They Fight Crime!

A common TV series pitch--or parody of one--is taking an "odd couple" and placing in them in situations where they solve mysteries and defeat criminals. This trope is called They Fight Crime, and examples include Numb3rs ("He's an FBI agent; he's a math professor. They Fight Crime!") and Blood Ties ("She's a Canadian police detective who is slowly losing her sight. He's a vampire. They fight crime!").

From Jaka, there's this neat meme:

1.) Go to TheyFightCrime! and find a crimefighting pair that makes you swoon.
2.) Go to the Hero Machine and illustrate your duo!
3.) Repeat as necessary or until your mom tells you it's time for bed.

I'll illustrate one I did, but first, guess this famous media property. You'll be surprised who it is--I certainly was! Answer after the images below:

"He's a battle-scarred veteran of the war in Afghanistan! He's a substance-abusing dilettante grad student! They Fight Crime!"

"He's a leather-clad guitar-strumming photographer who believes he can never love again. She's a virginal insomniac bounty hunter who hides her beauty behind a pair of thick-framed spectacles. They fight crime!"

And the odd couple mentioned above?

Dr. Watson and Sherlock Holmes.

Rating the Villains



I stumbled across this blog post that asks how well Voldemort of the Harry Potter books stacks up against the Evil Overlord List. Some highlights:

4. Shooting is not too good for my enemies.

Lord Voldemort has, since the end of "Goblet of Fire" insisted that only HE may kill Harry Potter, and that he needs to be captured alive. This is, of course, an idiotic and self destructive notion which I'll come back to later. I comment on it here, because Voldemort has made it clear that killing Harry Potter is a treat reserved for Voldemort himself, thus making Harry Potter too good for death at the hand of a mere underling.

6. I will not gloat over my enemies' predicament before killing them.

Voldemort not only gloated over Harry at the end of "Goblet of Fire" he waited until his followers had been gathered to kill him as part of a spectacle. The SMART thing to do would have been to Kill the unarmed and still bound Harry the moment he had a new body, and showed off the corpse to his Death Eaters when they showed up.

I might try and do this for other famous villains in the future.

There and Back Again...

Squeal with delight, fanboys and fangirls! Peter Jackson has signed up to direct the film version of The Hobbit:

December 18, 2007

ACADEMY AWARD-WINNER PETER JACKSON AND NEW LINE CINEMA JOIN WITH MGM TO PRODUCE “THE HOBBIT,” EAGERLY-ANTICIPATED FANTASY ADVENTURE EPIC

NEW LINE AND MGM TO CO-PRODUCE AND SHARE WORLDWIDE DISTRIBUTION RIGHTS

PETER JACKSON AND FRAN WALSH TO EXECUTIVE PRODUCE TWO FILMS BASED ON “THE HOBBIT”

Looks like Jackson and New Line sorted out their legal differences.

In his house at R'lyeh Cthulhu pwns n00bs



For more fun, read The Tales of Plush Cthulhu.

A tale of murder most fowl...

Since this is both National Blog Posting Month and National Novel Writing Month, I thought I'd share a story of mine. This is a scenario I wrote to resolve a plot in one of the live-action roleplaying (LARP) games I'm a member of. It might be hard to follow the plot, not knowing the context. If that's the case, let me know!

A Murder of Ravens

The night rain beat a steady rhythm on the corrugated aluminum roof, like a thousand desperate heartbeats sounding in cacophony. To the fugitive, they were a dull roar overwhelmed by his own desperate heartbeats.

He was chilled, but not from the dampness on his skin. In fact, the warm blood on his arms offset much of the climate. The source of that blood was what froze his own solid.

I didn't…it wasn't…I could never … The gears of his reason attempted to rationalize the actions of the past few hours, but could not gain purchase. He remembered one of his former patients. The man had let his friend drive after a night of hard drinking. What's a couple of beers? He's only going a couple of blocks.

That night, Mr. and Mrs. Patel missed their son's high school graduation, just like they would miss his acceptance into his grad program, his wedding, and the births of their grandchildren.

It was a night like this, too, the fugitive recalled. He quickly glanced over both shoulders as lightning lit up the path between buildings, followed by the loud crash of thunder. It sounded like judgment.

**********************************************************************************

The man looked around the living room, or what was left of it. Scarlet paths cut their way through the white carpeting. Most traced a mandala in the centre of the room, where the man of the house hung suspended from the ceiling fan by his own entrails, like some grisly piñata.

While the onlooker could still be inwardly horrified by such carnage, it troubled him that his body betrayed no physiological reactions. I'm getting used to these things, he thought, and that's frightening.

Two men walked down the stairs in a grim-faced procession. The one in the trenchcoat would have been handsome, if his features were not perpetually set in stone-faced determination. Behind him, the man in the suit was even more impassive.

"It's even worse upstairs," he told the onlooker. "You really don't want to know."

"It was definitely him, though," said the Councillor, slowly pulling a rifle from beneath the folds of his trenchcoat. "And it wasn't long ago."

Two older men joined the three from outside.

"We have a trail," said one.

The Herald stood straighter, taking some weight off his cane. "My associates have been quite forthcoming on the subject," he said in his impeccable Received Pronunciation. "They despise the Intruder and its medium even more than we do."

The first man looked around the room one more time. "Why are we wasting anymore time then?" the Sentinel demanded.

**********************************************************************************

Cold and wet, the fugitive reflected on how things had gone wrong. His order often required someone to pull a trigger so others wouldn't have to. It was a form of self-sacrifice that was never to be undertaken lightly, and always for the greater good, the self be damned.

As time went on, however, he found himself pulling the trigger more and more often, and less for the greater good, and more because he liked it. He wasn't going to let an affliction slow him down, and if it meant giving over control of his body for an hour or so, what was the harm?

Why won't the blood wash off? He held his hands out to the falling rain. His companion offered no explanations.

**********************************************************************************

"This way!" His companions followed the interjection between the buildings. The rain was harder now, battering the docks with its staccato beats. The five ran hard, bearing arms conventional and otherwise.

**********************************************************************************

Seeking shelter in a warehouse, the fugitive tried to rest. Rain and sweat turned to vapour on his face, and only made him hotter. He tried to relax while his heart continued to pound a desperate pattern.

The Voice came to him then.

-LET ME TAKE CARE OF YOU

No! You got me into this!

-I TOOK YOU DOWN NO ROAD YOU WEREN'T ALREADY WALKING

Liar!

-THE DESTINATION IS THE SAME / ONLY FASTER

That's not true!

-YOU KNOW IT IS

I am not a murderer! I kill only for the greater good!

-HOW CONVENIENT / WHAT YOU DO IS FOR THE GREATER GOOD / AND THE GREATER GOOD IS WHAT YOU DO

-CIRCULAR REASONING

-DO ALL OF YOUR KIND JUSTIFY THEMSELVES SO

No, that's not how it works—

-TELL ME

I…I… he stumbled with his thoughts. He turned to his companion, but could no longer find the solace that was once there. Its once noble and proud features seemed twisted into the feral visage of the most cowardly and savage of predators.

**********************************************************************************

"You're sure he's in this building?" the Sentinel asked.

"Positive," said the Herald.

"I can confirm that as well," the Councillor agreed.

"OK, then." The Sentinel quietly stalked his way around the warehouse, stopping every few steps to inscribe a mark with his pocketknife.

The Herald and the other older man bent their heads together in discussion, before seeming to address the empty air.

The Councillor readied his rifle with a practiced hand, while the man in the suit closed his eyes and breathed deeply.

The Sentinel returned.

"It's done," he said.

The man in the suit opened his eyes. "Everyone remember the plan?" asked the Councillor. Four heads nodded their assent.

"Let's do this."

**********************************************************************************

-THEY'RE HERE

-SHOULD HAVE LET ME DRIVE

No wait, come back! I…

-RUN AND I'LL TAKE CARE OF YOU

I will! I'll just…

The fugitive gesticulated wildly in the air and drew upon his power, power which never came.

Fuckers!

In his mind's eye, he could see the golden lines of primal energy surround the building.

This is my cage.

**********************************************************************************

The door blew off its hinges as the axe-wielding Sentinel crashed through.

"Raven, Walker of the Path of Pandemonium! The Council of the Mens Ferrum finds you guilty of Hubris and conspiring with the enemies of Ascension! Submit to their judgement!"

"You won't take me! I'll…" He called upon his power again, and again failed. The Herald stood with a look of intense concentration.

"Get them!" the fugitive beckoned his companion, only to notice the companion had problems of its own.

"You can't stop me! You don't have the…AARRGGGHH!!!" Blood trickled from his nose and eyes as spears of intense pain shot through his head. The man in the suit stared at him, sweat beading along his brow.

"I'll kill you all! You don't have the stomach for this! That's why you need me! You need…" His last sentence was clipped short by the rifle round piercing his chest.

The Councillor stalked forward, ejecting the spent casing from his weapon. "No," he said impassively. "We don't."

**********************************************************************************

The fugitive knelt on the floor before the Sentinel, the Herald and the other man. The man in the suit and the Councillor stood behind him.

"You three can leave," the Councillor said. "We'll finish up here."

"Indeed," intoned the man in the suit. "Your services have been exemplary, but this is our matter now."

"No way," protested the Sentinel. "We did this together, we finish it together. It's my job."

The Councillor shook his head slightly. "No, your job is to fight the battles. Slitting the throats of whoever's left on the battlefield is our task. Now go."

"I won't."

"Witness if you like," said the man in the suit, cutting off further discussion, "but the task is ours."

Unholstering his pistol, the Councillor placed it at the back of the fugitive's neck.

"Farewell, brother," the man in the suit whispered in the fugitive's ear. "We now return you to the Diamond Wheel. May you choose a better journey next time around."

The only response was a gunshot.

A Faith of Reason?

OK, I found this kind of creepy:

A few miles south of Lynchburg in Campbell County sits a large and attractive octagonal building which is home to one of most unique churches in the world. Founded in 1977, “The Spock,” as the church is called, is the world’s only church of Star Trek, a religion centered on the popular 1960’s television series featuring the adventures of a crew of interstellar explorers. “The Spock” promotes beliefs associated with one of the popular characters in the TV series, Mr. Spock, who was from a peace-loving race of aliens known as “Vulcans.”

The ideology of the church is centered on so-called Vulcan philosophy which includes the belief in pure “logic” and which emphasizes a lifestyle devoid of emotion. A huge stained-glass likeness of the church’s namesake is featured in the sanctuary, where churchgoers recite sequences of dialogue from the series and participate in what they call a “Holy Mind Meld.” Many church members wear stick-on pointed ears (mimicking those of the TV character) during services and at other church functions (in one case of excessive dedication to the “faith,” one member attempted to have his ears surgically altered but with disastrous results, requiring extensive corrective surgery).

Now, normally, I find myself of the same mind as Professor Steven Dutch on this subject:

Contrary to popular psychology, this is not a society where people are out of touch with their feelings. This society wallows in feelings. If anything, what most people in this society need is precisely to get out of touch with their feelings for a while. Beirut, Belfast and Belgrade were all creations of people who were entirely too much in touch with their feelings.

When film does show rational people, it is often as a caricature. The Vulcans in Star Trek are the type examples. They are regularly portrayed as secretly longing to have human emotions but unable to do so because of their conditioning. (The Vulcans nearly destroyed themselves before they learned to control their emotions. See Beirut, Belfast and Belgrade above.) Or when the characters simply proceed rationally (Star Wars: The Phantom Menace) critics lambaste them as stiff and wooden. Considering the number of people in the arts who have destroyed themselves through suicide, substance abuse or self-destructive lifestyles, I conclude that many media critics are simply unable to relate to characters who solve their problems rationally without going into depression or hysteria, that unless a character has some defect requiring deep therapy, they simply aren't interesting to the critics.

Clearly, though, these "Spockians" are not acting rationally at all, since a rational person would be the first to admit that one cannot be rational all the time. In fact, the effort to do so is extremely irrational.

Was there any doubt?

Your results:
You are Dr. Doom

Blessed with smarts and power but burdened by vanity.

Dr. Doom 63% Mr. Freeze 58% Magneto 57% The Joker 55% Lex Luthor 55% Venom 50% Apocalypse 50% Poison Ivy 40% Dark Phoenix 40% Kingpin 40% Juggernaut 34% Mystique 34% Riddler 34% Catwoman 31% Green Goblin 30% Two-Face 22%

Click here to take the Super Villain Personality Test

Long ago, in a retcon far, far away...

This probably occurred to a lot of people who had the misfortune of watching Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith:

If we accept all the Star Wars films as the same canon, then a lot that happens in the original films has to be reinterpreted in the light of the prequels. As we now know, the rebel Alliance was founded by Yoda, Obi-Wan Kenobi and Bail Organa. What can readily be deduced is that their first recruit, who soon became their top field agent, was R2-D2.

Lord of the Quiz

So, after a discussion where I compared Deranged Squirrel to Pippin from Lord of the Rings, Mad Jenny found an online quiz to determine which Lord of the Rings character you are:

You scored as Arwen. You're Arwen Evenstar! This elven princess may not get in on too much action, but she's always optimistic and hopeful for the future. She does what she can to help her love, Aragorn, who is off fighting, and is always supportive of him. "I would rather spend one lifetime with you than face all the ages of this world alone." Arwen 81% Gandalf 75% Aragorn 75% Frodo 69% Eowyn 69% Samwise 56% Gollum 44% Pippin 38% Faramir 31% Which LOTR character are you? created with QuizFarm.com

Really, Arwen? One of my least favourite characters in the trilogy (though she was improved upon in the movies). I would have thought Gandalf or Eowyn, but Arwen?

Starship Envy

The Bad Astronomer had a chart comparing the relative sizes of starships and space stations from various science fiction series, films and books. One of his commenters linked to the source site.

This is really cool--almost any space opera setting you can think of is represented, from Star Trek to Star Wars to Babylon 5 to Robotech.

It's been a while, but I thought I'd mention one of my analogies:

Why the creative team of a comic book (writer, penciler, inker and colourist) is like a rock band

Writer - is analoguous to the lead singer. Generally, he writes the story and dialogue (lyrics), and, especially these days, is seen as the primary creative force behind the comic, or generally the main reason to buy the comic. Aside from the character/title, which we'll equate to genre or musical style--e.g., metal fans buy metal records, Batman fans buy Batman comics. In both the comic and rock worlds of today, the writer/singer is the star.

Penciler - is the lead guitarist. Just like the famous singer/lead guitarist songwriting teams of rock (Jagger & Richards, Page & Plant, Tyler & Perry, Van Halen & Roth/Hagar), the penciler is seen as the co-creator of the comic, like the lead guitarist is seen as the co-creator of the band's music. Also, while the layperson can appreciate the penciler's work and recognize pencilers they like and dislike, generally the fine points of pencilling are only appreciated by other artist-types, just like a guitarist's technical skill generally escapes the typical fan, but is appreciated or critiqued by other musicians. There was a period in rock music, mostly the 1980s, when the guitarist became the star attraction, and many bands attributed their success to the technical wizardry of their lead guitarist (q.v. Eddie Van Halen, Randy Rhoads, Yngwie Malmsteen, Paul Gilbert, etc.). Similarly, there was a time in the North American comic world when the art became more important than the story (the Image era of the early 1990s) and pencillers
were thrust into the limelight (Jim Lee, Tom McFarlane, J. Scott Campbell, etc.). Both these eras ended, generally with a lot of backlash (1990s grunge and alternative almost killed off the concept of guitar solos, while the late 90s saw the comic world get less flashy with the visuals and emphasize story more).

Inker - I equate the oft-neglected inker to the bassist. Many genres of rock build on the "power trio" format pioneered by the blues-rockers of the 1960s. The power trio as realized by Cream was quite influential, typified by the bassist doubling the lead guitarist's riff an octave lower (so when the guitarist broke off to play fills or solos, the riff was maintained). Basically, the bassist is playing what the guitarist is, only thicker and heavier, just like the inker traces over the penciler's lines. Yes, I'm calling inkers "tracers", just like poor Banky in Chasing Amy, but that's what most of them are. I'm also taking a dig at bassists, but since I am one, I think it's justifiable most of the time.

Colourist - I link the colourist with the drummer mainly because 1) drums are considered essential to rock music, much as colour is necessary for a mainstream comic in North America (black and white indies rarely get the same popular attention as full-colour mainstream titles), and 2) these days most colouring is done by computer, just like many drummers have been replaced by (or at least supplemented with) drum machines and sequencers.

So what about North American indie comics and Japanese manga, which are ostensibly written and drawn (with no colour and minimal inking) by one person? Clearly, these are analoguous to the lone singer-songwriter, a la Bob Dylan, Joni Mitchell, and tonnes of folk singers.

Dr. PZ Myers, of Pharyngula blog fame, shows his true colours in this post.

"One of us! One of us! One of us!"

Perhaps the "invisibility cloak" will soon be with us, a la Harry Potter and Ghost in the Shell. (Thanks to DailyKos.)

Also, here's a cool mash-up of Renaissance masterpieces with comic-book heroes. (Thanks to BoingBoing.)