Featured image: “Helios/Pegasus & Chibiusa” by Ami_Mizuno.
I’m just about done with Sailor Moon Super S, the season in which Sailor Chibi Moon gets a magical pony husbando. I need to review the manga to remind myself how it differs, and then I’ll put up a review.
In other news, I am naturally quite busy with various projects. The magical girl and I have begun figuring out the logistics for our wedding. Probably around next summer will be when it happens.
I’ve started the sequel to Rag & Muffin, under the working title of Rag Dolls, and I have begun building my Santa Claus library as I continue to construct the world bible for Son of Hel.
It’s my understanding that the second half of Sailor Moon: Sailor Stars is supposed to release next month, so once I’m done with Sailor Moon Super S, I might jump straight into the fifth and final arc of this franchise.
As I’ve said before, I’m not a gamer, but this came to my attention because I regularly watch James Rolfe’s Angry Video Game Nerd videos.
Rolfe recently produced a review of Chex Quest, a re-skin of Doom that was put in boxes of Chex as a prize, and which was good enough to get its own cult following.
Here’s the video. For courtesy’s sake, I should probably give a language warning:
Toward the end of the video, he mentions that the game is compatible with a mod called Brutal Doom. When this mod is plugged in, it removes the nonviolent component of the Chex Quest game and instead allows you to slaughter your enemies with wild abandon.
I am old enough to remember when Doom first made its appearance. It was mind-blowing at the time, and it was also unusually hackable, producing a huge community of modders creating their own levels, weapons, enemies, and other features. Non-gamer though I am, even I screwed around with some of the mods lurking on the young internet and built a few custom levels. I may or may not have seen the original Brutal Doom—I don’t rightly remember—though I saw other mods that upped the gore or improved the arsenal. In any case, Brutal Doom is one of the most popular Doom mods of all time.
Because of Rolfe’s videos, I discovered something called Project Brutality, an ongoing effort to build on what Brutal Doom got started. Currently, Project Brutality 3.0 is in its beta phase, and videos showing it off have appeared on YouTube.
Some of these videos vary considerably in how they look. I’m not sure if the players have multiple mods going at once or if these represent different stages of this one project. Some seem to be playing through a version that combines all the levels into one continuous map, and others (such as the one below) are not.
In any case, the modified game is stunning.
Watching this player, I have to wonder just how complicated are the controls for this game, seeing all the different things he can do from throwing axes and grenades to kicking enemies in the face to pulling himself up platforms to switching to third-person.
I’m astonished at this player’s skill, but even more than that, I’m astonished at how completely the modders have modded the game. I mean, holy heck. It’s recognizably Doom, but the vast array of added features is incredible. Some of the added features are listed on the Doom Wiki.
And of course there’s the gore and the bird-flipping, but those juvenile bits are hardly noticeable amidst the attention to detail in the animations, weapons, and gameplay.
Watching this recaptures the feel Doom gave when it first came out, when we said, “I can’t believe this game!”
Look, I’m not going to take it personally when you call me a communist stooge because I think scifi and fantasy are 2 separate genres, but I reserve the right to mock you mercilessly for being ridiculous
Recently, my Twitter timeline blew up with a rancorous debate between pulp-rev and indie authors over the question of whether science fiction and fantasy are the same genre or separate ones.
We have some writers claiming that the two are distinct, and appealing to the obvious differences between books such as The Martian and Sword of Shannara for evidence. Then we have others claiming they are the same, or that science fiction is a subgenre of fantasy, and taking Star Wars for evidence.
This is another iteration of a recurring debate throughout the history of science fiction. It is, like the Plato-Aristotle debate in philosophy, a conflict that appears repeatedly in different forms. As the argument takes shape, it reveals itself to be more or less another version of the Campbellian vs. New Wave argument, between those who want their science fiction pure and rigorously scientific, and those who … well, don’t.
I confess I’ve never before heard of Happy Frogs, but it is apparently a fledgling organization with some interest in promoting science fiction and fantasy.
The Frogs’ recently created Ribbit Award has this year been renamed the John W. Campbell Literary Prize because WorldCon recently relinquished the name of the famed sf editor for its award for new fiction. I had caught wind of that name change a few months ago and didn’t quite believe it, but it is apparently real.
In any case, Jon Del Arroz recently announced the nominees for the newly minted Campbell award, and Jake and the Dynamo is a nominee for Best Fantasy Novel. I am just arrogant enough to say that, if nothing else, I am confident it is the funniest book on the nomination list.
I am of course honored and humbled. This couldn’t come at a better time, either, since the sequel is due for a release in the near future.
In any case, remember to vote early and vote often if you think magical girls deserve a larger place at the table in the world of speculative fiction.
I certainly think they deserve a larger place. I mean, have you seen the way they eat?
Over Labor Day Weekend, I traveled again to Memphis to visit my magical girl. After I arrived, I took her to the Overlook, which is a cozy but reasonably classy restaurant in the top floor of the Pyramid downtown.
The Overlook boasts glass-floored balconies overlooking the city. I managed to arrange things so that we were there at approximately sundown. We we were early enough that we could go out on the balcony and see the city light up before we went to our table.
Freestanding elevator in the center of the Pyramid.
While the sun was setting, I proposed on the balcony. So we’re now engaged. It was more crowded up there than I expected, so we got an applause. My magical girl was somewhat embarrassed, but overall pleased.
I don’t have any good photographs of the incident. This is the best I’ve got:
My magical girl shows off her engagement ring.
The next day, we hung out, went to Mass, ate a big brunch, watched Sailor Moon, and so forth.
The place we went to for brunch, Another Cracked Egg, served one of the best bloody Marys I’ve ever had, and I say that as someone with certain strong opinions about bloody Marys.
It has bacon. So that’s a win.
It is made with a pepper-infused vodka, but I’m not knowledgeable enough about the culinary arts to know how that differs from a bloody Mary to which pepper is added after the fact. I usually prefer my bloody Mary with gin instead of vodka, but this was very spicy and very good.
Altogether, it was a really fun weekend.
Whenever There is Lightning
A few days before my trip, we had a major lightning storm that fried my cable modem, so I was without internet. I purchased a new modem and tried to get it working on my return, only to find that my service provider was going through a bunch of updates that lasted days, during which they couldn’t make my new modem operable. The internet only came back on today.
Smash
Also, in keeping with my string of bad luck stemming from my trips to Memphis, I had to replace my windshield. While I was driving home, a rock hit the windshield, and the crack instantly ran, making it too large to repair.
I’ve been driving rather than flying to Memphis with the idea that it’s cheaper, but having had to replace first a whole car and then a windshield, I’m coming to realize that I would have saved more money if I bought plane tickets.
But I’m engaged, so I’m pretty much just laughing this all off anyway. Also, there was a two-hour delay on the freeway due to a semi-truck hanging over an overpass; I really can’t complain about anything, because almost nothing could make my drive as miserable as that guy’s. I hope he was okay; I heard little about the accident and only caught a glimpse of it as I drove onto the detour.
Books
On other fronts, I have no new information on either Dead to Rites or Rag & Muffin. Both are with my publisher, but my publisher was at Dragon Con at the same time I was plying my suit, so there is a reason my projects have been delayed. Now that Dragon Con is over, I hope to hear some updates soon.
In the meanwhile, I am continuing my work in Son of Hel. At present, I’m creating the world bible by giving myself a crash course on Santa Claus and fairy lore.
Reviews
On the matter of reviews, the magical girl and I were considering seeing the live-action Dora the Explorer this weekend, but then we ended up just loafing around instead. I’m still working my way through Sailor Moon Super S and will discuss it when I’m done, but I’ve been watching it slowly because been I’ve busy with work, often taking it home with me, which is why the blog has fallen into neglect.
In fact, when I’m done writing this, I’ll probably go back to one of my work projects.
I have a lot of work to do to produce Son of Hel, my next project. Although the story is going to be an action-focused tale of Krampus, the Christmas demon, I want to do it justice in spite of the inherent silliness. My goal is to create a fully realized culture for the North Pole where Santa Claus lives, and to integrate as much existing folklore as I am able.
To that end, I am currently sitting here with stacks of books on folklore and making notes about various kinds of fairies from different cultures in order to integrate them into the society of elves at the North Pole. I’ve also been discovering the various companions of St. Nicholas, figuring out which ones I can combine into a single figure and which ones I must make separate characters.
Although they are of rather recent origin, I am also determined that Santa’s eight-plus-one reindeer will figure in the story. The following is a draft of how they appear thus far. I originally intended this scene to be a raucous party, though the result (at least at present) is surprisingly subdued. That may change in later drafts.
In a few hours it would be the fifth of December, the eve of what those at the North Pole had come to call the First Run. Mistakenly but understandably believing Nicholas to be dead, the universal Church had long ago chosen December sixth as his saint’s day, so that was the first day he delivered toys to children. Compared to Christmas Eve, St. Nicholas Day was a small, brief run with few deliveries, requiring no more than a few hours. But it helped Nicholas and the elves ensure that the sleigh and its accoutrements were in working order and ready for the Big Run, when he delivered toys to children all over the world. The First Run had a high margin of error; it was a good time for troubleshooting.
But the fifth of December, the day before, was not St. Nicholas’s day. It was a dark day, a day of fear, and it belonged to someone else, someone decidedly less jolly—and considerably less generous.
As evening came on, in anticipation of the First Run that would begin in twelve hours, Alpha Squadron congregated in the stables. This squadron consisted of the eight reindeer who had achieved the highest marks on the annual flight test, and for almost a century, the same eight reindeer had held this honor.
In scientific terms, they were Arctic reindeer, also known as Greenland caribou, or Rangifer tarandus eogroenlandicus, and those in the stables of Saint Nicholas were the last of their kind, for their subspecies had been otherwise extinct for almost four decades. It was thanks to the magic of the elves that they had powers of speech and flight as well as unusually long life. The Black Precipice of the uttermost North was a haven for them, just as it had become a haven for the last of the fay folk whom an encroaching modernity had driven from their woods and meadows.
Contrary to popular depictions, they were not tiny. They were huge, muscular brutes with shaggy coats, thick shoulders, and wide, blunt muzzles. Most were bareheaded, for they had shed their antlers the month before once their rut had ended. The only exception was Vixen, the one cow who had scored high enough for Alpha Squadron. Though considerably smaller than the others, Vixen’s tall, sweeping antlers lent her certain air of sober majesty. She would keep her antlers until spring.
In a dim corner of the stable, Comet, formerly the squadron’s captain, brooded atop a mound of hay. Although this was supposed to be a time of revelry, he was silent, and his hard expression had its effect on the rest of the squadron: The others spoke in low voices, giving Comet occasional, uneasy glances. Vixen, somewhat apart from the rest, gazed at him steadily for a minute before she shook her head and sighed.
This is a section from the draft of Rag & Muffin, my next novel to appear after Dead to Rites. This passage may or may not be in the final version in this form:
Only one spot in Godtown did not swell with the cosmic beat nor touch the underside of heaven, but remained dark—a mere part of earth or perhaps of something lower than earth. That was the Talbot Refinery, which stood near the Green Line on the edge of the Elysian-occupied West End.
In the refinery, workers—mostly outcaste marjaras unable to find decent jobs anywhere else—committed the worst blasphemy known in this world: They took the Tuaoi Stones from the mines with which the Elysians had profaned the sacred Vindhya Mountains, and they performed unspeakable deeds to alter those pure crystals into something base and ignoble in order to feed them to the Elysians’ demon-possessed automata.
More powerful than any mundane science, the magic called Runetech had made the Elysians the masters of the world, but the ghosts in their machines hungered for profaned Tuaoi Stones. Thus, in the midst of the holy city, the Talbot Refinery was an outcrop of hell, and it alone could resist the flurry of religious ecstasy and exultation that beset the rest of Godtown every morning.
Just as Meru closed, Talbot’s portal, like a mouth of the underworld, opened to swallow a long string of buses containing the workmen for the morning shift. Like giant jacks dropped from the sky, anti-tank caltrops flanked the road leading to the refinery’s heavily fortified entrance. In a booth at the gate, an underpaid and overworked human babu did his best to check the workers’ and drivers’ papers, which were handed to him—with much shouting and babbling—through half-opened windows along the buses’ sides.
Looming over it all like a colossus and casting its stark and menacing shadow across this scene was an enormous machine, vaguely man-shaped. Thick, bulky armor enclosed it, and it bristled with weapons ranging from conventional autocannons and missile-launchers to rune-powered accelerators and psi-blasters. Every once in a while, one of the intricate symbols carved into the machine’s armor glowed blue or green, letting all below know that it was alive—and that it was watching them. Somewhere deep in its guts, dangling from anti-shock suspensors, was a thing that used to be human.
Unfortunately, I’m still so busy with work that I have had little time for anything else, which is why there hasn’t been much content here.
However, Rawle Nyanzi, who often plugs my stuff and whose stuff I often plug, has begun toying around with animation and has created an animated short entitled “Time to Smack a Witch!”
This short video looks like a cut scene from a side-scrolling beat-em-up video game from the mid-Eighties, complete with the beepy music. It has no dialogue, but it’s amusing and easy to follow. It’s only flaw, were I to offer criticism, is that is opening credits are way too long for something that looks like 8-bit Theater.
Just got word from my editor about progress on Dead to Rites, the next volume in Jake and the Dynamo.
My publisher is currently rushing some things to get ready in time for Dragon Con (August 29 to September 2), which has pushed my book release back a bit. I’m crossing my fingers for September, but we’ll see.
Speaking of which, I had a sort-of chance to make it to Dragon Con this year, but couldn’t take the time from work or excuse the expense on the plane ticket, but I am hoping to make it in future years, so at some point I may show up there with other members of the Superversive stable.
