Now that I’ve finally completed the last round of edits for Citizen in the Wilds short of anything that comes from test reads, I can turn my attention to other projects. I have a few on my plate but first and foremost is a deadline approaching with all of the inevitablity of a steam locomotive with a beard in place of its cow-catcher.
It needs to be horror and it needs to be set in or about a vacation. That’s about all we have to go on, other than the word count. So how do we begin. What sort of horror do we invoke?
I’ve done the horror thing before and met with moderate success. But I don’t want to rely as much as the supernatural I did in my previous work. Buckets of blood and disgusting monsters doesn’t necessarily make something a horror story. What does, then?
Once again, I direct your attention to the excellent and insightful Extra Credits:
Horror is about human psychology. It’s about understanding those primal fears that have tormented mankind since its early history. Horror is about the irrational and the breakdown of our modern faith in logic and the fundamental order of the world. Horror is about all those things that drive us towards our darker impulses and justify our most bestial actions. Horror is about hopelessness, and facing things so unimaginably greater than ourselves that, for all of our self-importance and assurance of our place in the world, we’re nothing before them.
To me, this is very nearly an outline of the major points a good horror story needs to touch upon to be a true member of that genre. If you rely on jump-out scares or grotesqueness, you’re missing the point. Shock is not the same as horror. Shock fades after a few moments. Horror fucks with your head.
Here’s an example. Villains do things for deeply personal reasons. Those reasons do not necessarily need to be explained to the audience. If you want to make your villain terrifying, regardless of what genre you’re in, keeping their motivations inscrutable even as we get to view their personality can introduce an element of horror into the story. Lay their motivations bare, however, or attempt to obfuscate their drives behind quirky logic or language and you’ll undermine the sentiment of dread you wish to convey. I’m lookin’ at you, Mass Effect.
Give me more examples of true horror as opposed to failures. When have you been shocked, compared to when you’ve been deeply disturbed? These are the sort of things I’ll be contemplating over the next week as I frame this story. I have an idea, and ways to make it interesting, but making sure it fits into the horror genre as a whole instead of just playing with the occasional scare will be the real challenge.
Espionage and fabulous cloaks are the Darlok’s specialities.
A lot of my friends and co-workers have been losing quite a bit of free time to Civilization V. Had I the free resources, I’d be very likely to join them. Civ 5 is the latest in a very long and storied tradition amongst computer games, one I grew up with. The best way to describe these games beyond a generic moniker like “turn-based strategy” is to call them “4X” games.
The term was first coined by Alan Emrich back in ’93. “4X” or XXXX if you’re feeling saucy stands for eXploration, eXpansion, eXploitation and eXtermination. Basically, you explore the map presented to you in the game, expand your territory as much as possible, exploit resources and technology to get ahead and exterminate your competition, through canny diplomacy or straight-up explosions.
Emrich used this term in the preview of the game Master of Orion. It was the first 4X game I really latched on to, mostly due to my nerdy interest in sci-fi during my formative years. Playing it now, through the wonders of DOS Box, it still holds a lot of the addictive qualities I remember – straightforward gameplay, interesting races and plenty of technology to research. The MIDI music, graphics and combat systems are a bit dated, to be sure, and I’m glad that the sequel did some different things with ship designs, the interface and diversity in systems and events.
Playing these older games is satisfying the urge I have to try out the new Civilization, which I still might do when I have the means to pick it up while still keeping the lights & heat on.
Did you catch the Civ V bug? Have you played 4X games? If so, what’s your favorite?
As much as I love BioWare, I can’t shake the notion they’ve gone in the wrong direction.
You see, they’re developing a Star Wars MMO. Granted, it’s set in the wildly popular and surprisingly rich universe of the Old Republic, the same as their previous RPGs and some of the best comics written in that universe (in my opinion). So while I’m cautiously optimistic and might try out the beta if I can, I don’t think I’ll be buying it.
If they had developed a different game, I think they’d be getting a lot more of my cash. And not just mine.
What I’m driving at is, BioWare should needs to develop a Mass Effect MMO.
I know there are arguments why this shouldn’t be done. A lot of people who play single-player games like Mass Effect despise MMOs. And I can understand their sentiment. I agree that I wouldn’t want a game that’s just World of Warcraft in space. I think that as the Mass Effect games continue to evolve, the combat system is becoming more refined, and porting that into an MMO would work as a nice change from the usual MMO method of point-and-clicking something to death.
Other people seem to think that having a massive amount of players in the universe will ruin the universe. Granted, you’ll definitely have people running around trying to be nothing more than Shepard 2.0, the latest and greatest Spectre who doesn’t play by the rules and is out looking for answers and is letting their assault rifle do the talking and their assault rifle speaks very loudly and rapidly. But there’s something out there that both gives me hope that this would be a minor problem and encourages for me the idea of an MMO in this universe working.
Established concurrently with Mass Effect 2, the CDN is an in-universe news bulletin board. They added a commentary box to it for visitors to use. Role-players were drawn to this like moths to a sci-fi lens flare. An official forum has become attached and the sheer amount of storytelling going on, for better or worse, is staggering.
I hope this community continues to thrive. To me, this is evidence that people want to play within the Mass Effect universe as somebody other than Shepard. Now, it may simply continue in this vein if Star Wars: The Old Republic fills the LucasArts/BioWare MMO niche, or they may expand into new territory with a Mass Effect MMO. I’m curious to see what happens.
Then again, maybe this is just my bitterness towards Lucas coloring my opinion. As I said, the Old Republic portion of the Star Wars universe has provided us with some great stories so far. Maybe an MMO set there will satisfy the sci-fi role-players unfulfilled by EVE Online and the lack of role-playing freedom in Mass Effect. It could very well be that, between the CDN and the folks who go into the Old Republic, a Mass Effect MMO would prove to be unnecessary.
I’d still rather play that than another Star Wars game, though. That’s just my opinion.
Until we know more for sure, I’ll continue checking out the CDN. It’s an interesting look at the sort of role-players drawn to the Mass Effect universe, if nothing else.
Remember that stuff I said last week about science fiction? In that context, an animated space western was being discussed. On the Moh’s Scale of Science Fiction Hardness, I’d probably put Titan A.E. at between 0 and 1 out of 8. Duncan Jones’ Moon, on the other hand, comfortably sits between 6 and 7. It also makes itself at home in your brain, and if yours is anything like mine, it’s not going to leave any time soon.
Earth’s energy crisis has been solved thanks to the utilization of helium-3 deposits on the Moon. The mining operation is the sole propriety of the Lunar Corporation, and its base on the moon’s far side is run by Sam Bell. Sam’s 3-year contract is almost up. Other than the occasional video message from his wife keeping him up to speed on their infant daughter, his only company has been the base’s computer, GERTY. The tenure at the station is beginning to take its toll, however, since Sam is starting to see things. He’s very much looking forward to going home when one of the harvesters breaks down. Sam goes to check it out, and… well, things gets really interesting really fast. I’ll say that much, and no more.
In terms of aesthetics, hard science and mood, Moon feels very much like a spiritual successor to 2001. In fact, Duncan Jones does seem to have taken at least a few notes from Stanley Kubrick. Without relying on showy computer graphics or big name talent, Jones has shoot a film that is at times breathtakingly beautiful and shockingly intimate. But remember how in 2001, we had to wait over an hour and watch stuff float around in space before we got a memorable character? Moon gives us a character right the hell away. And it’s a damn good one.
Sam Rockwell has always struck me as something of an underrated performer. He’s been in science fiction since his big break in Galaxy Quest, where among heavyweights like Tim Allen, Sigorney Weaver and Alan Rickman, he provided a memorable and very funny performance in what could have been a throw-away role. Especially since he was the ‘red shirt’ in the party. It’s really a shame that Iron Man 2 didn’t have more for Justin Hammer to do, focused as it was on Tony Stark wrestling with his demons and learning to get along better with the people around him. If you don’t think Rockwell’s got charisma, watch The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy. Yes, I know, it’s not as good as the book, but Sam as the vacuous party-president Zaphod has got charisma oozing out of his pores.
Here, Sam gives a very poignant and subdued performance, but no less charismatic, as… well, Sam. In fact, Jones wrote the part of Sam with Sam in mind, after Sam expressed a further interest in science fiction. He handed the script to Nathan Parker, who’s also familiar with Sam’s work and tailored the script to take advantage on a vast well of untapped talent. There’s a lot of it here, too, from the still and slow-moving camera work by cinematographer Gary Shaw that underscores many themes of the film to Clint Mansell’s simple yet haunting score.
However, this is very nearly a one-man show. The bulk of the heavy lifting in Moon is the responsibility of Sam Rockwell. The film’s story, emotional drive and thematic meaning all live and die based on Sam’s ability to convey those story points, those emotions, those themes. And in every aspect, he displays an adroit mastery. We see so many sides of the same character that… well, again, saying more will spoil things. So let’s move on.
Not Pictured: The note reading “HUGE SUCCESS.”
I say it’s “nearly” a one-man show because Sam (the character) isn’t 100% alone. The station’s computer system, GERTY, interfaces with Sam by way of a mobile device bound to a single rail that traverses the station’s interior. GERTY claims to be there to help Sam, as it watches the human through an inscrutable single lens and manipulates the environment with its robotic arms. The computer is voiced by Kevin Spacey, in a smooth and soothing tone that… ahh, there I go again, very nearly spoiling the movie for you.
Seriously, this is one of those films you must see to fully appreciate. I can only ramble on about characters for so long without approaching the border of spoiler territory, and talking about all the technical aspects can get kind of dull even when it’s nothing but absolute praise. There is, however, something I feel I should touch on that has nothing to do with either the particulars of Moon‘s story or of its production.
“What do you mean, ‘I can’t open the pod bay doors’? We don’t even have pods!”
Remember me mentioning Moh’s? It’s unfortunate that, on that scale, a lot of the science fiction we see these days barely rates above a 4. Now, there’s nothing wrong with this and a lot of good stories are told on the softer side of science — Firefly, Battlestar Galactica, Gattaca and District 9 just to name a few — but some of the best fiction is born out of constraints. Some shorter works have more punch and poignancy than novels, due to the author needing to get to his point and drive it home within a restricted word count. Existing as it does on the hard side of Moh’s scale and clocking in at a deceptive-sounding 97 minutes, Moon shows us the kind of story that can be told with the discarding of things like faster than light travel, ray guns and long loving shots of docking sequences set to classical music — a damn good one.
Hard or soft, the best science fiction out there isn’t just about the trappings of the genre. I mean laser cannons, jump drives, killer robots and space whores are cool and fun, sure. But good science fiction, the kind that sticks with you after the space battles are over and the ship pulls in to dock, uses its awesome trappings to draw you in and then teaches you something about the human condition, about who we are and where we’re going. Instead of a grand scale of intergalactic conflict or system-spanning action, Moon has its focus squarely on us here on Earth. By maintaining this tight focus, we experience through the character of Sam Bell some of the things we ourselves deal with despite the fact we’re surrounded by other people every day. In spite of that, some of us can empathize with Sam’s loneliness. We ask ourselves some of the same questions: How much longer do I have? What’s waiting for me after this? Who am I?
Sam can see his house from here. Kinda.
On top of everything else, the film captures a sense of mystery and suspense that feels fresh and edgy despite the jaded lens through which many watch movies. If Hitchcock were alive today and interested in science fiction, Moon might be a production of his. Its story moves at its own patient pace, much like GERTY’s unflappable patience with Sam. While it’s only an hour and a half long, it feels much longer and much deeper. It follows the traditions of Smith, Heinlein and Niven in using elements both familiar and fantastical to tell an intricate and pointed story about humanity. In other words, this is what high-quality science fiction looks like stripped of hyperbolic special effects and presented with the purest intent and passion of the genre. Moon is, in a word, exemplary. It’s on your Netflix Instant queue. Or rather, it should be. Right now.
Josh Loomis can’t always make it to the local megaplex, and thus must turn to alternative forms of cinematic entertainment. There might not be overpriced soda pop & over-buttered popcorn, and it’s unclear if this week’s film came in the mail or was delivered via the dark & mysterious tubes of the Internet. Only one thing is certain… IT CAME FROM NETFLIX.
Yesterday my good friend Rick over at Word Asylum brought up some classic villains. What stuck out in his pretty comprehensive top ten list was the presence of one Darth Vader. I was reminded of what he, and Star Wars in general, were like when it was first introduced. I discussed him briefly back when I talked about villainy in general. Let’s go back a bit, however, and examine one of the most iconic bad guys of the big screen a bit more closely.
Star Wars
Rooted as it was in the adventure serials that people like Lucas grew up with, having good and evil somewhat diametrically opposed was par for the course. Good guys were good, bad guys were bad. And they didn’t come badder than Darth Vader. We are introduced to Vader when his stormtroopers blast their way through a Rebel spacecraft, his motivations are clear when he strangles one of the ship’s officers and he’s more than willing to turn his significant strength and wrath against his own people if they question his faith or their orders. You don’t need a manual or novelization to understand Darth Vader. It’s laid out for you on the screen and, surprisingly enough considering later entries in the Star Wars series, it’s shown instead of told. When someone does try to tell instead of show, Vader chokes the bitch. “I find your lack of faith disturbing” is all that need be said.
The Empire Strikes Back
Rick described this as being Vader at “his lowest point, when the Dark Side firmly had him enthralled.” His loyalty and dedication to the Empire has given way this obsession with capturing Luke Skywalker. On the surface, this is a straightforward motivation – Luke humiliated Vader in battle, and Vader wants revenge. He’s willing to strangle anyone, destroy anything, sacrifice entire Star Destroyers and recruit the most insidious of bounty hunters to get what he wants. His villainy takes on a whole new dimension when it’s revealed that his pursuit of the Millenium Falcon is all a ploy to draw Luke out of hiding, and when Luke does appear, Vader goes from being a merely dark villainous presence to a deep and haunting one.
Vader, we discover, is Luke’s father. Beyond his desire to corrupt Luke and seduce him to the Dark Side, Vader wants Luke to join him, work with him and help him build a peaceful, orderly Empire. He wants to establish a true monarchy by deposing Palpatine, becoming Emperor himself and ensuring his son will succeed him and carry on his goals. It’s his way of seeking reconciliation. However, rather than trying to bridge the gap between them, Vader offers to yank Luke over to his side of things. It shows just how far Vader has fallen to the Dark Side, and what happens next is perhaps the greatest moment of storytelling in Star Wars to date.
When Luke chooses to face death rather than join his father, watch Vader closely. Without seeing his face, without saying a word, Vader conveys an emotion that pierces all his Force powers and imposing armor the way blasters never could. Luke breaks Vader’s heart. Not only is this a telling moment in the relationship between father and son, there’s a reveal here even more shocking than that of Luke’s parentage: Darth Vader, a deadly and cunning manipulative bastard of a villain, has a heart to break.
Star Wars never saw anything like this moment again. It shines as the pinnacle of the saga’s power and beyond everything that comes after, for me, it remains untouched.
Return of the Jedi
There’s a huge difference between the Vader in the first two films and the Vader in Jedi. He sounds weary. He’s still driven and loyal, but the wound he suffered on Cloud City still bleeds inside of him. Inside that dark armor wages a battle between the man he wants to be – Luke’s father, someone the boy will admire and want to be with – and the servant of the Empire he has become. When Luke reappears in Vader’s life, he makes another attempt to appeal for the young man’s favor. In response, Luke searches for the smaller side of the internal struggle he feels, the man Vader once was.
Vader as a villain is no less effective in Jedi but his motivations are now far more personal, the sort of things we see in the closing acts of a Greek tragedy. Brought low by his actions, responsible for the deaths of friends and loved ones, Vader must face his own demons and put them to rest even at the expense of his own life. In the process, he finally wins the adoration of his son. The tragedy of his adult life is left far behind as he achieves his redemption. It’s this cycle, falling into darkness only to struggle back to the light regardless of cost, that defines many of Star Wars‘ better tales, such as that of Ulic Qel-Droma.
Everything After
When the prequels were announced, fans looked forward to seeing what Anakin was like before becoming Vader, discovering the details of his fall and fully understanding the pathos beneath the armor. Instead, we got a whiny, willful, selfish and ill-conceived brat with no real charisma, no redeeming values and little to offer the precious few tangible threads of story laid out by Lucas. By focusing on spectacle and merchandising, Lucas tore out the fangs of his greatest success entirely.
When you have potential like this, you shouldn’t let it go to waste. Take some time to consider the groundwork that’s been laid before you build something new. It’snothard. I hate to keep coming back to this, but if I can throw together something in a weekend that people feel is better structured than a multi-million dollar production, the people that invest that money should be more willing to take a closer look on where their money is actually going.
But that’s just me. I’m a wide-eyed idealist and a starving artist, and for what it’s worth, I miss Darth Vader.
