Now I said that I had learned something from this ultimately frustrating experience. And I suppose that nothing is a waste if something is learned of it.
What I learned is that High Fantasy is the cheapest, easiest, most unimaginative form of fiction in existence.
What brings me to this conclusion?
William Goldman says, essentially, that a writers main objective is to write himself into a corner, into a box that he can’t easily get out of. Because it is then that you become truly creative. You are forced to wade through the clichés and the contrivances in order to reach the creatively original solution to your dilemma.
High Fantasy operates outside of any such limitation. Got a problem? Just us magic. There is a spell for everything. Insurmountable odds? Don’t worry, a dragon will swoop out of the sky for no logical reason and deliver you. Fortunately there is no spell to make an author a better writer, or a dragon to bear him to the land of GloriousInspiration.
The other thing that I noticed was how much fantasy has been influenced by The Lord of the Rings. Now don’t get me wrong. I love The Lord of the Rings. And infact have been thinking on a LOTR inspired story for some time. What I am talking about are the storys that range from pure knockoffs, to what this work is. Not a pure copy, but containing enough similar points as to be obvious: like the assimilation of a company of heroes to combat a similar number of adversaries; the "dragon crown" with the power to rule over the world, much like the "one ring" in LOTR; a man who was "raised" by the elves; etc. ad infinitum.
I wonder how Tolkien feels about this. I wonder if he would be happy for inspiring people to create similar works of fancy, or if he would be appalled by the monster that has come into existence in his wake.
My final quip has to do with titles. Mainly, what Mr. Stackpole titled his books. Or perhaps, what the Publishers titled his books.
The two most important attractants, after word of mouth referral, are Title and Cover. The title and cover of a book are what draws the reader in. They are what makes you stop and look closer. And in this case, it was both that got me started. The art on the first two books was very good, the third not so much, and the titles where a complete misleading dissapointment
First, there is Fortress Draconis. Now, the name promises an adventure at a fortress called Draconis. But none really ever happened. Oh, the companions do briefly visit said fortress, and one of the secondary characters does wander around in the fortress for a little while, but it never gets enough action to truly warrant the title.
And the second, When Dragon’s Rage just seemed like an outright lie. One gets the image of dragons fighting constantly from page to page while riders on their backs hurl spears and swing swords and axes at each other. When in fact, the actual dragon fights take place over the span of probably three pages. Again, not that I was looking forward to mythical, magical creatures brawling through my imagination, I felt robbed.
And the final installment, The Grand Crusade, while filled with lots of technical stuff (to the point of boring me), when the two "new" leads weren’t pining over each other or lamenting the loss of the Norington, was, as I said earlier, anything but grand. And there was no actual crusade. There was no pressing into the enemies country to conquer and expell. In fact, it was really the Evil Chytrine who was Crusading, and the Southern countries were simply marshaling against her. Now it’s possible that The Grand Crusade was really referencing Chytrine’s endevors, but I do not believe that, nor was there anything in the work to suggest it.
Now, I’m not saying that the title of books should be lifted dirrectly from the pages of the work; but it can’t be so abstract that you can’t tie the two together.
The title of these books where the exact oposite of the title of the second most boring mystery that I have ever read: A Safe Place for Dying. Catchy isn’t it? Intriguing, right? That’s why I picked it up. And, in keeping with it’s title, it is about a series of explosions that take place in a very exclusive, very secure, gated community. Unfortunately, I solved the mystery half way through and made myself finish it. But it’s a great title.
At the start of this monster I said that I was interested in finding out what made the current top listed authors great, and I am beginnning to wonder if it is just depravity calling to depravity. Birds of a feather, that sort of thing.
Now you might be wondering: why don’t you just read the other works by authors that you have tried and know are true?
If you are an avid reader you already know the answer: there is only just so much of the same author that you can take before you need a break. And I KNOW that tallent isn’t dead. I know that there are more writers out there writing in the classic, logical, precise, elloquent styles of the 19th/early 20th century masters.
I’m just trying to find them.
As always: Let ‘em rip!
Showing posts with label Interests. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Interests. Show all posts
Monday, April 6, 2009
Saturday, April 4, 2009
Frustration, Part 8
Now I said that Stackpole’s story was intriguing. And it was. At it’s core, its skeleton, it was a great idea. But the flesh was flabby and the clothing was horrendous.
My main complaint is the treatment of his initial main protagonist. Here is this fifteen year old boy living in the slums, aspiring to be the greatest thief ever, but not likely to reach sixteen. Who gets plucked out of this environment and given a crash course in life, that some would pay for, by two vaunted and fearsome warriors. The truly dynamic character of Will starts out as this callous child who cares for no one, and slowly turns into a young man, beginning to understand that there are bigger things at stake in life than the next heist. He begins to live adventures that he could never have dreamed about in his wildest imagination. He goes from being nothing, to being responsible for the well being of many men who have pledged their live to his service. But in the middle of his development he gets cut off. And instead of metamorphosing into a rounded, new man, he is turned into a lump of animated stone. Literally. I never got to see the fulfillment of Will’s character development
Now, I understand that Stackpole didn’t write his books specifically for me. I also understand that there are a great many things in this world that I will not agree with and that will disappoint me. So don’t worry, I’m not Pollyanna
But THERE ARE some basic fundamentals to story writing.
All storytelling is Conflict and Resolution. A story without conflict is boring.
The Resolution of the Conflict must be proportionate to, if not greater than the Conflict.
In order to be engaging, a story must contain Dynamic characters.
Heroic characters in a story MUST be dynamic.
Dynamic, at its simplest means "change." And the vehicle of change is Conflict. It is in Conflict that the nature of the character is revealed.
And the character of Will was being exposed, scrubbed, and recreated. And after nine hundred pages, I was left with two supporting characters that could only ever be described as static. And they became Stackpole’s new focus.
I am left to surmise that the then late forty, almost fifty year old author became bored with the fifteen year old main character; the strongest character of the entire bunch, and instead preferred to focus on the forty year old Crow and his twenty-five year old contrived wife.
Hmmmmm..
For my part, I wasn’t interested in the moral perturbations and subsequent meandering of two flat, static characters.
" ‘But I’m old enough to be your father . . .’
‘Yes, but love knows no age . . .’
‘Oh, you are so right, my love’ he admitted passionately, as tears welled up in his eyes and flowed down his cheeks into his white beard."
Think I’m exaggerating? Feel free to find out for yourself.
To be continued . . .
My main complaint is the treatment of his initial main protagonist. Here is this fifteen year old boy living in the slums, aspiring to be the greatest thief ever, but not likely to reach sixteen. Who gets plucked out of this environment and given a crash course in life, that some would pay for, by two vaunted and fearsome warriors. The truly dynamic character of Will starts out as this callous child who cares for no one, and slowly turns into a young man, beginning to understand that there are bigger things at stake in life than the next heist. He begins to live adventures that he could never have dreamed about in his wildest imagination. He goes from being nothing, to being responsible for the well being of many men who have pledged their live to his service. But in the middle of his development he gets cut off. And instead of metamorphosing into a rounded, new man, he is turned into a lump of animated stone. Literally. I never got to see the fulfillment of Will’s character development
Now, I understand that Stackpole didn’t write his books specifically for me. I also understand that there are a great many things in this world that I will not agree with and that will disappoint me. So don’t worry, I’m not Pollyanna
But THERE ARE some basic fundamentals to story writing.
All storytelling is Conflict and Resolution. A story without conflict is boring.
The Resolution of the Conflict must be proportionate to, if not greater than the Conflict.
In order to be engaging, a story must contain Dynamic characters.
Heroic characters in a story MUST be dynamic.
Dynamic, at its simplest means "change." And the vehicle of change is Conflict. It is in Conflict that the nature of the character is revealed.
And the character of Will was being exposed, scrubbed, and recreated. And after nine hundred pages, I was left with two supporting characters that could only ever be described as static. And they became Stackpole’s new focus.
I am left to surmise that the then late forty, almost fifty year old author became bored with the fifteen year old main character; the strongest character of the entire bunch, and instead preferred to focus on the forty year old Crow and his twenty-five year old contrived wife.
Hmmmmm..
For my part, I wasn’t interested in the moral perturbations and subsequent meandering of two flat, static characters.
" ‘But I’m old enough to be your father . . .’
‘Yes, but love knows no age . . .’
‘Oh, you are so right, my love’ he admitted passionately, as tears welled up in his eyes and flowed down his cheeks into his white beard."
Think I’m exaggerating? Feel free to find out for yourself.
To be continued . . .
Friday, April 3, 2009
Frustration, Part 7
So now you know the general points. Let’s now discuss the important points.
Now, as I read the first book, there was a storm developing in the back of my mind. Something was bothering me and it took probably two thirds of the first book before I realized what the problems were.
While the kernel of his story was intriguing, and some what original, Stackpole didn't give enough detail where it counted. While he would spend sentence after sentence on the description of a characters clothing, it took me seven hundred pages to fully realize that Resolute, the elf that kidnapped Will way back in the beginning, wore his hair in a tall, spiked mohawk. The bad guys, in my imagination, where a kinda colored blur. The grunt soldiers were this kinda black dog/monkey/cat shape and the evil "lieutenants" where a kinda bird like white shape. And it was like that with many things.
The other problem was his voice. How he wrote, was convoluted. It was like being told to go stand on the X and being shown into a room where there was a giant path painted in white on the floor, ever spiraling towards the X at the center and the only thing that prevented me from crossing all the white lines and gaining the X in three simple strides where the instructions: please stay on the path.
Pointless.
Frustrating.
Another problem was his relentless repetition. It drives me to distraction when an author repeats himself, repeatedly (ha!) And I don’t mean the sharing of information between characters within the dialogue. Understandably, if Joe didn’t see what Frank saw, then Joe has to learn of it somehow. I am referencing when the author repeats himself in the narrative, with stenographic detail, time after time after time. I don’t need to be told five times that Slim is six feet four inches tall, and covered in three hundred pounds of finely chiseled muscles (by way of example). I’m smarter than that. And if I’m not, I CAN always look back.
And the third thing that bothered me, was that the series was portrayed as medieval. But no one behaved midieval-esque. Now, I know what you’re asking: How do YOU know what medieval behavior is like? Where you alive back then? Do you have a time machine Mr. No-Published Critic? Do you go back and perform clandestine StarTrekian studies of primitive cultures?
No. But I do know this: they didn’t behave like people do now. A fifteen year old in, say, 1200 was half way to the grave. If it was a girl, she was probably married off. If it was a boy, he was probably looking pretty seriously at getting married and in either case they not only had the ability to function as adults, but many times where expected to. Not so in Stackpole's universe. Teenagers acted like modern spoiled rich kids. Even the characters that were supposed to be hundreds of years old, didn’t behave like it.
To be continued . . .
Now, as I read the first book, there was a storm developing in the back of my mind. Something was bothering me and it took probably two thirds of the first book before I realized what the problems were.
While the kernel of his story was intriguing, and some what original, Stackpole didn't give enough detail where it counted. While he would spend sentence after sentence on the description of a characters clothing, it took me seven hundred pages to fully realize that Resolute, the elf that kidnapped Will way back in the beginning, wore his hair in a tall, spiked mohawk. The bad guys, in my imagination, where a kinda colored blur. The grunt soldiers were this kinda black dog/monkey/cat shape and the evil "lieutenants" where a kinda bird like white shape. And it was like that with many things.
The other problem was his voice. How he wrote, was convoluted. It was like being told to go stand on the X and being shown into a room where there was a giant path painted in white on the floor, ever spiraling towards the X at the center and the only thing that prevented me from crossing all the white lines and gaining the X in three simple strides where the instructions: please stay on the path.
Pointless.
Frustrating.
Another problem was his relentless repetition. It drives me to distraction when an author repeats himself, repeatedly (ha!) And I don’t mean the sharing of information between characters within the dialogue. Understandably, if Joe didn’t see what Frank saw, then Joe has to learn of it somehow. I am referencing when the author repeats himself in the narrative, with stenographic detail, time after time after time. I don’t need to be told five times that Slim is six feet four inches tall, and covered in three hundred pounds of finely chiseled muscles (by way of example). I’m smarter than that. And if I’m not, I CAN always look back.
And the third thing that bothered me, was that the series was portrayed as medieval. But no one behaved midieval-esque. Now, I know what you’re asking: How do YOU know what medieval behavior is like? Where you alive back then? Do you have a time machine Mr. No-Published Critic? Do you go back and perform clandestine StarTrekian studies of primitive cultures?
No. But I do know this: they didn’t behave like people do now. A fifteen year old in, say, 1200 was half way to the grave. If it was a girl, she was probably married off. If it was a boy, he was probably looking pretty seriously at getting married and in either case they not only had the ability to function as adults, but many times where expected to. Not so in Stackpole's universe. Teenagers acted like modern spoiled rich kids. Even the characters that were supposed to be hundreds of years old, didn’t behave like it.
To be continued . . .
Thursday, April 2, 2009
Frustration, Part 6
Yes, that’s right. Will Norrington, the Scourge of Evil, the Bane of Wickedness Incarnate dies after nine hundred pages of adventuring.
And that is the end of book two. Will dies, leaving his companions dumb struck.
The End.
Or rather "Next book coming soon; I know, I know, Write faster"
So, I didn’t panic. I knew it was going to be a trilogy before I started the second book. I even read the back of the third book to see if it actually belonged to the trilogy, so I knew Will was going to die from page one of book two. I just didn’t know anything about the scenery on the drive there.
But I did know this: I was reading a fantasy.
I finished Book Two thinking, "Okay. They killed him. I knew that was coming. But he has dragon blood in him. He’ll come back some how. Stacky will bring him back some how. Lets find out how."
So, I went to the library and procured The Grand Crusade. And discovered it to be anything but.
The focus of the story was told mainly from that Princess that you’ll remember I could have taken or left, the Golden Wolf (I now remember that her name is Alyx, but I won’t call her that) and Crow.
For half the book they are lamenting the loss of Will the Norrington. Wondering what they are going to do, and doing what ever they have to.
For half the book I am waiting for the return of Will, the one that got me hooked some one thousand pages earlier. For half the book I am waiting for him return and say, "Here I am! Lets go kill the NorWitch!"
And finally, after dragging through two hundred, three hundred pages of Stackpole’s increasingly grating voice (more on that to come) I am finally told that Will’s not dead, he’s just waiting for some of his companions to find him.
Finally. At last.
So some set off to do just that, while others go off to fight in high combat.
Of course I am interested only in the rediscovery of my hero, Will the Nimble, King of the Dims, the Norrington.
And what do I discover? Stackpole has turned him into an enraged golem. At first I think that it really is a golem, in the pure Jewish sense of it being a cocoon, and that Will is incubating within the fire eyed stone monster. Or some such other High Fantasy nonsense. After all, he has dragon blood in him, and, and . . .
Wrong.
Will never does return. He never gets paired with the beautiful Lady Snowflake Isaura, who, though Evil Chytrine’s heir, helps to overthrow her.
Chytrine is killed and the various companions go on to be big muckity-mucks throughout the varied kingdoms. And what is left of Will, or rather what I am supposed to believe is left of Will, goes off into the Far North to relentlessly eradicate the remains of Chytrine’s army.
The End.
I felt so cheated. Robbed. Hood winked. For nine hundred pages I had been following the truly dynamic character that I first discovered hanging from a rope in a rainstorm, waiting to break into the room of the badest dude in the Dims.
And what do I get instead? Some forty-something, scar covered, white haired man named Crow crying like a little girl with a Princess that I found as intriguing a package of steel wool.
I want my money back! Oh, wait . . .
Thank goodness for libraries.
I want my time back! I want my emotional investment back! Oh, well, I didn’t really get in to it that much. In fact, I pretty much had to force myself to finish the last book.
So now you know the general points. Let’s now discuss the important points.
To be continued . . .
And that is the end of book two. Will dies, leaving his companions dumb struck.
The End.
Or rather "Next book coming soon; I know, I know, Write faster"
So, I didn’t panic. I knew it was going to be a trilogy before I started the second book. I even read the back of the third book to see if it actually belonged to the trilogy, so I knew Will was going to die from page one of book two. I just didn’t know anything about the scenery on the drive there.
But I did know this: I was reading a fantasy.
I finished Book Two thinking, "Okay. They killed him. I knew that was coming. But he has dragon blood in him. He’ll come back some how. Stacky will bring him back some how. Lets find out how."
So, I went to the library and procured The Grand Crusade. And discovered it to be anything but.
The focus of the story was told mainly from that Princess that you’ll remember I could have taken or left, the Golden Wolf (I now remember that her name is Alyx, but I won’t call her that) and Crow.
For half the book they are lamenting the loss of Will the Norrington. Wondering what they are going to do, and doing what ever they have to.
For half the book I am waiting for the return of Will, the one that got me hooked some one thousand pages earlier. For half the book I am waiting for him return and say, "Here I am! Lets go kill the NorWitch!"
And finally, after dragging through two hundred, three hundred pages of Stackpole’s increasingly grating voice (more on that to come) I am finally told that Will’s not dead, he’s just waiting for some of his companions to find him.
Finally. At last.
So some set off to do just that, while others go off to fight in high combat.
Of course I am interested only in the rediscovery of my hero, Will the Nimble, King of the Dims, the Norrington.
And what do I discover? Stackpole has turned him into an enraged golem. At first I think that it really is a golem, in the pure Jewish sense of it being a cocoon, and that Will is incubating within the fire eyed stone monster. Or some such other High Fantasy nonsense. After all, he has dragon blood in him, and, and . . .
Wrong.
Will never does return. He never gets paired with the beautiful Lady Snowflake Isaura, who, though Evil Chytrine’s heir, helps to overthrow her.
Chytrine is killed and the various companions go on to be big muckity-mucks throughout the varied kingdoms. And what is left of Will, or rather what I am supposed to believe is left of Will, goes off into the Far North to relentlessly eradicate the remains of Chytrine’s army.
The End.
I felt so cheated. Robbed. Hood winked. For nine hundred pages I had been following the truly dynamic character that I first discovered hanging from a rope in a rainstorm, waiting to break into the room of the badest dude in the Dims.
And what do I get instead? Some forty-something, scar covered, white haired man named Crow crying like a little girl with a Princess that I found as intriguing a package of steel wool.
I want my money back! Oh, wait . . .
Thank goodness for libraries.
I want my time back! I want my emotional investment back! Oh, well, I didn’t really get in to it that much. In fact, I pretty much had to force myself to finish the last book.
So now you know the general points. Let’s now discuss the important points.
To be continued . . .
Monday, March 30, 2009
Frustration, Part 5
As a Christian who believes that the life is in the blood and believes in the Power of the Blood of Jesus Christ, I thought it was rather interesting that in the midst of all this written darkness, and believe me it was, would be a pinpoint of light. Here is a character that has been prophesied to be the downfall of evil incarnate who discovers a powerful weapon in his blood. I don’t believe in coincidence. And I don’t believe that Mr. Stackpole even knew what he stumbled upon and then promptly forgot. Because Will never used this new found ability again, nor did he or his comrades explore what other capabilities he might have come back from the brink with.
After this conflict they arrive at Sayce’s country and capital city, and begin to pitch in to resist the Evil Chytrine.
Now remember, the book is skipping all around to multiple characters that I have varying degree’s of care for: from intriguing to pointless. And also remember that, at the heart of the story, there is this crown that has been broken into many pieces.
At Sayce’s city it is discovered that one of the side characters has a piece of the Dragon Crown. I of course know this already as I have been forced to follow along in order to get back to Will. So Will and some of his comrades set out to intercept the side character, which leads to the second of only three scenes in the entire one thousand three hundred pages that I even care about.
Unfortunately, again, Stackpole failed to optimize on it.
In the scene, the rag tag band of men who have assemble around Will have all taken to wearing black masks. All but Crow, who, for his failures twenty-five years earlier, doesn’t feel that he is worthy to wear a mask. Finally, Crow’s formerly estranged brother, another character that was thankfully not granted his own perspective, and Will convince Crow to don the ubiquitous Dread Pirate Roberts mask (sorry, I couldn’t help myself.) Will, who is Crow’s rightful Lord, lays his hand on his shoulder and gives him a new name. Saying something to the effect that Tarrant Hawkings, Crow’s real name, is dead and that Keyden’s Crow is now alive and ennobled.
And then Will should have turned and, viewing the entire band of men that surround him and their various liveries and their unanimous black masks, said, "From this day on, we shall no more be many different soldiers from different countries. But we shall be one people, we shall be known as Keyden’s Raiders!" To which Crow would promptly interject before anyone else could huzzah "No My Lord. We shall be Norrington’s Marauders!" (because that was Will’s last name) to which the entire group would have burst into cacophonous huzzahs. But none of that happened.
And of course, I understand, it’s not my story. I’m just saying.
To make this long story short, so that I can get on to the last book of the three and to the point of my frustration, Will and his group meet up with the above mentioned additional character, another Prince, who is carrying a piece of the desired crown. And at this point a dragon comes onto the scene and begins to eat them for lunch. Literally. The good guys get thinned down, but in the process, one of Will’s companions, a character that was always with Will but I had to be reminded existed, who is an amnesiac, turns out to be a dragon. Apparently taking human form for the first time was so traumatic that it caused him to lose his memory and took getting roasted like an apple by another dragon to wake him from his amnesia. This character was so unnoticed that I had to look back to figure out who it was. "Who? What? What just happened?"
This Companion Dragon beats the bad dragon and the bad guys that have been hounding the good guys and then takes Will and his closest companions, and the piece of the vaunted dragon crown to the hall of the dragons. A very, very, hot, lava filled cave. It is a sort of bazaar, preternatural sauna.
In the dragon’s pad, all of the original companions are reunited. And Will discovers that he has Dragon blood flowing in his veins. For the first time since he was almost killed, he is warm.
The dragon’s hold a congress. And like all good congresses, nothing is decided. Not only is nothing decided, but one of Evil Chytrine’s Lieutenants is given a seat at the table. The individual dragon’s are left to make up their own minds about who they will fight for. While, as a whole, the dragon’s remain neutral.
The companions also learn that the stones set in the dragon crown are actually the true, physical essence of a dragon, their souls if you will. And if they are destroyed, then the dragon that they belong to will also die.
So the bad guy gets one of these dragon true stones and throws the stone into the lava. Or at least attempts too. But Will, without thinking, leaps after it, nimble thief that he is, grabs it and flings it to one of his companions, before promptly bursting into flaming ash.
Again I was scratching my head (my scalp was very tender after this read) because I remembered that the amnesiac dragon, of just a few pages before, while in human form, was encased in lava and that was what "woke him up." But throwing their "true stones" into lava would kill them? Huh? It seems to me that that would be the safest place for them: at the bottom of a lake of lava where no-one could ever get them.
And
Yes, that’s right. Will Norrington, the Scourge of Evil, the Bane of Wickedness Incarnate dies after nine hundred pages of adventuring.
And that is the end of book two. Will dies, leaving his companions dumb struck.
The End.
Or rather "Next book coming soon; I know, I know, Write faster"
To be continued . . .
After this conflict they arrive at Sayce’s country and capital city, and begin to pitch in to resist the Evil Chytrine.
Now remember, the book is skipping all around to multiple characters that I have varying degree’s of care for: from intriguing to pointless. And also remember that, at the heart of the story, there is this crown that has been broken into many pieces.
At Sayce’s city it is discovered that one of the side characters has a piece of the Dragon Crown. I of course know this already as I have been forced to follow along in order to get back to Will. So Will and some of his comrades set out to intercept the side character, which leads to the second of only three scenes in the entire one thousand three hundred pages that I even care about.
Unfortunately, again, Stackpole failed to optimize on it.
In the scene, the rag tag band of men who have assemble around Will have all taken to wearing black masks. All but Crow, who, for his failures twenty-five years earlier, doesn’t feel that he is worthy to wear a mask. Finally, Crow’s formerly estranged brother, another character that was thankfully not granted his own perspective, and Will convince Crow to don the ubiquitous Dread Pirate Roberts mask (sorry, I couldn’t help myself.) Will, who is Crow’s rightful Lord, lays his hand on his shoulder and gives him a new name. Saying something to the effect that Tarrant Hawkings, Crow’s real name, is dead and that Keyden’s Crow is now alive and ennobled.
And then Will should have turned and, viewing the entire band of men that surround him and their various liveries and their unanimous black masks, said, "From this day on, we shall no more be many different soldiers from different countries. But we shall be one people, we shall be known as Keyden’s Raiders!" To which Crow would promptly interject before anyone else could huzzah "No My Lord. We shall be Norrington’s Marauders!" (because that was Will’s last name) to which the entire group would have burst into cacophonous huzzahs. But none of that happened.
And of course, I understand, it’s not my story. I’m just saying.
To make this long story short, so that I can get on to the last book of the three and to the point of my frustration, Will and his group meet up with the above mentioned additional character, another Prince, who is carrying a piece of the desired crown. And at this point a dragon comes onto the scene and begins to eat them for lunch. Literally. The good guys get thinned down, but in the process, one of Will’s companions, a character that was always with Will but I had to be reminded existed, who is an amnesiac, turns out to be a dragon. Apparently taking human form for the first time was so traumatic that it caused him to lose his memory and took getting roasted like an apple by another dragon to wake him from his amnesia. This character was so unnoticed that I had to look back to figure out who it was. "Who? What? What just happened?"
This Companion Dragon beats the bad dragon and the bad guys that have been hounding the good guys and then takes Will and his closest companions, and the piece of the vaunted dragon crown to the hall of the dragons. A very, very, hot, lava filled cave. It is a sort of bazaar, preternatural sauna.
In the dragon’s pad, all of the original companions are reunited. And Will discovers that he has Dragon blood flowing in his veins. For the first time since he was almost killed, he is warm.
The dragon’s hold a congress. And like all good congresses, nothing is decided. Not only is nothing decided, but one of Evil Chytrine’s Lieutenants is given a seat at the table. The individual dragon’s are left to make up their own minds about who they will fight for. While, as a whole, the dragon’s remain neutral.
The companions also learn that the stones set in the dragon crown are actually the true, physical essence of a dragon, their souls if you will. And if they are destroyed, then the dragon that they belong to will also die.
So the bad guy gets one of these dragon true stones and throws the stone into the lava. Or at least attempts too. But Will, without thinking, leaps after it, nimble thief that he is, grabs it and flings it to one of his companions, before promptly bursting into flaming ash.
Again I was scratching my head (my scalp was very tender after this read) because I remembered that the amnesiac dragon, of just a few pages before, while in human form, was encased in lava and that was what "woke him up." But throwing their "true stones" into lava would kill them? Huh? It seems to me that that would be the safest place for them: at the bottom of a lake of lava where no-one could ever get them.
And
Yes, that’s right. Will Norrington, the Scourge of Evil, the Bane of Wickedness Incarnate dies after nine hundred pages of adventuring.
And that is the end of book two. Will dies, leaving his companions dumb struck.
The End.
Or rather "Next book coming soon; I know, I know, Write faster"
To be continued . . .
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
Frustration, Part 4
So, I ran quickly to said library and plucked the sequel off of the shelf and dove in.
When Dragons Rage was pretty much more of the same.
Stackpole created another character for us to view the world through: the heir of the Evil Chytrine, Isuara, or something like that.
The first third of the book involves the trial of Crow and the contrivances to set him at liberty. And while Stackpole’s solution to this dilemma was not unimaginative, if felt forced. Like an easy out. I felt the solutions where decent, but I couldn’t help but think that there must have been a better, cleaner way. It was like a puzzle worth two dollars being sold for ten cents.
Basically, the afore mentioned Golden Wolf, a princess in her own right, with the help of her friends, fakes a marriage with Crow, a man who held her in his arms when she was a baby. This "marriage" elevates Crow from vassal to noble and therefore warrants him another trial, as he had been tried and convicted in abstention. At this point I scratched my head: "This is a medieval-esque world and they try their accused in abstention?" But that’s beside the point. Now, I don’t particularly have a problem with age gap relationships but this solution, as I said above, felt contrived. It was like Stackpole needed a way to get Crow off the hook quickly and pair his Affirmative Action character up with someone.
During the trial, Will is poisoned by a bad guy; one of Evil Chytrine’s lieutenants. But he is then saved by Evil Chytrine’s heir and a dragon in human form (not Evil Chytrine’s heir). The Heir wasn’t really responsible for her actions nor did she know that Will was her mother’s nemesis, and we don’t find out about the dragon until the end of the book.
So Will comes back from the brink; only different. He finds that he is perpetually cold. And something else. And then the trial comes to an end. And just as Crow is being set at liberty, a new character enters. Only this one is (in hind sight) refreshingly different: we never get to see the world through her eyes. Thank goodness. This new character has come for Will, so that he and his comrades can liberate her country from the Scourge From the North, the Evil Chytrine.
A couple chapters after Stackpole created Isaura I began to see that she and Will would be paired up. Or at least, I thought that they should be. But then entered Sayce, the previously mentioned new character. She was described as a red headed beauty. So Isaura, who Will never really met, did not stand a chance.
So the comrades set off to liberate Sayce’s country. Along the way they encounter the enemy and that something-else-different-about-Will is exposed. It seems that he has developed the incredible ability to make commands that must be obeyed.
In the only moving part of the entire thriteen hundred page story, Sayce is knocked down in a fight and Will, who has been injured and is bleeding all over the place, leaps to her defense. He stands over her unconscious body and shouts to the enemy:
BY MY BLOOD, YOU WILL NOT PASS! Lo and behold, anywhere that Will’s blood has fallen, the enemy cannot get through. So he starts splattering his blood all over the place, effectively, temporarily holding off the assault. Long enough to gather up the fallen damsel and beat a hasty retreat so that his comrades can regroup and set about the annihilation of their enemies.
As a Christian who believes that the life is in the blood and believes in the Power of the Blood of Jesus Christ, I thought it was rather interesting that in the midst of all this written darkness, and believe me it was, would be a pinpoint of light. Here is a character that has been prophesied to be the downfall of evil incarnate who discovers a powerful weapon in his blood. I don’t believe in coincidence. And I don’t believe that Mr. Stackpole even knew what he stumbled upon and then promptly forgot. Because Will never used this new found ability again, nor did he or his comrades explore what other capabilities he might have come back from the brink with.
To be continued . . .
When Dragons Rage was pretty much more of the same.
Stackpole created another character for us to view the world through: the heir of the Evil Chytrine, Isuara, or something like that.
The first third of the book involves the trial of Crow and the contrivances to set him at liberty. And while Stackpole’s solution to this dilemma was not unimaginative, if felt forced. Like an easy out. I felt the solutions where decent, but I couldn’t help but think that there must have been a better, cleaner way. It was like a puzzle worth two dollars being sold for ten cents.
Basically, the afore mentioned Golden Wolf, a princess in her own right, with the help of her friends, fakes a marriage with Crow, a man who held her in his arms when she was a baby. This "marriage" elevates Crow from vassal to noble and therefore warrants him another trial, as he had been tried and convicted in abstention. At this point I scratched my head: "This is a medieval-esque world and they try their accused in abstention?" But that’s beside the point. Now, I don’t particularly have a problem with age gap relationships but this solution, as I said above, felt contrived. It was like Stackpole needed a way to get Crow off the hook quickly and pair his Affirmative Action character up with someone.
During the trial, Will is poisoned by a bad guy; one of Evil Chytrine’s lieutenants. But he is then saved by Evil Chytrine’s heir and a dragon in human form (not Evil Chytrine’s heir). The Heir wasn’t really responsible for her actions nor did she know that Will was her mother’s nemesis, and we don’t find out about the dragon until the end of the book.
So Will comes back from the brink; only different. He finds that he is perpetually cold. And something else. And then the trial comes to an end. And just as Crow is being set at liberty, a new character enters. Only this one is (in hind sight) refreshingly different: we never get to see the world through her eyes. Thank goodness. This new character has come for Will, so that he and his comrades can liberate her country from the Scourge From the North, the Evil Chytrine.
A couple chapters after Stackpole created Isaura I began to see that she and Will would be paired up. Or at least, I thought that they should be. But then entered Sayce, the previously mentioned new character. She was described as a red headed beauty. So Isaura, who Will never really met, did not stand a chance.
So the comrades set off to liberate Sayce’s country. Along the way they encounter the enemy and that something-else-different-about-Will is exposed. It seems that he has developed the incredible ability to make commands that must be obeyed.
In the only moving part of the entire thriteen hundred page story, Sayce is knocked down in a fight and Will, who has been injured and is bleeding all over the place, leaps to her defense. He stands over her unconscious body and shouts to the enemy:
BY MY BLOOD, YOU WILL NOT PASS! Lo and behold, anywhere that Will’s blood has fallen, the enemy cannot get through. So he starts splattering his blood all over the place, effectively, temporarily holding off the assault. Long enough to gather up the fallen damsel and beat a hasty retreat so that his comrades can regroup and set about the annihilation of their enemies.
As a Christian who believes that the life is in the blood and believes in the Power of the Blood of Jesus Christ, I thought it was rather interesting that in the midst of all this written darkness, and believe me it was, would be a pinpoint of light. Here is a character that has been prophesied to be the downfall of evil incarnate who discovers a powerful weapon in his blood. I don’t believe in coincidence. And I don’t believe that Mr. Stackpole even knew what he stumbled upon and then promptly forgot. Because Will never used this new found ability again, nor did he or his comrades explore what other capabilities he might have come back from the brink with.
To be continued . . .
Monday, March 23, 2009
Frustration, Part 3
But it didn't stop there. More characters were created and given their own chapters, their own perspectives. So that Will, the character that had drawn me in, lost even more storytelling time. At the back of my mind, while I am reading about so-and-so, I was wondering "When are we going to get back to the story?" It was like commercials interrupting my favorite show.
Stackpole’s constant shifting of perspective, chapter after chapter, got to the point where I would skip ahead until I found the chapter that picked up where the last one left off. One time it was five or six chapters. Of course I did go back after that current conflict was resolved to my satisfaction.
I have never been the type of person who starts a book by reading the last chapter first. Therefore I did not know that Fortress Draconis was only Book One of Three until about seven-eighths of the way through, when it became obvious that there was no way that Stackpole could wrap everything up satisfactorily.
My philosophy is that there is as much joy in the journey, as in the destination. Sometimes even more. (Like a road-trip with good buddies to a lackluster beach with no reef and flat waves.) Unfortunately, stories are not exactly, dirrectly comparable to real life experiances. That’s why we have them. To satisfy some vicarious desire that we have. The ending of a story can either ruin the journey, or redeem it.
So Will travels through out the realm, slowly maturing as he goes. Rallying together some of the other main characters that I have mentioned above. He meets the Azure Spider and finds out that the thief is nothing to be idolized. He travels, towards the end of the story, to Fortress Draconis, for which the book is named, only to leave it promptly before it gets blown to little bits. And the book ends with Keyden’s Crow, who has become a father figure to Will, being arrested and led away for being a traitor to his home country. A grisly death awaits him. Or does it? We don’t know. Why? Because he left us hanging!
The end.
Or rather, Stackpole saying something like "Next book coming soon; I know, I know, Write faster." Literally.
Thank goodness that this series was published 01-03. Or my current opinion would be even lower. I hate cliffhanger endings in books and movies. Cliffhanger endings are a dishonest, cheap, and unethical means to fleecing "fans." Entertainments that employ this gimmick are created for the sole purpose of making money and should not be patronized, and in fact, are worthy of a silent boycott. I think that cliffhangers belong at the end of chapters to keep you turning and at the end of TV episodes to get you to tune in next week. But not when you have to wait an entire year and then spend seven to twenty-five bucks to get strung along for another two hours or four hundred and fifty pages.
That said, thank goodness for libraries.
So, I ran quickly to said library and plucked the sequel off of the shelf and dove in.
When Dragons Rage was pretty much more of the same.
To be continued . . .
Stackpole’s constant shifting of perspective, chapter after chapter, got to the point where I would skip ahead until I found the chapter that picked up where the last one left off. One time it was five or six chapters. Of course I did go back after that current conflict was resolved to my satisfaction.
I have never been the type of person who starts a book by reading the last chapter first. Therefore I did not know that Fortress Draconis was only Book One of Three until about seven-eighths of the way through, when it became obvious that there was no way that Stackpole could wrap everything up satisfactorily.
My philosophy is that there is as much joy in the journey, as in the destination. Sometimes even more. (Like a road-trip with good buddies to a lackluster beach with no reef and flat waves.) Unfortunately, stories are not exactly, dirrectly comparable to real life experiances. That’s why we have them. To satisfy some vicarious desire that we have. The ending of a story can either ruin the journey, or redeem it.
So Will travels through out the realm, slowly maturing as he goes. Rallying together some of the other main characters that I have mentioned above. He meets the Azure Spider and finds out that the thief is nothing to be idolized. He travels, towards the end of the story, to Fortress Draconis, for which the book is named, only to leave it promptly before it gets blown to little bits. And the book ends with Keyden’s Crow, who has become a father figure to Will, being arrested and led away for being a traitor to his home country. A grisly death awaits him. Or does it? We don’t know. Why? Because he left us hanging!
The end.
Or rather, Stackpole saying something like "Next book coming soon; I know, I know, Write faster." Literally.
Thank goodness that this series was published 01-03. Or my current opinion would be even lower. I hate cliffhanger endings in books and movies. Cliffhanger endings are a dishonest, cheap, and unethical means to fleecing "fans." Entertainments that employ this gimmick are created for the sole purpose of making money and should not be patronized, and in fact, are worthy of a silent boycott. I think that cliffhangers belong at the end of chapters to keep you turning and at the end of TV episodes to get you to tune in next week. But not when you have to wait an entire year and then spend seven to twenty-five bucks to get strung along for another two hours or four hundred and fifty pages.
That said, thank goodness for libraries.
So, I ran quickly to said library and plucked the sequel off of the shelf and dove in.
When Dragons Rage was pretty much more of the same.
To be continued . . .
Saturday, March 21, 2009
Frustration, Part 2
Continued from Frustration, Part 1
Even as I write, some part of me hesitates in being perfectly frank. Perhaps it's my conscience protesting my participation in "bad literature" or I am embarrased of what my very good friend's mom will think about me. But the truth is, I am not ashamed of having read the story. I actually learned something productive.
My motivation for picking up this particular series stems from a recent interested in the "big name authors." I am curious to see what makes them so popular. And so far, I have been unanimously disappointed with the big name authors.
But we are discussing Stackpole. And specifically the last three books of the DragonCrown War Cycle. (Say that three times fast.) As the title describes, the story is ultimately about a crown that has been created, and subsequently broken into pieces, to control dragons and the quest of the main antagonist to gather the dispersed pieces and reassemble them so that she can burn the world off and free the original adversaries of the dragons. [The dragons are depicted as sentient, extremely long lived (think millennia) creatures. And actually have very little time in the series.]
But I am getting ahead of myself.
The first book [actually the second in the cycle but the first that I read ( I didn't, nor do I plan on reading the first)] opens with the introduction of the main protagonist, Will. A fifteen year old thief who is pulling the biggest heist of his life on the toughest thug in the Dims, the main slum of what could be described as the America of Stackpole's created world. His entire life's ambition is to become the greatest thief ever, better than even the most notorious thief of them all, the Azure Spider.
However, his heist goes South and he is discovered by said thug and subsequently pursued through the slums. Ultimately he is cornered and as the thug is demanding the return of his stolen goods, young Will is rescued by a man and an elf with an odd name. Not what you think. It's Resolute. But is he really rescued? Will is beginning to think not.
Sound interesting? That's why I picked it up and allowed it to suck me in.
It turns out that Keyden's Crow, the man, and Resolute are basically kidnapping young Will. But no worries; Will is the orphaned son of a dead prostitute who has been raised by Fagan. No, that's not the man's name but that is obviously who Stackpole patterned the character after. I don't remember what the name is but he takes in orphans and teaches them to steal, among other things, and when they get too old to control, he "sends them away." And we all know what that means. Though we never actually meet "Fagan" and it is never expressly said, we get the impression that Will is soon to be "sent away" and Will, on some level knows this, as he is planning his big heist to please "Fagan" with his haul.
Again, no worries, because, remember, Will is being kidnapped.
The man and the elf turn out to be battle hardened warriors engaged in a two man campaign against the Evil Northern Empire Aurolan, or something like that, seeking the Chosen, Prophesied One who will defeat the Evil Chytrine. And they think that Will might just be that person.
My biggest disappointment came when several chapters in, Stackpole changed the view of the narrative from that of Will to a, at the time, seemingly secondary character. The previous chapter ended with Will and his kidnappers-lately-turned-mentors escaping into the wilds. The whole point of a chapter ending with a cliff hanger is to keep you hooked, keep you turning pages. I turned the page and discovered, not a gentle fan to keep the fire of my interest alive, but a cold wall of water. I was confronted with the perspective of the Golden Wolf. And I was left wondering, "Who is this woman and why should I care about her?" And the truth is, I never came to care about her. She was this Wonder Woman of a character who issued nonsensical orders and seemed to be created solely for the purpose of fulfilling some affirmative action requirement. Her adoptive sister, who hardly got any time in the entire series, captured my attention much more than the chapters and chapters of the Golden Wolf. I could have cared less if Stackpole had killed her off.
But it didn't stop there. More characters were created and given their own chapters, their own perspectives. So that Will, the character that had drawn me in, lost even more storytelling time. At the back of my mind, while I am reading about so-and-so, I was wondering "When are we going to get back to the story?" It was like commercials interrupting my favorite show.
To be continued . . .
Even as I write, some part of me hesitates in being perfectly frank. Perhaps it's my conscience protesting my participation in "bad literature" or I am embarrased of what my very good friend's mom will think about me. But the truth is, I am not ashamed of having read the story. I actually learned something productive.
My motivation for picking up this particular series stems from a recent interested in the "big name authors." I am curious to see what makes them so popular. And so far, I have been unanimously disappointed with the big name authors.
But we are discussing Stackpole. And specifically the last three books of the DragonCrown War Cycle. (Say that three times fast.) As the title describes, the story is ultimately about a crown that has been created, and subsequently broken into pieces, to control dragons and the quest of the main antagonist to gather the dispersed pieces and reassemble them so that she can burn the world off and free the original adversaries of the dragons. [The dragons are depicted as sentient, extremely long lived (think millennia) creatures. And actually have very little time in the series.]
But I am getting ahead of myself.
The first book [actually the second in the cycle but the first that I read ( I didn't, nor do I plan on reading the first)] opens with the introduction of the main protagonist, Will. A fifteen year old thief who is pulling the biggest heist of his life on the toughest thug in the Dims, the main slum of what could be described as the America of Stackpole's created world. His entire life's ambition is to become the greatest thief ever, better than even the most notorious thief of them all, the Azure Spider.
However, his heist goes South and he is discovered by said thug and subsequently pursued through the slums. Ultimately he is cornered and as the thug is demanding the return of his stolen goods, young Will is rescued by a man and an elf with an odd name. Not what you think. It's Resolute. But is he really rescued? Will is beginning to think not.
Sound interesting? That's why I picked it up and allowed it to suck me in.
It turns out that Keyden's Crow, the man, and Resolute are basically kidnapping young Will. But no worries; Will is the orphaned son of a dead prostitute who has been raised by Fagan. No, that's not the man's name but that is obviously who Stackpole patterned the character after. I don't remember what the name is but he takes in orphans and teaches them to steal, among other things, and when they get too old to control, he "sends them away." And we all know what that means. Though we never actually meet "Fagan" and it is never expressly said, we get the impression that Will is soon to be "sent away" and Will, on some level knows this, as he is planning his big heist to please "Fagan" with his haul.
Again, no worries, because, remember, Will is being kidnapped.
The man and the elf turn out to be battle hardened warriors engaged in a two man campaign against the Evil Northern Empire Aurolan, or something like that, seeking the Chosen, Prophesied One who will defeat the Evil Chytrine. And they think that Will might just be that person.
My biggest disappointment came when several chapters in, Stackpole changed the view of the narrative from that of Will to a, at the time, seemingly secondary character. The previous chapter ended with Will and his kidnappers-lately-turned-mentors escaping into the wilds. The whole point of a chapter ending with a cliff hanger is to keep you hooked, keep you turning pages. I turned the page and discovered, not a gentle fan to keep the fire of my interest alive, but a cold wall of water. I was confronted with the perspective of the Golden Wolf. And I was left wondering, "Who is this woman and why should I care about her?" And the truth is, I never came to care about her. She was this Wonder Woman of a character who issued nonsensical orders and seemed to be created solely for the purpose of fulfilling some affirmative action requirement. Her adoptive sister, who hardly got any time in the entire series, captured my attention much more than the chapters and chapters of the Golden Wolf. I could have cared less if Stackpole had killed her off.
But it didn't stop there. More characters were created and given their own chapters, their own perspectives. So that Will, the character that had drawn me in, lost even more storytelling time. At the back of my mind, while I am reading about so-and-so, I was wondering "When are we going to get back to the story?" It was like commercials interrupting my favorite show.
To be continued . . .
Sunday, March 15, 2009
Frustration, Part 1
I am beginning to understand how James Fennimore Cooper and C.S. Lewis and the Inklings felt.
The first is reported to have thrown a book across the room in disgust, exclaiming to his wife that he could write a better novel than the one that he had just finished. She, of course, as all good little wives do, challenged him to do it then. Which he did. And apparently he wasn't wrong, because he became one of the greatest novelists of his time. Perhaps you've heard of The Last of the Mohicans? I read many of his books as a teenager, and loved them, despite the fact that you can skip entire chapters and not miss a thing. He is rather verbose. And loves expounding upon the glories of a single blade of grass.
C.S. Lewis and his associates where disappointed in the lack of modern literature that they could enjoy. So they decided that, if nothing else, they could wright what they liked and pass it around among themselves. One of the funniest stories that I have heard about their meetings was when Tolkein began to read some of his completed work in his deep, monotone voice, another associate said " . . . No! Not more elves!"
What has brought me to this current point of frustration? I'm glad you asked.
I can count on one hand how much Fantasy I have read in twenty-five years, and on two fingers how much High Fantasy. My current disposition comes after 1300 pages of wasted time spent on a Stackpole trilogy.
It started out Innocent enough: with a good cover, and an intriguing title: Fortress Draconis.
Now, I knew Stackpole was a fantasy writer and as a rule, I don't read Fantasy or encourage the reading of Fantasy. Much less High Fantasy. There's that whole, "thou shalt not suffer a witch to live" thing. The realization and conviction that I have about witchcraft is that its practice is diametrically apposed to Christ and his teachings.
Never-the-less, I was curious. (I know, I know, "what killed the cat?") So I grabbed the book and began reading right there in the library isle. And it intrigued me. I did not encounter any foul language and as I skimmed through the book I didn't encounter any, shall we say, unbecoming behavior, or sorcery. So I took it home. And the story itself drew me in.
It wasn't long, however, before I encountered what my casual inspection had missed: the demons, and then the witches.
Even as I write, some part of me hesitates in being perfectly frank. Perhaps it's my conscience protesting my participation in "bad literature" or I am embarrassed of what my very good friends mom will think about me. But the truth is, I am not ashamed of having read the story. I actually learned something productive.
to be continued . . .
The first is reported to have thrown a book across the room in disgust, exclaiming to his wife that he could write a better novel than the one that he had just finished. She, of course, as all good little wives do, challenged him to do it then. Which he did. And apparently he wasn't wrong, because he became one of the greatest novelists of his time. Perhaps you've heard of The Last of the Mohicans? I read many of his books as a teenager, and loved them, despite the fact that you can skip entire chapters and not miss a thing. He is rather verbose. And loves expounding upon the glories of a single blade of grass.
C.S. Lewis and his associates where disappointed in the lack of modern literature that they could enjoy. So they decided that, if nothing else, they could wright what they liked and pass it around among themselves. One of the funniest stories that I have heard about their meetings was when Tolkein began to read some of his completed work in his deep, monotone voice, another associate said " . . . No! Not more elves!"
What has brought me to this current point of frustration? I'm glad you asked.
I can count on one hand how much Fantasy I have read in twenty-five years, and on two fingers how much High Fantasy. My current disposition comes after 1300 pages of wasted time spent on a Stackpole trilogy.
It started out Innocent enough: with a good cover, and an intriguing title: Fortress Draconis.
Now, I knew Stackpole was a fantasy writer and as a rule, I don't read Fantasy or encourage the reading of Fantasy. Much less High Fantasy. There's that whole, "thou shalt not suffer a witch to live" thing. The realization and conviction that I have about witchcraft is that its practice is diametrically apposed to Christ and his teachings.
Never-the-less, I was curious. (I know, I know, "what killed the cat?") So I grabbed the book and began reading right there in the library isle. And it intrigued me. I did not encounter any foul language and as I skimmed through the book I didn't encounter any, shall we say, unbecoming behavior, or sorcery. So I took it home. And the story itself drew me in.
It wasn't long, however, before I encountered what my casual inspection had missed: the demons, and then the witches.
Even as I write, some part of me hesitates in being perfectly frank. Perhaps it's my conscience protesting my participation in "bad literature" or I am embarrassed of what my very good friends mom will think about me. But the truth is, I am not ashamed of having read the story. I actually learned something productive.
to be continued . . .
Saturday, February 21, 2009
AWOL
It is ironic that I should talk about Mike Tyson's Knock-Out and then promptly discover what I have been looking for for several years now.
Of course, I have to give Belle all the credit for my discovering.
Shortly after I left my New Years post, I came home and found Shannon labouring over Karsten's CarGame. Something she had discovered through her endless perusal of the blogosphere. Naturally I had to help her out. Which of course led me to playing some of his other games. Nibbly is kinda fun too. Trouble Underground is irritatingly fun. One mistake and you have to start over from the beginning. These three are puzzle solving. So, you won't feel like you're wasting any time if you play them. I never do anyway.
But naturally, I wasn't satisfied with these games. The challenges that they presented were stimulating . . . but one can only chase his tail so many times (a hint for Nibbly) before he grows tired.
So I did a query on the web for Nintendo Entertainment System Games Online, or something like that.
I struck gold, much to my surprise. A couple of years ago I did the same thing and found nothing. Butkis. Zip. Nada.
Not so at Everyvideogame.com. I discovered more NES games than I ever imagined existed.
And I was shocked at how lousy 1980s/90s Cutting Edge Video Game Technology was.
It is amazing how the mind embellishes memory. How we remember everything, good memories at least, as being much better than they really were. I wonder, with a great deal of certainty, if the same can be applied to "bad memories."
Granted there are those moments in our past that really are incredibly wonderful and incredibly horrible. But are there really, now, as many as we remember?
If you're curious to see what 1980's children's entertainment looked like, then follow the links.
This is Mike Tyson's Punch-Out!! the game that I talked about playing with my buddy Dan.
I never had an NES. But my neighbor James did. Our favorite game was Contra. He also had Double Dragon which ironically doesn't really have anything to do with dragons and everything to with street brawling and rescuing the kidnapped girl. AND it has, indisputably, the best score ever created for a video game.
He also had Ninja Gaiden my favorite single player game.
And last but not least, one of my brothers, who had an NES briefly, had Life Force which, I believe, pretty much sums up the list of games that I played as a child that I wanted to, as we called it then, flip. That is what we called beating games. "Did you flip that game?" "Dude, I totally flipped Ninja Gaiden last night!" You get the picture.
If you're familiar with gaming or like gaming then you have to check out these small tokens of all but buried history. And I have to say, if you think the games they make today are hard, then you have never played the old NES games. They are difficult to the point of inducing insanity. I don't know what kept us kiddies coming back. I have my opinion on the matter, but I'll save it for another post. Lets just say that I am totally grateful for saved games.
Of course, I have to give Belle all the credit for my discovering.
Shortly after I left my New Years post, I came home and found Shannon labouring over Karsten's CarGame. Something she had discovered through her endless perusal of the blogosphere. Naturally I had to help her out. Which of course led me to playing some of his other games. Nibbly is kinda fun too. Trouble Underground is irritatingly fun. One mistake and you have to start over from the beginning. These three are puzzle solving. So, you won't feel like you're wasting any time if you play them. I never do anyway.
But naturally, I wasn't satisfied with these games. The challenges that they presented were stimulating . . . but one can only chase his tail so many times (a hint for Nibbly) before he grows tired.
So I did a query on the web for Nintendo Entertainment System Games Online, or something like that.
I struck gold, much to my surprise. A couple of years ago I did the same thing and found nothing. Butkis. Zip. Nada.
Not so at Everyvideogame.com. I discovered more NES games than I ever imagined existed.
And I was shocked at how lousy 1980s/90s Cutting Edge Video Game Technology was.
It is amazing how the mind embellishes memory. How we remember everything, good memories at least, as being much better than they really were. I wonder, with a great deal of certainty, if the same can be applied to "bad memories."
Granted there are those moments in our past that really are incredibly wonderful and incredibly horrible. But are there really, now, as many as we remember?
If you're curious to see what 1980's children's entertainment looked like, then follow the links.
This is Mike Tyson's Punch-Out!! the game that I talked about playing with my buddy Dan.
I never had an NES. But my neighbor James did. Our favorite game was Contra. He also had Double Dragon which ironically doesn't really have anything to do with dragons and everything to with street brawling and rescuing the kidnapped girl. AND it has, indisputably, the best score ever created for a video game.
He also had Ninja Gaiden my favorite single player game.
And last but not least, one of my brothers, who had an NES briefly, had Life Force which, I believe, pretty much sums up the list of games that I played as a child that I wanted to, as we called it then, flip. That is what we called beating games. "Did you flip that game?" "Dude, I totally flipped Ninja Gaiden last night!" You get the picture.
If you're familiar with gaming or like gaming then you have to check out these small tokens of all but buried history. And I have to say, if you think the games they make today are hard, then you have never played the old NES games. They are difficult to the point of inducing insanity. I don't know what kept us kiddies coming back. I have my opinion on the matter, but I'll save it for another post. Lets just say that I am totally grateful for saved games.
Saturday, December 20, 2008
New Class Now Available
So, for some months I have been considering starting a new column here at T.A.A.R.
As you may well have gathered, I love story telling. The conflict, the resolution, the adventure created by brilliant people, and illustrated by your minds eye (reading) or simply visually enjoyed.
That is why I started SpentCasings, to collaborate with my cohorts in a mutually appreciated form (for me, it's a love affair), which failed miserably. (yes, you can read that however you want.) For whatever reason. I don't care any more. I have gotten over the disappointment. And I have not forgotten about SpentCasings either. It just seems like I have.
Then I tried to encourage the exchange of ideas in reading literature with The Looking Glass Wars. And that fell flat too. But that's okay. S'all good.
And to prove that I am undaunted, unfazed by past failures, I am going to begin what I call "Film Deconstruction 101: An interactive study of movies, what works, and what doesn't."
This is the After Action Report after all.
As you may have noticed I like movies, and what you may not have noticed, I am interested in making movies. I also believes that a wise man learns from his mistakes, and an even wiser man learns from ANOTHER MAN'S mistakes. If I can avoid the mistakes that others have made, why wouldn't I?
So, look for Film Deconstruction 101 in the coming weeks.
As you may well have gathered, I love story telling. The conflict, the resolution, the adventure created by brilliant people, and illustrated by your minds eye (reading) or simply visually enjoyed.
That is why I started SpentCasings, to collaborate with my cohorts in a mutually appreciated form (for me, it's a love affair), which failed miserably. (yes, you can read that however you want.) For whatever reason. I don't care any more. I have gotten over the disappointment. And I have not forgotten about SpentCasings either. It just seems like I have.
Then I tried to encourage the exchange of ideas in reading literature with The Looking Glass Wars. And that fell flat too. But that's okay. S'all good.
And to prove that I am undaunted, unfazed by past failures, I am going to begin what I call "Film Deconstruction 101: An interactive study of movies, what works, and what doesn't."
This is the After Action Report after all.
As you may have noticed I like movies, and what you may not have noticed, I am interested in making movies. I also believes that a wise man learns from his mistakes, and an even wiser man learns from ANOTHER MAN'S mistakes. If I can avoid the mistakes that others have made, why wouldn't I?
So, look for Film Deconstruction 101 in the coming weeks.
Monday, December 8, 2008
Justified
I know that it is not polite ettiquet to blow your own horn. But I can not help doing that this morning.
I am justified.
Last year (or was it longer) on SpentCasings I dressed VanHollen, and was flayed alive for my "bad taste."
But then this morning I discovered these.
I realized that that is only just a small part of her ensemble, and yes, those boots truely are hideous, and not what I envisioned, but it goes to show, that what goes around in fashion, comes back with a vengenance. And apparently someone thinks that they are fashionable.
So again, I can not help but go: HA!
I am justified.
Last year (or was it longer) on SpentCasings I dressed VanHollen, and was flayed alive for my "bad taste."
But then this morning I discovered these.
I realized that that is only just a small part of her ensemble, and yes, those boots truely are hideous, and not what I envisioned, but it goes to show, that what goes around in fashion, comes back with a vengenance. And apparently someone thinks that they are fashionable.
So again, I can not help but go: HA!
Saturday, December 6, 2008
downhere
So last year, I discovered this band "downhere" (that's how they write it). You'll remember the post I did with two of their videos: The More and A Better Way. It was actually those two songs that led me to buying their album Wide-Eyed and Mystified and it was the tracks that they WERE NOT playing on the radio that got me hooked on downhere. They are my current favorite ACC band. (It used to be BarlowGirl but then they released "How Can We Be Silent" which is just an homage to loudness and lacks the sincerity and fun of their earlier work) I love musicians who sound just as good live as they do on their CDs, it says to me that they have actual talent, and not just a great producer/engineer. And that's downhere.
For example: there's a group in the playlist at the bottom of the page called Wavorly, I love their song Praise and Adore, inspired by one of C.S. Lewis' books, but when I went over to youtube to check them out, I felt sorry for them, firstly because they couldn't cary a tune in a bucket, and secondly because the front man was covered in ink, and not only did he have both ears pierced, but he had those hole producing barrels in his lobes. Now, I don't care if he wants to do that, but the deapth of his relationship with Christ was exposed. Shallow.
That is not the impression I get from downhere. Obviously I don't know them, but their song writing indicates to me a group of men who want to be more, and who want to encourage others to be more, through tracks like Surrender and Great Are You and From Protest to Praise and The Real Jesus.
I said all of this to say that in the course of looking for songs for my playlist, I went to their websight last night and discovered that they had produced another album, Ending is Beginning. I had company over last night so I wasn't able to spend any time there, so I went back there this morning and found the link to Jeremy Theissen's blog, and it was there that I got the imbed above for their new top 5 single, I Am Here.
Hope you enjoy.
For example: there's a group in the playlist at the bottom of the page called Wavorly, I love their song Praise and Adore, inspired by one of C.S. Lewis' books, but when I went over to youtube to check them out, I felt sorry for them, firstly because they couldn't cary a tune in a bucket, and secondly because the front man was covered in ink, and not only did he have both ears pierced, but he had those hole producing barrels in his lobes. Now, I don't care if he wants to do that, but the deapth of his relationship with Christ was exposed. Shallow.
That is not the impression I get from downhere. Obviously I don't know them, but their song writing indicates to me a group of men who want to be more, and who want to encourage others to be more, through tracks like Surrender and Great Are You and From Protest to Praise and The Real Jesus.
I said all of this to say that in the course of looking for songs for my playlist, I went to their websight last night and discovered that they had produced another album, Ending is Beginning. I had company over last night so I wasn't able to spend any time there, so I went back there this morning and found the link to Jeremy Theissen's blog, and it was there that I got the imbed above for their new top 5 single, I Am Here.
Hope you enjoy.
Sunday, June 22, 2008
Saturdays Gone
What did you do last Saturday? I hope it was more than I did. And more than I am doing today (I started this last Sunday) All I did was lay around and read, and fend off climbing, clambering, screaming, squawking, tricycle motors. (That is actually an accurate description of one.)
I spent the morning reading up on G.I. Joe. When I was about six or seven I was given my first second hand G.I. Joe action figure, Mutt, and that was it. It was on. Until I was thirteen that was all I spent my money on: Joes, and G.I. Joe Comics. Of course, the comics continued past 13.
What got me started on my Joe diving last Saturday is that I bounced over to IMDB (which KitKat has still not answered my question about). They have finally made a G.I. Joe movie, due to be released in '09. And much to my chagrin, I think that they have messed it up but good. I am SO TOTALLY looking forward to being proven wrong. I was whining to Belle that I have been waiting for this movie for ten years, and it threatens ominously to be another X-men.
Now, I was never a big fan of the X-men comics as a whole, all those crazy mutant "powers" with their pretentious, ostentatious galactic conflicts between good and bad mutants while normal humans squabbled in fear and stereotypical prejudice in the background, suffering the consequences of "homo-superior's" actions. But there where certain characters that I did like.
I always liked Wolverine, the tough, military anti-hero who was paternally protective of the defenseless teenage girls on their own. I always liked Storm, her black skin and white hair and ability to control air currents to fly (among other weather related abilities). Who hasn't wanted to be able to fly? I think that it's a Divine inspiration that has managed to prevail in popular literature. But I digress. Last but not least (did you know that Shakespeare coined that phrase?) There's Rouge, who could absorb the abilities of others; the villain who saw the light and was filled with remorse for her wrong actions and, like a good Catholic, sought to make reparations for them.
But then Brian Singer came along and mulluxed it up but good. "I don't want you to read one comic!" he emphatically told his actors. What brazen stupidity! How can you seek to remake something that came into existence before you were born and that, by popular consent, is not even broken? (We won't even bring up his travesty of a Superman) Contrast that action with those of Sam Raimi, of Spiderman. He took stacks of comics to his actors and said, essentially, "Here is your source material, this is what people expect." And boy did they ever. One of the highest grossing movies in the US and the World (7 and 17 respectively).
Don't get me wrong, I'm not against change in movies. With one caveat: the movie must stay within the confines of the source materials "flavor." Unfortunately, from preliminary observations: publicity stills, notation of six different writers (the more writers, the messier the script - many cooks ruin the soup), selection of actors, etc. I am deeply afraid that G.I. Joe is going to be like so many horrid Marvel creations, and NOT like their good ones. Of course, there's only two that I can think of at the moment, Spiderman (that includes all three, yeah, I'll go ahead and put the last one in there) and Ironman, which may be the best superhero movie ever made.
That last statement is hard to make as I love Batman Begins, Chris Nolan's reboot of the Batman franchise which was much needed and anticipated. (Tim Burton trashed it and it just went from one bad garbage dump to the next worst until we were served Batman and Robin on a dirty, fetid plate) But Nolan left out one major story development in Begins that I have always loved. In the movie, Bruce Wayne learns all of his arcane knowledge from Ras al-Ghul. But in the comics, the canon source material for all things Batman, he doesn't even encounter Ras al-Ghul until after he has become Batman and then only because Ras al-ghul's daughter, Talia, introduces them. In the comics he gains his knowledge from a wide variety of sources. He learns his martial arts form a Japanese master, illusion from a Master Stage Magician, detective skills from a Scotland Yard inspector, etc. Batman becomes possible because of the wealth of information that he gathers from many different instructors all over the world through years of study. In the movie, it's like he leaves as a college drop-out and wanders the world as a petty crook (yeah he picks up some martial arts training) but then in a very short frame of time, learns everything he needs from Ras al-Ghul, all in less then ten years, I guess. Now, I'm sure Chris Nolan, who did an awesome job and is a brilliant director, just didn't want to go the montage route or the narrator route, which is old hat for an adventure flic and would be awful for a Batman movie. But it could have be done. That's my only gripe with Batman Begins, and unfortunately, it's big enough to keep it out of the running for Best Super Hero Movie Ever
But I said all of that to get to this: Last Saturday I finished Bull Hunter, that I had barely started the night before and started on the sequel, Bull Hunter's Romance, which I have since finished. (I am now reading Mere Christianity and The Millionaire Next Door.) I thumbed my nose in the stern face of responsibility and maturity and the fact that my shed is a cluttered disaster that I have been needing to clean out and organize all spring and the fact that I haven't gotten into the bees since I hived them in the middle of April. Of course, I can only claim sloth for the last two weekends. Every other time, when I could have actually done something productive I either was, or the weather was not co-operating. But that didn't finish my day: stir craziness set in about at four-o-clock. So what did I do? Five hours later I kissed my girls good night, and told Belle that I loved her and that I would be back in a couple of hours and Cuz and I went to town at nine-o-clock.
Which is why SC wasn't updated. Instead of being productively creative, I was at the shows, watching the reboot of The Incredible Hulk. If it has caught your interest this is all I have to say: Saturday Morning Matinee. Or better yet, twilight pricing. But ONLY after you've watched your paint dry, and your grass grow.
It's not a bad movie, as pg-13's go. It does have some funny parts "You're making me . . .hungry. You won't like me when I'm hungry" Bruce Banner says in stumbling Portuguese. And some other scenes played to the American Pie crowd which WERE NOT funny at all.
Of course, Cuz and I whispered back and forth the whole show, laughing at different points, much to the disdain of our fellow movie goers. Oh, we weren't loud or obnoxious, there were others doing that for us. At one scene, involving a rain storm and a white shirt, one fellow threw both arms into the air and cheered. He was disappointed. hehehe. But one woman did give us a long look after the credits began to roll and the lights came up. It wasn't the hairy eyeball. But almost. I think she was undecided on what to think about us. Perhaps she was reserving judgement because she held similar opinions about the movie. But that's probably transference.
I was not disappointed with The Incredible Hulk because there were several scenes where I felt like the ushers had come in and flipped over to the Soap Opera Chanel or because of the cliches or the convenient rains storms (there is one scene where there is this massive explosion and subsequent fiery inferno at the end of a big fight and it starts raining, out of a clear blue sky) or because I felt like I should be in the front row with two robots. My problem with the movie is two fold: One - it is a Total Reboot. Two - the shocking lack of fidelity.
On the first matter. Ang Lee produced Hulk in 2003, a movie that I have seen once in it's entirety, when it came out on rental. I have never had a desire to see it again. Oh, I've watched it for a few minutes on TV and frankly I do love the scene where the big green guy is being hounded by Comanche attack helicopters and the General, from his command Huey says "Turn it into a parking lot" and the attack choppers launch their rockets and level a big portion of desert monument property. That's pretty cool.
But Ang Lee's project is only five years old. I was expecting this new version to be a sequel, picking up where the last left off and this thought was only encouraged by the fact that the movie opens with Bruce Banner in South America, where we see him in the last scene of Ang Lee's Hulk. But no, as the movie progresses, the writer and director make if very plain that their film is no sequel. As a builder, this really irked me. I would never in a thousand years come to a house that is only five years old and say: "Tear it down!" just because I don't like the trim or the paint colors or how the interior flows. If I was given the task of remodeling or adding to the existing structure I would find a way to correct its weaknesses, improve upon its qualities and leave its perfect parts alone. But that isn't what the makers of The Incredible Hulk have done. They stuck thumb to nose, waggled their fingers and said "Thbbbbbbbbbt!" to Ang Lee. And after they tore his infant house down, they built back a house that was exactly the same! And in some points, worse. One such is demonstratively noticeable. How Banner became the Hulk.
In Lee's version, as a child he was experimented on by his psychotic father and then as an adult he intervened in a lab experiment to save his companions, exposing himself to deadly gamma wave radiation which combined with his fathers previous medlings to produce the rage induced monster. In this current product, Banner's hardly controllable transformation is brought about by experimenting upon himself. You tell me, which is better?
On the Second Matter. The lack of fidelity. We discover that Bruce has not talked to the love of his life Betty Ross in five years (further muddying Ang Lee's waters). When he goes back to society he checks in on the girl of his past, and discovers that she has moved on. Met a new man and is apparently in a relationship with him, as is demonstrated by their mutual affection. But the moment that Betty discovers that not only is Bruce still alive, but that he is within reaching distance, she dumps the new beau as fast as you can say "Jack Spratt." As a dude, observing this action, I would have instantly been put upon my guard. "Wait a minute now . . . I'm out of you life for five years and you've moved on to a new man and now that I'm back you're just gonna run away from this guy without a word? What happens if/when I have to run again? Are you gonna go back to him?" I would have preferred to see that love expressed differently. Either she hadn't moved on, was still single, saving herself for her man, or "Bruce I love you, I'll always love you, like a very good friend. By the way this is Joe, my whatever. Anything you need that I can do for you, I'll do it." Instead, it was just plain ol' lust. "Oh, the object of my old desires, lets get it!"
The one good thing about The Incredible Hulk was the casting of Edward Norton. He is a very good actor and it helps that he is this short, scrawny man who then turns into this giant green monster. The polar differences are pretty cool. The advancement of computer technology helped also. This Hulk looks much better than Ang Lee's. He doesn't look like an over grown, simple minded farm boy. More like a professional wrestler, complete with lowered chin pointing down from broad shoulders to tapered waist.
So that's what I did last Saturday. And today is not shaping up to be much more exciting.
I spent the morning reading up on G.I. Joe. When I was about six or seven I was given my first second hand G.I. Joe action figure, Mutt, and that was it. It was on. Until I was thirteen that was all I spent my money on: Joes, and G.I. Joe Comics. Of course, the comics continued past 13.
What got me started on my Joe diving last Saturday is that I bounced over to IMDB (which KitKat has still not answered my question about). They have finally made a G.I. Joe movie, due to be released in '09. And much to my chagrin, I think that they have messed it up but good. I am SO TOTALLY looking forward to being proven wrong. I was whining to Belle that I have been waiting for this movie for ten years, and it threatens ominously to be another X-men.
Now, I was never a big fan of the X-men comics as a whole, all those crazy mutant "powers" with their pretentious, ostentatious galactic conflicts between good and bad mutants while normal humans squabbled in fear and stereotypical prejudice in the background, suffering the consequences of "homo-superior's" actions. But there where certain characters that I did like.
I always liked Wolverine, the tough, military anti-hero who was paternally protective of the defenseless teenage girls on their own. I always liked Storm, her black skin and white hair and ability to control air currents to fly (among other weather related abilities). Who hasn't wanted to be able to fly? I think that it's a Divine inspiration that has managed to prevail in popular literature. But I digress. Last but not least (did you know that Shakespeare coined that phrase?) There's Rouge, who could absorb the abilities of others; the villain who saw the light and was filled with remorse for her wrong actions and, like a good Catholic, sought to make reparations for them.
But then Brian Singer came along and mulluxed it up but good. "I don't want you to read one comic!" he emphatically told his actors. What brazen stupidity! How can you seek to remake something that came into existence before you were born and that, by popular consent, is not even broken? (We won't even bring up his travesty of a Superman) Contrast that action with those of Sam Raimi, of Spiderman. He took stacks of comics to his actors and said, essentially, "Here is your source material, this is what people expect." And boy did they ever. One of the highest grossing movies in the US and the World (7 and 17 respectively).
Don't get me wrong, I'm not against change in movies. With one caveat: the movie must stay within the confines of the source materials "flavor." Unfortunately, from preliminary observations: publicity stills, notation of six different writers (the more writers, the messier the script - many cooks ruin the soup), selection of actors, etc. I am deeply afraid that G.I. Joe is going to be like so many horrid Marvel creations, and NOT like their good ones. Of course, there's only two that I can think of at the moment, Spiderman (that includes all three, yeah, I'll go ahead and put the last one in there) and Ironman, which may be the best superhero movie ever made.
That last statement is hard to make as I love Batman Begins, Chris Nolan's reboot of the Batman franchise which was much needed and anticipated. (Tim Burton trashed it and it just went from one bad garbage dump to the next worst until we were served Batman and Robin on a dirty, fetid plate) But Nolan left out one major story development in Begins that I have always loved. In the movie, Bruce Wayne learns all of his arcane knowledge from Ras al-Ghul. But in the comics, the canon source material for all things Batman, he doesn't even encounter Ras al-Ghul until after he has become Batman and then only because Ras al-ghul's daughter, Talia, introduces them. In the comics he gains his knowledge from a wide variety of sources. He learns his martial arts form a Japanese master, illusion from a Master Stage Magician, detective skills from a Scotland Yard inspector, etc. Batman becomes possible because of the wealth of information that he gathers from many different instructors all over the world through years of study. In the movie, it's like he leaves as a college drop-out and wanders the world as a petty crook (yeah he picks up some martial arts training) but then in a very short frame of time, learns everything he needs from Ras al-Ghul, all in less then ten years, I guess. Now, I'm sure Chris Nolan, who did an awesome job and is a brilliant director, just didn't want to go the montage route or the narrator route, which is old hat for an adventure flic and would be awful for a Batman movie. But it could have be done. That's my only gripe with Batman Begins, and unfortunately, it's big enough to keep it out of the running for Best Super Hero Movie Ever
But I said all of that to get to this: Last Saturday I finished Bull Hunter, that I had barely started the night before and started on the sequel, Bull Hunter's Romance, which I have since finished. (I am now reading Mere Christianity and The Millionaire Next Door.) I thumbed my nose in the stern face of responsibility and maturity and the fact that my shed is a cluttered disaster that I have been needing to clean out and organize all spring and the fact that I haven't gotten into the bees since I hived them in the middle of April. Of course, I can only claim sloth for the last two weekends. Every other time, when I could have actually done something productive I either was, or the weather was not co-operating. But that didn't finish my day: stir craziness set in about at four-o-clock. So what did I do? Five hours later I kissed my girls good night, and told Belle that I loved her and that I would be back in a couple of hours and Cuz and I went to town at nine-o-clock.
Which is why SC wasn't updated. Instead of being productively creative, I was at the shows, watching the reboot of The Incredible Hulk. If it has caught your interest this is all I have to say: Saturday Morning Matinee. Or better yet, twilight pricing. But ONLY after you've watched your paint dry, and your grass grow.
It's not a bad movie, as pg-13's go. It does have some funny parts "You're making me . . .hungry. You won't like me when I'm hungry" Bruce Banner says in stumbling Portuguese. And some other scenes played to the American Pie crowd which WERE NOT funny at all.
Of course, Cuz and I whispered back and forth the whole show, laughing at different points, much to the disdain of our fellow movie goers. Oh, we weren't loud or obnoxious, there were others doing that for us. At one scene, involving a rain storm and a white shirt, one fellow threw both arms into the air and cheered. He was disappointed. hehehe. But one woman did give us a long look after the credits began to roll and the lights came up. It wasn't the hairy eyeball. But almost. I think she was undecided on what to think about us. Perhaps she was reserving judgement because she held similar opinions about the movie. But that's probably transference.
I was not disappointed with The Incredible Hulk because there were several scenes where I felt like the ushers had come in and flipped over to the Soap Opera Chanel or because of the cliches or the convenient rains storms (there is one scene where there is this massive explosion and subsequent fiery inferno at the end of a big fight and it starts raining, out of a clear blue sky) or because I felt like I should be in the front row with two robots. My problem with the movie is two fold: One - it is a Total Reboot. Two - the shocking lack of fidelity.
On the first matter. Ang Lee produced Hulk in 2003, a movie that I have seen once in it's entirety, when it came out on rental. I have never had a desire to see it again. Oh, I've watched it for a few minutes on TV and frankly I do love the scene where the big green guy is being hounded by Comanche attack helicopters and the General, from his command Huey says "Turn it into a parking lot" and the attack choppers launch their rockets and level a big portion of desert monument property. That's pretty cool.
But Ang Lee's project is only five years old. I was expecting this new version to be a sequel, picking up where the last left off and this thought was only encouraged by the fact that the movie opens with Bruce Banner in South America, where we see him in the last scene of Ang Lee's Hulk. But no, as the movie progresses, the writer and director make if very plain that their film is no sequel. As a builder, this really irked me. I would never in a thousand years come to a house that is only five years old and say: "Tear it down!" just because I don't like the trim or the paint colors or how the interior flows. If I was given the task of remodeling or adding to the existing structure I would find a way to correct its weaknesses, improve upon its qualities and leave its perfect parts alone. But that isn't what the makers of The Incredible Hulk have done. They stuck thumb to nose, waggled their fingers and said "Thbbbbbbbbbt!" to Ang Lee. And after they tore his infant house down, they built back a house that was exactly the same! And in some points, worse. One such is demonstratively noticeable. How Banner became the Hulk.
In Lee's version, as a child he was experimented on by his psychotic father and then as an adult he intervened in a lab experiment to save his companions, exposing himself to deadly gamma wave radiation which combined with his fathers previous medlings to produce the rage induced monster. In this current product, Banner's hardly controllable transformation is brought about by experimenting upon himself. You tell me, which is better?
On the Second Matter. The lack of fidelity. We discover that Bruce has not talked to the love of his life Betty Ross in five years (further muddying Ang Lee's waters). When he goes back to society he checks in on the girl of his past, and discovers that she has moved on. Met a new man and is apparently in a relationship with him, as is demonstrated by their mutual affection. But the moment that Betty discovers that not only is Bruce still alive, but that he is within reaching distance, she dumps the new beau as fast as you can say "Jack Spratt." As a dude, observing this action, I would have instantly been put upon my guard. "Wait a minute now . . . I'm out of you life for five years and you've moved on to a new man and now that I'm back you're just gonna run away from this guy without a word? What happens if/when I have to run again? Are you gonna go back to him?" I would have preferred to see that love expressed differently. Either she hadn't moved on, was still single, saving herself for her man, or "Bruce I love you, I'll always love you, like a very good friend. By the way this is Joe, my whatever. Anything you need that I can do for you, I'll do it." Instead, it was just plain ol' lust. "Oh, the object of my old desires, lets get it!"
The one good thing about The Incredible Hulk was the casting of Edward Norton. He is a very good actor and it helps that he is this short, scrawny man who then turns into this giant green monster. The polar differences are pretty cool. The advancement of computer technology helped also. This Hulk looks much better than Ang Lee's. He doesn't look like an over grown, simple minded farm boy. More like a professional wrestler, complete with lowered chin pointing down from broad shoulders to tapered waist.
So that's what I did last Saturday. And today is not shaping up to be much more exciting.
Sunday, November 11, 2007
On Thugs Striking
For those who enjoy my deranged sense of humor, I am so glad that you have finally joined me over here, on the funner side of life. (Yes Jak, that was said, shall we say, "tongue in cheek")
Well, I know that at least Kristi had the courage to waste about ten minutes of time and enjoy The Feast from start to finish. Yes, some are not so funny, but it helps to get a break every now and then, keeps it from getting stale and as far as who thinks these things up . . .Geniuses. With far too much time on their hands! Belle loves "The Feast is Ruined" and "Thief"-'Yoiks, and away.'
Has anyone else heard about the writers strike in Loonywood? I got my bubble pipe out when I heard that they had actually gone through with it and started dreaming about writing to the producers of my favorite shows and letting them know that I would do the same job for LESS money. There are some really good (of course we are talking about Crazywood so "good" is comparative and relative) shows out there. It would be a shame to see them get postponed. Of course if they did get postponed then I might actually do something productive, like further my walk with God, spend more time with my girls, WRITE. You never know. And these crazy strikers. Bunch of thugs. Oh I totally understand where they are coming from. The writing of a script is the most important part of a show (big or little screen). I don't care how good the Directors or actors are, if the script is lousy, specifically the dialogue and the realistic continuity, then the show stinks at the worst and suffers greatly at the least. Case in point, the latest StarWars movies. I don't doubt Lucas' creative ability (never mind its origins), but he can't write, or direct actors for nothin'. Doubt me? Watch the StarWars movies and tell me that they get better with time. Oh, the special effects are progressively more awesome but watch them and then tell me that The Empire Strikes Back is not the best one out of all six. Why is it the best? Because he didn't write the script or direct it. "Man's got to know his limitations." Now, of course I totally understand why he did direct the last three: they were his creation and he wasn't going to let anyone else get any credit for the work. That's okay. "A smart man surrounds himself with men who are smarter than he is."
But I got distracted. The writers, I heard, are striking because they want a cut of the DVD sales and rentals. As I said earlier I totally understand where they are coming from. I mean, they get what, 400k for a script? When the the lead actor comes in and gets 7 figures? To do what? Just repeat some lines that he doesn't even have to memorize (by memorize I mean commit to semi-permanent memory like a stage actor has to) Now, I'm not disparaging actors because we all know that there are actors (Matt Damon) and then there are hacks (Casper Van Dein) for example. Tell me though, who did all the REAL work? Without a script, the Director has no vision to shape and form; without a script the the camera man have no baseline instruction to follow; and without a script those marvelously high paid stars have no lines to repeat. BUT, and it's a big one, (Perhaps it should be more like BUT) what these strikers have done, is latch onto the the Aristocracy of Pull. They have become thugs, demanding goods over the top of a gun barrel. All strikers are thugs. The greatest part about America, besides being God's gift to the world, is that if you don't like the hand you have been dealt, you can go seek out another hand. YOU are your only hindrance. The glory of the open marketplace, is that the consumer and not the manufacture determines what goods survive. All competition is good for business. It drives the producers to strive for a more excellent, more appealing product. When you suborn realistic requests with unrealistic demands, you place creativity in jeopardy, and elevate banality.
Hopefully there will be a massive restructuring in the writing community and those who want to write in the free market will have their fresh originality produced and the hacks, with their tired cliches, will find themselves no longer receiving Top Dollar for substandard tripe.
And maybe the type of things that we really want to see will be produced, not the garbage that the elitist proclaim as enlightened, like the Emperors new clothes.
Aren't you tired of the critics saying "Oh this is the most magnificent piece of work ever made, and if you don't agree, then you are a stupid, red necked, hayseed, christian hick, and you should go kill yourself to save the whales"
But of course, I guess there is a need for a reality check: I am talking about an industry that exist for one purpose: entertainment. Entertainment that profits very little. But man its fun to escape for a little while every now and then!
So okay, I'm going stop "soap boxing" now and leave you with a little levity. Enjoy
Well, I know that at least Kristi had the courage to waste about ten minutes of time and enjoy The Feast from start to finish. Yes, some are not so funny, but it helps to get a break every now and then, keeps it from getting stale and as far as who thinks these things up . . .Geniuses. With far too much time on their hands! Belle loves "The Feast is Ruined" and "Thief"-'Yoiks, and away.'
Has anyone else heard about the writers strike in Loonywood? I got my bubble pipe out when I heard that they had actually gone through with it and started dreaming about writing to the producers of my favorite shows and letting them know that I would do the same job for LESS money. There are some really good (of course we are talking about Crazywood so "good" is comparative and relative) shows out there. It would be a shame to see them get postponed. Of course if they did get postponed then I might actually do something productive, like further my walk with God, spend more time with my girls, WRITE. You never know. And these crazy strikers. Bunch of thugs. Oh I totally understand where they are coming from. The writing of a script is the most important part of a show (big or little screen). I don't care how good the Directors or actors are, if the script is lousy, specifically the dialogue and the realistic continuity, then the show stinks at the worst and suffers greatly at the least. Case in point, the latest StarWars movies. I don't doubt Lucas' creative ability (never mind its origins), but he can't write, or direct actors for nothin'. Doubt me? Watch the StarWars movies and tell me that they get better with time. Oh, the special effects are progressively more awesome but watch them and then tell me that The Empire Strikes Back is not the best one out of all six. Why is it the best? Because he didn't write the script or direct it. "Man's got to know his limitations." Now, of course I totally understand why he did direct the last three: they were his creation and he wasn't going to let anyone else get any credit for the work. That's okay. "A smart man surrounds himself with men who are smarter than he is."
But I got distracted. The writers, I heard, are striking because they want a cut of the DVD sales and rentals. As I said earlier I totally understand where they are coming from. I mean, they get what, 400k for a script? When the the lead actor comes in and gets 7 figures? To do what? Just repeat some lines that he doesn't even have to memorize (by memorize I mean commit to semi-permanent memory like a stage actor has to) Now, I'm not disparaging actors because we all know that there are actors (Matt Damon) and then there are hacks (Casper Van Dein) for example. Tell me though, who did all the REAL work? Without a script, the Director has no vision to shape and form; without a script the the camera man have no baseline instruction to follow; and without a script those marvelously high paid stars have no lines to repeat. BUT, and it's a big one, (Perhaps it should be more like BUT) what these strikers have done, is latch onto the the Aristocracy of Pull. They have become thugs, demanding goods over the top of a gun barrel. All strikers are thugs. The greatest part about America, besides being God's gift to the world, is that if you don't like the hand you have been dealt, you can go seek out another hand. YOU are your only hindrance. The glory of the open marketplace, is that the consumer and not the manufacture determines what goods survive. All competition is good for business. It drives the producers to strive for a more excellent, more appealing product. When you suborn realistic requests with unrealistic demands, you place creativity in jeopardy, and elevate banality.
Hopefully there will be a massive restructuring in the writing community and those who want to write in the free market will have their fresh originality produced and the hacks, with their tired cliches, will find themselves no longer receiving Top Dollar for substandard tripe.
And maybe the type of things that we really want to see will be produced, not the garbage that the elitist proclaim as enlightened, like the Emperors new clothes.
Aren't you tired of the critics saying "Oh this is the most magnificent piece of work ever made, and if you don't agree, then you are a stupid, red necked, hayseed, christian hick, and you should go kill yourself to save the whales"
But of course, I guess there is a need for a reality check: I am talking about an industry that exist for one purpose: entertainment. Entertainment that profits very little. But man its fun to escape for a little while every now and then!
So okay, I'm going stop "soap boxing" now and leave you with a little levity. Enjoy
Wednesday, May 9, 2007
Yeah-Huh, Still Nuts
I am rubbing my hands together in glee, like old man Burns. "Eeeeexcellent"
Firstly let me state that I think that making the length of hair a religious tenet is, well, wrong. Borders on religious bondage. Kinda like burkhas. Length of hair is definitely not an indicator of righteousness. There are a lot of dope smoking hippies who are travelling the road to hell with long flowing tresses. But then also, if it gets the hair grown, well, who am I to condemn it. Ha.
Now JakJak would prove true to her calling, as my Arch Nemeses, and rain on my parade! How? By telling everyone that I didn't mean guys also. Oh, all right, I didn't even think about saying that, because, with me, well, that's a given and I forgot about the constraints of the medium. Now, certainly there is no "commandment" against men having long hair, but there are numerous admonitions against it. Paul says in the same passage that I quoted previously that nature itself has shone us that it is a shame for men to have long hair. I don't claim to understand this. But I agree with it. Why would a dude want to look like a chick? Rebellion. Everyone has to grow up sometime. Well, sort of. Okay, "Grow Out" of those childishly rebellious things. I saw this bumper sticker "Growing old is Inevitable. Growing Up Is Optional"
Now I get to play the complete hypocrite: I also like short hair. But not what you're thinking. I like really short hair, and yes I am talking about women. The kind that is just long enough to pin over with a barrette or a bobby pin or part down the side. I know, I know. "Yuuuuck!" Sorry, I just like it. But, not every girl can pull it off. Let me illustrate:
This is Elisabeth Gracen, she's an actress from a now defunct series. I always thought she pulled it off quite nicely, especially when she used to have hair all the way down her back (I tried to find that picture of her but failed miserably.) Maybe it was just the sword that she swung around every episode. Mentioning the sword, maybe that was why the series failed: the prop master did a lousy job. Note how the handle on her sword leans into her face, as apposed to staying true with the blade. Sorry. Tangent.
Firstly let me state that I think that making the length of hair a religious tenet is, well, wrong. Borders on religious bondage. Kinda like burkhas. Length of hair is definitely not an indicator of righteousness. There are a lot of dope smoking hippies who are travelling the road to hell with long flowing tresses. But then also, if it gets the hair grown, well, who am I to condemn it. Ha.
Now JakJak would prove true to her calling, as my Arch Nemeses, and rain on my parade! How? By telling everyone that I didn't mean guys also. Oh, all right, I didn't even think about saying that, because, with me, well, that's a given and I forgot about the constraints of the medium. Now, certainly there is no "commandment" against men having long hair, but there are numerous admonitions against it. Paul says in the same passage that I quoted previously that nature itself has shone us that it is a shame for men to have long hair. I don't claim to understand this. But I agree with it. Why would a dude want to look like a chick? Rebellion. Everyone has to grow up sometime. Well, sort of. Okay, "Grow Out" of those childishly rebellious things. I saw this bumper sticker "Growing old is Inevitable. Growing Up Is Optional"
Now I get to play the complete hypocrite: I also like short hair. But not what you're thinking. I like really short hair, and yes I am talking about women. The kind that is just long enough to pin over with a barrette or a bobby pin or part down the side. I know, I know. "Yuuuuck!" Sorry, I just like it. But, not every girl can pull it off. Let me illustrate:
This is Elisabeth Gracen, she's an actress from a now defunct series. I always thought she pulled it off quite nicely, especially when she used to have hair all the way down her back (I tried to find that picture of her but failed miserably.) Maybe it was just the sword that she swung around every episode. Mentioning the sword, maybe that was why the series failed: the prop master did a lousy job. Note how the handle on her sword leans into her face, as apposed to staying true with the blade. Sorry. Tangent.There was a woman locally, who was a little on the heavy side and she had long hair and she just looked awful. Now, I know, you're all in an uproar, but let me finish. She cut all her hair off, not as short as the picture above, and it made all the difference in the world. Nothing else changed, but it "cleaned" her up. Long hair was sacrificed for "cleanliness."
So, Ladies, you can sleep peacefully tonight. No matter how long your hair is, I don't think anymore or less of you: unless you do something so completely drastic with it that defies all logic, ergo, cutting off length for no reason, etc. etc.. I suppose the difference of my tastes can be summed up this way: Long hair is AWESOME, and short hair done tastefully, is cool. Oh, and I must add one final thought that I have been trying to communicate to Belle: braids on older women (any age over 18) are STILL cute. They DO NOT make you look like a child. They may make you feel like a child, but is that really such a bad thing?
Friday, May 4, 2007
Yup, Completely Nuts.
So herein lies the truth: I am a hair nut. Don't believe me? Just ask Belle. She'll knod her head vigorously and say "Uh-huh." What is the deffinition of a "hair nut"? A person who loves long hair. If you say, "I have long hair", and it might come to your shoulders: HA! Think again. "Oh, it comes to my shoulder blades" Ha! Not yet you don't. "Oh, it's to the small of my back." Ah, now we are getting closer. Hair is officially "long" when it can be tucked into your belt, like the dwarves' beards in The Hobbit.
Yes yes yes, all you ladies are rolling your eyes, and Jak is at this very moment saying "Oh, good grief" . (Yes, I am reading over your shoulder) No, hair is not long untill it is completely in your way. But we like it that way. Why? Because there is nothing entirely as awesome as long hair. However there is one caveat: it must be neat and clean. Nothing worse than dirty, ratty hair. The transformation from Glam Queen to Indigent Queen can be a very sudden and unexpected occurance. Also, I am willing to sacrifice length, for tidyness. Even though the locks might be clean, there is just something about scraggly ends that just seem to ruin everything. A nice clip-clip with a scissors every once in a while is a deffinite must.
"But it's such a hassel." I hear this often. If it were easy, everyone would be doing it. Good things take effort, and besides But if a woman have long hair, it is a glory to her: for her hair is given her for a covering. That's 1st Corinthians 11:15 if you were wondering. And besides that, trying doing this with short hair:
Totally awesome, huh. And that's just the tip of the Iceberg! HuHah!
So, you have to check out this sight LongLocks it will tell you how to grow long hair and how to keep it long and then you have to go to The Braided Image . It's awesome! Bookmark them both. Oh, and please forgive the classical paintings. I didn't design the sight.
Yes yes yes, all you ladies are rolling your eyes, and Jak is at this very moment saying "Oh, good grief" . (Yes, I am reading over your shoulder) No, hair is not long untill it is completely in your way. But we like it that way. Why? Because there is nothing entirely as awesome as long hair. However there is one caveat: it must be neat and clean. Nothing worse than dirty, ratty hair. The transformation from Glam Queen to Indigent Queen can be a very sudden and unexpected occurance. Also, I am willing to sacrifice length, for tidyness. Even though the locks might be clean, there is just something about scraggly ends that just seem to ruin everything. A nice clip-clip with a scissors every once in a while is a deffinite must.
"But it's such a hassel." I hear this often. If it were easy, everyone would be doing it. Good things take effort, and besides But if a woman have long hair, it is a glory to her: for her hair is given her for a covering. That's 1st Corinthians 11:15 if you were wondering. And besides that, trying doing this with short hair:
Totally awesome, huh. And that's just the tip of the Iceberg! HuHah!So, you have to check out this sight LongLocks it will tell you how to grow long hair and how to keep it long and then you have to go to The Braided Image . It's awesome! Bookmark them both. Oh, and please forgive the classical paintings. I didn't design the sight.
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