdon's perfection is somewhat downplayed in the films and the first novel, Angels & Demons. But from what I understand, it's pretty common for Brown to cast his heroes in this same mold. From a character standpoint, Bella Swan is also smart, reasonably attractive, athletic and able to succeed regardless of odds with only a minimum of personal investiture, risk and negative consequences. She's also existing in a series of stories inspired by a dream experienced by author Stephenie Meyer. Now, in this dream world, being stalked by a killer is the basis of a life-long desirable relationship. Killers sparkle in the sunlight. The heroine onto whom many of the young readers project themselves is pursuing (and pursued by) a character who has all of the personality of an empty can of Coke and all the trappings of an abusive boyfriend or husband. A lot has already been said about the unforunate implications of this series, like this excellent essay by Cleolinda Jones. As disturbingly close to the author as Bella might be, though, let me bring to your attention one of the biggest examples of this phenomenon: Rhonin, a character from Warcraft created by Richard A. Knaak. Nowhere else in that universe is there a character who is not only an archmage but also a skilled swordsman and handy with a crossbow to boot. Friend to gods, admired and respected by villains, married to a hot elf chick and father to half-elf twins who are, according to Knaak, the only two in existence despite the fact other half-elves have been in the game since Burning Crusade — the list goes on. And when Knaak can't come up with adequate explanations as to why this character is so singular, powerful, well-respected and devastatingly handsome, he creates other characters to prop that character up who are just as inexplicably perfect as Rhonin. I hope I'm making my point. This is bad writing. These are bad characters. They've come to life as a result of an author putting too much of themselves into their work. If you want your work to succeed, in my humble opinion, you need to make some effort to keep yourself out of it.

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Blue Ink Alchemy

Keep Yourself Out

Keep Yourself Out — Blue Ink Alchemy

Phillip Pullman has published an article expressing his dislike of stories in the present tense. He makes some good points about some of the limitations of present tense, which I feel extend to some of the limitations of first person perspective. But that's a subject for another post. What came to mind even as I read the article was that this is coming from a man who called the Chronicles of Narnia "religious propaganda." I can't express my difficulty with this any better than Confused Matthew did, so I'm going to quote his mini-rant on the subject from his review of The Golden Compass:

The Narnia books do not mention any of the following things: God, prayer, Jesus, religion, the bible, the pope, the church, atheism, Satan, mass, the eucharist or anything directly having to do with to any actual faith. Yes, many of stories are directly inspired by Bible stories, but this is perfectly understandable. Lewis had become interested in Christianity at the time he wrote the series — he was recently converted in fact, if I'm not mistaken — and as a writer, you write what you know. THAT'S NOT WHAT PROPAGANDA IS. [...] PULLMAN, on the other hand, has no problem whatsoever putting things in his books like: "For all of [the Church's] history... it's tried to suppress and control every natural impulse. And when it can't control them, it cuts them out" — "That's what the Church does, and every church is the same: control, destroy, obliterate every good feeling" — "The Christian religion is a very powerful and convincing mistake." Now please, please, do not take this to mean that I am either defending or denouncing these lines in the book. [...] My only point is this: Phillip Pullman, you are a hypocrite. You don't accuse someone of writing propaganda, especially when they haven't, and then turn around and write your own propaganda in response.

This is a very particular and irksome example of one of the biggest problems I have with some authors out there, and one I take pains to avoid when I can — the problem of author insertion. In Pullman's case, the themes and story elements of His Dark Materials are rooted in this denouncement of the church, every church, as an evil, soul-crushing monolithic organization that exists to serve itself first and foremost. While there are some churches out there that fall into this category, there are also political parties, so-called 'news' organizations, businesses, social groups and gaming companies that are just as guilty of existing solely for their own sake rather than working or seeking harmony with the community at large. When these things are brought to light in a work of non-fiction, an expose or a historical account, it's fascinating stuff that lays foundations for thoughtful debate, or at least an entertaining argument. When inserted into fiction, it's propaganda. Now, as Matthew pointed out, we write what we know. Some of us don't like certain political, religious, philosophical or sociological points of view, and like it or not it's going to come out in your work. That's okay. I'm not talking about that. I'm talking about making a deliberate and concerted effort to push certain views through the mouths of your characters to the expense of moving the story along or allowing those characters to grow in their own ways. I'm talking sacrificing interesting character-building conversational dialog for overt preaching to the reader. I'm talking about making sure your characters don't turn into Brian the dog from Family Guy.
Remember when Brian was just the intelligent, sarcastic foil to Peter's oafish blundering? Those were the days... These are casing of taking "You write what you know" to the extreme. But some authors go further than that. Some go so far as to write not just what they know, but who they are. And since this is fiction we're talking about, you can be certain they're writing who they want to be. You know where I'm going with this, right? As if the image I slapped up top wasn't a big giveaway. I'm going to quickly touch on three particularly egregious examples of author insertion, starting with what I feel is the least and working my way up to what really pisses me off. A lot has been said about the style and substance of Dan Brown. But one thing that sticks out for some is the mere presence of protagonist Robert Langdon. Smart, reasonably attractive, athletic, able to succeed regardless of odds with only a minimum of personal investiture, risk and negative consequences — I can't think of an art or history major who wouldn't mind being in the situations he's thrust into with that sort of setup and their vast acumen of knowledge. And more often than not, coupled with a love interest who is head over heels for them at first sight. Now, to be fair, Langdon's perfection is somewhat downplayed in the films and the first novel, Angels & Demons. But from what I understand, it's pretty common for Brown to cast his heroes in this same mold. From a character standpoint, Bella Swan is also smart, reasonably attractive, athletic and able to succeed regardless of odds with only a minimum of personal investiture, risk and negative consequences. She's also existing in a series of stories inspired by dream experienced by author Stephenie Meyer. Now, in this dream world, being stalked by a killer is the basis of a life-long desirable relationship. Killers sparkle in the sunlight. The heroine onto whom many of the young readers project themselves is pursuing (and pursued by) a character who has all of the personality of an empty can of Coke and all the trappings of an abusive boyfriend or husband. A lot has already been said about the unforunate implications of this series, like this excellent essay by Cleolinda Jones. As disturbingly close to the author as Bella might be, though, let me bring to your attention one of the biggest examples of this phenomenon: Rhonin, a character from Warcraft created by Richard A. Knaak. Nowhere else in that universe is there a character who is not only an archmage but also a skilled swordsman and handy with a crossbow to boot. Friend to gods, admired and respected by villains, married to a hot elf chick and father to half-elf twins who are, according to Knaak, the only two in existence despite the fact other half-elves have been in the game since Burning Crusade — the list goes on. And when Knaak can't come up with adequate explanations as to why this character is so singular, powerful, well-respected and devastatingly handsome, he creates other characters to prop that character up who are just as inexplicably perfect as Rhonin. I hope I'm making my point. This is bad writing. These are bad characters. They've come to life as a result of an author putting too much of themselves into their work. If you want your work to succeed, in my humble opinion, you need to make some effort to keep yourself out of it.

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Blue Ink Alchemy

Story's End

Story's End — Blue Ink Alchemy

Some of my favorite stories have been ruined because they've gone on too long. Even stories I've been lukewarm about have taken a turn for the abysmal when more story has been tacked on when it wasn't needed. It's so common that it's been dubbed "Sequelitis" by the Tropers. It's informed some of the decisions I've made as a writer. I've envisioned Acradea as a trilogy, and while I have ideas for extending the cycle beyond three books, I wouldn't want to do so unless the story is good. If Pendragon gets picked up, I have ideas for a story arc with a solid conclusion. The modern supernatural fantasy/horror novel idea kicking around in my head is a standalone product. Suffice it to say, I've learned to go into my storytelling with a plan in mind. Lately, I've been wondering why World of Warcraft is different. Now, on-going interactive storytelling is a different kettle of fish entirely from your standard-issue long-form fiction-writing. Any Dungeon Master worth their salt can tell you that. Would the epic D&D games played by the guys from Penny Arcade be anywhere near as interesting and fun without poor, poor Aeofel? It's a collaborative effort, and roleplayers, good ones at least, do not exist in a vacuum. That said, I've been thinking about what to do with my main World of Warcraft character. I've been playing a blood elf hunter since the race was introduced to players in the Burning Crusade expansion. I'm fond of him. Playing an outdoors-oriented, inclusive member of a race known for being arrogant and isolationist has lead to a lot of interesting anecdotes. He's had highs and lows, triumphs and tragedies - a pretty full life considering he's only a couple years old in real-life terms. With the next expansion coming, I'm wondering where he's going to fit in. Or, more to the point, if he's going to fit in at all. The story of Gilrandur Dawnstalker feels like it's come to something of a conclusion. Do I take him on a "coming out of retirement" track when the Cataclysm hits, or is it time to start a new story instead of continuing the old? The inspiration for this thought came from the pre-Cataclysm event, Zalazane's Fall. Warcraft's trolls have always been one of my favorite races in that universe. They have fantastic lore, interesting relationships with the other Horde races and are poised to have a big role to play in the expansion. Of course, their accents and aesthetic don't hurt either. As writers, I have to ask. Do you know it's time to end a story? If so, how?

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Blue Ink Alchemy

Said Lives!

Said Lives! — Blue Ink Alchemy

Let me take you back to elementary school. Junior high or middle school, maybe. Going back a ways for some of us, I know. Just when we were getting started in writing, putting words together in ways that made sense, our teachers told us something that was meant to help us. "Said is dead." All you have to do is look at some of the more laughably horrendous works of fan fiction out there, such as "My Immortal" or "Half-Life Full Life Consequences", to see why our instructors tried to get us hating "said." If you use it all the time in your dialog, it becomes repetitive. Boring. You could be relaying the blow-by-blow proceedings of an intense debate on the existence of God and the potential place of a deity in the theory of evolution, but if you use 'said' the way you use periods to punctuate the back-and-forth it'll be about as exciting as waiting for the bus. As an alternative to said, we were encouraged to use alternatives found in a thesaurus. Lists like this one popped up all over the place, pounding into us the notion of said being dead. This worked to take writing out of the pure beginner stages and help define the characters as they spoke. At worst, we just swapped said for a different word. At best, he used the different verbs to inform other actions in the plot and keep it moving. Nothing wrong with that, other than the fact it doesn't go quite far enough. Think about conversations you've had. It's very rare to sit across from someone or stand next to them while nothing else is happening but talking. Are you looking out the window? Twirling a pen? Loading a gun? Are they? These actions convey emotion — restlessness, anger, thoughtfulness, etc. — much better than any replacement for "said". Not only do writing these actions out as a preface to a line of dialog communicate which character is speaking, they also say something about that character in a way that shows, rather than tells. Win/win. Of course, too many actions may clutter up the flow of the dialog. Sometimes you just need to say who's talking. And for that purpose, "said" works just fine. But just because said lives doesn't mean you can't kill it dead. Our teachers had a point. The overuse of "said" will destroy your work. Even only using it a few times in the same exchange can put the attention of your reader in jeopardy. Think of "said" as a bit of duct tape keeping the flow and coherence of the dialog together until you reach the next action, or an instance of a character actually addressing the person to whom their speaking directly. People do that for emphasis, or to indicate another party present. As strong as duct tape is, if you use too much of it to patch your dialog together, chances are you're doing something wrong. Think about the flow of conversation. Weave actions into it to keep the direction clear, the energy high. Use said as sparingly as possible, and find ways to avoid using it if you already have once or twice. Step back from the dialog, turn it upside down, see what shakes loose and patch it up so it holds together. In other words, don't just tell us about it — write it. Our characters, after all, are not just what they say or what they feel. They are what they do. But that, I feel, is a subject for another post. For now, let it be known throughout the land and shouted from the rooftops — said LIVES!

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Blue Ink Alchemy

Our Heroes And Their Booze

Our Heroes And Their Booze — Blue Ink Alchemy

I was thinking about putting together a post on the death of the newspaper. I was going to invoke the classic film All The President's Men and the more recent State of Play. I was then going to ask where journalistic integrity has gone. But now I realize that was going to go in a political direction and I promised I'd keep politics and religion out of the blog. That's what WhineLiveJournal is for. Thanks to Chuck, I am no longer thinking of such things. I am, instead, thinking about booze. They say you can tell a lot about a person by the alcohol they drink. I'm not entirely sure WHO says that, but I know it's been said. The same goes for fictional characters, or at least I believe it should. Let's look at a few to see how the saying holds up. And if I just coined it, I want a dime any time anybody says it.

Captain Jack Sparrow

It's Talk Like A Pirate Day and I'm sparing ye... er, you the increased difficulty of reading this post in pirate-speak. Instead, let's look at the chosen intoxicant of one of the craziest and coolest pirates ever to sail the Caribbean, Jack Sparrow. Sorry, that's Captain Jack Sparrow. Jack is defined by a question. Normally it's not "Who am I?" or "Which magical MacGuffin will get us out of this particular mess?" No, that question usually is "Why is the rum gone?" Considering how much rum there was to be had in the West Indies, it's not surprising this was Jack's booze of choice. But what does it say about him? Rum is distilled from sugarcane by-products, usually yielding a sweeter drink that's more palatable on its own than, say, vodka or tequila. You don't need to chase a shot of straight rum with salt and the juice of a lemon. Technically you don't need to do that with tequila either, but I happen to be fond of my taste buds and would prefer them unscalded. Anyway, it's easier to drink by itself and, as I mentioned, there was a lot of it floating around the West Indies during the time period in which the Pirates of the Caribbean films are set. So it was easy to acquire, easy to drink, easy to carry around. Jack likes things easy. He doesn't even need a big ship, technically speaking. The last shot in the last film is Jack, alone, in a little dinghy with a magic map and plenty of rum. No attachments, no worries, no responsibility. That's Jack in a nutshell. Or a dinghy, rather. For all of his antics, spontaneous flashes of genius in concocting gambits and daring acts of heroism, he'd just as soon not be bothered. He's concerned when the rum is gone not just because he's without booze - it means he actually has to do shit.

The Dude

Here's a guy you'll never see swinging on a rope, sword-fighting with Lovecraftian horrors or even pulling one over on the smarmy merchant prince who wants to put an end to piracy (explain again why this is a bad thing) - Jeff Lebowski. "The Dude". The epitome of slackerhood. His drink of choice is the White Russian. The Caucasian. Damn close to the only alcoholic beverage my wife can stand. She likes Woodchuck, though, so she does have good taste. Other than marrying Yours Truly. Back to the Dude. His drink is a combination of vodka, coffee liqueur and half-and-half. Now, breaking these elements down, it's a surprisingly effective mixture. Vodka is made from grain or potatoes, and as far as I'm concerned, is specifically designed to get you drunk as quickly and cheaply as possible. Even good vodka takes on the flavors of whatever you mix with it, meaning cheap vodka only tastes like vodka if you drink it straight. Mix it with something like coffee liqueur and you're not only doubling the booze presence but covering up the turpentine-like vodka with something halfway palatable. The half-and-half smooths the drink out, giving it more of the creamy consistency of a glass of milk or an iced latte. The Dude, then, knows he wants to get drunk but isn't going to pound tequila shooters to do it. The most expensive item in the list is the liqueur and even that isn't all that pricey. Somewhere along the line, he realized the best way to make a consistently drinkable alcoholic beverage and figured out the right mix so it comes out well every time. He's a creature of habit, and more intelligent than he lets on. And even if he runs out of something, the grocery store still takes checks, right? The Dude abides.

The Punisher

On the other side of things, we have Frank Castle. This isn't really touched on in the comics, but in the first recent film, starring the somewhat underrated Thomas Jane, we see Frank drinking Wild Turkey straight from the bottle. A lot. His regimen of physical activity, such as blowing up bad guys and causing head trauma to assassins with a paper cutter blade keeps him from falling out of shape due to this habit. But for the taciturn Frank, the bourbon speaks volumes. Bourbon is a corn derivative that's usually pretty strong - 80 proof, or about 43% alcohol per volume. Wild Turkey is even more powerful, weighing in at 101 proof which puts at 50% apv. It's also thoroughly American. Now, you can do things like mix it with Coke or water to dilute its potency, but the 'manly' thing to do is a straight shot. Or several in a row. Clearly, then, Frank isn't somebody who messes around. When he wants to get drunk, he does it fast and hard. The same way he takes down mob peons and destroys the lives of their bosses. He drinks his bourbon the way he shoots his guns - straight, fast and intent on maximum damage. Despite the fact he's doing this damage to himself, we know he can take it because he is the motherfucking Punisher.
Booze or no, I would not want to pick a fight with this guy. Name a favorite character of yours whom you've seen boozing. What was the booze? What do you think it says about them?

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Blue Ink Alchemy

Our Heroes And Their Booze

Our Heroes And Their Booze — Blue Ink Alchemy

I was thinking about putting together a post on the death of the newspaper. I was going to invoke the classic film All The President's Men and the more recent State of Play. I was then going to ask where journalistic integrity has gone. But now I realize that was going to go in a political direction and I promised I'd keep politics and religion out of the blog. That's what WhineLiveJournal is for. Thanks to Chuck, I am no longer thinking of such things. I am, instead, thinking about booze. They say you can tell a lot about a person by the alcohol they drink. I'm not entirely sure WHO says that, but I know it's been said. The same goes for fictional characters, or at least I believe it should. Let's look at a few to see how the saying holds up. And if I just coined it, I want a dime any time anybody says it.

Captain Jack Sparrow

It's Talk Like A Pirate Day and I'm sparing ye... er, you the increased difficulty of reading this post in pirate-speak. Instead, let's look at the chosen intoxicant of one of the craziest and coolest pirates ever to sail the Caribbean, Jack Sparrow. Sorry, that's Captain Jack Sparrow. Jack is defined by a question. Normally it's not "Who am I?" or "Which magical MacGuffin will get us out of this particular mess?" No, that question usually is "Why is the rum gone?" Considering how much rum there was to be had in the West Indies, it's not surprising this was Jack's booze of choice. But what does it say about him? Rum is distilled from sugarcane by-products, usually yielding a sweeter drink that's more palatable on its own than, say, vodka or tequila. You don't need to chase a shot of straight rum with salt and the juice of a lemon. Technically you don't need to do that with tequila either, but I happen to be fond of my taste buds and would prefer them unscalded. Anyway, it's easier to drink by itself and, as I mentioned, there was a lot of it floating around the West Indies during the time period in which the Pirates of the Caribbean films are set. So it was easy to acquire, easy to drink, easy to carry around. Jack likes things easy. He doesn't even need a big ship, technically speaking. The last shot in the last film is Jack, alone, in a little dinghy with a magic map and plenty of rum. No attachments, no worries, no responsibility. That's Jack in a nutshell. Or a dinghy, rather. For all of his antics, spontaneous flashes of genius in concocting gambits and daring acts of heroism, he'd just as soon not be bothered. He's concerned when the rum is gone not just because he's without booze - it means he actually has to do shit.

The Dude

Here's a guy you'll never see swinging on a rope, sword-fighting with Lovecraftian horrors or even pulling one over on the smarmy merchant prince who wants to put an end to piracy (explain again why this is a bad thing) - Jeff Lebowski. "The Dude". The epitome of slackerhood. His drink of choice is the White Russian. The Caucasian. Damn close to the only alcoholic beverage my wife can stand. She likes Woodchuck, though, so she does have good taste. Other than marrying Yours Truly. Back to the Dude. His drink is a combination of vodka, coffee liqueur and half-and-half. Now, breaking these elements down, it's a surprisingly effective mixture. Vodka is made from grain or potatoes, and as far as I'm concerned, is specifically designed to get you drunk as quickly and cheaply as possible. Even good vodka takes on the flavors of whatever you mix with it, meaning cheap vodka only tastes like vodka if you drink it straight. Mix it with something like coffee liqueur and you're not only doubling the booze presence but covering up the turpentine-like vodka with something halfway palatable. The half-and-half smooths the drink out, giving it more of the creamy consistency of a glass of milk or an iced latte. The Dude, then, knows he wants to get drunk but isn't going to pound tequila shooters to do it. The most expensive item in the list is the liqueur and even that isn't all that pricey. Somewhere along the line, he realized the best way to make a consistently drinkable alcoholic beverage and figured out the right mix so it comes out well every time. He's a creature of habit, and more intelligent than he lets on. And even if he runs out of something, the grocery store still takes checks, right? The Dude abides.

The Punisher

On the other side of things, we have Frank Castle. This isn't really touched on in the comics, but in the first recent film, starring the somewhat underrated Thomas Jane, we see Frank drinking Wild Turkey straight from the bottle. A lot. His regimen of physical activity, such as blowing up bad guys and causing head trauma to assassins with a paper cutter blade keeps him from falling out of shape due to this habit. But for the taciturn Frank, the bourbon speaks volumes. Bourbon is a corn derivative that's usually pretty strong - 80 proof, or about 43% alcohol per volume. Wild Turkey is even more powerful, weighing in at 101 proof which puts at 50% apv. It's also thoroughly American. Now, you can do things like mix it with Coke or water to dilute its potency, but the 'manly' thing to do is a straight shot. Or several in a row. Clearly, then, Frank isn't somebody who messes around. When he wants to get drunk, he does it fast and hard. The same way he takes down mob peons and destroys the lives of their bosses. He drinks his bourbon the way he shoots his guns - straight, fast and intent on maximum damage. Despite the fact he's doing this damage to himself, we know he can take it because he is the motherfucking Punisher. Name a favorite character of yours whom you've seen boozing. What was the booze? What do you think it says about them?

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Blue Ink Alchemy

Why I Miss Darth Vader

Why I Miss Darth Vader — Blue Ink Alchemy

Yesterday my good friend Rick over at Word Asylum brought up some classic villains. What stuck out in his pretty comprehensive top ten list was the presence of one Darth Vader. I was reminded of what he, and Star Wars in general, were like when it was first introduced. I discussed him briefly back when I talked about villainy in general. Let's go back a bit, however, and examine one of the most iconic bad guys of the big screen a bit more closely.

Star Wars

Rooted as it was in the adventure serials that people like Lucas grew up with, having good and evil somewhat diametrically opposed was par for the course. Good guys were good, bad guys were bad. And they didn't come badder than Darth Vader. We are introduced to Vader when his stormtroopers blast their way through a Rebel spacecraft, his motivations are clear when he strangles one of the ship's officers and he's more than willing to turn his significant strength and wrath against his own people if they question his faith or their orders. You don't need a manual or novelization to understand Darth Vader. It's laid out for you on the screen and, surprisingly enough considering later entries in the Star Wars series, it's shown instead of told. When someone does try to tell instead of show, Vader chokes the bitch. "I find your lack of faith disturbing" is all that need be said.

The Empire Strikes Back

Rick described this as being Vader at "his lowest point, when the Dark Side firmly had him enthralled." His loyalty and dedication to the Empire has given way this obsession with capturing Luke Skywalker. On the surface, this is a straightforward motivation - Luke humiliated Vader in battle, and Vader wants revenge. He's willing to strangle anyone, destroy anything, sacrifice entire Star Destroyers and recruit the most insidious of bounty hunters to get what he wants. His villainy takes on a whole new dimension when it's revealed that his pursuit of the Millenium Falcon is all a ploy to draw Luke out of hiding, and when Luke does appear, Vader goes from being a merely dark villainous presence to a deep and haunting one. Vader, we discover, is Luke's father. Beyond his desire to corrupt Luke and seduce him to the Dark Side, Vader wants Luke to join him, work with him and help him build a peaceful, orderly Empire. He wants to establish a true monarchy by deposing Palpatine, becoming Emperor himself and ensuring his son will succeed him and carry on his goals. It's his way of seeking reconciliation. However, rather than trying to bridge the gap between them, Vader offers to yank Luke over to his side of things. It shows just how far Vader has fallen to the Dark Side, and what happens next is perhaps the greatest moment of storytelling in Star Wars to date. When Luke chooses to face death rather than join his father, watch Vader closely. Without seeing his face, without saying a word, Vader conveys an emotion that pierces all his Force powers and imposing armor the way blasters never could. Luke breaks Vader's heart. Not only is this a telling moment in the relationship between father and son, there's a reveal here even more shocking than that of Luke's parentage: Darth Vader, a deadly and cunning manipulative bastard of a villain, has a heart to break. Star Wars never saw anything like this moment again. It shines as the pinnacle of the saga's power and beyond everything that comes after, for me, it remains untouched.

Return of the Jedi

There's a huge difference between the Vader in the first two films and the Vader in Jedi. He sounds weary. He's still driven and loyal, but the wound he suffered on Cloud City still bleeds inside of him. Inside that dark armor wages a battle between the man he wants to be - Luke's father, someone the boy will admire and want to be with - and the servant of the Empire he has become. When Luke reappears in Vader's life, he makes another attempt to appeal for the young man's favor. In response, Luke searches for the smaller side of the internal struggle he feels, the man Vader once was. Vader as a villain is no less effective in Jedi but his motivations are now far more personal, the sort of things we see in the closing acts of a Greek tragedy. Brought low by his actions, responsible for the deaths of friends and loved ones, Vader must face his own demons and put them to rest even at the expense of his own life. In the process, he finally wins the adoration of his son. The tragedy of his adult life is left far behind as he achieves his redemption. It's this cycle, falling into darkness only to struggle back to the light regardless of cost, that defines many of Star Wars' better tales, such as that of Ulic Qel-Droma.

Everything After

When the prequels were announced, fans looked forward to seeing what Anakin was like before becoming Vader, discovering the details of his fall and fully understanding the pathos beneath the armor. Instead, we got a whiny, willful, selfish and ill-conceived brat with no real charisma, no redeeming values and little to offer the precious few tangible threads of story laid out by Lucas. By focusing on spectacle and merchandising, Lucas tore out the fangs of his greatest success entirely. When you have potential like this, you shouldn't let it go to waste. Take some time to consider the groundwork that's been laid before you build something new. It's not hard. I hate to keep coming back to this, but if I can throw together something in a weekend that people feel is better structured than a multi-million dollar production, the people that invest that money should be more willing to take a closer look on where their money is actually going. But that's just me. I'm a wide-eyed idealist and a starving artist, and for what it's worth, I miss Darth Vader.

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Blue Ink Alchemy

IT CAME FROM NETFLIX! Titan A.E.

IT CAME FROM NETFLIX! Titan A.E. — Blue Ink Alchemy

[audio:http://www.blueinkalchemy.com/uploads/titanae.mp3] "Science fiction" is a broader term than you might think. It covers a wide variety of stories, from the space exploration and future cultures of Star Trek to the time-travelling shenanigans of Doctor Who. In the best cases when it comes to science fiction films, these stories use their outlandish or otherworldly settings to tell us something about ourselves here on the mundane, present-day Earth. In the worst, they dump the latest special effects technology on the screen to make a bit of money and distract the audience from the lack of plot or multi-dimensional characters. Of course, special effects tech can be expensive, but Titan A.E. proves that sometimes the oldest tricks work the best. A bottle of ink and a little paint, after all, has got to be less expensive than a room full of top-flight computers and all of the Red Bull necessary to keep their operators going. The A.E. in the title stands for After Earth. This animated film begins with a malevolent alien species, the Drej, scouring our long-suffering mother world of all life. One of the survivors is Cale, whose father leaves him on the eve of Earth's annihilation to undertake a mysterious project. The only memento Cale has of his father is a ring. Adrift and alone as one of the few remaining humans, Cale takes odd jobs as a mechanic and salvager until a rugged ship captain named Korso tracks him down. No sooner does Korso tell Cale that his father is out there waiting for him, and that his ring is the key to the project "Titan" that can rekindle the human race, the Drej show up and start blasting things. Not one to stand around and get disintegrated, Cale joins Korso and his crew in a quest to find his father, the Titan and possibly hope for his entire species. Don Bluth is no stranger to the otherworldly and fantastical. He is, after all, the animator who gave us The Secret of NIMH, the Dragon's Lair and Space Ace video games, An American Tail and The Land Before Time (but not its bazillion sequels). While much of his style is clear in Titan, the sheer oddness of some of the aliens and the behaviors they engage in feel much more in line with Ralph Bakshi. There's a bit of an edginess to it, which isn't uncommon for works from the turn of the millenium but may surprise those of you who know Bluth only due to talking cuddly dinosaurs.
Akima: All this and brains, too. Further pushing Titan away from the realm of children's movies is the sheer amount of violence present. Sure, it's mostly bloodless and taking place in the same sort of universe where you might find Luke Skywalker or his even whinier dad, but there were a couple times where I found myself gobsmacked in an "I can't believe that just happened!" sort of way. Don't get me wrong, it's not as savagely violent as anime entires like Ninja Scroll, but it's a far cry from the wide-eyed optimism of Fivel the immagrant mouse. While we're on the subject though, Titan A.E. immediately reminded me of one of the first anime features I ever saw, Lensman. Given that the anime is an adaptation of the sci-fi novels of one E.E. "Doc" Smith, I consider this a good comparison. Titan aims to be an old-school two-fisted space western, harkening back to the days when Star Wars was unsullied by major merchandising. It's mostly plays like Flash Gordon without the camp, but at the same time has the good sense not to take itself too seriously. A more cynical way of putting it is that they keep the story and action sequences moving so you don't think too hard about the science.
Somebody turned off the gravity? Korso's shirt is unimpressed. Since we're in the sort of story where space is the open range and asteroids might as well be tumbleweeds, you shouldn't expect to get a whole lot of hard science out of Titan A.E. - it's no 2001, in more ways than one. I mean, this has plot beginning to end, instead of bookending a 20-minute character-driven tragedy with two hours of model spacecraft dancing to classical music. Anyway, while some of the things that happen do have basis in science - weightlessness, exposure to vaccuum, etc - one might be forgiven for wondering how Cale is able to safely eat extra-terrestrial food, for example. Or how the "wake angels" emit dolphin-like song in that one superfluous scene they have. It's really not the sort of thing that detracts from this kind of story. Titan A.E. is definitely on the softer side of science fiction, as most of the technology exists primarily as a backdrop and mechanism to drive the plot. And on that level, it works. Even if we have no idea how they broke the faster-than-light barrier. If Titan A.E. has a potentially crippling flaw, it's the Drej. Given that this is a 2000 film, the decision to mix hand-drawn animation with CGI was innovative for its time and half the time it's not too much of a disadvantage. The Drej, however, are so decidedly different from every other character involved in the story that they might as well not be from this story. Then again, maybe that's the point? Anyway, the big problem with the Drej isn't really their animation, but their motivation. They fear the potential power of humanity. Why? I mean, antagonists lose some of their mystique when their motivations are laid out for us in plain English, but at the same time little hints would be nice. Especially given the way the movie ends, it seems that the Drej were just as responsible for their inevitable defeat as Cale and the surviving humans. If they had a prophecy that drove them to scorch the Earth, shouldn't it have included something along the lines of "Let the human race die out in peace" or "Keep destroying planets when they settle but don't go after them when they're transient, desperate and heroic"? There's certainly nothing wrong with the actions of a malevolent alien race driving the plot of a story like this, but the Drej run after humanity so fast with the intent to end the race that they run themselves smack into a brick wall and brain themselves. They certainly can't hold a candle to the Cylons. Hell, I think the Romulans could probably give them a bruising. At least Nero had a bit of charisma.
"So, Akima... you, me, some simulated candlelight..."
"Cale? You remember I have access to large weaponry, right?"
"...We'll talk later." The hero cast, on the other hand, is pretty well done. None of the characters really fall into the realm of stereotype. Co-screenwriter Joss Whedon's trademark snarky banter shines through in some of the scenes, and there's never a moment of over-the-top emotional dramatics from the ensemble. In fact, the heroes strike that precious balance of being both well-developed enough for us to care about their well-being and wish them success in a general sense while not trying to turn a rock-em sock-em space romp into a Greek drama. It's a lot like the hero cast in Independence Day. And hey, that's Bill Pullman as Korso! Coincidence? I think not! When all is said and done, Titan A.E. can be best summed up in the word "solid." Solid concept, solid story, solid screen-writing, solid animation and solid execution. It lurches a bit here and there, and the Drej could have used a bit more work to become truly effective, but those are mostly nitpicks. If you like the sort of action-packed space adventure where a young hero has to learn something about himself while dodging blaster fire and trading quips with an attractive and capable young lady who's clearly no slouch when it comes to shooting back at the bad guys, you could definitely do worse than Titan A.E. and it's worth adding to your Netflix queue for an evening's light entertainment. It's old-fashioned space-based fun. And I for one have to respect a movie that doesn't screw around and blows our planet out from under us in the opening scenes. Apparently they lost track of their books in the future, though, because I didn't see a single human being fleeing the Earth who had the good sense to take a towel with them. Josh Loomis can't always make it to the local megaplex, and thus must turn to alternative forms of cinematic entertainment. There might not be overpriced soda pop & over-buttered popcorn, and it's unclear if this week's film came in the mail or was delivered via the dark & mysterious tubes of the Internet. Only one thing is certain... IT CAME FROM NETFLIX.

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Blue Ink Alchemy

The Fine Art of the Catherd

The Fine Art of the Catherd — Blue Ink Alchemy

I've been in therapy quite a bit in my adult life. You're shocked. I can tell. One of the most effective pieces of advice I was given by a therapist involved dealing with the internal mechanisms of my brain. Specifically, the phenomenon she called "racing thoughts." Basically, if a notion came into my head or something bugged me, the notion itself and my thoughts on that notion would begin chasing each other around with little restraint or regard for anything I wanted to accomplish. Something would shock me or blind-side me emotionally, and I'd be a useless weepy rag of a man for at least half a day. It was bad. Getting a grip on this problem, and by extension myself, was a lot like herding cats. Rather mangy undomesticated ones that that. My inability to properly cope with or communicate important, life-impacting information and events has lead directly to some real disasters. I've messed up quite a few things in my life. Some bridges have been burned, never to be repaired. I like to believe in things like redemption, forgiveness and hope, but reality is a lot colder and more harsh than the heavenly kingdom in just about any walk of faith. See? There it goes. My mind starts chasing its own tail in a spiral of, in this case, self-loathing and regret. Nip that in the bud, mind! I've done bad things in my life, sure. But they weren't all bad. And I can learn from the bad things I've done in the past and do better in the future. Yes, I've lost friends. Yes, I've disappointed loved ones. Who the hell hasn't? We live on. Pain heals, chicks dig scars.

The Only Real Writer's Block

Going back to my rosy-eyed optimism, I'm fond of telling people that they are their own biggest obstacle. Yes, the deck might be stacked against you in a certain endeavor, be it because of the success of other people or your gender or your current finances or the fact you can't get your hands on a trained orangutan. But more often than not, the little doubts and tiny bits of self-loathing we all struggle with are the pebbles in our shoes that keep us from taking another step forward. It's especially true for writers. You hum along, banging out words, sending queries, pitching articles and sharing your stories with other writers. Or long-suffering spouses. Or confused pets. Or anybody within earshot. Bottom line is, six days out of seven everything's fine as far as writing is concerned. Then comes the bad news. Another rejection for the "I'm doing something!" pile. A disappointingly inadequate paycheck, or word that payment isn't coming at all for another month or three. A collections call. The sound of the repo man's tow truck hitching up to your car. Your dog leaves you a 'present' in your shoes. The roaches carry off the good china you haven't managed to wash yet. You get the idea. Whatever it is, however it comes about, you just stop cold. You doubt your worth as an artist, a writer, a human being. A little voice in your head tells you this was a bad idea. You'll never make is as big as the people out there who have one tenth of your talent but are twenty times as wealthy and popular. You messed up somewhere, and you'll never recover. The little bastard in the back of your brain drops a tiny bit of red matter into your heart and wham, super-massive emotional black hole. Because that feeling? Sucks.

Herding Cats While Herding Cats

Writers and artists aren't the only folks who deal with this. Gamers also run afoul of doubt fairies. Get blasted by other players one time too many, fail in the boss fight time and again, mess up the timing necessary to get that elusive achievement after an afternoon of attempts, and the gamer rage takes hold. You fume. You cuss. You quit. Now imagine that frustration duplicated at least a few times, in the personage of fellow gamers with whom you have direct contact, but it's all directed at you. That's what it means to form a guild, clan or similarly titled organization of gamers within a given game. You not only have to deal with your own anxiety and desire to get your goals across, but you also need to respond to the needs of other gamers. Some are easy to please, some are passive-aggressive in communicating what they want, some just don't want to play by the rules and some think they're entitled to special favors just because you've made the wise decision to include them in the club (which, by the way, they're not). Basically you're putting yourself through the wringer not only of proving your own self-doubts wrong but weathering the slings and arrows of the outrageous expectations of others doing the same. Egos are projected. Friends become whiners. Any ideals you had get swept aside as people scramble for bits of recognition and validation. It feels like the original notion has been picked up and carried in a direction you don't like. Red matter, center of heart, black hole, suck. The feeling that comes from herding the cats in ones' head is aggravated by herding multiple additional cats. So how do you wrangle these rampant felines?

Catnip for the Brain

The best advice I can give for situations like this is to keep things in perspective. As a writer, there's nobody else in the world who can tell your story the way you want to tell it. Sure, concepts or themes or plot structures replicate themselves all the time, but the nuances, the fine details, the character ticks and turning points are all you. You're the teller of that story, and if you don't get out there and tell it it won't be told. As for gamers, games are supposed to be fun. A joy and a delight, a distraction and a touch of escape. We shouldn't drag our personal problems into our entertainment to the degree that it stops being entertaining. That said, I'm as guilty as doing it as anybody, starting over and ragequitting with the best of them, taking a game too seriously. So I'll be right there with you, struggling to remember that I'm in the game to have fun. The people that prevent me from having fun, that try to take that fun away to fulfill those false feelings of entitlement, are people I really shouldn't associate with. Maybe they'll get over it, giving the gamer form of a cat's look of "I meant to do that." And maybe they'll wander off, hindquarters high in the air in that "I'm the most awesome and everybody else is an idiot" prance cats do so well. More delicious tuna for the rest of us, I say.

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Blue Ink Alchemy