We're moving!

Geekademia has been swallowed by the evil empire of Non-Productive, and as such, we are being transported to the home office:

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So long, Blogspot! It's been fun, but we're packing up and selling out like good corporate drones!

Jesse and Dave

show update

Good news everyone!

We've recorded yet another episode. This time out, Jesse and Dave spoke to famed author A. Lee Martinez about the modern image on vampires, the influence Don "The Dragon" Wilson has had on that image, and more.  Assuming Dave lives to the end of the week; and with his luck that is debatable, there should be a few more shows left before 2011 rings the final bell.

Show Update

Good news everyone!

We've recorded another episode. Sadly Jesse was unable to make it, so this particular version is going to be a one on one with none other than Bobby Nash and David. Things should be hopping relatively soon, so keep your speakers tuned in.   

Geek Theories: V's Identity

by: Jesse Baruffi

This series will focus on theories I have about loose ends, unanswered questions, and points of mysterious interest in various forms of pop culture. I won't be focusing on any ongoing series, because guessing about things which may yet be answered isn't of interest to me. For the most part, these answers are my own, and I don't think they're canonically true, but they usually have enough textual support to be plausible. I invite readers to bounce their own theories about these works around. Be aware that spoilers probably lurk within.

Anyone who has read V for Vendetta knows it's one of those seminal Alan Moore books that was written at the top of his game, and indeed, there's much to like. Considering the darkness and brutality of both the world and its protagonist, it's rather optimistic, as opposed to his even-higher-regarded brethren Watchmen (though neither of them have anything on From Hell in terms of being dark and depressing). Indeed, I have at least one friend who considers V the superior book, but that's a debate for another day. Nevertheless, it is a classic work, and one that has actually become inspirational in these crazy times.

The entire book, we are left to wonder just who V is behind his Guy Fawkes mask. Is he an important figure in the story? Is he a relative of Evey? In the end, of course, we never find out. It's okay that we don't, though. This isn't a mystery that is crucial to the reading of the book, and, as Evey says, finding out who he is would probably diminish him, take away from the power of what he made himself into. V himself says that people can die, but ideas are bulletproof, and even though The Man From Cell V dies, the V persona lives on in his acolyte with almost no one the wiser. In the movie, it's stated that V is all of us. He's everyone who was ever oppressed and decided that they would no longer take it. Given all this, it's almost certainly better that the story doesn't reveal V's identity, and if it were as simple as V never having had an identity at all, I could live with that just fine.

But funny enough, Alan Moore talks a little about this in the epilogue of the book. Despite his reputation these days as a grumpy old sorceror, it's clear that Moore has quite a sense of humor. He teases that V does in fact have an identity, and it's not Evey's father. Then, in a work of classic villainy, he tells the readers he's run out of space, so he can't tell them.

Let it be known that I'm not one of those obsessive fans who simply has to know every detail of a work, down to the smallest minutiae or insult creators over every tiny plot hole or contrivance. If a story is enjoyable, or generally works, I am content to be along for the ride, forgive little mistakes, and not dwell overmuch on ambiguity. I'm even aware of Neil Gaiman's mantra from Sandman, that it's the mystery which lingers in our minds and the solution is always less satisfying. Despite all that, knowing Moore had someone in mind made me start to wonder who it might be. Alan Moore is one of those writers who doesn't half-ass anything he does, which means that even if we readers were never going to find them, there must be clues.

I have in the past heard some fascinating theories on who V might be. Some have suggested that despite Moore's claim to the opposite, V might be connected to Evey, and in fact be her father. Though there is some circumstantial evidence to suggest it, Moore's denial as well as the fact that it's about as trite an answer as possible lead me to be sure this is not the case. Others suggest that V might be Ruth, the girlfriend of V's original cell neighbor, Valerie, out to avenge her lost love. I think this is an interesting theory, except that those few people who did know V's identity addressed him as a him, so unless they were being particularly insulting towards her, I doubt it. V's motivations are also far more idealistic and less personal. V never seems out for revenge (a mistake I thought the movie made). I even know one person who suggests that V is The Second Coming, put through the horrors and trials of Norsefire and driven mad, but still able to lead the people to salvation. I can't really find any evidence that suggests this to me, other than the fact that V has nigh-superhuman abilities. It is kind of a cool idea to imagine a messiah tainted by evil but still out to do good, but I still don't think that is the answer for me.

No, my theory is this: V is Alan Moore himself.

Am I implying that Alan Moore, arguably the greatest comic book writer of his time, wrote what people would today call a self-insert fanfic? I am not. I will get to what I believe his motivations were in a moment, but for now, I'll focus on the evidence. Moore, like V, is brilliant, knowledgeable in many subject areas, and perhaps just a touch mad (I assume the drugs and tortures they subjected him to in the camp would have made him much crazier). Moore is also capable of extremely intricate wordplay even while just speaking, as anyone who's ever heard an interview with him will attest, much like V, who gives entire monologues using alliteration or metaphors. He's certainly the sort of person a fascist government would have thrown in prison, what with being a writer, a political anarchist, and known for his unconventional lifestyle (polyamorous marriage, bisexual, did lots of drugs). His anarchism certainly supports the direction V decided to take his revolution. Also, I will admit that I have not been to Alan Moore's home (yet!), my guess is that it resembles V's Shadow Gallery:

Naturally I can't prove this part, but I strongly suspect it. If anyone who knows Alan out there can tell me, I would greatly appreciate it.

So, if my theory has any weight at all, why would Moore do this? Well, as anyone who knows anything about the book will tell you, Moore wrote the book as a response to Thatcherian England and the hardline conservative policies of the time. I can't say if Moore truly believed his country was going to be overrun by fascism, but I suspect at least that he wondered about it, and what he would do in that event. So I believe that V for Vendetta is Moore's countermeasure in case the blackshirts ever started marching into Northampton, a "break in case of Nazis" glass, if you will. And while it was his plan, turning it into a book meant that he could share it with everyone, and incite others to do the same. The moral of V, after all, is that tyranny and oppression and strike anywhere, even in our supposedly safe, rich countries, if we let them, but the only thing it would take to stop them is everyone being brave enough to say no. So I think, in a way, it's a guide, with the author effectively living out the plan, that happens to double as a really cool story.

Things That Need to Go Away: Killing Characters as Drama

by: Jesse Baruffi

This blog post--someone dies! Is it Jesse? Is it Dave? You'll have to read on to find out!

Now before I get a call from Dave's lawyer for making threats or something, I'm simply making a point. Threatening to kill characters is a pretty big grab for attention in media. In most types of stories, we expect characters to go through the wringer in one way or another, but on the whole, characters can overcome or recover from their misfortunes. Death, however, is the big one. In just about all settings that are not Dragonball Z, death is rarely if ever conquerable.  Once a character is dead, they're not coming back, which means that the story dynamic is changed irrevocably. Also, most major and important characters tend to die in memorable ways, so it tends to force us to ask not only who is going to die and how that will alter the story, but how they're going to die. It's all very compelling, and it draws us in. In and of itself, character death isn't a bad thing. People die in real life all the time, and in the hyper-realized world of fiction even moreso. The problem arises when death is used not as a culmination of character arc or theme, but as a cheap stunt to simply draw in readers or viewers. Character death as a source of drama is, you guessed it, something that Needs To Go Away.

Certainly the amount and severity of death in a story will vary based on the kind of story it is. A story where kids explore a magical world and learn about it will probably have a much smaller body count than a slasher movie or a war story, and this is fine. As I said above, death in a story should relate first to the story's plot and characters.  Does a character death serve as a capstone to their personal development, or force those around them to perceive the world differently, to grow more mature perhaps, or fall into despair? Does it serve to remind the readers that life is short and precious, that some things are worth dying for, or that nature is cruel and merciless? These are only a few possible ways to make death work, but it must be organic, and frankly, the death of a major character should always have some sort of weight to it. Whether one character in a story dies or all of them do, it should mean something other than "Another Shocking Twist!" (I have a whole rant about shocking twists and sexy results, but that's for another day)

Some people make the argument that they enjoy stories where no one is safe, because it prevents them from being able to guess where the story goes, and to a certain extent I can understand this, but I disagree. I don't want characters in stories to be immortal, mind you, or feel no risk of failure, and I don't think every story should end with a perfect happy ending all around. I like many tragedies, and I enjoy unpredictable stories as well. But every character in a story should serve a purpose, and if that purpose goes unfulfilled or we're forced to question what the purpose was after they died and we have no answer or indication that there was indeed an answer at all, then their inclusion feels hollow and frustrating. Good examples of stories where characters seem to die at random include Lost and 100 Bullets. It's often endemic of stories that promise greater meaning than they deliver. Even if a death is unpredictable, it should still make sense.

Sometimes death is used to show how powerful or evil a villain is, and while I wouldn't write this off completely, it's very easy to overdo. We often expect our badguys to kill people, and we want to care about at least some of the people in question. Still, if every new villain who comes along has to provide at least one death (I'm looking at YOU, superhero comics!), then pretty soon, the impact is reduced and before long people groan and sigh in frustration at yet another dead character at the hands of yet another new big bad. It's easy to forget, but there are plenty of ways a villain can prove they're a serious threat besides a random murder. Just off the top of my head, capturing loved ones, being able to get inside the hero's head with pinpoint accuracy, winning over the populace to their side, taking away some advantage the hero assumes they have, corrupting an ally, or forcing the hero to break his or her moral code are all ways a villain can be scary without another ratings stunt death. That way, when the villain does commit a murder, it counts for something rather than just creating a law of diminishing returns. Good examples of this are The Joker from The Dark Knight, who prefers assassinating symbols of public trust and hope to just gassing kindergartens, and Sephiroth from Final Fantasy 7, whose shocking murder of Aeris makes perfect sense in retrospect because she could have stopped him on her own.

I shall brace myself thusly for the counterargument that random death is realistic: truth is stranger than fiction, they say, because fiction has to make sense. Sure, in real life, death is pointless and unfair, striking without warning or meaning as often as not. In real life, Alexander the Great died at 32 of a fever instead of in battle or by treachery or old age. But fiction is not real life and should not attempt to approximate it exactly. Fiction should not strive for realism. This sounds like a bad argument on my part, but consider. Real life is vast; absurdly, obscenely, unknowably so.  It is also full of false starts, anticlimaxes, contradictions of logic and motivation, failure, complexity to the point of convolution, and inner workings to which absolutely no one is privy. Humans have learned a lot about the universe, but there's plenty we don't know, and more than that, there's probably plenty that we don't even know we don't know. To strive as a writer for true realism in our fiction is madness, not only because it tends to make for a lousy story, but because we will invariably fail. So does that mean we should toss out any concept of believability from our work, making it entirely absurd or glaringly full of artifice? Of course not. Instead of realism, however, what we should strive for is verisimilitude. For those who didn't pay as much attention in English class as I did, verisimilitude is the art of making the unreal seem real.  How does one do this? Well, that's the question, of course, but the best answer I can give is that we must grab onto some aspect of reality, because while we humans can't always see the big picture, we can grasp facets rather well.  This isn't to imply we're dumb; it's just that trying to show everything usually means that we'll ultimately show nothing. Picking one thing, however, or even a few, means we will be able to highlight some piece of the grand truth, and perhaps even get it right.

It's for this reason that I don't believe death in fiction should be random, unless the story calls for randomness. We as authors have to accept the notion that we are the ones in control of the world. Oh, sure, authors often say that stories take on a life of their own, and I can say that there is something to that. Sometimes, it is possible to create a world and its characters well enough that their actions surprise us, even if they make perfect sense. For this reason, a story can pull away from where the author initially intended it to go, but I don't buy the idea that creativity is just some magical force we have absolutely no control over. No matter what, the author is always at the wheel and shapes the world accordingly, and as such, must take responsibility for the events of their fictional worlds, including death.  Much like fictional characters, authors should have a sense of agency, the idea that we are not merely puppets of fate, but that our actions lead us to our fates, both fair and foul.

I think what it comes to is that death in stories should parallel death in life only in that it matters. When confronted with death, most of us are affected by it. If our loved ones die, that loss has significance to us. If an acquaintance dies suddenly, it can force us to think about the fragility of life. If someone we think is evil or we hate dies, we may be forced to ask if it makes us happy, and what it says about us if we do. We may even feel sympathy for such a person, because though we may often wish unpleasant things on others, having them come true is another matter. For all that, I don't think it is right to use death to wring out cheap drama and pathos. That devalues death, and with it, life itself. Not to say I think people who write stories where characters die unsatisfyingly are the equivalent of murderers or the like, but as someone who believes stories matter, and are not just lies, we should try to tell those in as honest and sincere a way as possible to help us understand reality better and be better human beings.

Dark Shadows Episode Six

By David Lawrence

“Episode 6.” Dark Shadows. ABC. Various stations. 4 July 1966.

Victoria’s monologue lets us know she is going to stay, even though by this point she knows full well she should run. She’s in the basement, looking for David. She fails to find David, but she does find a creepy old man lurking in the shadows.

The old man takes Victoria to be a snooper, and makes it clear he’s going to do something drastic with the poker he’s carrying. The intervention of Elizabeth saves Victoria, who introduces her to Matthew (the old man). The point is reached relatively quickly, as proper introductions are made all around. Matthew is the handyman of the Collins family, and he doesn’t like snoopers. Elizabeth doesn’t seem to believe Victoria about her reasons for being in the basement, and seems quick to point out that a certain door down there is always locked.

Dismissing Victoria, Elizabeth hurries to the locked door and unlocks it. Behind the door is a storage room, and after searching the place, she finds David nestled inside a box. She scolds David for his actions, politely ignoring his insistence that his father would in fact beat him then says nothing as David scolds her for bringing Victoria to the house. David swears Victoria is a spy and plans to hurt him. Elizabeth tries to comfort the boy.

Upstairs, Victoria runs into Matthew again. He introduces himself as Matthew Morgan. When Victoria asks why the basement is forbidden, Matthew doesn’t give an answer. Victoria tries to bring up another topic, namely the subject of Mr. Stoddard. Matthew makes it clear he knows nothing about Mrs. Stoddard’s husband.

Matthew explains his loyalty to the family. Eighteen years prior, Matthew labored in the canary when Elizabeth hired him to work at the Collins house, as well as giving him a cottage. He was hired by her the day after her husband vanished (and right after she fired all the other servants). Matthew’s advice to Victoria: keep your nose out of other people’s business and you’ll do alright.

Back in the basement, Elizabeth finds an old paperback of the Rover Boys, a boy’s adventure series. She gives the book to David (and fumbles with Matthew’s name a bit), who seems appreciative…at least until she mentions how much his father liked the books when he was David’s age. That turns David right off.

David speaks for a bit about his mother. It seems he’s convinced that as long as Victoria is there, his mother won’t come back. Elizabeth scolds him for that, and says Victoria would never want to keep a child from its mother.  She seems to projecting a bit, isn’t she?

In the drawing room, Carolyn and Victoria have a talk. Carolyn demands Victoria talk to her mother about the money the orphanage received when her mother comes in.  A phone call from Joe takes Carolyn's attention away as Elizabeth confronts Victoria.

She informs Victoria about David’s concerns and fears. She doesn’t come out and explain why, naturally, but Victoria has questions too. She points out the money to care for her came about the same time as Mr. Stoddard’s vanishing act. Elizabeth makes it clear the two are not related.

Victoria tries to find out why she of all people would be hired to care for one child several states away. Elizabeth grows hostile. Victoria backs off, but Elizabeth makes it clear that her previous answer regarding Victoria’s hiring was the truth and will no go any further. Victoria leaves to phone the orphanage, but will have to drive herself; as that phone call from Joe? It seems he’s going to come to the house and needs to talk to both Carolyn and Elizabeth.

We see more of David, and while some sympathy is raised, he manages to kill it almost at once. Elizabeth proves to be a master at bringing up a subject then refusing to elaborate. Also, Carolyn should stop saying ‘make out’ in conjunction with her relatives

Questions raised: What does Joe want to talk about? What is the issue with David’s mother? Who is Victoria going to talk to?

I Feel Dirty

by: Jesse Baruffi

So, because this is the 21st century and apparently if you aren't hopelessly addicted to Facebook, you don't exist, Geekademia now has a Facebook page. Go there if you want to learn stuff you'd already know by going here.

Also, in news less likely to make me regret living, we have a new person joining the Geekademia family. Cat Bieter, artist and costume designer, has been on one of the podcasts and will now be writing articles from time to time.

Today, Dave and I interviewed author Adrian Tchaikovsky, and recorded a second podcast discussing the fantasy genre. All good stuff, I suspect. Stick around and you may actually hear it sometime this month.

Strange visions

By David Lawrence

Having just experienced the most vivid dream, I feel compelled to inform the Internet about it.

A man is on a beach. Around him are scores of revelers. A celestial being comes down to take the partying group away. The man walks away. When asked, the man looks at the being. "I want nothing you have, and you've made it clear you want nothing of mine."

Then I woke up, most annoyed at having missed the rest of the scene.

"Blood Omen: Legacy of Kain" is the Most Brutal Game Ever

by: Jesse Baruffi

I don't write a lot about video games on here. It's not because I dislike them, far from it. I grew up on video games; it's just that I am somewhat behind the times. I don't play with the same amazing speed with others seem to, so most of what I have to say is going to be out of date and not informed by a level of knowledge on par with most people talking about said games. Also, I try to talk about subjects on here that are to some degree obscure, and video games are such a big deal that it's challenging.

That said, there are a few games which are rare gems few know about, and as such I must do my part to unearth them. One of these is the original Blood Omen: Legacy of Kain. Oddly enough, this is a game where most people are familiar with the sequels, but I've asked people about the original and generally receive perplexed looks. It's an early PS1 game from 1996, and as such, has a few flaws, such as polygonal art and horrendous loading times, but if a person can see beyond those, they will find one of the most brutal and gripping revenge sagas ever written.

The story centers on Kain, a young nobleman who is murdered by brigands while traveling across the land of Nosgoth. We don't know much of Kain before his death, but as he stands chained to a wall in the darkness of the underworld, we know that he seeks vengeance. A necromancer named Mortanius offers him his chance, and he accepts, but soon realizes the price. Kain returns to life as a vampire, a state that he despises even as he harnesses its incredible power. Upon killing the men who took his life, Kain finds himself in search of a cure. He is guided in his search by Ariel, a ghost who was one of the Circle of Nine. The Circle are magicians dedicated to keeping the realm in balance, and Ariel in particular was the guardian of Balance. Upon her death, the others were corrupted, and now use their once noble magics to conquer and destroy the world. Kain is told that by killing corrupted Circle, he may be released from his curse, so he sets out on a bloody road that carries him to every corner of Nosgoth, across time, and even into Hell itself.

It should be pointed out that Kain is no hero. He is a vicious killer who feeds on the blood of the innocent and guilty alike. He enjoys the suffering his new vampiric gifts cause his victims, and his solutions to most problems involve mass murder. In another story, Kain would certainly be the villain, but in his own, where everyone else is so much worse, Kain is quite an intriguing anti-hero. His dark but poetic dialogue is given life by veteran voice actor Simon Templeman. He portrays Kain as noble, but filled with hate and menace. We can sympathize with Kain's goals, if not his methods. It was also hard not to find myself shouting Kain's battle cry of "Vae Victus!" or suffering to the conquered, after slaying foes, but maybe I'm just a nerd that way.

In fact, most of the dialogue in the game is really great to listen to. Every major speaking character is given amazingly dark and cool lines. Perhaps my favorite example is the duel between ancient vampire Vorador and undead knight Malek, two men who have despised each other for centuries:

And those are a pair of supporting characters! Kain himself gets the best lines, often in places as simple as describing a new item or weapon he's just procured.

All of this would be plenty entertaining if all the game's quality was in its story, but the gameplay itself is also outstanding. Kain has a wide variety of weapons and powers to call upon throughout the course of the game. Because the weapons are not just the same as each other but with higher or lower stats, but in fact all possess unique abilities, Kain can use different combinations for very different tactical styles. He has a wide variety of magic spells, almost all of which are necessary at some point in the game. He has numerous magic items, most of which result in horrifying deaths for his enemies, but some of which also give status boosts or keep him alive. He can shapechange into a werewolf, a cloud of mist, a bat, or an ordinary person for disguise purposes. It could be argued that all these powers are overwhelming, and make the game too easy, but I find that they allow everyone to play Kain a little differently, and have fun by avoiding repetitive combat most games today are afflicted with. Few modern games allow for as much customization or give so many options and strategies for destroying foes. Lastly, well before games with moral choices were commonplace, the ending of Blood Omen offers Kain two paths which affect the ending and alter the course of Nosgoth itself.

The world itself is also put together extremely well. Nosgoth is full of dangers, dungeons, secrets, ancient evils that ally with Kain, towns with unique histories, and fascinating characters. The instruction book tells you that Kain has eternity to take his revenge, so players should take their time and explore. There is also a daylight system. Kain can travel during the day and not be harmed, but he is weaker in combat than he is at night. During full moons, Kain's werewolf form becomes unstoppable. Also, if Kain returns to an area where he has slaughtered all of his foes (or the innocents), they return as vengeful spirits. Not quite as powerful, but enough to keep any part of Nosgoth from ever being truly safe. Kain has to drink blood to survive, but different foes give different types of blood. Any humans or otherwise living creatures with red blood are safe, but undead give unhealthy black blood, demons provide poisoned green blood, and ghosts give magic-restoring blue blood. The game also provides a ranking system, based on progress in exploring the world, completing the plot, and sheer number of kills. The early ranks are embarrassing, like Whelp, Gimp, and Bride, while the top rank is the devastatingly cool Devourer of Worlds.

While the game was clearly influential enough to spawn a host of sequels, I found that most of the Legacy of Kain games after Blood Omen were only okay. While Raziel (Kain's progeny) was a decent enough protagonist, he was never quite as cool as Kain. The story eventually became so convoluted it was hard to follow, not to mention the fact that the gameplay was far more typical and boring. The original, while it lacks in terms of technology, stands out as a game put together with a real sense of dedication and care, and a desire to create a unique story and style of play not seen before or since. If you have access to a PS1, or you can find it to play on computer (recommended, since the long and constant load times are absent in that version), I highly recommend it.

Dark Shadows Episode Five

By David Lawrence

“Episode 5.” Dark Shadows. ABC. Various stations. 1 July 1966.

It’s finally morning as Carolyn enters Victoria’s room. Victoria is leaving, mostly due to the weirdness of the whole area, but Carolyn implores her to stay, at least long enough for a cup of coffee. While the two young ladies go downstairs, David, who has been eavesdropping, slips into Victoria’s room.

He calls out to his mother before he violently attacks Victoria’s luggage. Down in the breakfast nook, Victoria and Carolyn chat. Victoria makes it clear she wants nothing more to do with the job or the area. Carolyn protests, but Victoria makes it clear David and Roger’s actions have convinced her to leave. She also mentions the sobbing she heard, something that takes Carolyn by surprise. She swears she heard nothing.

Roger enters the room. He’s happy, but kind of forced. He apologizes for his actions the previous night and starts to leave when Victoria mentions the crying. Judging from Roger’s expression and the background music, Roger knows the source of the noise. He swears it was Victoria dreaming, nothing more.

Back in Victoria’s room, David is rifling through Victoria’s clothes and drawers. Downstairs, Victoria reads a letter from the orphanage and makes it clear she’s going back to New York. Carolyn grows more agitated at the idea of Victoria leaving. Victoria points out that it was Carolyn who insisted she leave.

Carolyn swears she was kidding, and expresses envy at Victoria’s freedom of movement. Victoria points out that while Carolyn may have a weird family, at least she has one. We get into Victoria’s background some more.

She was a foundling, abandoned at the doorstep of an orphanage. She only had a note with her first name on it. From there, the orphanage received fifty dollars a month every month from the time she was two until she turned sixteen. The only clue to the sender’s address was a Bangor, Maine postmark. Noting that Collinsport is only fifty miles from Bangor, it seems the chief reason Victoria took the job was to discover where she came from.

Back in Victoria’s room, David is continuing to rummage through her things. Victoria herself is walking along the stretch of cliffs known as Widow’s Hill when a strange appears behind her and implores her to return to New York.

Victoria, at this point annoyed, asks the man who he is. The man rambles for a bit before telling her to tell Roger of his appearance and no one else. The man, calling himself Sam, then rambles on a bit about Josette Collins. Josette, the bride of Jeremiah Collins, committed suicide on the same spot where Victoria is standing and her ghost continues to cry to this day. He also imparts some more info about the Collins family.

Victoria promptly tells Sam that he’s crazy and heads back to the house. Confronting Carolyn, they talk about her mother. It seems the reason that Elizabeth hasn’t left the house in eighteen years is that Carolyn’s father ran out on them. Carolyn explodes at Victoria, but later runs after her. All this talk has sparked an idea: what if Carolyn’s father is also Victoria’s father? After all, he left eighteen years ago and that’s when the money started. Even Victoria admits this is stretch.

Finally entering her room, she sees David’s handiwork. David jumps out from behind a curtain, mockingly reading the note that was left with her. He gives it back to her, but only after crumpling it up first. He angrily tells her “the Widows” ordered him to do that and adds that no one listens to him. A little while later, Victoria tells her Carolyn she is going to stay.

Seriously, can no in this town ever get to the point? After all that build up we finally see David, and the term brat doesn't seem adequate. Theories are brought up, although at this point they just that.

Questions raised: Who are the Widows? Who is Sam?

Common Language: Awesome

by: Jesse Baruffi

Remember how I said the last Common Language was a hard one to start with? This one was even worse.

Yes, okay, this is one that actually has a dictionary definition, but as I may at some point bring up in a review or the like the idea of awesomeness, and how some works seem to lack for it and others to possess it in spades, I figure I should address the notion of what awesome is to me. Certainly it is to inspire awe, as opposed to being simply something I like, but how is awe inspired?

I would argue there are lots of ways. The internet (which I have noted has been wrong before) seems to believe that awesomeness is defined by simple qualities such as ninja, or Chuck Norris, or Batman, or a pirate zombie robot fighting dinosaurs. This I personally find tedious, because buzzwords and internet memes are not in and of themselves awesome. Awesome is defined by context. It is a high moment that serves as the culmination of events. Without context, an awesome moment is nothing but a Michael Bay-esque snapshot, explosive and pornographic. In short, nothing is awesome in and of itself. A moment or a character or anything becomes awesome because of what surrounds it, and the way it is portrayed.

An awesome moment can be a wide variety of things.  It can be a duel between two characters, like Jubei Kibagami and Himura Gemma in Ninja Scroll, Jesse Custer and Jody in Preacher, or Luke Skywalker and Darth Vader (the first one; the second was okay but nowhere near as powerful).  It can be a conversation, like Kevin and Mirth spending a whole issue of Mage discussing whether or not Kevin will pick up a baseball bat (trust me, it works!), or Redcloak and Right-Eye's last argument in the Order of the Stick book Start of Darkness before one brother kills the other, or Sherman Davies from Box Office Poison telling off his slimebag of a father. It can be a revelation, like the identity of the Mask Killer in Watchmen or Kaiser Soze in The Usual Suspects.  It can be a tragedy, like John Proctor's confession and his wife's lie in The Crucible or [SPOILER] Aeris's murder in Final Fantasy 7. It can be a declaration of love, like Holden and Alyssa in Chasing Amy or Scott and Ramona in Scott Pilgrim. It can be an epic battle like Helm's Deep in Lord of the Rings. Or it can be a whole series/work, like Gurren Lagann or Walt Simonson's Thor or Paradise Lost.

Maybe I'm name-dropping a bit too much here, and maybe I'm giving the impression that awesomeness is just a bunch of stuff I like. Obviously taste is subjective, and what I find awesome, you may not. I suppose the point I'm trying to make is awesome runs the gamut, but that doesn't mean it is simply anything and nothing at all.  Awesome is when a storyteller makes you care, makes you believe, and turns all that context and setup into something worth experiencing. It's a satisfying payoff that results from a satisfying story. Awesomeness is that ethereal quality which lifts a work onto a level beyond passable entertainment. Obviously, as a writer, I think of this in terms of stories and my examples show that, but there is plenty of awesomeness to be found in music, art, and just about any form of expression. 

I believe stories lose a lot when, in an attempt to be more "realistic," they eschew the awesome.  They pull back from the high moments, perhaps because those moments are seen as what's expected. I can understand the desire to do this, because so many stories have been told, and novelty is a noble goal. That said, I think it's one of the few things you can't do without in a good story.  Eschewing catharsis and awesomeness in favor of novelty is effectively sacrificing one necessary element for another. One example I find of this is George R.R. Martin's A Song of Ice and Fire series. Now, I may have elsewhere referred to the beloved series as amoral blood porn, and while I stand by that, it's not exactly the darkness of the series that is, for me, the real problem.  The problem is that the series is, in effect, anti-fantasy. Martin takes largely everything that people love about fantasy and turns it on its head. While normally I'd be all over this, because of my love of novelty, it's not the trappings or the ideas or any of the stuff of fantasy that is stale Martin changes. He effectively makes war on all the storytelling techniques fantasy does best. His heroes never seem to actually defeat his villains. When his villains lose, it's usually a result of outside treachery or death at the hands of random people. He has characters who should by all rights be moving at a decent pace toward grand destinies stand perfectly still for thousands of pages. He has plot elements that should hang to be used later destroyed. Even when some characters who really deserve it get the axe, they seem to come back as undead as often as not. Sure, a lot happens, and it's all very visceral, but it's similar to severing an artery. Effective in the moment, but eventually you're going to run out of blood. Martin's books, while creating the anti-fantasy genre, have also created something of an anti-awesome, bereft of high moments. I guess there's a market for this, but I personally do not understand it at all.

Another pitfall that is often fallen into is trying too hard to be awesome. I mentioned earlier the internet definition of awesomeness, and there are even those who use this effectively for comedic effect, like The Adventures of Dr. McNinja, Axe Cop, and Real Ultimate Power.  These stories work because they know that what they're doing is overkill, and they simply run with it for laughs. Sadly, there are some serious stories which fall prey to this as well, though less intentionally. A good example is the movie The Mummy Returns. The original movie was slightly campy, but fun in the vein of some classic adventure movies with a nice touch of modern sensibility, as well as some entertaining action and horror. In the second movie, it really seemed like they felt they had to not only top the first one, but make it as epic as possible, with three major villains and an epic battle going on in the background of the major plot.  So much was happening that it was overwhelming and in fact took away from each of its plots rather than enhancing them all.

It's a balancing act, and considering the end result is something so subjective, it is easy to ask if it's worth it to seek awesomeness.  I believe so, of course. Any story, whether it's about knights in armor or geopolitical intrigue or a single mother trying to raise her children, should have something of awesomeness in it. Awesomeness isn't the only thing that makes a story worth reading, but if all the other elements are in place, chances are you're going to end up somewhat in the realm of the awesome. That, of course, is what we should all be striving for, so I say be bold, and do your best to bring the awesome to everything you create!

Ask Me About My Character: The Norseman

by: Jesse Baruffi

Name: Erik Thurson, aka The Norseman

System: Villains and Vigilantes (Bryan Cassidy version)

Age: Ranged from 36 to 38 during course of campaign

Superpowers: Endurance of Baldur, Strength of Odin, Lightning of Thor, Magical Axe of Tyr, Summon Rainbow Bridge (effectively teleportation), Embrace of Hela (raising the dead).

Weaknesses: Must call on the gods for his powers (can't call them if silenced or gagged), and vulnerable to Mistletoe.

Height: 6'4

Weight: 250 lbs.

Hair: Blonde

Eyes: Blue

Alignment: Not really part of the game system, but he probably started off Neutral Good and moved toward Lawful Good as time went on.

History:  Erik Thurson was born to loving but dull and unimaginative parents who mostly sat him in front of the television during his formative years. Despite this, Erik grew into a large, athletic young man, who excelled in sports, and after high school eventually became a construction foreman. Erik lived a normal, but somewhat lonely life, until the day he fell to his death from a skyscraper. After that, he was taken to Valhalla, the Norse afterlife, and told that he was destined to become the champion and avatar of the Norse gods on Earth.  His two goals in this were to bring about the return of the Norse gods, as well as defeat the evil forces of Ragnarok, his opposite number and chief servant of the Fire Giants. Erik shortly thereafter was returned to life with superpowers worthy of his dangerous task, and shortly thereafter fell in with The Misfits, a band of Paras working for the government. Erik became the de facto leader of the group, as it was his driving quest that came to take over most of their duties. Ragnarok came to lead a band of super-powered terrorists, and after several battles, two of which engulfed the entire world, Erik and his allies faced the giant at his base in Atlantis. The battle was brutal and costly, with several deaths among Erik's allies, including his love Gilly, but ultimately he won the day (at least in THIS timeline, but that's another story...). Then, Erik was called upon by his gods to release them into the world, but because Erik had learned that the gods were not what they appeared, he began to doubt his mission. Ultimately, he chose humanity over the gods, which was probably the right thing to do, but also cost him dearly. Having lost his power to raise the dead, his love was not able to be saved. It was only by the grace of Hela, who was amused at his humbling of the gods, that she returned. Erik eventually retired from heroics and became a teacher, spending his days caring for his family and instructing the next generation of heroes.

Personality:  Erik was always somewhat surprised by his power and prominence. He was by nature a very easy-going fellow, quick with a joke and willing to keep a cool head as long as possible. This does not mean he was a pushover. In combat, Erik's viking heritage became apparent, and he was known for his relentless fighting spirit. Unlike most of his comrades, he was willing to kill his opponents if they were particularly evil or inhuman, though he took this responsibility seriously. He saw himself as the protector of his comrades, and he would kill so they would not have to. Occasionally, others referred to him having a Superman complex, attempting to save everyone and take on every burden, but he accepted this as part of his role as a hero. Erik was also known for his prowess with women, though this was almost entirely accidental.

Six Favorite Moments:

1. Erik's final battle against the obnoxious and nasty mercenary Marauder, who had stalked Gilly inside a prison (she was working undercover). In the end, it came down to a hand-to-hand duel between them, and Erik finally slammed Marauder into several walls before he finally expired.

2. At one point, Erik was traveling through Asgard on a quest to speak with the Norns. To pass one of the tests, he was asked to open a door several yards away while not stepping off the path he stood upon. Without skipping a beat, Erik opened a teleportal to the door, stuck his hand through, and opened the door.

3. Erik was once forced into a grappling match with a super-powered Russian gangster named Red Wolf. As Red Wolf burned away at his skin, Erik held him at bay, and simultaneously blasted him with lightning over and over until the villain finally collapsed.

4. Erik used every bit of his detective skills to piece together the fact that Ragnarok was hiding in Atlantis before anyone even knew he was hiding underwater, impressing even the evil genius Julius Manheim.

5. On a night when the Misfits began baring all their secrets to one another, Erik had his own to share. After spending months trying to hide his feelings for Gilly because of his pact with the goddess Hela, he finally confessed his feelings and his reasons for keeping them secret. The session ended with a kiss and a lot of cheering.

6. During the final battle with Ragnarok, Erik faced down the giant, and told him that the reason he was going to win was because he valued his comrades and protected them, while Ragnarok saw his as only pawns.

Final Notes: The Norseman was probably the first character I ever had where his thoughts, emotions, and plans followed me beyond the playing of the game itself. The Misfits campaign was so immersive that I found myself trying to solve the myriad mysteries put in place by the GM, and trying to figure out ways that Erik, given his intellect and personality, would solve them.  I played Erik as perplexed a lot at first, because I was, but as time went on, we shared a bond of growing wiser and more understanding of the world before us, and he grew to be a capable leader, as I had to be to my friends under the circumstances (I somehow end up in leader spots a lot; wonder what that says about me). The fact that Erik's ending was bittersweet had a long-lasting effect on me, and ultimately helped lead to my wish to continue the campaign in its ongoing second incarnation. Though I didn't play as the Norseman again, I am always pleased when he shows up in game.

Show Status

Good news everyone!

At this point we’ve recorded two more episodes, which should be winging their way to you, our beloved audience, before the year is out. Our guests were Linkara of Atop the Fourth Wall and Lindsey Ellis, the Nostalgia Chick of That Guy With the Glasses. We’ll have plenty more surprises and slogans to spout, so keep your speakers turned up and your monitors set to our wavelength

Dark Shadows Episode Four

by David Lawrence

“Episode 4”. Dark Shadows. ABC. Various stations. 30 June 1966.

It’s just before midnight as Victoria hears someone arguing near her bedroom. The door handle to her room jiggles as Elizabeth and Roger begin to shout. Moving downstairs, Roger and Elizabeth continue their fight as Roger plies himself with brandy. He is convinced that Victoria is an agent for Burke Devlin.

Roger tears into Elizabeth, swearing he won’t become a recluse like her or allow Devlin to kill him. Carolyn enters and gives her staunch approval over her uncle’s speech. The fight grows nastier as Elizabeth tries to use their ancestors against Roger, implying they would have handled the matter differently.

Carolyn brings Victoria downstairs. We learn that Roger’s wife isn’t dead. Victoria is grilled about Devlin, with Roger growing more and more convinced that the two are partners in some devilish enterprise. Switching topics to talk about his son, Roger warns that David is special; although it seems to be more ‘chained up and wearing a potato sack’ deal than gifted. Victoria, finally having enough, suggests she might just leave the town and family altogether in the morning.

A few hours later, Victoria is woken up by a loud sobbing. Investigating, she searches the drawing room but finds no one. Going back to her room gives her the first sight of David. The young boy glowers at her and declares he hates her.

Well, with this we finally see David Collins. Roger’s paranoia is growing, but we still know nothing about Devlin’s plan.

Questions raised: Who was doing the crying? What is Devlin’s plan? Why does David hate Victoria?

The Highs and Lows of an Expanded Universe

by: Jesse Baruffi

As geeks, we all come across stories that we fall in love with. Sometimes, the world of a story is just large enough for the tale within it to be told, but there are other stories so vast, with worlds that feel so large, lived-in, and open that we want more. Some creators (or IP owners as the case may be), hearing the demands of fans for more, and, whether it's simply to make more money from a successful property, or to make loyal fans happy, will agree to this, which brings us the concept of the expanded universe.


In and of itself, this is not necessarily a bad thing. If a world lends itself to further stories, and those stories are in the spirit of the original story, or do something fresh and new with the same trappings, then the world of creative expression has won a victory, all while working within the safe confines of a proven universe.  That said, it is very possible to do it wrong.


One matter that is very important to consider is the time period in relation to the original story. Usually, writers of expanded universe material try to move the time period away, either forward or backward, to avoid stepping on the toes of the original work, which is reasonable, but a chronological move in just about any direction has its risks. A move backward is probably the riskier of the two, because setting stories in the past (much in the manner of a prequel, which could itself be considered expanded universe), often chances contradiction and retconning, which loyal fans are likely to pick up on and be bothered by. If done properly, however, a story set in the past can add richness to the world by filling in gaps the original work never got around to and reopen doors that were closed, usually by character death or the like.

The future runs less risk of contradiction, but at the same time, if it is close enough timewise to the original work, it may force the readers to ask why the original heroes aren't solving the new problems in question. If it is a bit farther in the future, perhaps we're seeing the heroes' children, or a whole new cast of characters, it's easier to take more risks and not retread old ground. If the expanded universe does cover the further adventures of the old heroes, it can risk a lot of mistakes as far as taking the characters in directions they were never designed to go, or revisit the past too much, undoing the accomplishments of the heroes in the original work. Some writers might take unnecessary risks or overly permanent moves, such as killing off a beloved character, effectively closing even more doors. I would contend that closing off possibilities is something an expanded universe should never do, but more on that later.


An expanded universe, in any chronological direction, should also be wary of power creep.  Which is to say, as readers, we are trained to want to see stakes grow higher. After everyone has seen Luke and the Rebels destroy The Empire, it may feel like a letdown to some if a new hero merely faces a crime lord. Now, it's natural to want to tell stories that have a sense of significance to the readers, and one way to create that significance is a credible threat. But once the greatest threats from the original work have been conquered, anything less will feel insignificant to readers, because the heroes already did it. This leads to bigger and badder threats, which require greater reserves of power or resolve to overcome. There's nothing wrong with this innately, but power creep is insidious, sometimes stretching a story beyond its initial themes and logical limits, and can often lead to questions of logic about the nature of the new threats and how insignificant they might render previous works within the system. 


An expanded universe should absolutely never make a setting feel smaller. How could it, you ask? Wouldn't expansion by definition make a universe feel larger? Not necessarily, and this is probably more common than one would think. It is possible to overuse elements or characters already in play and make it seem as though the only people living in even a vast setting are those we already know and their relations.  The Star Wars prequels are a good example of this, making it seem as though everyone in an entire galaxy was directly connected to Anakin Skywalker or Boba Fett, but since this is pretty heavily trod ground, I'll pick on something else. The Dreaming, the expanded universe follow-up to Neil Gaiman's critically acclaimed comic series Sandman, started off as a series of short stories detailing occasional adventures of Dream's supporting cast, set in various time periods. Initially, it was quite enjoyable, because it remembered that these characters were immortal beings who often spent large portions of time inactive, but occasionally broke out of their mold as servants who were in some ways sentient automatons because of the imaginative nature of their master and realm. It served to make a fantastic place we saw largely in glimpses in the past feel more whole and real. Eventually, however, author Kaitlyn Kiernan took over, and began pushing the series in the direction of a single arc, directly involving all the beloved dream creatures from Sandman. Soon, these characters who often spent centuries doing nothing of note, or at least not changing dramatically, were embroiled in an endlessly incestuous plot, and the fact that they lived in a magical kingdom of dreams where anything was possible was forgotten in the face of their own petty intrigues. For me, this withered the Dreaming realm in scope and scale, and damaged what it should have been.


This leads to my last major point about what an expanded universe should and shouldn't do.  Readers enjoy expanded universes because they want more of something they love.  This is understandable, and while in some cases a writer may close the doors to their kingdom, as is their right, by allowing the creation of an expanded universe, the writer is effectively swinging the doors of the kingdom open wide.  Hence, an expanded universe should always create new possibilities, and never, or at least very rarely, close off possibilities left behind by the original series. It should truly lead to a sense that more things than we have seen are possible, and while the expanded universe writers certainly have the right to tell their own stories, they should attempt to preserve the spirit left behind while building on it. This means that while defeating an old minor villain who escaped justice is probably fair game, an EU writer should almost never kill off major characters left behind by the original series.

In the above Dreaming example, Kiernan [SPOILER ALERT] killed Matthew the Raven and replaced him. Besides the emotional reaction I had at the death, it was actively damaging to the setting of the Dreaming and went diametrically against one of the major points at the end of Sandman. After Morpheus died, even though his master and friend is dead and he wants nothing more than to die as well, Matthew chooses to live. Even though the new Dream isn't Morpheus and never will be in his eyes, he realizes that life goes on, and it's wrong to simply give up because something bad happened. He decides that he won't be the official raven of the new Dream, but he will be a friend and adviser to him nonetheless. In many ways, he was designed to speak for the readers who may have been angry and resistant toward the new Dream, as Matthew was generally the audience voice of the series. Killing him off robbed the dreaming itself of one of its most unique and important voices, and cut off far more possibilities than it createed. In case my point isn't clear, this was a bad move.


In short, an expanded universe should truly expand, rather than inflate, the universe in question. It should stay true to the themes and ideas expressed in the original work, without slavishly adhering to the same story elements. It should make us happy to return to a world we loved, without making us ask why we're not just reading the original.  It should fill in gaps and tie up loose ends without making it feel as though those gaps and loose ends are all that exists.  It should go beyond the original work without contradicting or overriding it. It should be its own story, while still being a part of something greater.

Film flashback: Return of the Living Dead

The Return of the Living Dead (1985), dir. Dan O’Bannon, Orion Pictures

The 1980’s was a strange time for horror films, and the middle of the decade even more so. Small companies were churning out hack and slash films about every other week. With the lowered cost of VHS and VCR’s, the home video market exploded, with major retailers and independent stores dotting the landscape.

The film has been dissected by some of the best around, but a slight recap is still in order. On July 3^rd, at the Uneeda Medical Supply Company, Frank (James Karen) is showing new stock Freddy (Thom Matthews) the ropes.

Frank, showing Freddy the strangest thing he’s ever seen at the company, shows off some barrels in the basement containing bodies exposed to 345 Trioxin, a chemical with the side effect of making the dead come back to life. Assuring the younger man of the barrel’s safety, Frank slaps the aged metal, rupturing a seam and exposing the entire warehouse (themselves included) to the chemical.

Meanwhile, Freddy’s friends (a motley collection of punks as envisioned by the finest screenwriters around), crash the cemetery next door to Undeeda and party.

Burt, the Undeeda boss, arrives and is a bit upset by Frank’s actions. Relying on the knowledge of horror films, they try to kill the reanimated cadaver with a pickax to the brain. Much to their shock, it fails to work. “You mean the movie lied?” I can’t stress enough how much I love that scene.

Taking the dismembered but still moving corpse to Ernie the undertaker, our heroes toss the remains into Ernie’s crematorium. Problem solved, right? Well, it turns out the body was so saturated with Trioxin the flames release the chemical into the air, which turn causes it to rain right over the punks and the cemetery. Things get worse from there.

Return of the Living Dead was an amazing film. It played with the conventions of the zombie genre, making it both grim yet darkly humorous. We also see things from the zombie’s perspective, again, a rarity. Extremely worth the effort to see.

“They’re Back from the Grave and Ready to Party!”  

Dark Shadows Episode Three

“Episode 3.” Dark Shadows. ABC. Various stations. 29 June 1966.

We open with Roger Collins racing towards a cottage. Pounding on the door gets him no response, so he leaves in a huff.

Back at Collinswood, Victoria is busy writing a letter when Carolyn introduces herself. She seems nice, but she still offers to help Victoria pack. Convinced that Victoria isn’t going to flee that night, Carolyn then offers to answer her questions. Carolyn makes it clear she has no idea who Devlin is or has any interest in Joe Haskell. Who catches her fancy then? Why, her Uncle Roger, who else? Yeah, I suppose this was less creepy in the 1960’s, I guess.

Speaking of Devlin, he’s meeting with none other than Joe Haskell at the Blue Whale. He drops some hints about Carolyn, prompting Joe to sit down.

Roger arrives at the Inn. The picture becomes clearer, as the man he was trying to see earlier was Maggie’s father. He tries his charming act, trying to figure out where her old man is and even offers to buy one of his paintings. Maggie seems hopeful at that last remark.

We finally get some more info on Devlin. Seems he really was local boy, but has recently returned with money (as evidenced by his renting three rooms at the inn). Maggie’s father also seemed rather fond of Devlin too, yet hasn’t mentioned the name is years.

Back at the house, Victoria and Carolyn are walking about the house. We learn about more about the Collins family (also Roger looks a bit like Isaac Collins, the founder of Collinsport and the family fortune), but while the girls talk, a door opens slightly…

Carolyn glibly suggests the wind opened it…despite it being inside.

Devlin and Joe continue their talk. Devlin seems to know a disturbing amount of info on Joe. He also offers Joe a large amount of money, in exchange for some information.

While Roger waits for Maggie’s father, Mr. Malloy of the Collins fishing fleet barges in. He is clearly agitated about Devlin’s return. Roger acts cool, but Malloy reminds Roger about ‘ten years ago’, and refers to Devlin as an ex-con.

Devlin continues his talk with Joe, mostly explaining how he got his money. Joe, flustered, refuses his offer. Malloy enters the inn and orders Joe home. Malloy begs Devlin to ‘let things go’, but Devlin refuses.

Back at the house, Victoria and Carolyn come back to Victoria’s room, where someone has been rifling through Victoria’s things. Carolyn only cryptically offers warning about locking the door and promises to see her in the morning.

So, is everyone in this town afflicted with a disease that prevents them from actually getting to the point? Carolyn warmly greets Victoria, then promptly tell her to flee, then welcomes her again. Malloy drops hints about Devlin’s past, but doesn’t say much more than him being an ex-con. Obviously if he spilled the entire story it would seem odd, as Roger clearly knows what Devlin did, but we the viewers do not.  

Questions raised: What happened ten years ago? Who is spying on Victoria?

An Open Letter to Frank Miller

by: Jesse Baruffi

Dear Frank,

Stop. Just stop, seriously. You used to write really awesome comics. Sure, some of them were kinda weird about gender issues, what with every grown woman being a nun or a whore and all, but despite that, the art and the soul was there, and there were some very noble ideals underneath the noirish skin.

But now...geez. It's like you watched Dave Sim's meltdown and thought, "I bet I could do that!" You've gone from a great writer with some eccentricities to a cranky, bigoted old man and a parody of your former self. I mean, the people who defend your more recent work pretty much have to say, "Oh, he's doing it as a joke." But you're not, are you?

At this point, you should probably retire. Let the good parts of your career eventually outshine The Spirit, Holy Terror, The Goddamn Batman, and all that is probably to come. But I suspect that won't happen. Any resistance to you now will just drive you further into certainty that you're right. And you'll wonder why all the ungrateful bastards turned on you, when in fact it was you who turned on them.

No, I'm not saying I'm going to boycott your work. A boycott implies that I might buy it otherwise. But to be honest, whatever absurd screeds you levy against the Occupy movement, you wear your madness on your sleeve, and every bit of it just shoves The Dark Knight Returns and Born Again and the first couple volumes of Sin City further back into the recesses of memory to be replaced by whatever it is you're saying now.

Look, I don't need to agree with everything a creator says, and they don't need to hug puppies and kittens. But seriously, if you can't be both a nice person and a talented creator, at least be one of them. That way, when you die, people will be able to say, "Though his work may have waned in later years, Miller remained a likeable and helpful figure in the comics community," or, "Though a man of controversial opinions, Miller's talent remained second-to-none." At the moment, you're working pretty hard on having neither.

In short, if you can do nothing else, leave me with my ability to enjoy your work from when it was good. The last thing I want to do is have to sell those enjoyable TPBs just because you couldn't stop talking about how much you hate Muslims or liberals.

Dark Shadows Episode Two

“Episode 2.” Dark Shadows. ABC. Various stations. 28 June 1966.

We open with Victoria inside the Collins estate. Elizabeth, while preparing tea, only drops hints about David, Roger’s son, and cryptically refers to the boy as unlike Victoria has ever met. We cut back to the Blue Whale (the local hangout from the previous episode), where Devlin and the PI (Wilbur Strike) are still talking.

We meet another member of the Collins clan. Carolyn Stoddard, Elizabeth’s daughter. She dances with several young man, much to the annoyance of her date, Joe Haskell.

Through Mr. Strike we learn that Joe Haskell is practically Carolyn’s husband, at least if Elizabeth has her say. A fight nearly breaks out between Haskell and a local youth, but Devlin steps in and stops it. He orders Joe to take Carolyn home, and then ask him to meet with him later, refusing to go into specifics.

Back at the house, Victoria tries to ferret out more information about her hiring, but Elizabeth is less than forth coming. Carolyn’s arrival takes the older woman away, leaving Victoria to settle into her room. A room that Elizabeth used to sleep in, a fact that heavily mentioned.

Carolyn and Elizabeth talk. There is tension, but neither side is truly upset with the other. Carolyn simply wishes to leave the oppressive house, while Elizabeth doesn’t want to be alone. Elizabeth cheers Carolyn up about the last part, suggesting Victoria is to serve another function besides nanny.

Victoria, meanwhile, has gone exploring the grounds. Standing on the cliffs overlooking the sea, she encounters Roger. The man seems charming, if a bit too forward. When told of Devlin’s presence in town, Roger flies into a fit and runs away. Victoria enters the house later as Elizabeth plays the piano. When Elizabeth collapses, Victoria runs off into the darkened house’s interior.

Well, so far the plot thickens a bit. We have a clearer idea on why Victoria was hired, although Elizabeth credits Roger with hiring Victoria, while Roger credits Elizabeth. Devlin sets things in motion with Joe, although if Strike’s info is so complete why doesn’t he just read the report instead of having it read to him in the middle of a bar? We also learn a bit about the background of the Collins family and fortune.

Questions raised: What exactly is the deal with David? What is Elizabeth hiding? What is Devlin’s deal?

Film flashback: Lady Terminator

Lady Terminator  (1988), dir. Jalil Jackson, 108 Sound Studio/Soraya Intercine Film PT  

Ludicrous; yeah, that’s about the only word that sums up this film. Any attempts at analysis are doomed from the start, but here’s a run down. Opening in the past, we see the Queen of the South Seas making love to a mustached man. The touching scene is interrupted when she somehow brutally murders the man via her vagina.

Another man arrives almost at once and makes love to the queen, he however survives. The Queen’s joy at his survival is short lived, as the man then demands (since they are married now somehow) that she stop killing men. He also pulls an eel out from between her thighs and turns it into a knife. The Queen, annoyed at this, leaves but not before swearing to come back and murder the man’s great granddaughter, leaving the man alive and presumably rich. The man is okay with this.

We jump to the present day. An anthropologist, not a lady she stresses, goes searching for the Queen of the South Seas. She finds her and gets possessed by her. Emerging naked from the shore, she kills two men via sex and steals their clothes. She takes over a hotel room (In the Philippines, it is considered good luck to have an extra room set aside for the Queen of the South Seas), then murders a security guard. She also takes the guard’s Uzi and apparently nine hundred million rounds of ammo. Why? Because the man’s great granddaughter is a singer who is giving a concert at local disco.

The possessed Queen shoots about five hundred people but misses the singer. This attracts the police and military, where the square-jawed American cop on the edge protects the singer and nobody else. He tries mind you, but he’s not very good at it.  

This is a film that almost defies a review. Whole scenes and dialogue are transplanted from James Cameron's earlier work, even when it makes no narrative sense. By the end of the movie, nearly every cop in the entire Philippines is dead and and so is almost every civilian. It gets so bad that our cop brings in some American buddies to help. Buddies armed with Panzers and mullets so magnificent I curse myself for not providing a picture. They are useless against the Queen, but the end comes from within for our titular slayer.      

“She mates…then she terminates”

Film flashback: Squirm

Squirm (1976), dir. Jeff Lieberman, American International Pictures

A thunderstorm ravages the small town of Fly Creek, located deep within the wilds of Georgia. Power lines are knocked down, roads flooded, and generally making everything a mess, including sending thousands of volts into the ground; an effect that seems to have stirred up the local worm population.

Into this mess walks Mick, literally, as the bus was unable to travel the flooded roads. Mick is in town to meet up Geri, a girl he met at an antique show some time ago. Geri’s sister Alma mocks her for her worry, while the girl’s mother Naomi slowly goes insane.

Finally making their way to town, Mick makes a big first impression of the other locals by ordering an egg cream (chocolate, milk, and soda water for those who don’t live in New York), but it seems something extra was added to his order: a giant worm.

The sheriff promptly straightens the mess, i.e. blames it all on Mick and threatens to lock him up. From there we met Roger, a local worm farmer who’s a bit off and has the hots for Geri. And then we spend a great deal of time padding. Bones are found, but the worms somehow hide the body and sheriff again refuses to believe Mick or Geri.

By the time we actually get to the worm uprising, far too much time has passed. The film goes in bits and spurts, but otherwise refuses to do anything. I would recommend only seeing this with Mike, Tom, and Crow. As a bonus, the MST3K episode has the short A Case of Spring Fever, which is far more disturbing than this film.

“This was the night of crawling terror!”

Dark Shadows recap/review 1

Having recently purchased a collection of Dark Shadow comics from the 1960’s, I’ve decided to take a critical eye towards the show that spawned it. The brainchild of producer Dan Curtis, the series made its debut in 1966. At first focusing on purely gothic standards, the series quickly embraced the supernatural with the introduction of vampire Barnabas Collins. That particular debut is still a way off, however, so let’s wind back the clock to the first episode.

“Episode 1.” Dark Shadows. ABC. Various stations. 27 June 1966.

We open with Victoria Winters onboard a train to the remote area of Collinsport, Maine. Through flashbacks we learn a little bit about her. To wit, she’s orphan from New York City and she is traveling to accept the job of governess to the Collins family. Also on board is a man named Burke Devlin, who stares intensely at everyone.

Getting off the train, Victoria goes through a greeting standard to most characters in a Universal horror film. She can find no taxi, and the locals do everything short of crossing themselves whenever she mentions the Collins family. Devlin is kind enough to give her a ride to the local inn, but he is rather insistent that she board the next train to New York. He refuses to say why, however, and grows angry at the innkeeper apparently recognizing him.

From there it’s more of the same. Victoria has dinner in the local diner, where the waitress Maggie Evens good naturally insults her, before pleading with her to leave town. Devlin, meanwhile, is meeting with a private eye at the local (and implied only) watering hole. He’s hired the man to gather information on the Collins family, and it’s through this we are given the run down. The family is old, rich, and extremely eccentric.

We are then introduced to two members of the Collins clan: Elizabeth Collins Stoddard and her brother Roger Collins. Elizabeth is the one who insists on a nanny for Roger’s son David, but Roger does everything short of mocking her to her face and decrying her ‘bringing in outsiders’. Roger seems to handle most of the money and the family’s business, while Elizabeth hasn’t left the sprawling Collins estate in over eighteen years.

We end with Victoria finally making her way to the dark old house and being welcomed inside by a grim Elizabeth.

As far as introductions go, you could do worse. Curtis does hit the viewer over the head with how the Collins family is hiding something, but the performances of the actors are muted. An effect which works, as if everyone chewed the scenery this would easily turn into a comedy. As it stands, and this might have been effective in 1966, we are shown a creepy house and a few slightly less creepy interiors. We are told, however, of mysterious and strange goings-on. Although if the residents don’t want people to investigate, why do they constantly bring up staying away from various points, then refuse to explain why they brought it up in the first place?

Questions raised: Why exactly is Victoria hired? Who is Devlin and does he actually hail from Collinsport?

Film flashback: Zombie

Zombie (1979), dir. Lucio Fulci, Variety Film Production

A backlit man shoots a bound figure in the head. A derelict boat sails into New York City. The harbor patrol, upon reaching it, makes a grisly discovery. The ship is abandoned and rotting with spoiled food and severed limbs. One officer makes a horrific discovery in the form of a large undead man who promptly kills the officer. After the other policeman shoots the shambling creature over the side, a formal investigation gets underway.

The daughter of the boat’s owner, Anne (Tisa Farrow) is called in. Along with a reporter (Ian McCulloch), Anne goes to the tropical island of Matool to try and discover her father’s fate. With a vacationing couple in tow, the group goes to find the island. Susan, the girlfriend of Brian (ship’s captain) decides to take some underwater shots, but while scuba diving, encounters a zombie. Saved by a shark, the group is decidedly unnerved when they arrive at the island. Meeting Dr. Menard (Richard Johnson), they are told of the dead coming back to life. Things get worse from there.

Better known as Zombi 2, Zombi or even Zombie Flesh Eaters, this 1979 film was made most infamous for being put on the ‘Video Nasty’ list, and for good reason. The most gruesome shot involves the doctor’s wife as her eye is slowly pierced by a wood shard. There doesn’t seem to be any real reason for the dead coming back to life, although voodoo is mentioned a few times.

Compare to Fulci’s later work, this film is almost a marvel in self-restraint. At first a rip off of Dawn of the Dead, Fulci only explains so much and leaves the rest to the viewer. For this kind of story, it works. We know as much as the characters, who more or less behave realistically even when they fail spot check after spot check.  

“We are going to eat you!”

Animation Block: Exo-Squad

by: Jesse Baruffi

In Western animation, most shows are episodic. This is logical, because the target audience is kids, who aren't exactly known for their ability to keep up with long, intricate plots. Hence, there were very few sagas that require paying attention to them from beginning to end. Even shows I quite enjoy and have mentioned here, like Mighty Max and Conan the Adventurer (which I like even more than Dave does) have a meta-plot that pops up sometimes, but most of the episodes have a small core cast and are perfectly easy to follow one to the next. This brings me to Exo-Squad, which has none of that. It is a 52-episode saga, with an ongoing story, a large cast, and a definitive beginning, middle, and ending. It was ballsy to make such a show, but the result was something unique and enjoyable.

Exo-Squad is a series that takes place in the 22nd century, after humanity has colonized Venus and Mars. Through genetic engineering, humanity has also created a servant race called Neo-Sapiens, who are stronger, tougher, and more intelligent than humans. Naturally, treating a race with all these advantages as slaves led to an uprising, and though it was put down, the Neo-Sapiens were eventually granted their independence, though were still generally treated as second-class citizens. The military of the core worlds, known as Exo-Fleet, keep the peace, and use personal mechs called E-Frames (you guessed it, the toys!). It is neither a particularly optimistic or pessimistic future, with a fair share of good and bad traits.

This all changes when the majority of Exo-Fleet is called away on a grand mission to wipe out pirate clans who live in the outer worlds of the solar system. Phaeton, governor of the Neo-Sapiens on Mars, using ships and E-Frames he had been building in secret, stages a massive coup and conquers Earth and Venus. Phaeton and his generals reduce humans to slaves as payback for their mistreatment. Exo-Fleet, marooned in space and facing three planets with entrenched Neo-Sapien armadas, are forced to find a way to retake their homeworlds.

The point of view from which we see this is Able Squad, a group of E-Frame pilots often sent on the most dangerous and important missions of the war. The entire squad is fleshed out and filled with likeable characters, including their leader J.T. Marsh, a philosopher and strategist, and Marsala, a Neo-Sapien who is highly conflicted about fighting his own people, but loyal to his human friends nonetheless. The war was said by the creators to have been modeled on World War II, and we follow the moves and countermoves of Exo-Fleet and the Neo-Sapien Order from beginning to end. Despite being a cartoon, Exo-Squad portrays war realistically, and people die quite frequently. The show deals with themes of war, loss, and prejudice in a way that is not ham-handed. While we want the humans to win, it is easy to sympathize with the Neo-Sapiens, who were horribly mistreated and harbor understandable resentment. Indeed, while Phaeton and most of his inner circle are ruthless and power-hungry, not all the Neo-Sapiens, perhaps not even most, are evil. Phaeton himself is a fascinating character. He is charismatic and brilliant, and probably would have been easy to like before he became a supreme dictator. As time goes on, his sanity wanes and he becomes extremely paranoid and irrational. It seems likely the series creators based him on Hitler, and perhaps other dictators of similar stature.

The series had a few small missteps, particularly when new breeds of Neo-Sapiens began to appear. The Neo-Warriors were inexplicably immune to blaster fire, which makes one wonder why they didn't build ships, E-Frames, or at the very least armor out of the material used for their skin, and why this immunity seemed to vanish later on in the war. There is also the sad fact that the series ended with an apparent presumption that there would be another season, and as such, a massive cliffhanger. Much to my chagrin at least, that season never came, and what was to come will likely never be known.

Still, for all that, Exo-Squad is an amazing series, with lots of combat, strategy, characterization, science fiction, humor, and thought-provoking drama. The first 13 episodes are available on DVD, but sadly, the rest does not seem to be. Luckily, the show is available in its entirety on Hulu, so if you've never seen this underrated classic, go there and watch it now!

Show Status

Good news!

At this point, we have recorded four episodes, which will begin airing on Non-Productive Radio after the station's November hiatus ends. We have had several exciting guests and many fun discussions, all of which you will soon be privy to. On top of this, David and I have secured many more great guests for the upcoming weeks, and we intend to keep the blog rolling with as much strange and exciting content as we can. For the possibly two-digit number of fans out there, keep reading and keep listening!

Film flashback: Anguish

Anguish (1988), dir. Bigas Luna, Luna Films

An overweight man (Michael Lerner) is driven to madness by his overbearing mother (Zelda Rubenstein). Acting at her whim, he goes to a movie theater and unleashes his plot. He must have eyes you see, and he isn’t picky on how he gets them.

Except that is just a story. A film entitled The Mommy, to be exact. To two people watching in the theater, however, it is more than just a film. To Patty, the film is far more horrifying than the people in the theater realize, as Patty sees actions in the film being acted out in the theater. To an unnamed man, the film is a blueprint, telling him exactly what to do. With his .357 at the ready, the nameless man is going to turn the theater into a real horror show.

This is a real trip of a film. As one audience member quipped, “I had no idea David Lynch and Jess Franco made a movie together.” The Mommy scenes and Anguish blend together in such a way that it is very easy to confuse the two. Surreal and violent, this is a film that constantly plays with your senses. Indeed, the VHS was tagged with a warning on how the film could hypnotize the viewer. Worth a glance if you find it.

The eyes of the city are mine