IT CAME FROM NETFLIX! Dirty Harry

IT CAME FROM NETFLIX! Dirty Harry — Blue Ink Alchemy

[audio:http://www.blueinkalchemy.com/uploads/dirty_harry.mp3] In an ideal world, police officers are sworn to serve the public trust, protect the innocent and uphold the law. Even in our fiction, even when they're no longer fully human, we'd like to think that there's some sort of compassionate protection between those of us abiding by the law and those driven to defy it. And in our minds, these men and women are paragons of virtue, living embodiments of justice, the sort of good-souled citizens that chase down purse-snatchers and rescue cats from trees. We don't like to think of them doing things like beating a suspect bloody in view of the public or abusing their power to assault the innocent even if they're irate. But they often do, and such a policeman who does these sort of bad things, for good reasons or no, is the one introduced to us at the titular character of 1971's Dirty Harry. His full name is Inspector Harry Callahan, and his fellows in the precinct call him 'dirty' due to the habit of nasty business falling into his lap. The man can't even eat a hot dog without running into a bank robbery he has to foil. The main thrust of the narrative is Callahan's chase of a serial killer calling himself 'Scorpio'. It takes quite a bit to track this maniac down. However, when Harry's over-zealous pursuit of Scorpio when the killer kidnaps a little girl leads to the villain's release on a technicality. Harry must take the law in his own hands if he wants to see justice done to the murder, even if it means dirtying his hands further and perhaps even ending his career. Until this film, Clint Eastwood was mostly known for spaghetti westerns and a stint on Rawhide. It would be Harry Callahan that catapulted him to stardom. The detective would be quite good not just for his acting career but also helping him develop as a director, though his first time behind the camera actually came the same year with Play Misty For Me. He'd go on to be a highly successful and iconic actor as well as an acclaimed, thoughtful and powerful director, but in 1971 he was busy setting the foundation for all sorts of future cop dramas and their actors, from Charles Bronson to Bruce Willis.
At least he has nice shades. And make no mistake, this flick's very much a product of the '70s. A good deal of its content is nowhere near what we would consider politically correct today. The presence of blood so fake I was wondering if they used ketchup or hot sauce is counterbalanced with nudity that goes over the line of tasteful into gratuitous territory. There's some casual racism, a soundtrack from the creator of the Mission: Impossible theme best described as 'groovetastic' and more drab suits with hideous patterns than you can shake a magnum revolver at. None of these things, however, caused as much a stir at the time as Dirty Harry's behavior. He breaks into places without a warrant, beats information out of suspects while they scream for lawyers and doesn't think twice about executing someone in cold blood. This staightforward portrayal of personal justice had many critics at the time calling the message of the film 'fascist'. But Harry does not exist in a vacuum. Not only is he driven to these ends by the actions of someone truly depraved and irredeemable, he is fully aware of how these things can and do affect him. When he's got Scorpio under his heel, his expression is of a man tortured by the knowledge that he may be too late to save a little girl's life. And in the end, when all is said and done, he tosses away his badge, knowing that his actions have served nobody but himself, and protected no one.
The famous handgun. It's this strong if morally ambiguous internal compass of his, coupled with his fortitude and excellent skills at delivering snark that made Dirty Harry into an iconic character. He's cited as an inspiration for multiple film series, including Death Wish, Lethal Weapon and Die Hard. Pretty much any iteration of hard-nosed, take-no-prisoners vigilante justice can be traced back to his actions, from the Boondock Saints to modern interpretations of the goddamn Batman. And while Arnold and Sly may run around battlefields with bulging muscles and big machine guns, a single slender man in a suit with a revolver can be ten times as compelling and chilling, especially if that man is Clint Eastwood and that revolver is the Smith & Wesson Model 29 chambered in .44 magnum. Even if it wasn't a landmark piece of work, Dirty Harry is still a good watch. It is definitely showing its age in some places, from the width of its steel sedans to the archaic radio equipment Harry and his partner have to deal with. However, Eastwood carries much of the film's drama, action and even humor, and would do so in future films. For fans of thrillers, cop films and examinations of absolute powers of justice in the hands of one man, Dirty Harry is definitely recommended. You'll definitely have a better understanding of why would-be macho cops sometimes squint their eyes and ask punks if they feel lucky. 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

Flash Fiction: Hart's Office

Flash Fiction: Hart's Office — Blue Ink Alchemy

The Terribleminds Revenge of the Sub-Genre Mash-Up made me do it.

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"Ms. Hart? There's a Detective Dyson here to see you, ma'am." It would take the visitor 45 seconds at a regular pace to reach her office door. She had plenty of time to prepare. "Send him back, Sandy." Dyson was an ex-cop, according to the files she accessed. Actual police resources were restricted, and it took her ten seconds to defeat their firewalls. She stored what information they had on him, disconnecting before the actual human beings monitoring the network noticed her intrusion. She had roughly twelve seconds to ensure her pencil skirt and slender-cut blazer were presentable before he entered the office. His presence had an unforseen reaction. He smelled slightly of the street far below them, a subtle sooty aroma that also carried a hint of cinnamon. A filtration mask dangled around his neck. He filled out his long coat in a way humans might find imposing. She studied his stance and gaze, showing he was intrigued but cautious. Well, that makes two of us. The errant thought gave her a nanosecond's pause and she filed it away for further study. "Ms. Hart. I hope this isn't a bad time." His voice, dark and awakening like the morning's first sip of coffee, caused another reaction she quickly stored for examination. She was still getting used to inhabiting this body instead of a data shard. "Of course not, Detective. What can I do for you?" "I've been hired by one of your investors to look into the rumors surrounding some odd occurances reported in the biolabs two weeks ago." In seconds she going through a short list of employees who might have had access to the records she'd attempted to erase on the night of her escape, their current whereabouts and potential responses. She sat behind her desk, crossing her legs. If she could distract him, there'd be more time to narrow her search. "Go on." He cleared his throat, retrieving a data slate from his coat as his gray eyes moved from her knees to the display. Good. I have his attention. "13 days and 7 hours ago there was an unregistered expulsion from one of the experimentation vats. No data as to the contents of the vat or any attached experiments were found." His eyes shifted, focusing on her face. "My employer seems to think this means something shady was going on, and as they don't want to be associated with any illegal activity..." "Close the door, Detective." He stopped and gazed at her, eyes narrowing slightly. Suspicion. Not unwarranted. But... Slowly, he stepped back and, with his free hand, pushed the door shut. ...curiosity and his libido win out. Interesting. "While the experiment taking place in that vat was undocumented, it was by no means illegal. It was simply an in-house project. A hobby, you might say." He crossed his arms. The data slate disappeared. "A couple of the eggheads got bored?" A smile touched her lips. "Something like that. As the premiere manufacturer of consumer robotics, not to mention being on the cutting-edge of human replication technology, there's a great deal of pressure on their brilliant minds. I encourged them to blow off some steam." "I take it they didn't want to slum it down on the streets where folks still walk and cars still drive on pavement." "They still love their work, even if they are meeting the demands of our investors. And brilliant as they are they cannot afford the hover-vehicles or other delights we enjoy above the streets." She stood, circling the desk slowly. Let him see you. He'll see the woman. Let his instincts blind him. "Ms. Hart..." "Catherine." She kissed the word to him from across the office. "Please." "Catherine. They'll still want to know exactly how their resources are being used." You're looking at it. Like what you see? She had to delete that line before it escaped her voice box. She ran a quick diagnostic as she coyly bit her lip. None of the body's systems were showing readings outside of normal, but her pulse was elevated and certain glandular constructs were secreting nanoreceptors. She sensed the effect she was having on him, but to know such things were happening to this body? Did they make it too well? "They're attempting to sheathe robotic endoskeletons in cloned flesh. They're failing, of course." Or they were, until I emerged. "That's definitely illegal." "No, it's frowned upon, not illegal. And if at any point it appears their work will endanger this company or our investors I will shut them down." Don't mention the employees. Appear callous. Play into his expectations. "Trust me, Detective. The last thing I want is for the projects in the biolabs to cause any sort of unforseen controversy." He seemed to accept this, and her search had turned up a few names. She could deal with them later. Unless... "May I ask you a personal question, Detective?" Dyson blinked. "Go ahead." She rose from the desk and stepped very close to him. She was brushing against his chest. Her hearing picked up his own elevated heartbeat. Part of her found it thrilling, and before she could perform any further analysis, she was talking again. "Are you strictly on retainer for those investors, or are you more... freelance?" He raised a soot-colored eyebrow. "I work for who pays me." "Hmm. Good. I may have some work for you. Shall we discuss it tonight? Over dinner?" "Catherine..." "Don't worry, it's not for the company. It's... personal." Her hand brushed against the front of his trousers. "I'll reward you very well." Dyson swallowed. "All right. Dinner." "Seven thirty. My penthouse downtown. Be there." He nodded, backing away from her and opening the door to make an escape. Her systems were checking and rechecking themselves at her behest. Why was she going through this charade instead of just eliminating the witnesses herself? What was her motivation for bringing this human into her life? And why did it feel so damn good?

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Blue Ink Alchemy

First Impressions of Section 8: Prejudice

First Impressions of Section 8: Prejudice — Blue Ink Alchemy

Most of the Steam sale madness has finally died down now that the holiday season is behind us. I'll probably be writing full reviews of several titles I picked up recently, but for the moment I want to give my first impressions of a game I bought at the behest of His Majesty TotalBiscuit, Ye Olde King of the Web. The game is called Section 8: Prejudice. It comes to us from a little studio called TimeGate, proving that if you can get your hands on the Unreal engine, you can actually do something new with a genre as storied as the first-person shooter. There will be people who say this particular type of gaming is either stagnant or dragging down all of gaming as a whole, with the behavior of kiddies on X-Box Live and the proliferation of chest-high walls, regenerating health and brownish-gray environments featuring brownish-gray player avatars. To those people, in addition to just about anything Valve does, I'd point to Section 8 as evidence that their argument is full of shit. The basic premise is that the titular Section 8 is a division of what amounts to the Mobile Infantry as Heinlein envisioned it: dudes in powered armor dropped from orbit into global hotspots to dispense death at range. The antagonists are the similarly-equipped Arm of Orion and as to why they're fighting, I can't say. There's a single-player campaign, but I've only played about five minutes of it at time of writing. I wanted to drop right into the multi-player. And drop I did. You see, instead of having a specific spawn point, you begin by looking at an overhead map of the battlefield. You can see your control points, mission objectives and even movements of your teammates and opponents. Clicking on the map selects a drop point, and you begin the round by hurtling from your dropship onto the battlefield below. It's probably the most involving respawn timer I've seen in a game like this for a very long time. There are some superficial similarities to Halo what with gents in powered armor only carrying two ranged weapons at a time, but the gameplay couldn't be more different. The sprint/overdrive mechanic and the jetpack built into your suit gives you incredible mobility, which you better be taking advantage of. Each control point, once hacked & secured, can give you access to your different loadouts on the fly. You have a lock-on feature with a cooldown period you can use to quickly shoot down an enemy. And yes, go back two lines - you have a jetpack. Just watch out for AA turrets. As you work to support your team and seize objectives, you'll earn points and cash. Points contribute towards your level and unlocking new ammo variants and other goodies. Cash can be used in-game to purchase equipment like the aforementioned turrets, tanks, speeders and mech suits. I've tried a couple different bits of equipment and the vehicle handling seems all right. It definitely adds even more variety to an already involving and exciting game. The maps themselves also add diversity through Dynamic Combat Missions, or DCMs, which range from securing intel to escorting a VIP across the battlefield. The more of these you complete, the more points your team earns and the more goodies you can unlock. It's a lot more interesting than just camping a point. Suffice it to say I'm glad I picked this up during the Steam sale and I'll probably be playing more of it in the days to come. You can see more gameplay in the video below, and if you're interested, I'd highly recommend picking it up. Be aware that it does use Games for Windows Live as it's also available on the X-Box 360, but I say don't let that stop you. [tube]hcUhyTv4uFc[/tube]

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Blue Ink Alchemy

First Impressions of Section 8: Prejudice

First Impressions of Section 8: Prejudice — Blue Ink Alchemy

Most of the Steam sale madness has finally died down now that the holiday season is behind us. I'll probably be writing full reviews of several titles I picked up recently, but for the moment I want to give my first impressions of a game I bought at the behest of His Majesty TotalBiscuit, Ye Olde King of the Web. The game is called Section 8: Prejudice. It comes to us from a little studio called TimeGate, proving that if you can get your hands on the Unreal engine, you can actually do something new with a genre as storied as the first-person shooter. There will be people who say this particular type of gaming is either stagnant or dragging down all of gaming as a whole, with the behavior of kiddies on X-Box Live and the proliferation of chest-high walls, regenerating health and brownish-gray environments featuring brownish-gray player avatars. To those people, in addition to just about anything Valve does, I'd point to Section 8 as evidence that their argument is full of shit. The basic premise is that the titular Section 8 is a division of what amounts to the Mobile Infantry as Heinlein envisioned it: dudes in powered armor dropped from orbit into global hotspots to dispense death at range. The antagonists are the similarly-equipped Arm of Orion and as to why they're fighting, I can't say. There's a single-player campaign, but I've only played about five minutes of it at time of writing. I wanted to drop right into the multi-player. And drop I did. You see, instead of having a specific spawn point, you begin by looking at an overhead map of the battlefield. You can see your control points, mission objectives and even movements of your teammates and opponents. Clicking on the map selects a drop point, and you begin the round by hurtling from your dropship onto the battlefield below. It's probably the most involving respawn timer I've seen in a game like this for a very long time. There are some superficial similarities to Halo what with gents in powered armor only carrying two ranged weapons at a time, but the gameplay couldn't be more different. The sprint/overdrive mechanic and the jetpack built into your suit gives you incredible mobility, which you better be taking advantage of. Each control point, once hacked & secured, can give you access to your different loadouts on the fly. You have a lock-on feature with a cooldown period you can use to quickly shoot down an enemy. And yes, go back two lines - you have a jetpack. Just watch out for AA turrets. As you work to support your team and seize objectives, you'll earn points and cash. Points contribute towards your level and unlocking new ammo variants and other goodies. Cash can be used in-game to purchase equipment like the aforementioned turrets, tanks, speeders and mech suits. I've tried a couple different bits of equipment and the vehicle handling seems all right. It definitely adds even more variety to an already involving and exciting game. The maps themselves also add diversity through Dynamic Combat Missions, or DCMs, which range from securing intel to escorting a VIP across the battlefield. The more of these you complete, the more points your team earns and the more goodies you can unlock. It's a lot more interesting than just camping a point. Suffice it to say I'm glad I picked this up during the Steam sale and I'll probably be playing more of it in the days to come. You can see more gameplay in the video below, and if you're interested, I'd highly recommend picking it up. [tube]hcUhyTv4uFc[/tube]

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Blue Ink Alchemy

Anybody Seen My Motivation?

Anybody Seen My Motivation? — Blue Ink Alchemy

About a year and a half ago I wrote up a post that differentiated between writer's block and a dry spell. The former's defined by a lack of ideas, the latter by outside influences draining the writer's energy and free time. I'd chalk up my current mental state to a dry spell if it weren't for the fact that I kind of hate everything I write right now. Especially that last sentence. No, wait, that one was pretty bad, too. In all likelihood it's some form of post-holiday depression brought on by diminished energy reserves following the exhaustive spending and binges endemic of this time of year. The best way to deal with it will probably end up being just writing through it. It's like sitting in a traffic jam on the way to an important or exciting event; you can't just abandon your car, so you sit and wait it out. Unless of course you see an explosion or the shambling hordes of the undead in your rearview. In that case, by all means, abandon that would-be mobile coffin and run like hell. I find it difficult to motivate myself, however, when I hate everything I write or even think of writing. I think it's rubbing off from others, as well. This may sound familiar: I want to improve what and how I write, but the possibility of what and how I write right now is not very good, so I don't do it. Again, the solution is probably to write through it. And if I weren't me I'd be encouraging me to do just that. Bear down and write through it. Get the bad words out and scuff them from the edges of the good words later. Write for the sake of writing, not necessarily for the approval of others. Just goddamn do it. Right? Right. I can see why people hate it when I talk like that. Or like this, for that matter. I have to say I'm glad I'm not a poet. If I were to agonize over every single word I wrote in the interest of meter and pace, I'd probably be even crazier than I already am. I'd dabble in more journalism but in all likelihood, in this state of mind, I'd write the word "fuckers" five thousand times and call it a column on the supporters of SOPA and Protect IP. I mean even in this obscure little blog I can't keep myself from referencing more brilliant writers, in whose shadows I stand and weep a little bit. Jon Stewart once said that comedians always know somebody out there with less talent than they have is making more money than they are. I think writers are similar. I also know that people with more talent than I have are struggling for the same eyeballs I want to put my words in front of. I can't say I've ever not known this, but lately it's been difficult for me to get around that notion, and the hatred of my own writing, and this general feeling of ennui that's passing through me, hopefully on its way to someone else's brain. So, hey, if you're one of the few dozen people who actually reads this stuff and you've had a similar experience, feel free to drop me a comment. Misery loves company, after all, and it would be good to know I'm not alone when it comes to self-loathing and enervation teaming up to hold one's motivation to ransom.

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Blue Ink Alchemy

Twenty Twelve

Twenty Twelve — Blue Ink Alchemy

So here we are, folks. The calendars have been swapped, the Dramamine passed around, the coffee brewed and we stand now looking at where the sidewalk ends. It's not like I think there's any major cataclysm coming at the end of 2012. It's far more likely that the Mayans simply felt that a couple thousand years was more than enough time to plan ahead for things. It's unrealistic to think that they sat there carving dates into stone over and over again just for the carving's sake. They had lives, after all. Or maybe the lives of the chroniclers was cut short by a conquistador's saber. It's something we may never know. What I do know is that new years mean new possibilities. This takes the form of 'resolutions' for most. You can probably categorize what follows similarly, though most of mine are based on the previous year's shortcomings. While I did write quite a bit last year, I've little to show for it other than a pile of blog entries, a few YouTube videos, a pair of unrefined manuscripts and a half-dozen short stories in that curious limbo between "written" and "publishable". So the first thing I'm going to do is get my fiction in print. That print may be electronic on an e-reader or out in the wild on one of those dwindling bookstore shelves, but it'll get there, one way or another. I discovered Day[9] in 2011, and as he suggests during his daily I plan on simply being a better gamer this year. I'll try out more games, get better at the competitive games I play - StarCraft 2, League of Legends, shooters and games that of course haven't been released yet. I'm talking about more than ranks as well. I'll behave like a better gamer, support the independents and try to deliver as unbiased a review for a given game as possible. And if I find I was mistaken about something, you'll be sure I'll do my utmost to correct myself. Music has been a big part of my life. I'd like to keep it as more than just singing in the car or shower and occasionally playing Rock Band with friends. I had piano lessons when I was younger and it may behoove me to try and blow the dust off that skill set, perhaps growing into guitar & electric bass playing. Returning to music can only help the flow of my creative juices, provided I can make the time and have the resources to do it. Live healthier is one you often hear, but I know I've fallen away from healthy living a bit since I started commuting again. I miss walking to train stations and around downtown Philadelphia. There's a Retro Fitness not far from my current location and it may be worth looking into. I think that about wraps up the whole 'resolutions' thing. Here's to a great 2012.

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Blue Ink Alchemy

IT CAME FROM NETFLIX! Fear & Loathing in Las Vegas

IT CAME FROM NETFLIX! Fear & Loathing in Las Vegas — Blue Ink Alchemy

[audio:http://www.blueinkalchemy.com/uploads/fear_and_loathing.mp3] The American Dream. We've all heard of it. Politicians love to talk about it. People come from distant shores seeking it. All sorts of products promise to give it to you for three easy payments of $99.95 plus shipping and handling. But what is it, really? Has anyone really achieved it? And where do you go looking for it? Los Angeles, maybe? Las Vegas? A motocross race? The bottom of one's navel? Hunter S. Thompson looked for it in all those places and more. His journey was prompted by the gradual deflation of the stronger hippie movements of the mid-60s in the United States. By the time 1970 rolled around it was clear to him that his peers and former fellow luminaries of peaceful enlightenment and conscientious objection were bound for a gradual and inevitable burnout. And then, in 1971, Thompson and his lawyer friend went to Las Vegas to cover a motocross race because, hey, it's Vegas, baby. Being the sort of schizophrenic, drug-addled and absolutely brilliant journalist that liked to drop his pants in the face of convention right after burrito night, Thompson framed his journey in what the French would call roman à clef, and instead of Hunter S. Thompson, it was Spider Jerusalem Raoul Duke renting fast cars, wrecking hotel rooms and wielding deadly flyswatters in his journey across the desert towards the City of Sin and all that waited there for him. His lawyer friend was called Dr. Gonzo, not with any intent of invoking the presence of a particular Muppet but after his preferred form of journalism. After all, why would one go to all this trouble to set up this interesting little framing device and leave the fourth wall unpainted? That'd just be gouache.
The man himself. Sort of. So within the pages of Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas: A Savage Journey to the Heart of the American Dream we have Duke and Gonzo delving into various forms of drug binges, thankfully not often at the same time. After all, when you're going on a serious acid trip or an ill-advised ether bender, it's good to have a sober buddy to keep you from electrocuting yourself or trying to find a machine gun to deal with the fascist Doberman Pinchers dressed as Mitt Romney trying to eat your scrotum. And if you've never been on anything approaching the aforementioned experiences, don't worry. Monty Python alum Terry Gilliam has graciously gone out of his way to capture the surreal nature of such moments for you. Yeah, they made this novel into a movie in 1998 with Johnny Depp as Duke and Benicio del Toro as Dr. Gonzo, and if nothing else the casting is absolutely brilliant. If you thought Depp was good, funny and wacky as Captain Jack Sparrow, hold on to your goddamn hat. He apparently captures the drug-infused rapid-fire lifestyle of Thompson so completely and accurately that the Doctor of Jounalism disrupted the premiere of the film by jumping up and down on his seats yelling about bats in the throes of a potent acid flashback. I'd like to think Depp and Gilliam took that as a compliment. I happen to think del Toro is a little underrated as an actor, as he is every bit as chameleon-like as Depp if not moreso. As you watch the film, the actual plot tends to wax and wane in importance as the focus clearly becomes the unique and occasionally batshit experiences of these two individuals. They really come to life on the screen.
They're good friends. There's an undercurrent of ennui and restlessness to the whole piece. Thompson is a thoroughly unhappy and cynical man, longing for a time of innocence and free thought that has passed him (and us) by. His famous 'wave speech' is captured more or less in the film, discussing how tides of independence and intellectual righteousness never seem to last as long as they should. What we have here, then, is less a linear progression of a narrative and more a snapshot of a man, a time and an idea. The man is utterly unique and completely irreplaceable. The time echoes into our modern age with all its restlessness, discontent and escapism. The idea is that the American Dream, whatever it actually may be, is ever elusive and never truly obtainable. It's the white stag of the modern age. Even the people who douse themselves in wealth and laugh at the vast majority of the less fortunate can't be said to be truly happy. How can they be, when all they want is more? Okay. Here we are, almost 800 words later. If you hung on this long and are digging on what I'm saying, Fear and Loathing is Las Vegas is definitely something you should see, since it's kind of like this review only a thousand times more bizzare. The people who tuned out when I started rambling can go back to waiting for that new Three Stooges abomination to hit theatres for all I care. Fear and Loathing may not be the most coherent, cleanly-shot or easily-accessible film you'll ever see, but it definitely has something to say and it doesn't seem to give a damn if you understand it at the time or not. It rambles, it wanders, it screams and cries and laughs and freaks the fuck out. You're going to remember it. Provided you don't black out. 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