Archive for May, 2012

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Television Review: First Impressions of Continuum

By
Adam Shaftoe
– May 31, 2012Posted in: TV Reviews

Welcome to time travel via magic orange slice geode.

Starring: Rachel Nichols, Victor Webster, and Erik Knudsen.

Not a bad first outing. The biggest flaw I can see is that it’s coming off a little too American despite being set in Vancouver.

Let’s start with some good news. Much to my relief, Continuum is not a rehash of Time Trax, or, thanks be to Gozer, Time Cop: The Series. If anything, Continuum offers a bit more of a Terminator vibe. The story beings in the year 2076 where North America is under the dominion of a congress of corporations who bailed out the world’s failing legitimate governments. The idea isn’t too farfetched if we look at Greece’s potential default and retreat from the Eurozone. In an attempt to restore liberty and democracy to North America, a group called Liber8 blows up the Corporate Congress Building. In the process they take out the CEOs of 20 major corporations and, in an image that evokes the World Trade Centre attack, 20,000 civilians.

Fast forward six months and Kira (Rachel Nichols), the series’ future cop, is presiding over the execution of the eight convicted ringleaders of Liber8. Instead of dying, these leaders use some orange slice/geode/magic time travel rock to zap themselves, and Kira, back to 2012.

There’s some stranger in a strange land action before Kira’s attempt to call for backup on her Brainpal brain implanted computer communications system connects with Alec Sadler (Erik Knudsen), a teenager who is building a top secret crypto-communication system in his parents’ barn. It’s also implied that his parents are part of some radical anti-corporate conspiracy group, but that’s a story for a future episode.

Kira connects with contemporary detective Carlos Fonnegra (Victor Webster) as she attempts to track down the eight fugitives from the future. Posing as a detective from Portland, she warns Fonnegra, and his excitable Inspector, that the future criminals are part of a dangerous gang that is attempting to install itself in Canada. Unfortunately, her warnings come too late. The fugitives attack police patrols to acquire weapons before breaking into banks, and eventually attacking a VPD station to free one of their captive colleagues. After that, there’s some gunplay followed by Kira coming to terms with the fact that she can not return to the future.

Verdict: Not awful, not outstanding.

I’m reluctant to get too critical of the series after only watching a single episode. For now I’ll say that there are a few things that should get fixed, and a few other things that worked quite well.

On the positive side, there is some clever symbolism planted in the background of various scenes. Toward the end of the episode Kira stands before a building with a statue of an upright infinity symbol in the courtyard. The scene then shifts forward (or backward depending on how you want to look at things) to the 2070s where Kira is meeting her husband’s boss. Big surprise, it’s an older version of Erik Kundsen’s character (played by the sublime William B. Davis). Therein, the aforementioned infinity statue has crumbled but remains recognizable. So is this a memory of Kira’s from the future, or is it a glimpse into an alternate timeline? Or am I reading too much into an innocuous set piece?

Clever as the visual cues may be, the Point Break inspired gunplay is fucking laughable. When the future fugitives raid a police patrol car for weapons, they produce M-16s and MP5s from the cruiser’s trunk. I don’t know how they roll in Vancouver, but my sources in the Toronto PD tell me that standard beat cops keep shotguns in the trunk, not military grade kit. Subsequent gun battles, which prove that each and every character in this series is a graduate of the COBRA School of Marksmanship, appear as little more than an attempt to pander to broader, that is to say American, audiences.

As for the series central conflict, I’m torn. Kira is a “protector” of the future corporate state. Said state offers stability at the price of liberty. In 2077, Liber8 appears as a group of oppressed freedom fighters attempting to restore democracy to a world gone wrong. Said noble veneer is lost in time travel. In the past the fugitives are a gang of misfits lacking impulse control; they are the sort of folk who revel in carnage for its own sake. Where the first half of the episode had me expecting ambiguity and grey areas, the second half delivered clear binaries of righteousness and evil. Perhaps things will get more complex as the plot progresses.

Even if summer television is a bad burlesque of mediocrity, I get the sense that there is something of substance to Continuum. If it can steer clear of simple good versus bad dialogues, it might have a chance of being something clever. At its worst, it will be a time travel buddy cop show with sexual tension.


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Game Review: Moon Breakers

By
Adam Shaftoe
– May 30, 2012Posted in: Game Reviews

I know it’s never wise to expect much from Free-2-Play MMOs, but Moon Breakers sets new records for poor quality game play, a shamelessly derivative concept, and pay-2-win mechanics that abandon any attempt at dressing up a revenue engine as a video game. What’s worse is that it does all of this within the much beloved space combat sub-genre.

Marketed as a free form space combat MMO, Uber Entertainment’s Moon Breakers sounded like something with potential. Take a look at the official description to see what I mean.

Moon Breakers is a free to play, multi-player 3D space combat game set in an alternate WWII-inspired future. As either a Government or Pirate pilot, take to the stars in single-seat starfighters and engage in epic dogfights for Helium-3 around the galaxy.

A modern multi-player take on the classic space combat genre of the 1990′s, Moon Breakers delivers thrilling gameplay with simple controls that will have you flying and shaking bandits off your six in minutes. Coupled with a bold, retro-futuristic art style, amazing music by Bear McCreary (Battlestar Galactica, The Walking Dead) and a variety of ships to unlock and upgrade, Moon Breakers is pure space combat awesome. Sign up, climb in and get ready for launch… there are fortunes to be made.

Problem #1 – There’s nothing in the game to justify the “Alternate World War 2” description. Flying as the generically named Government or Pirate faction is a completely bland affair. Other than some variation on colour palettes, there’s no real difference between being the “good guys” or the “bad guys”. The pointlessness of the red vs blue mechanic is made all the more acute in that players can flip flop between sides. At least something like Battlestar Galactica Online, for all its faults, had the sense to create distinct experiences for the Cylon and Colonial factions.

Problem #2 – “A modern multi-player take on the classic space combat genre of the 90s…” Here’s the thing; space combat games in the 90s, well some of them, were rich experiences that offered a level of detail and immersion that were not to be found in other genres. This game is one step up from a point and click shooter. I can see how Moon Breakers attempts to capture a bygone era of gaming. However, the final product plays like something that was actually coded in the late 90s. I know it’s a F2P game, but I expected better than a watered down version of Crimson Skies set in space.

Problem #3 – “There are fortunes to be made…” Not unless you own stock in Uber Entertainment. Let us not forget that space combat in the 90s was synonymous with open ended games where players could carve out their own destiny. For my part, I spent countless trading cargo, hunting bounty, or plundering the shipping lanes in Wing Commander Privateer. Even the less than successful games like Solar Winds attempted to add an open ended aspect to otherwise scripted gaming. Given the description, could I be blamed for expecting the same thing from Moon Breakers?

Then there were the games like Freespace and Tie Fighter that boasted a robust story and complex branching missions. Moon Breakers isn’t one of these sort, either. Offering nothing more than melee death matches and capture the flag scenarios, which inevitably devolve into melee death matches, Moon Breakers has all the depth of a kiddie pool.

Credits earned through combat can upgrade ships, but unlocking new fighters and bombers requires buying “Helium 3” with real money. I don’t want to keep bringing the discussion back to BSG Online, but both that and Tribes Ascend allow for some level of in-game acquisition of premium currency, if only to try appease/addict in the cheapskates like yours truly. Moon Breakers makes it quite clear that if you want access to more than two ships, you’re going to pay for it.

I will give the game some credit when it says that people can jump in and feel like an ace within minutes. There is an elegant simplicity to the game’s controls. But there’s so little variety in the game play that after an hour of blowing up people flying in straight lines, I found myself bored. Even if I had the entire fleet of the government and pirate vessels at my disposal, I can’t see the long term appeal in this title.

Moon Breakers ends up as little more than a thinly veiled attempt to bank on gamer nostalgia as a means of making money. The shallow action combined with MMO elements that are so marginal as to be irrelevant, save for the fact that every 5th pilot gets a great set of lag armour, creates a wholly unsatisfying experience. Say what you will about free2play/pay2win games, but this one does not merit any investment of time or money.

Update: Sometime between my initial Moon Breakers play session on May 27 and yesterday, May 31, when a representative from Uber Entertainment sent me an email regarding my review, the development team enabled purchasing ships through credits as well as Helium 3. Additionally, there are now rotating ship unlocks that will allow players to fly various “ships of the day” without buying them with either currency. However, buying ships with credits is so expensive, requiring such a vast investment of game play, that I can’t imagine anybody wanting to grind it out. Just for fun, let’s break down the numbers.

A second tier light fighter costs 600,000 credits. In a roughly ten minute battle, I pull in about 1,500 credits. That would require somewhere in the neighbourhood of 400 battles or 66 hours of game play before I could buy a F-3X Sidewinder. Clearly the emphasis is on buying ships with Helium 3, or buying credit boosts with Helium 3.

There’s the business model, boys and girls, do what you will with it.


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An Interview With James Marshall, Author of Ninja Versus Pirate Featuring Zombies

By
Adam Shaftoe
– May 29, 2012Posted in: Books, The Daily Shaft

As part of the blog tour for his new novel, Ninja Versus Pirate Featuring Zombies published by Toronto’s ChiZine Publications, Canadian author James Marshall took some time to chat with me about his book, his artistic vision, and what he perceives as art’s relationship with the larger world.

James Marshall

Hi James. Thanks for taking the time to chat with me. For the benefit of anybody who isn’t familiar with this novel, how do you think Ninja Versus Pirate Featuring Zombies compares with your work in Let’s Not Let a Little Thing Like the End of the World Come Between Us?

 

JM: They’re in the same family. Let’s Not Let A Little Thing Like The End Of The World Come Between Us was a “literary” short story collection. Technically, Ninja Versus Pirate Featuring Zombies is a genre novel. I guess I’m supposed to say, they’re really different. But I consider NVPFZ more a “geek literary” novel than a traditional “horror” novel. I mean, for a genre book, NVPFZ is pretty “arty.”

Geek Literary, I like the sound of that. Care to expand on the idea a little?

JM: Literary is synonymous with quality. Unfortunately, it’s also synonymous with boring. “Geek literary” combines everything you expect from high quality writing with everything you expect from pop culture entertainment. For example, a lot of times, especially in Canadian lit, you get a bored lonely woman remarking on how the fields in winter are not unlike her soul. In “geek lit,” you’d have the same bored lonely woman remarking on how the fields in winter are not unlike her soul, but then a ninja would drop down from the ceiling and cut off her head. Everybody is happy.

Dreary Canadian landscapes in winter could do with more ninjas now that I hink about it. So let’s explore this Geek Literary idea a little. The satire within NVPFZ taps into some very serious issues within our world: global warming, resource scarcity, and economic turmoil to name a few. Yet all of your central characters are teenagers and the story is set in and about a high school. Was this an intentional contrast?

JM: I dealt with teenagers and high school for a few reasons. Firstly, I never grew up and I’m very juvenile. Secondly, teenagers have to cope with the monumental problems facing us and high school is the place where they’re supposed to receive the tools and training to address those problems. Since the school in my novel is completely crumbling and filled with zombies, you can guess what I think the chances of success are. Thirdly, it’s when you’re in your teenage years that you start thinking about sex. I think we need to have a serious discussion about whether or not population planning is a way to address many of the problems facing us. Obviously, I think it is.

Now I want to take issue with something you said in your review: NVPFZ might be “the most flippant and offensive thing [you've] ever read.” Please, ask me if I think NVPFZ is offensive!

*Clears his throat and puts on his most professional voice* Mr. Marshall, do you think there’s anything offensive in NVPFZ? And as an immediate follow up to that question, do you think there’s anything in your novel that some readers might find particularly objectionable?

JM: Some people might not like the scene in which Guy Boy Man and a few of his hot young female followers throw lifeless babies at each other, for fun, but people are so sensitive these days. (In ”reality”, the babies might have actually been heads of lettuce.)

For the most part, no, I don’t think NVPFZ is offensive. But I do think the things to which I draw attention are offensive. For example, when Guy Boy Man uses overweight kids, special ed kids, and a disabled girl in a fight with the zombies, you could say that’s horrible, and it is. But is it horrible of me? Or is it something that’s horrible with the world. I mean, that’s the way high school is. It’s social Darwinism. The strong thrive at the expense of the weak. I think it’s horrible too. Nobody really seems to be doing anything about it, so I thought I’d draw attention to it using metaphor and (what I hope passes as) entertainment.

When Guy Boy Man proposes a solution, tasteless as it is, to the problem of kids starving in Africa, is that really offensive, or is what’s really offensive the fact that so many kids really do starve to death every day in Africa, and no one talks about it?

When Guy Boy Man takes Baby Doll15 on a date to a prison wherein the prisoners are amusements, is that offensive, or is the fact that our prisons are filled with the poor, the mentally ill, and our ethnic minorities? And how many TV shows would go off the air if we didn’t use ”crime” as entertainment?

Some people might find NVPFZ offensive, but “art” is supposed to serve a purpose, and I try to use satire and metaphor to raise issues that are important to me. For examples of my satire, I hope your readers will check out my website: www.howtoendhumansuffering.com

While we’re on the subject of howtoendhumansuffering.com, can we expect more sermons from Guy Boy Man in the future?

JM: Yes, that’s definitely on the agenda for the not-so-distant future.

Excellent. For the record, I found the one on pregnancy camps to be particularly apropos given current “debates” on reproductive rights. I hope the danger quotes appropriately denote the low regard in which I hold said “debates”.

On another note, you mentioned BabyDoll15, Guy Boy Man’s paramour, in one of your previous answers. Her name as well as Centaur111’s struck me something that resonated with online culture. Was that an attempt on your part to skew these characters toward a certain audience?

JM: The prologue to NVPFZ is the key to unlocking the whole thing; it’s intended to be a modern-day retelling of Plato’s Parable of the Cave. The basic idea is that there are different layers of reality. The characters of NVPFZ are meant to inhabit one of these layers where everything is sort of a mash-up of the real world and the online world. Guy Boy Man has insight into an even higher level of reality than the other characters because he can see zombies everywhere, controlling everything, and they can’t. So I guess it wasn’t so much that I was targeting a specific demographic as I wanted to explore a mash-up of the real and online worlds.

So if the narrative mirrors Plato’s Cave, does that make Guy Boy Man a philosopher king as well as a pirate?

JM: Yes, but it gets complicated, because the utopia in Guy’s vision doesn’t include people. Obviously, his desire for everyone to stop reproducing is ludicrous; it’s designed to bring population control into the debate regarding all the problems facing us. But if you took it at face value, Guy would return the planet to the animals, and I suppose there’s a certain appeal to that. There wouldn’t be any need for philosopher kings though. And Guy is meant to represent mankind. Sure, he’s funny and charming, but he’s violent, selfish, and probably completely irredeemable, so he’s far from an ideal leader.

He wants to destroy himself. I.e./ Mankind wants to destroy itself.

If that’s the case, what’s the third way between Zombies, who are a slow burn destruction of the Earth (corporate personhood, outsourcing, consumerism) and Guy’s all-in inferno of self-destruction? Or is that a question better examined in subsequent novels within the series?

JM: To be honest, I wrote NVPFZ because I’d given up on the world. I mean, population planning is a “possible” solution to “some” of the problems facing us, but it’s fraught with peril. All in all, I’m pretty pessimistic. I think we’re past the tipping point on a lot of things. I try to be indifferent, but it’s not easy. I wish I was like Guy Boy Man. It’d be nice to sit back, relax, and watch everything go up in flames with a smile on my face. Unfortunately, I find it all rather stressful and depressing.

Let me ask you one more thing then. If we’ve crossed the Rubicon on issues like population control, doesn’t that change our relationship with art? Doesn’t that make the entirety of the artistic community akin to Nero playing his fiddle while Rome burns around us?

JM: In NVPFZ, I suggest that artists should stop creating beautiful works of art and force zombies to face the mess they’ve made. Unfortunately, it wouldn’t work, because just about anybody can entertain a mindless idiot, but it’s an interesting thought: even in railing against the status quo, the artist supports it, whenever he or she produces a work of art that makes the status quo a little more tolerable. I guess I consider the artist complicit in the destruction of everything. I’m complicit in the destruction of everything. I thought I’d found a job that let me be removed from it, but when I really thought about it, I realized I hadn’t, and I was involved in it too.

A complex answer to a complicated situation. James, thank you so much for your time, and best of luck with the novel; it truly is a fantastic read.

JM: My pleasure and thank you. If any of your readers would like to keep up to date with me, please invite them to follow me on Twitter: @james_marshall

Ninja Versus Pirates Featuring Zombies is now available in print and e-book editions from ChiZine Publications. Learn more about the book at howtoendhumansuffering.com


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Television Review/Recap: Game of Thrones Season 2 Episode 9 – Blackwater

By
Adam Shaftoe
– May 28, 2012Posted in: TV Reviews

This might be the easiest review/recap I have ever done for Game of Thrones. The whole episode, written by George R. R. Martin himself, was set in King’s Landing, and damn if it wasn’t the epic pay off that viewers have been waiting for all season.

Let’s start with a quick run through of the salient events.

Varys meets with Tyrion as the men of King’s Landing enjoy their last night of peace before Stannis’ fleet arrives. As Tyrion gets armoured for battle, Varys offers a map of the city’s extensive underground as well as a confession that he thinks Tyrion to be the city’s only hope for survival. Heavy is the chest that wears the pin of the Hand.

The Battle of Blackwater Bay itself is a thing to behold. I can’t recall an episode of Game of Thrones that ever looked quite so expensive. The sea battles, land skirmishes, and eventual siege had all the elegant brutality of a high priced Hollywood feature.

Round one of the battle goes to the Lannisters. Tyrion blows up a significant portion of Stannis’ fleet with a single ship filled to the gunwales with Wildfire. But it’s a one trick pony that fails to turn Stannis’ attack. It’s also worth mentioning the look of sheer horror on Peter Dinklage’s face as Tyrion comes to understand that he, and he alone, is responsible for killing all those men. While Joffrey gets giddy, Tyrion learns something of war’s human cost.

Therein, the “legitimate” heir to the Iron Throne sends his surviving men ashore to begin breaching the walls. Clearly traumatized by the sight of an immolated Blackwater Bay, the Hound quits the battle, telling the Lannisters and King Joffrey to fuck themselves (I’m not being colourful, he actually says “Fuck the King”). Despite losing one of their champions, the Lannisters put up a good fight, yet Stannis has a clear numerical, if not a tactical, advantage. Fearing for his life, and encouraged to do so by his mother, who sends Lancel to tell Joffrey that playtime is over and he’s to come home, Joffrey quits the battle leaving the burden of leadership on Tyrion. With some difficulty, Tyrion manages to rally the men, leading them into the sewers so that they might flank the Baratheon force at the wall.

Once again, Peter Dinklage gets one liner of the night when he says, “Those are brave men knocking at our door; let’s go kill them.”

Tyrion’s counterpunch routs the vanguard of Stannis’ troops. There is the briefest moment of celebration before the main force of Stannis’ men charge into the battle. Something quite interesting happens here. During the battle Tyrion is fighting in the thick of it. He’s saved from a Baratheon sword by what looks like a man dressed in Lannister livery. But then that very same Lannister solider swings a sword at Tyrion. The only thing that saves Tyrion’s life is the quick intervention from his squire. Still, the Hand of the King catches a sword tip to the face and falls to the ground, probably not dead, most likely in shock, and arguably the bravest half-man in all of Westeros.

Meanwhile, Shae has commanded Sansa out of the tower containing the highborn women. She returns to her room only to find the Hound waiting for her. Newly retired from the Lannister army, he offers to take Sansa home to Winterfell as wants to go somewhere where there’s no fire.

With Stannis Baratheon rampaging atop the battlements, somehow he was he only guy to make it up a siege ladder without getting his head squashed by a rock, and an army battering down the mud gate, things seem their darkest. Enter deus ex machine Tywin Lannister to the rescue.

Here I thought he was riding out against Robb Stark. Does that mean that Robb is going to be able to walk into Casterly Rock in the finale? One doesn’t simply walk into Casterly Rock?

Amazing as the battle was, the real star of the episode has to be Lena Headey’s drunken/honest portrayal of Cersei in a powerless situation.

Unable to connive, seduce, or puppet master her way out of the siege, Cersei takes to drinking. In doing so, she gets very ugly, yet remains supremely vulnerable. Some of her statements echo those of other women who “should have been born men” within fantasy environs. For example, Cersei demonstrates her Machiavellian leadership style when she tells Sansa that that the only way to rule (unless you’re a Stark) is to make your own people fear you more than they fear the enemy. Eventually she takes on a more practical tone, especially when she tells Sansa to cut the bullshit and start learning that the world is full of killers up to and including her beloved father. Toward the end of the episode, she falls apart back on what she told Sansa a few weeks earlier: all a mother can do is protect her children.

Cersei orders Joffrey off the wall, morale of the troops be damned, and manically cradles her youngest son on the Iron Throne. As she prepares to give her non-awful child a dose of Nightshade poison, so that he might be spared the rapine and slaughter of Stannis’ men, we can see the mask that Cersei wears to fulfill her role as queen-regent shattering to the floor around her. Yet in the instant that Tywin opens the doors of the Red Keep and proclaims the battle won, her duty bound visage is restored to its previous glory. Such is the talent of Lena Headey that over the course of an episode she can gradually unravel her character, and then put her back together on command.

I imagine that next week will return to the “all over the world” style of storytelling, further subjecting us to Dany and Jon’s dull plot arcs. All we can do now is hope that the Lion’s share of the episode will be dedicated to Robb and wherever his army ends up. Also Arya, I’d like to get a proper end of season wrap-up/cliff-hanger for Arya.


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Fiction Friday: The Aurora Awards Edition – Part Five: Suzanne Church’s The Needle’s Eye

By
Adam Shaftoe
– May 25, 2012Posted in: Lit Reviews

It is an interesting title to an equally interesting story. The possessive construction can mean both “the eye of the needle” or “the eye that belongs to the needle”. In this, the final post in the Aurora Awards Fiction Friday series, I expect the latter definition is the more relevant.

What it’s about

The Needle’s Eye falls somewhere between science fiction and horror. I’m inclined to say that it’s closer to horror, as I only managed to get two pages into this story before the intensity of the imagery forced me to put down my kindle and take a deep cleansing breath.

The story is about two Canadian doctors, Lise and Rideau, who work abroad inoculating people against a super-virus called retinapox. The inoculation process is possibly one of the most terrible trade-offs that a person can imagine. To decrease the chance of picking up retinapox by sixty-eight percent, a person sacrifices vision in one of their eyes. On the day that Lise admits to Rideau that she is pregnant with his child, Rideau accidentally breaches his hazmat suit. As you would expect from a story that says, “Hey, let’s cook up an epidemic that makes the bubonic plague look like the sniffles” Rideau contracts the virus.

Why it works

Remember when I said I couldn’t get through the story in one attempt? That’s why it works. But I suppose if you’ve taken the trouble to read this review I should offer a justification that is a little more substantial than the fact that the Suzanne Church managed to get inside my head, not easy to do, and rattle my cage for ten solid pages, even harder to do.

The key to this story is the presentation of that which we know, or at least that which we can easily conceptualize, as the most horrifying thing out there. Ghosts, zombies, and antediluvian chthonic space monsters are all well and good, but viruses, in this case mutated from biological weapons, strike a fear that hits far closer to home. Echoing the sentiments that I offered in my Contagion review, the question is never “Could it happen?” rather “How bad will it be when it happens?”

Other horror narratives offer a conditional safety to their characters, which a reader can then internalize as a sense of personal security. That is to say if a character/reader stays out of dark rooms and refuses candy from strangers, they will be safe. The Needle’s Eye eschews any such notions. The message therein: this could happen to you and there’s nothing you can do about it. And if the next big plague is anything like Retinapox, we are all in a lot of trouble.

The bio/geopolitical framework in which this story is set offers a lone threadbare safety blanket for readers. Retniapox is very much an “over there” virus. When Lise returns home, the narration comments on how few cases there are within Canada, which I will extend to the Western hemisphere at large. At first I was inclined to call this a weakness in the story, given the ease with which viruses can travel in our globalized world. Yet a healthy Canada within this story invited me to think about the rather draconian immigration measures that the West could enforce, as well as the biopolitical nightmare that would come in its wake, as a means of keeping Retinapox a thing that happens in other countries. To some extent, those things happen right now. If they didn’t Peru’s 2010 outbreak of Bubonic and Pneumonic plague would have been bigger international news.

The most memorable part

When I was in grad school, I did a course on epidemiological history. It was a challenging experience. Yet nothing I read in the primary sources of late renaissance physicians who experimented in viral inoculation, based on two-thousand year old Greek medical treatises, compared to the Retinapox inoculation that Suzanne Church crafted in this story. There’s no way I’ll ever purge my mind of the image of a double pointed needle scraping away at the retinas of countless people willing to trade depth perception for a better set of odds against a virus.

The Bottom Line

The Needle’s Eye is the kind of story that could be successfully visited upon any reader. Some, no doubt, would be scared, perhaps even alienated, by the nature of the text. But I can’t conceive of anyone with any taste in literature turning their nose up to this story. It was originally published in the Chilling Tales Anthology by Edge Publishing. This story, as well as all the others I have reviewed in this series, are available to voting members of the CSFFA.


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Movie Review: Thor

By
Adam Shaftoe
– May 24, 2012Posted in: Movie Reviews

Yes, despite the fact that it came out last year, I’m reviewing Thor. There is, however, method to my madness. You see, I didn’t watch the big screen adaptation of Marvel Comics’ Norse Avenger until Tuesday night. Why did I put off seeing this movie for so long? Because everybody and their cousin told me that it was a barely passable snore fest. Phrases like, “Utterly unremarkable” and “Not as good as Iron Man” were tossed around with reckless abandon.

To which I now say, Thor might not be better than Iron Man, but it is certainly on par.

Let’s begin with the abridged version of my well worn diatribe on how “the viewing public” have no stomach for anything remotely cosmic in their super hero movies. What do you know, that’s basically it right there.

So long as a super hero movie is set on Earth, people will line up in droves to go see it (Spider-Man 3 as witness for the prosecution). Once things get cosmic, suspension of disbelief must start to break down. Go ahead and look up “The Dark Phoenix Saga”, and then tell me just how much it has in common with X-Men 3. Or see if Doctor Doom had any role to play in Galactus/Silver Surfer’s first encounter with humanity. I digress.

Marvel made a gutsy decision to keep Thor true to his Asgardian roots, or at least close enough that nothing seemed out of place to my eyes. Despite opting for the fantastic, rather than the familiar, Thor, Sif, and the Warriors Three jaunt between Earth, Asgard (Thor’s stomping grounds, just like in the mythology), and Jotunheim (the realm of the Frost Giants) with the same sort of narrative ease that would see Tony Stark putting on Armani suit. This smooth introduction into an alien world, albeit one that should be vaguely familiar to anybody who completed the seventh grade, is likely due to the fact that unlike Iron Man, Captain America, and The Incredible Hulk, Thor breaks the “back story before real adventure” formula of Marvel’s “Avenger Initiative”.

There’s no need to burn forty minutes establishing suitable hand waving for Thor’s powers; he’s the son of Odin and he’s got a magic hammer. What else do you need to know? Sure, the Asgardians fought a war with the Frost Giants of Jotunheim. But the key difference between this movie and some of the aforementioned is that Odin’s flashbacks frame the film’s conflict, rather than its central character’s abilities. This allows the story to unfold at a more natural pace, that is to say without the use of an action sequence montage; I’m looking at you, Captain America.

That’s fine, Adam, but it’s still not better than Iron Man.

Fine, it might not be better, but it’s hard to say the movie is worse when the exact same conceits drive both stories. Tony Stark is a prideful, vainglorious, prince who thinks that war is great and glorious until he gets dragged out of Stark Tower to witness human suffering at an individual level. The character undergoes a metamorphosis and is reborn as the heroic Iron Man, having paid in blood for his past hubris. Thor is a narcissistic warmonger who thinks that his father is weak for not destroying the Frost Giants. Therein Thor is stripped of his powers and banished to Earth. Upon arrival he learns a lesson in humility, responsibility, and self-sacrifice before finding redemption and rebirth.

Oh and both movies feature family squabbles spilling into high stakes situations in the finest fashion of Hamlet. I might even be inclined to liken Loki to Iago as a character whose motivations are a bit more complex than, “Behold, I am evil. Watch me do evil things.” But I’ll save that for another time.

Thor and Iron Man are almost identical given the way in which their protagonists follow the heroic cycle. With all things being generally equal in terms of story, acting, and visual effects – RDJ edges out Chris Hemsworth as a leading man but Thor beats out Iron Man’s aesthetic – it seems rather silly to talk about Thor’s deficiencies compared to Iron Man. The two films, as well as the two characters, compare quite nicely.

For anybody else bought into the anti-Thor pro-Iron Man agenda, you’re missing out on a good super hero movie. It’s not the best thing ever with an extra serving of bacon, but it’s genuinely entertaining on all counts. Also, no SHIELD jokes from Agent Phil Coulson. Yay!


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5

Second Person Narratives: I’m not your monster.

By
Adam Shaftoe
– May 23, 2012Posted in: Books, Criticism, The Daily Shaft

As a reader, critic, and occasional writer, I don’t much care for the second person narrative style. That isn’t to say that I think it’s a pointless thing that needs to die an eternal death in the darkest foulest bowels of hell’s antiquated septic system, not at all. Second person can be quite useful. Choose your own adventure novels demand a second person narrative structure. Decades of Dungeons and Dragons DMs have forged elaborate worlds using the second person. Within more “conventional” storytelling (novels, short stories, modern video games) second person seems like a problematic thing.

First, a quick refresher for the benefit of anybody who doesn’t know what I’m talking about.

First person narrative: I couldn’t stand the sound of his voice for another minute. The way he went on and on, and the way everybody listened as if he was god’s chosen prophet. So I did what any coward would do; I kicked him in the nuts.

Note that the narrator is telling the story from their own perspective. FPN is life as you live it every day…or this.

Third person narrative: Adam’s practiced poker face was about to shatter. For three years he listened to his boss drone on and on about a managerial style that increased ROI each quarter. For three years Adam watched his colleagues genuflect to the pontification of a blowhard who outsourced his work to unpaid interns. At exactly eight minutes into the 10am meeting, Adam stood up from the boardroom table, walked to the front of the room, and smiled as he kicked his boss in the balls.

Notice here that the story is being told from a perspective external to the character in question. Both first and third person perspective should be quite familiar to anybody who has ever read a novel. Now things get weird.

Second person narrative: You can’t stand listening to him any longer. He’s taken so much credit for other people’s hard work. Everything he’s done is built on the backs of people half his age but twice his intelligence. You didn’t go to business school for this. You know going to Human Resources won’t solve anything. You don’t think about your next action, really. All you do is stand up, square yourself to the man who has stolen your life, and drive a size ten-and-a-half wingtip firmly between his legs.

Hilarious as crotch shots may be, these vignettes illustrate an essential problem with second person narrative. “Adam” might be the sort of guy who kicks his boss in the junk, but what if “You” are not?

What if the story is about something less cathartic than avenging one’s self against a boss? What if a reader is being told that they are standing at the feet of a dead body, licking a blood stained knife as a crimson pool slowly wraps around their feet. I don’t know about you, but sometimes I don’t feel like giving up who I am to become somebody else’s monster.

A narrative built in the more conventional first or third person style can safely assume that a reader wants an experience removed from their own world. To read Dune, or The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes is to ride on a worm behind Paul Atreides or follow along in the cab next to Holmes and Watson. At no point does the story ask the reader to do anything other than maintain their suspension of disbelief. Who the reader is, is irrelevant to the issues at hand. Second person narratives depend on a reader’s willingness to abandon their sense of self. If you, the reader, are not willing to become the serial killer, the half-demon spawn of a fallen angel, or the sexy horse vampire, then the story falls apart.

I live in fear of this moment every time I see a play

So what’s the problem? For my part, I hate audience participation (save for choose your own adventure novels, especially the ones that offer a hierarchy of endings [Hierarchy of Endings is the name of my next band]) in printed text just as much as I do in theatre. As a reader, I’m looking to be entertained. As a critic, I’m looking for subtexts and themes. As a writer, I’m looking to see what I can learn from the words in front of me. How can I do any of those things if I’m spending the lion’s share of my mental energy turning myself into someone who is compatible with the narration?

What am I gaining by undertaking this effort? Who is the writer to make me think I would even want to become this person? After all, the reader is the consummate and professional voyeur.

When evaluating recent encounters with second person narratives, the reader in me invokes Benedict Cumberbatch as he sighs “Bored”, the Jay Sherman in me says, “This is weak character construction masquerading as high concept bullshit”, and Adam, the scribbler of words, desperate for the approval of his peers, moves on to a new teacher as the story appears to be the ultimate form of telling without showing.

So to the writers of the world, I would offer these words, for whatever devalued Hellenic currency they are worth: it is infinitely easier to appropriate a concept, culture, historical figure, political ideology, or religious doctrine than it is to bank on your reader’s desire to abandon their sense of self as to give your story its necessary cohesion. If a reader is unable, or outright refuses, to participate in what you, the writer and possibly your editor and publisher, think is a transcendent experience, then all of the deeply layered metaphor and allegory in the world won’t amount to jack.


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3

Arrivederci, Community; Our Battle is Done

By
Adam Shaftoe
– May 22, 2012Posted in: Television, The Daily Shaft

In the ancient city of Sparta, wives would tell their husbands to return with their shields in hand or carried home dead upon them. The idea was that only a coward who discarded his heavy bronze shield would return home absent it. After Thursday’s season finale, the Greendale Seven began their journey home, shield in hand. Community had triumphed against cancellation rumours at the end of season two, perpetually low ratings, and a mid-season hiatus where once again the spectre of cancellation loomed in the air. NBC might have abridged season four, but it was still going to happen.

Then Friday came along. That’s when NBC and Sony fired Dan Harmon as Community’s show runner, relegating him to a consulting role that would have no actual creative input in the series. Interested parties can get the details direct from Dan Harmon’s blog. With that act, the conquering heroes, through no fault of their own, through no act of personal cowardice or treachery, found themselves stripped of their shields.

There went my “look how many of my end of season predictions came true” post. Gloating over prognostications felt, and still feels, dirty and wrong.

In the wake of this shakedown, a lot of really smart people have had a lot of very interesting things to say about Community, NBC, the nature of life as a show runner, and the long standing battle between networks and creators. I don’t know that I can really add to that discussion in any meaningful way. Instead I’m going to work within the framework that CNN’s Marquee Entertainment blog visited upon me when they cited me as one of Community’s most dedicated fans. I’m going to speak from the heart.

I’ve seen shows that I loved get cancelled. For example, I loved Farscape. In fact, I think, strike that, I know that in 2002, I loved Farscape more than I did the girl I was dating. So much so that she said I was more into Claudia Black than I was into her. In fairness, Claudia Black is pretty awesome. But I digress. The point at hand is that I’m no stranger to the larger realities of television production getting in the way of artistic vision and storytelling.

Last year when SGU got shit canned, I was angry. I was angry at Stargate’s fans for not doing a better job of supporting the series. I was angry at everybody who called SGU a milquetoast Battlestar clone – it wasn’t. I was angry at a genre network that seemed to be putting a premium on wrestling and reality television. But I didn’t take it personally.

Community isn’t cancelled. In fact, it may continue beyond the thirteen episode order that NBC placed for next season. Yet I find myself taking the news of Dan Harmon’s departure quite personally.

I do so because, like so many other fans, I felt like I was helping to fight for this show’s survival. I know, the bloggings of internet nerds are of little consequence when it comes to the world of television. Yet seeing so many other people (so many other smart people if we’re being honest about things) echoing my own sentiments, examining episodes from every conceivable angle, and rallying behind a banner that said “Fellow outcast weirdoes, you are not alone” created a meta-community I wanted to defend.

With Harmon fired, Neil Goldman and Garrett Donovan moving on to develop their own projects on Fox, and Chris McKenna, the last remaining day one writer, quitting the show, I find myself wondering if I will be able to recognize the thing that I have championed for the last three years. Did we Greendale alums become recognized as the loudest and most articulate minority fan base in recent memory just to see the soul of the thing we love cut out? Perhaps more troubling is the realization that our collective wit, snark, and wellspring of pop culture meets high culture knowledge can do nothing to undo this. Deals have been done and contracts have been signed; we are House Atreides’ army impotent against the Emperor’s Sardukar and Baron Harkonnen’s treachery.

Perhaps David Guarascio and Moses Port will do a good job as Community’s new show runners. Arguably they’re stooges brought in by Sony to make the show more marketable and less weird. Time will tell. Come September, I’ll see what they have to offer. Odds are I’ll keep watching just to support the cast and crew who made the show work for the first three years; just because Harmon got turfed, doesn’t mean other people deserve to lose their jobs.

But I don’t think I’ll go to war for this show any more.

I fought for Dan Harmon’s Community. My critical discussions will likely be focused on Dan Harmon’s Community. Of course, I say this now, knowing full well that within the next year I’ll end up on a panel at a con talking pre and post-Harmon Community.

In the end, it will be interesting to see how the broader fan base orients itself as we get closer to the start of season four. Will there be a schism? Most likely. Will it be vocal? Most definitely. And may the gods help us all if Community gets reduced to so much Two and a Half Manery and we, original fans, become Community hipsters who talked about the Darkest Timeline before it was cool. Remember, Hipsters are like Sith: they’re powered by fear, jealousy, anger, and rage. That’s not who we are as fans of Community.

In the mean time, I’ll take solace in the fact that Dan Harmon’s work left us with three seasons worth talking about, an unofficial Inspector Spacetime web series that is most certainly an original creation courtesy of Travis Richey, and the knowledge that television can be more than the gaps between commercials; it can examine the human condition and in doing so forge communities that people never knew they wanted.

Thanks, Dan.

#sixseasonsandamovie

#GreendaleiswhereIbelong

#BelieveinDanHarmon


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0

Television Review/Recap: Game of Thrones Season 2 Episode 8 – The Prince of Winterfell Review/Recap

By
Adam Shaftoe
– May 21, 2012Posted in: TV Reviews

Here’s a funny story, halfway through the episode, around the time Cersei and Tyrion were having a faceoff to end all faceoffs, my laptop randomly decided to reboot for the purpose of applying updates. At the time, I was banging out notes in notepad, which, as you would expect, did not save upon this unceremonious restart. As such, I’m taking a bit of a different tack with this week’s review/recap.

Here is the shit that went down (in order of importance)

*Spoilers Ahead*

Rob Stark doesn’t know why he’s fighting.

Catelyn didn’t lop off Jamie Lannister’s head after last week’s episode faded to black. Instead she freed the Kingslayer, with the expectation she would get Sansa and Arya back, and sent him on his way with Brienne as a guardian. When word reached Robb, who was out having a walk with Florence Nightengale Talisa Maegyr, he was not impressed. Words like betrayal and treason are tossed about as Robb has his mother imprisoned.

All this time I thought Catelyn Stark was one of the smarter people in this show. But if we recall Cersei’s words from last week, the only thing a Queen, or in this case a Queen Mother, can do is love and protect her children. Meanwhile Robb, uncertain if he should march home to free Winterfell or press on to Casterly Rock, does what any good leader would do, shags the noblewoman masquerading as a sexy nurse.

Tyrion wants Joffrey to fight; Cersei punishes Tyrion, with sexy results.

Stannis Baratheon is two days from King’s Landing, and good King Joffrey wants to lead his men into battle (Is it just me, or is this extended countdown taking on the tone of a Dragon Ball Z plot arc). The twerp thinks that his uncle Stannis will soil himself and run home to the Stormlands at the mere sight of King’s Landing desperately undermanned garrison. Tyrion approves of his nephew’s plan, under the pretext of offering morale support to the men. It’s also a convenient way to let the little sadist die in battle. Cersei, however, seizes the opportunity to punish her brother for yet another power play against her children.

The Queen-Regent informs the Hand of the King that she’s found out about his whore. Tyrion’s attempts to play off the situation as an inconvenience, rather than a threat against the love of his life, appear transparent to Cersei. Yet the tide turns in Tyrion’s favour when Cersei has Ros, and not Shae, brought in as proof of her intent to visit every injury upon her brother’s love that befalls Joffrey in battle.

After promising a mighty vengeance upon his sister, Tyrion returns to his room to find Shae waiting for him. Though Shae is convinced she could cut the face from any who threaten her, Tyrion is not satisfied. With each telling the other that “You are mine” I think we come as close as possible to any two characters expressing genuine, non-twincest, love for each other. Though there might have been some love between Renly Baratheon and Loras Tyrell. If Lannister guards are to be believed, their relationship was nothing if not long standing.

Theon Greyjoy is an idiot and a fraud.

Yara Greyjoy arrives at Winterfell with a handful of cavalry (How the shit do pirates keep getting horses?) and proceeds to break Theon’s balls for his continued ineptitude: first in losing Bran and Rickon Stark, then in “burning” them to set an example for the Northerners, and finally in forgetting that their power base is in ships not armies ergo attacking inland Winterfell was pointless and stupid. Chuffed up on the fact that he took Winterfell with twenty men (His words. My declaration of Shenanigans on the writing is still in effect.) Theon ignores his father’s recall order. Alone and absent reinforcements, Theon Greyjoy is now the most hated man in the North.

Except, Theon didn’t actually kill Bran and Rickon. In the penultimate and final scenes of the episode, we learn that Theon torched the two orphans that were working on the farm Bran and Rickon passed during their initial flight from Winterfell. As for the Starks, Hodor, and the wildling girl, they’re hiding out in Winterfell. Maester Luwin sees the former captive, now protector of Bran and Rickon, stealing bread and follows her into a hidden chamber within Winterfell. As the truth comes out, Luwin makes clear that Bran must never find out about the death of the children, which the little ord sent to the farm, lest he blame himself for their painful demise. Too bad Bran was awake and heard everything.

Arya and friends walk out of Harrenhal.

After much consternation, Tywin decides that the time has come for him to ride out against Robb. Arya attempts to find the ghost so that she might name the Lannister patriarch as her final death, but to no avail. Later, Arya extorts the ghost into helping her, Gendry Baratheon, and a fat kid who I’m going to call Podgey, into escaping. She does so by naming him, Jaqen H’ghar, as her third death unless he helps the trio escape. Following H’ghar’s instructions, the group walks out of Harrenhal at midnight to see the guards butchered at their posts.

There’s lots of walking North of the Wall.

Only two things worth any note happen here. We learn that Jon’s jaunt with the wildling girl has led to the death of the other rangers save for one. The second is that the surviving ranger wants Jon to try and infiltrate the wildling army because “one brother on the inside is worth a thousand on the wall”

Stannis is on a boat.

Stannis complains about how Robert Baratheon was a jerk despite Stannis’ loyal service during the rebellion. Stannis and Davos Seaworth then about rank, title, and society before the would-be king names Seaworth as his Hand once the battle at King’s Landing is won.

Nothing happens in Qarth.

Seriously, nothing. Dany has a tantrum, Jorah is stoic, and the plot remains at a standstill.

And that’s the episode.

There was one odd recurring motif in the episode, food. Bronn, acting as captain of the city guard, has all the thieves in King’s Landing rounded up and killed. In his experience, thieves do very well in sieges as food becomes the most precious resource imaginable. Stannis Baratheon echoes these sentiments when he talks about eating horses, cats, and dogs to stay alive during a siege. Tyrion talks about the high quality of his Lamprey pie before Cersei makes her move against him. Even Podgey goes on about how things are cooked in the kitchens of Harrenhal during his escape with Arya and Gendry. What’s the connection?

For all the talk about winning or dying when playing the game of thrones, it’s still subject to the basic laws of humanity; therein society is only five meals away from barbarism. Food is also an easy device for reminding the audience that the characters we’ve come to love and hate are the 1% of Westeros. Shae said it best last week when she reminded Sansa that the people of King’s Landing hate the captive Stark and all the Lannisters for the simple fact that their horses eat better than the mob.

We could stretch the metaphor even farther if we focus on food as a consumptive thing. Survival for the principle characters is not simply a matter of eating and drinking as it is for everybody else in Westeros. They must consume others characters in order to survive. Consider Tyrion’s meal of Lamprey pie. Lampreys have long been a meal fit for kings in European culture. But there’s also the fact that the Lamprey, a relatively weak creature, must attach itself on to larger fish for survival vis-a-vis Tyrion with Bronn and those Viking folks from last season. On the opposite side of the spectrum there is someone like Stannis Baratheon, who has consumed his gods, perhaps his soul in taking up with Melisandre, and his own brother in order to forward his claim to the Iron Throne.

Next week, from what I’ve heard, all the shit finally hits the fan. Tywin has his final battle with Robb. Stannis lays siege to King’s Landing. Robb’s splinter force retakes Winterfell. Hopefully we get to see some of it, though. This series has a nasty habit of cutting to the aftermath as a means of keeping the budget under control. As the second to last episode of the season, I think we, the audience, have earned some bloodshed.


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0

Fiction Friday: The Aurora Awards Edition – Part Four: Susan Forest’s Turning it Off

By
Adam Shaftoe
– May 18, 2012Posted in: Lit Reviews

Part four of the Aurora Awards Fiction Friday series peels back the layers on Susan Forest’s Turning it Off. I honestly don’t know how Susan Forest does it. Every time I read one of her stories, I think to myself, “Damn, she can’t get any better than this.” Then I read another and she manages to raise the bar a few inches higher. So without further ado, let’s get into it.

What’s it about

Turning it Off is speculative fiction of the highest order. The story looks at a technologically sophisticated nanny state as seen through two teenagers and their families. And while teenage hormones play a part in this story, I’d be loathed to call it a “coming of age” story.

Carter and Samantha live in a world where people, cars, and anything else you can imagine are surrounded by protective energy shields called “safeties”. Safeties have made things like insurance, physical pain, and unplanned death a thing of the past. On the Saturday in which this story is set, Sam spends the day at Carter’s house when their respective fathers go out for a round of golf. As Carter’s mother prepares to leave the two to their own devices, Sam reveals to Carter that she’s stolen a remote control that will let them do the unthinkable: turn off their safeties.

Why it works

Sex. Well not actual sex, but some symbolism and accidental contact that sees Carter and Sam taking their first steps into sexual maturity through an act of rebellion. However, that’s only the surface level of the narrative. The subtle ways that Susan Forest builds this world really makes the story a fantastically layered piece.

Running parallel to the safeties is a networked computer system that is simultaneously interconnecting and alienating. Everybody in Turning it Off is equipped with a cerebral implant that projects images and data directly into their fields of vision. It’s facebook and google taken to the nth degree. With those innovations come changes in language and the decline of spoken English in lieu of texting or thought transmission. On that point, “hurt” takes on an unexpected context. With safeties making humanity impervious to everything, physical pain is such an antiquated concept that the only hurt that Sam and Carter are able to conceptualize is emotional. Simple changes like that offer endless depth at an almost negligible word count.

Then there’s the criticism of the nanny state itself. In a world without risk, where death is a planned event rather than a tragedy, what’s to motivate a person to strive for great things? What happens when somebody grows bored with a life devoid of risk? The story portrays daredevil antics, such as manually driving a car without a safety in use, as an act of social deviance. Therein the text evokes serious questions about how we protect ourselves. I’m reminded of a recent news story that saw a school ban the use of balls on the playground as a means of reducing scraped elbows and other sundry childhood bumps and bruises. It’s quite obvious that Turning it Off takes safety to the point of absurdity, but in doing so it reminds readers just how slippery a slope regulating common sense can be. Not to mention it illustrates an essential truth that some people are always going to see rules as a thing to circumvent, rather than respect.

The Most Memorable Part

One of Carter’s first actions after Sam deactivates his safety is to touch a hot stove. It’s a quintessential childhood experience from which most of us learn abstractions like pain. In that moment Carter discovers a part of his humanity that society had hidden in its attempt to protect him, and everybody else, from the dangers of being alive.

The Bottom Line

Without any heavy world building, Turning it Off creates a fully realized environment, and then populates it with characters whose actions are sci-fi inspired extensions of our society’s current obsession with interconnectivity and safety. If you haven’t read any of Susan Forest’s other writing, then this is a fine place to start. Turning it Off was first published in the December 2011 issue of Analog Science Fiction and Fact.

Next week, I wrap up the Aurora Award short fiction nominees with a look at Suzanne Church’s The Needle’s Eye.

Remember that you too can have a voice in deciding who goes home with Aurora glory. Membership in the CSFFA gets you a voting ballot and access a veritable library of high quality fiction.


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