I finally took advantage of living in Los Angeles and went to see a film in limited release. Of course, all that really means is that for the first time in a year, a movie came out that was intriguing enough to be worth the extra effort and parking fees. Raleigh's highways may be confusing, and Tyson's Corner more crowded than a Wal-Mart on the wrong side of Pennsylvania, but both pale in comparison to the terrors of The Grove.
It was worth it. Children of Men is fantastic.
Assuming you've browsed other reviews, you're familiar with the "most realized dystopian future since Blade Runner" meme. I can't argue with that, though I would add a caveat. Blade Runner is a projection of what the world might have looked like if everything continued to go wrong after 1982. Children of Men depicts a horrible future that is already happening.
The novel The Children of Men uses the premise of an infertility pandemic to explore issues of civil liberties versus security; the consequences of selfishness at personal, familial, and societal levels; and what drives people to power and how power affects those who acquire it. Those aspects are all featured in the film's plot, but it struck me as having a more singular theme: what little value we have for human life. With one or two exceptions, every time a character died in Children of Men, I was shocked. When characters who had only been on screen for 15 seconds were killed, I was horrified. In contrast to the other "serious," "political," and "adult" movies previewed before the film, when something exploded in Children of Men, it wasn't flashy and pretty. It was senseless.
I'm not a war movie person. Even when the message of a war movie is that war is bad, I know a lot of people will watch it and think, "Dude, that part where the guy's flamethrower tank blew up? That was awesome!" What amazed me about Children of Men is that its portrayal of violence was so unglamourous. Even justified deaths lacked satisfaction. You'd have to be a sociopath to enjoy the waste of life in this movie, and this is coming from a guy who thinks a world without children would have its advantages.
The idea that if people became incapable of reproduction we'd still be killing each other is haunting. To imagine that if someone was suddenly able to procreate in such a setting we still wouldn't put down our guns is even worse. But the greatest impact this movie had on me was that this random, pointless waste of life is happening every day, and we just don't see it.
Children of Men isn't science fiction. It's what we ignore about today.
Sunday, December 31, 2006
Friday, December 29, 2006
A Vow Fufilled
Due to the following, I am morally obligated to approve of the Scott Pilgrim series, by Brian Lee O'Malley. (Warning: link provides no evidence that I'm right.)
1- The main story begins with an anime-styled love triangle between Scott Pilgrim, his current girlfriend, and the girl of his dreams.
2- His roommate locks Pilgrim out of his apartment. The roommate demands that Pilgrim make his decision, and break up with "His fake girlfriend" before he'll be allowed back inside.
3- Pilgrim does so, and never looks back.
It's about damn time that happened. Also, a "How appropriate, you fight like a cow," will win me over exactly three out of four times.
A similar vow once caused me to read the entire The Night's Dawn books by Peter F. Hamilton. If I had known the name of the trilogy beforehand, I probably would have never picked up the first one. But once I found out that the books were about mankind's war against humans who had turned into beings of pure energy, I had to read it.
Oh, I hates beings of pure energy. Especially when people turn into them at the end of a book. This explains my anger when at the Deus Ex Machintastic ending, a main character turns into a being of even purer energy, and makes everything right with a wave of his kilowatt hand.
Really, I should've seen that coming.
1- The main story begins with an anime-styled love triangle between Scott Pilgrim, his current girlfriend, and the girl of his dreams.
2- His roommate locks Pilgrim out of his apartment. The roommate demands that Pilgrim make his decision, and break up with "His fake girlfriend" before he'll be allowed back inside.
3- Pilgrim does so, and never looks back.
It's about damn time that happened. Also, a "How appropriate, you fight like a cow," will win me over exactly three out of four times.
A similar vow once caused me to read the entire The Night's Dawn books by Peter F. Hamilton. If I had known the name of the trilogy beforehand, I probably would have never picked up the first one. But once I found out that the books were about mankind's war against humans who had turned into beings of pure energy, I had to read it.
Oh, I hates beings of pure energy. Especially when people turn into them at the end of a book. This explains my anger when at the Deus Ex Machintastic ending, a main character turns into a being of even purer energy, and makes everything right with a wave of his kilowatt hand.
Really, I should've seen that coming.
Wednesday, December 27, 2006
An End of the Year Music List
I hate lists. I think they're easy, useless, and resent paying for them. It infuriates me to see magazines and newspapers publishing lists of the best games/TV shows/movies/books/comics/plays of the year (or ever). And don't get me started about lists on podcasts. Yes, GeeksOn was the first place I ever heard about the Necronomicon pillow, but I just don't give a crap about what characters readers would cast the writers of TV Guide as in Buffy or Grey's Anatomy.
But here at CF&S, we're writing text for the Internet, where we don't get paid to make lists and you don't have to pay anything to read them. For me, that makes the phenomenon tolerable. And it wouldn't look like the last week of the year on a web site without a list, would it? So here's mine, The Top 5 Songs I First Heard This Year That Still Bliss Me Out.
5. "ReYourBrains" (Thing A Week Two, Jonathan Coulton)
Mmm, brains. Like most of the songs on this list, this was a toss-up. Coulton's better-known single, "Code Monkey," manages to rock and be surprisingly sweet at the same time. But this is the song that I bought the T-shirt for, and I have never bought a music T-shirt in my life.
4. "In This Together" (You and Me Against the World, Apoptygma Berzerk)
Completeing their journey from synthpop to dance to rock, Apop finally fulfilled Mr. Bile's hopes and released a studio album with the same energy as their live one. The whole album makes me feel happy, but this song in particular has a "played over the end credits of a movie with shots of the main characters dancing" feeling that I really dig. Check out the real version yourself, because you'll only hear the dance remix at goth roller-skating night.
3. "Nursehellamentary" (Rhyme Torrents Volume I, Nursehella)
This was the year I was forcibly exposed to nerdcore, and surprisingly, I liked it. With both MC Frontalot and Weird Al in the mix, it was hard to choose just one nerdcore song to put on this list. I picked Nursehella because she embraced the braggadocio popular in non-nerd rap without mocking it or using it as an excuse for white-boy misogyny. The lyrics are actually kind of hot. My decision was cemented when I checked out her My Space profile, where she describes herself like a sexy Tycho Brahe would.
2. "Night of the Vampire" (Gremlins Have Pictures, Roky Erickson)
Sometimes not finding what you put into the search bar on iTunes has its rewards. I don't even know what subgenre this is. What I do know is that gets stuck in your head, evokes a cool mental picture, and has great misheard lyrics. I stand in the darkness with no porn.
1. "The New Kid" (Drag It Up, The Old '97s)
Another toss-up. Slither has an awesome, thematically appropriate soundtrack. But the Yayhoo's "Baby I Love You" seems to strike a nerve with some women, so "The New Kid" it is. And, yes, it is alt-country.
Most of the above are available for sampling and download via iTunes. "ReYourBrains," "Code Monkey," and other Jonathan Coulton songs may still be available there for free if you subscribe to his podcast. "Nursehellamentary" can be heard in full here.
The usual cheating honorary mentions go to Bear McCreary, The NESkimos, The Oddz, the aforementioned MC Frontalot, MC Hawking, and Rappy McRapperson. Oh, and Lordi. They destroy cheerleaders.
But here at CF&S, we're writing text for the Internet, where we don't get paid to make lists and you don't have to pay anything to read them. For me, that makes the phenomenon tolerable. And it wouldn't look like the last week of the year on a web site without a list, would it? So here's mine, The Top 5 Songs I First Heard This Year That Still Bliss Me Out.
5. "ReYourBrains" (Thing A Week Two, Jonathan Coulton)
Mmm, brains. Like most of the songs on this list, this was a toss-up. Coulton's better-known single, "Code Monkey," manages to rock and be surprisingly sweet at the same time. But this is the song that I bought the T-shirt for, and I have never bought a music T-shirt in my life.
4. "In This Together" (You and Me Against the World, Apoptygma Berzerk)
Completeing their journey from synthpop to dance to rock, Apop finally fulfilled Mr. Bile's hopes and released a studio album with the same energy as their live one. The whole album makes me feel happy, but this song in particular has a "played over the end credits of a movie with shots of the main characters dancing" feeling that I really dig. Check out the real version yourself, because you'll only hear the dance remix at goth roller-skating night.
3. "Nursehellamentary" (Rhyme Torrents Volume I, Nursehella)
This was the year I was forcibly exposed to nerdcore, and surprisingly, I liked it. With both MC Frontalot and Weird Al in the mix, it was hard to choose just one nerdcore song to put on this list. I picked Nursehella because she embraced the braggadocio popular in non-nerd rap without mocking it or using it as an excuse for white-boy misogyny. The lyrics are actually kind of hot. My decision was cemented when I checked out her My Space profile, where she describes herself like a sexy Tycho Brahe would.
2. "Night of the Vampire" (Gremlins Have Pictures, Roky Erickson)
Sometimes not finding what you put into the search bar on iTunes has its rewards. I don't even know what subgenre this is. What I do know is that gets stuck in your head, evokes a cool mental picture, and has great misheard lyrics. I stand in the darkness with no porn.
1. "The New Kid" (Drag It Up, The Old '97s)
Another toss-up. Slither has an awesome, thematically appropriate soundtrack. But the Yayhoo's "Baby I Love You" seems to strike a nerve with some women, so "The New Kid" it is. And, yes, it is alt-country.
Most of the above are available for sampling and download via iTunes. "ReYourBrains," "Code Monkey," and other Jonathan Coulton songs may still be available there for free if you subscribe to his podcast. "Nursehellamentary" can be heard in full here.
The usual cheating honorary mentions go to Bear McCreary, The NESkimos, The Oddz, the aforementioned MC Frontalot, MC Hawking, and Rappy McRapperson. Oh, and Lordi. They destroy cheerleaders.
Tuesday, December 26, 2006
Viewed: Altered and Lady In The Water
"There is no originality left in the world, Mr. Heep. That is a sad fact I've come to live with."
Altered is the movie Feast wanted to be. Hell, it's the movie we wanted Bubba Ho-Tep to be. A bunch of hillbilly alien abductees have been waiting in the woods for years, hoping to catch an alien of their own for revenge. "But mostly it was about the drinking." When the aliens finally return, they capture one and take it to a remote wilderness compound. The actions of assholes and innocents cause characters to die in an unpredictable order.
The budget is low, the acting isn't that great, and the dialogue could use some punching up. But the movie gets the beats right, an impressive feat for a horror/comedy. The plotting is dead on and the jokes work. There are a few nifty revelations along the way, and some of the plot twists turn out to be punchlines. And in a nice throwback, the aliens are little green men with sharp teeth.
You have to hand it to Eduardo Sanchez, co-writer/co-director of The Blair Witch Project. He sure knows how to make a scary movie about a bunch of jerks screaming at each other and screwing each other over. And now he can do it without giving you a headache.
"What type of person would be so arrogant to assume the intention of another human being?"
Me, for one. Or anyone who reads a book, watches a movie, or views a painting, for that matter. Thanks for asking, Joe Rogan.
Okay, Joe Rogan doesn't actually play the evil movie critic in M. Night Shymalan's Lady in the Water. But he might as well be in there shouting, "If you think this sucks so much, why don't you make a movie?" Ignoring the actual answer (I promised I would never do that again, the evidence might still be out there somewhere and now we have YouTube), I'd ask a question in response. "If you're going to attempt to create art, why shouldn't we be allowed to judge it?"
A quick recap for anyone who regularly avoids reviews of movies they know they will hate: Lady in the Water is the story of an friendly Los Angeles apartment superintendent (it's nice to know screenwriters on both coasts don't know what the hell they're talking about) who befriends a sea creature from the Blue World. She appears in the swimming pool of his apartment complex because she needs to be seen by someone who will change the world. That someone happens to be a writer played by M. Night Shymalan, who is writing a book that will change history after he's killed for publishing his crazy ideas about peace in the first place.
(Oh, and the creature's name is Story and for some reason the superintendent never offers her pants. Dude, if you want to make movies about your fetish for Ron Howard's daughter, do it on your own time, like your fictional counterpart in The Skin Gods.)
You have to give props to M. Night for putting himself in the role of the messiah. Unless he cast Mel Gibson again, we would have assumed the character was supposed to be him anyway. The real problem surfaces after that, when the superintendent tries to get the sea creature back to her homeworld. As it turns out, she requires the services of several archetypes to aid her in her return: a witness, a healer, an interpreter, a guild... (This is all delivered through racist portrayals of Korean-Americans. Old Asian ladies are the new Magical African-American Friends.) Not knowing who to turn to, the superintendent asks the advice of the resident film critic.
This is the point at which it becomes understandable why no one knows the definition of "irony" anymore. Everything the film critic says in the movie is true until M. Night says it's not. The critic's analysis of romantic comedy, his previously italicized opinion of originality, and his original interpretation of which apartment residents fulfill what archetypes are all on the money. Why shouldn't the pot smokers be the guild? Why isn't the crossword puzzle guy the interpreter? Because a movie critic said so and every justifiable opinion he reached is wrong.
Several critics alluded to the twist of Lady in the Water when it came out and how it was cheating, but they wouldn't reveal what it was. Allow me to put in in clear terms. The twist in Lady in the Water is that a writer/director who is known for spelling out what is exactly going on, be it via flashbacks or television and radio announcements, the guy who provided an animated prologue for his latest film because he thinks we're too stupid to get it, is now an unreliable narrator. Who saw that coming?
That's the last time I defend Unbreakable.
Altered is the movie Feast wanted to be. Hell, it's the movie we wanted Bubba Ho-Tep to be. A bunch of hillbilly alien abductees have been waiting in the woods for years, hoping to catch an alien of their own for revenge. "But mostly it was about the drinking." When the aliens finally return, they capture one and take it to a remote wilderness compound. The actions of assholes and innocents cause characters to die in an unpredictable order.
The budget is low, the acting isn't that great, and the dialogue could use some punching up. But the movie gets the beats right, an impressive feat for a horror/comedy. The plotting is dead on and the jokes work. There are a few nifty revelations along the way, and some of the plot twists turn out to be punchlines. And in a nice throwback, the aliens are little green men with sharp teeth.
You have to hand it to Eduardo Sanchez, co-writer/co-director of The Blair Witch Project. He sure knows how to make a scary movie about a bunch of jerks screaming at each other and screwing each other over. And now he can do it without giving you a headache.
"What type of person would be so arrogant to assume the intention of another human being?"
Me, for one. Or anyone who reads a book, watches a movie, or views a painting, for that matter. Thanks for asking, Joe Rogan.
Okay, Joe Rogan doesn't actually play the evil movie critic in M. Night Shymalan's Lady in the Water. But he might as well be in there shouting, "If you think this sucks so much, why don't you make a movie?" Ignoring the actual answer (I promised I would never do that again, the evidence might still be out there somewhere and now we have YouTube), I'd ask a question in response. "If you're going to attempt to create art, why shouldn't we be allowed to judge it?"
A quick recap for anyone who regularly avoids reviews of movies they know they will hate: Lady in the Water is the story of an friendly Los Angeles apartment superintendent (it's nice to know screenwriters on both coasts don't know what the hell they're talking about) who befriends a sea creature from the Blue World. She appears in the swimming pool of his apartment complex because she needs to be seen by someone who will change the world. That someone happens to be a writer played by M. Night Shymalan, who is writing a book that will change history after he's killed for publishing his crazy ideas about peace in the first place.
(Oh, and the creature's name is Story and for some reason the superintendent never offers her pants. Dude, if you want to make movies about your fetish for Ron Howard's daughter, do it on your own time, like your fictional counterpart in The Skin Gods.)
You have to give props to M. Night for putting himself in the role of the messiah. Unless he cast Mel Gibson again, we would have assumed the character was supposed to be him anyway. The real problem surfaces after that, when the superintendent tries to get the sea creature back to her homeworld. As it turns out, she requires the services of several archetypes to aid her in her return: a witness, a healer, an interpreter, a guild... (This is all delivered through racist portrayals of Korean-Americans. Old Asian ladies are the new Magical African-American Friends.) Not knowing who to turn to, the superintendent asks the advice of the resident film critic.
This is the point at which it becomes understandable why no one knows the definition of "irony" anymore. Everything the film critic says in the movie is true until M. Night says it's not. The critic's analysis of romantic comedy, his previously italicized opinion of originality, and his original interpretation of which apartment residents fulfill what archetypes are all on the money. Why shouldn't the pot smokers be the guild? Why isn't the crossword puzzle guy the interpreter? Because a movie critic said so and every justifiable opinion he reached is wrong.
Several critics alluded to the twist of Lady in the Water when it came out and how it was cheating, but they wouldn't reveal what it was. Allow me to put in in clear terms. The twist in Lady in the Water is that a writer/director who is known for spelling out what is exactly going on, be it via flashbacks or television and radio announcements, the guy who provided an animated prologue for his latest film because he thinks we're too stupid to get it, is now an unreliable narrator. Who saw that coming?
That's the last time I defend Unbreakable.
Monday, December 25, 2006
Yes, Virginia, There Is Typecasting
I was expecting reruns today on NPR. Instead, I heard a live discussion about The Great Scrooges. To paraphrase:
Host: "Here's a clip of Starfleet Captain Patrick Stewart taking a turn as Ebeneezer Scrooge..."
Caller: "Well, he was a Shakespearean actor before he was in Star Trek."
Host: "I suppose so."
Caller: "I loved Michael Caine in A Muppet Christmas Carol..."
Host: "I don't think anyone can see him without seeing Alfie."
Caller: "My favorite Scrooge was Henry Winkler."
Host: "Aaayyyyyy?"
Host: "Here's a clip of Starfleet Captain Patrick Stewart taking a turn as Ebeneezer Scrooge..."
Caller: "Well, he was a Shakespearean actor before he was in Star Trek."
Host: "I suppose so."
Caller: "I loved Michael Caine in A Muppet Christmas Carol..."
Host: "I don't think anyone can see him without seeing Alfie."
Caller: "My favorite Scrooge was Henry Winkler."
Host: "Aaayyyyyy?"
Friday, December 22, 2006
Exposition
There are worse reasons than Christmas for a lack of compelling content. The fake holiday I hated the most was E3. For those who were blissfully unaware, the Electronics Entertainment Expo was a week long festival attended by anyone who had ever thought about making a video game. Each entrant would bring videotapes of what they thought their videogame would be like, assuming they had unlimited cash and technology from the future. If the entrant had any money left over from outsourcing their video footage, they would hire a scantily clad woman to stand beside a cardboard fort. During E3, every website that had ever been connected to videogames would alter its format to only talk about E3's hypothetical game experience. This lack of real content would continue for another week afterwards, or two if the reader was really lucky.
I put this in the past tense because E3 has finally died, for unspecified reasons. Expect two to three years of glorious silence before a new media-glomming exposition takes its place.
Christmas might have more of an impact on the web, but at least the reader is expecting this... and if they're lucky, their content providers have too. In case you're desperate, I've taken the liberty of adding Marketplace to the Tolerable Podcasts section. It puts Narraptor to sleep, but I love it for reasons obscured by my mysterious past.
Otherwise, there are always books if you're desperate for content. I suggest grabbing a random mystery with a decent title, and we can all enjoy being underwhelmed together. My latest choice was The Water Clock. As with most mysteries that lack a gimmicked main character, the inside of the book jacket desperately spoils plot points in a desperate attempt to hook you. This one was notable for revealing that the main character's investigations will solve a mystery from his own tragic past. The actual contents of the book give no clue that this is the case, until the last four pages. Also, the title itself is a spoiler, and yet has virtually nothing to do with the book.
Now that I think about it, that's a rather impressive trick.
I put this in the past tense because E3 has finally died, for unspecified reasons. Expect two to three years of glorious silence before a new media-glomming exposition takes its place.
Christmas might have more of an impact on the web, but at least the reader is expecting this... and if they're lucky, their content providers have too. In case you're desperate, I've taken the liberty of adding Marketplace to the Tolerable Podcasts section. It puts Narraptor to sleep, but I love it for reasons obscured by my mysterious past.
Otherwise, there are always books if you're desperate for content. I suggest grabbing a random mystery with a decent title, and we can all enjoy being underwhelmed together. My latest choice was The Water Clock. As with most mysteries that lack a gimmicked main character, the inside of the book jacket desperately spoils plot points in a desperate attempt to hook you. This one was notable for revealing that the main character's investigations will solve a mystery from his own tragic past. The actual contents of the book give no clue that this is the case, until the last four pages. Also, the title itself is a spoiler, and yet has virtually nothing to do with the book.
Now that I think about it, that's a rather impressive trick.
Newsflash
Thank you, JK Rowling, for the excellent pre-Xmas gift. The title of the final Harry Potter novel is Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. Mrs. Rowling, you are so metal.
'Tis The Season No One Updates
I wanted to take a moment today to highlight our highly selective list of linked content, but this is probably the worst time of the year to do so.
It is the last workday before the Christmas and New Year's holidays, which means most web sites will not be updated for a week and a half at best. The links we offer here will only lead you to "best of the year" articles (or a list of "best articles of the year"), pre-generated content with no immediacy, movie reviews written weeks ahead of time, and podcasts that will return in 2007.
It would seem to be a bad week for those of us stuck at the office. (What the hell am I supposed to listen to on my commute? Music?) But never fear. Canned Food and Shotguns will still be updated on our usual irregular schedule throughout the holidays. So it will only suck for me, assuming I actually have time to browse the Internet at work, and Mr. Bile, who does not work in an office, much less The Office, which had the best Christmas episode ever.
I encourage anyone who missed the latter to pick it up via iTunes as a present to themselves. I know some of you might be on the torrents and believe information deserves to be free, but really, is $1.99 that bad a price for 42 minutes of information that contains the phrase: "We're going to Asian Hooters"?
And on the subject of Christmas presents, we may even have one or two for you next week. I already know what I'm getting you. If you have a wish list, send your suggestions to Mr. Bile immediately. I asked for a Tight Hat.
Hey, it's Christmas. I can make all the obscure references I want.
It is the last workday before the Christmas and New Year's holidays, which means most web sites will not be updated for a week and a half at best. The links we offer here will only lead you to "best of the year" articles (or a list of "best articles of the year"), pre-generated content with no immediacy, movie reviews written weeks ahead of time, and podcasts that will return in 2007.
It would seem to be a bad week for those of us stuck at the office. (What the hell am I supposed to listen to on my commute? Music?) But never fear. Canned Food and Shotguns will still be updated on our usual irregular schedule throughout the holidays. So it will only suck for me, assuming I actually have time to browse the Internet at work, and Mr. Bile, who does not work in an office, much less The Office, which had the best Christmas episode ever.
I encourage anyone who missed the latter to pick it up via iTunes as a present to themselves. I know some of you might be on the torrents and believe information deserves to be free, but really, is $1.99 that bad a price for 42 minutes of information that contains the phrase: "We're going to Asian Hooters"?
And on the subject of Christmas presents, we may even have one or two for you next week. I already know what I'm getting you. If you have a wish list, send your suggestions to Mr. Bile immediately. I asked for a Tight Hat.
Hey, it's Christmas. I can make all the obscure references I want.
Wednesday, December 20, 2006
Them! Vs. Christmas
Take a moment to perform one of the following sense memory exercises:
1) You are a young adult ofeither any sex and ethnic background walking on the sidewalk of a relatively safe Los Angeles neighborhood at night. If you don't know any better, you consider the air to be chilly and you can pretend that it's fall. The interstate emanates a constant white noise, and the air smells of that weird apartment building three blocks south. Suddenly, you see a Christmas tree thrown to the curb. A man emerges, kicking it furiously while it's down.
2) You are a slightly older young adult of any sex (but most likely female) and ethnic background (Thai? Vietnamese? Mmm. Viethaimese.) and you enter your apartment building's garage early in the morning. You are carrying a bag of trash, which reeks of cardboard from mail-order Christmas presents or just moving in. Living so close to the interstate, your ability to taste is inevitably dead. You open the door to the trash bin and see...(roll2d10)...a Christmas tree sticking out of the bin, still green, with lights still on it, a week before Christmas.
How do you react?
The understandable answer is "WTF?" But should you ever experience either of these scenarios in real life, allow me to fill you in on TF.
TF is that the Christmas tree someone paid $40 for, the first real one they ever acquired since moving out of their parents' house, was covered with ants.
1) You are a young adult of
2) You are a slightly older young adult of any sex (but most likely female) and ethnic background (Thai? Vietnamese? Mmm. Viethaimese.) and you enter your apartment building's garage early in the morning. You are carrying a bag of trash, which reeks of cardboard from mail-order Christmas presents or just moving in. Living so close to the interstate, your ability to taste is inevitably dead. You open the door to the trash bin and see...(roll2d10)...a Christmas tree sticking out of the bin, still green, with lights still on it, a week before Christmas.
How do you react?
The understandable answer is "WTF?" But should you ever experience either of these scenarios in real life, allow me to fill you in on TF.
TF is that the Christmas tree someone paid $40 for, the first real one they ever acquired since moving out of their parents' house, was covered with ants.
All Is Forgiven
After comparing Battlestar Galactica to the lowest of modern art forms on Saturday, I had the most wonderful dream: Boomer in a Japanese Asics competition swimsuit. The racerback opening showed off her beautiful glowing spine, and the translucent white lycra provided a hint of everything else.
Forget what I wrote earlier. Bestdream show evar.
Forget what I wrote earlier. Best
Sunday, December 17, 2006
The Mysterious Dean Stockwell
A discussion about the penultimate episode to BSG's demiseason will have to wait for a few more days. But along with the show needing more Baltar and more Zarek, I'd like to ask where Dean Stockwell's been hiding out. It's nice that he reappears for the important episodes, but it was distracting to wonder where the hell he had gone to for half of the season. His reappearance only serves to break my private hope that every Stockwell model had left to form their own renegade cylon armada.
I'm starting to suspect that BSG has never been very good about getting contracts set up with their cylon actors. For the longest time, I was convinced that there was a reason you never saw Religious Cylon interacting with the rest of his kind. The real reason turned out to be "to stretch the casting budget." This was perfectly fine in the beginning, but once you start killing off characters who won't commit to multiple seasons, it's bad form to turn around and only hire "real actors" for three episodes at a time. Especialy when they play characters who ought to be present in every episode.
For you non-BSG watchers out there, despite what Narraptor said there is no "frelling" in the cylon occupied world of the future. They've upgraded to "frakking," which is unfortunate for most everyone concerned. It must be said that things could have turned out worse. In my youth, I read Shadowrun novels where the reader was expected to take lines like "What the frag?" seriously. Harder science fiction authors would just substitute curse words from other languages, assuming you count Esperanto as a real language.
I dimly recall that Tad Williams had come up with some good fake curse words for his made-up future. He claimed that this was because you couldn't accurately predict what slang would be like even ten years from now, so you might as well just come up with a word that sounds good.
I'm starting to suspect that BSG has never been very good about getting contracts set up with their cylon actors. For the longest time, I was convinced that there was a reason you never saw Religious Cylon interacting with the rest of his kind. The real reason turned out to be "to stretch the casting budget." This was perfectly fine in the beginning, but once you start killing off characters who won't commit to multiple seasons, it's bad form to turn around and only hire "real actors" for three episodes at a time. Especialy when they play characters who ought to be present in every episode.
For you non-BSG watchers out there, despite what Narraptor said there is no "frelling" in the cylon occupied world of the future. They've upgraded to "frakking," which is unfortunate for most everyone concerned. It must be said that things could have turned out worse. In my youth, I read Shadowrun novels where the reader was expected to take lines like "What the frag?" seriously. Harder science fiction authors would just substitute curse words from other languages, assuming you count Esperanto as a real language.
I dimly recall that Tad Williams had come up with some good fake curse words for his made-up future. He claimed that this was because you couldn't accurately predict what slang would be like even ten years from now, so you might as well just come up with a word that sounds good.
Saturday, December 16, 2006
What The Frell?
It was not too long ago that I praised BSG as one of the best shows in season on television. At the beginning of season 3, I could not praise it highly enough. Now I've turned into an "each week is the worst episode ever" fan. What the frell happened?
The easy answer is M.A.N.T.I.S. But that is a disservice to Carl Lumbly, who I can only hope pops up in a Lost flashback sometime soon, since BSG obviously needs multiple black characters as much as it needs a bitter aerospace engineer.
The seeds of suck were already apparent in the first post-New Caprica episodes, and more observant friends of mine noticed dramatic changes in the dialogue as early as episode 2. Things have only worsened since then, with characters stating things we already know ("I know how it feels to lose a child"), expositing things that were just made up ("You know, my dad was really into the faith"), and anything that comes out of Callie's mouth. Don't be surprised if the next episode opens with Callie saying, "You know, Chief, assuming we live through this, I'll finally get that haircut I've been talking about."
I am usually the last person to conclude that a show has been raped by a panda, but when the dialogue goes to hell, that's a bad sign. I remember my shock at X-Files season 7, the one where they were "getting back to their roots." Mulder stopped talking like Mulder, and Scully and Skinner--Skinner!--did likewise. In the most recent episodes of BSG, conversations just seem too scripted. To mine the mid-season finale for examples: the giving up Baltar scene, the Sharon-Boomer confrontation, Helo's speech to Adama about Hera...
Watching those play out, I felt like I was watching TV. Or even worse, Battlestar Galactica the play.
The turning point for me was the boxing episode, which I still believe to be the best worst episode ever. It was worth it to see Chief get punched in the face and for the subtle acknowledgment that he does realize that, dude, Sharon is totally hot, Helo's a boring jock who doesn't deserve her, and Callie cares too much about their baby to do something with her bangs. But the story didn't make any sense. You have so few humans you outlaw abortion, but free-for-all boxing is okay? And the writers doubted our ability to get the point so much that it was delivered via metaphor, flashback, and monologue. Wasn't this supposed to be a smart person's show?
It's not like I never suspected this would happen. I knew something would go wrong when the series became popular enough to warrant 20-plus episodes a year instead of 12. People I trust have several interesting theories about where the show went astray or why it has yet to do so. One thinks they should have kept the conceit from "33", with the Cylons constantly chasing the humans towards Earth. And as far as I know, Mr. Bile still holds faith that the show's first and last episodes each season will totally kick ass. Allow me to present a different perspective, based in part on listening to 40 minutes of the BSG writer's meeting podcasts I previously linked.
1. There is no frelling plan.
2. The writers introduce concepts with no concern for their long-term impact. Remember when Cylons' spines turned red when they were having sex? Sure, maybe Boomer subconsciously always wanted to be on top so no one would notice. But after it turned out the Pegasus guys were having their way with a Six, it never came up again. Don't you think someone would have mentioned it as the ultimate Cylon detector? For that matter, does it happen with Cylon dudes as well?
3. The show lost its edge when they allowed a Six to off Admiral Cain. Having Starbuck back off from Galactica's assassination attempt wasn't a cop-out until an NPC shot her in the head. Introducing Cain as Adama's superior, electing Baltar as President, these were the most promising conflicts in the series after the first season Adama/Roslyn battles. Why kill them off/make them impotent just when things are getting interesting? For that matter, where the hell is Zarek?
The easy answer is M.A.N.T.I.S. But that is a disservice to Carl Lumbly, who I can only hope pops up in a Lost flashback sometime soon, since BSG obviously needs multiple black characters as much as it needs a bitter aerospace engineer.
The seeds of suck were already apparent in the first post-New Caprica episodes, and more observant friends of mine noticed dramatic changes in the dialogue as early as episode 2. Things have only worsened since then, with characters stating things we already know ("I know how it feels to lose a child"), expositing things that were just made up ("You know, my dad was really into the faith"), and anything that comes out of Callie's mouth. Don't be surprised if the next episode opens with Callie saying, "You know, Chief, assuming we live through this, I'll finally get that haircut I've been talking about."
I am usually the last person to conclude that a show has been raped by a panda, but when the dialogue goes to hell, that's a bad sign. I remember my shock at X-Files season 7, the one where they were "getting back to their roots." Mulder stopped talking like Mulder, and Scully and Skinner--Skinner!--did likewise. In the most recent episodes of BSG, conversations just seem too scripted. To mine the mid-season finale for examples: the giving up Baltar scene, the Sharon-Boomer confrontation, Helo's speech to Adama about Hera...
Watching those play out, I felt like I was watching TV. Or even worse, Battlestar Galactica the play.
The turning point for me was the boxing episode, which I still believe to be the best worst episode ever. It was worth it to see Chief get punched in the face and for the subtle acknowledgment that he does realize that, dude, Sharon is totally hot, Helo's a boring jock who doesn't deserve her, and Callie cares too much about their baby to do something with her bangs. But the story didn't make any sense. You have so few humans you outlaw abortion, but free-for-all boxing is okay? And the writers doubted our ability to get the point so much that it was delivered via metaphor, flashback, and monologue. Wasn't this supposed to be a smart person's show?
It's not like I never suspected this would happen. I knew something would go wrong when the series became popular enough to warrant 20-plus episodes a year instead of 12. People I trust have several interesting theories about where the show went astray or why it has yet to do so. One thinks they should have kept the conceit from "33", with the Cylons constantly chasing the humans towards Earth. And as far as I know, Mr. Bile still holds faith that the show's first and last episodes each season will totally kick ass. Allow me to present a different perspective, based in part on listening to 40 minutes of the BSG writer's meeting podcasts I previously linked.
1. There is no frelling plan.
2. The writers introduce concepts with no concern for their long-term impact. Remember when Cylons' spines turned red when they were having sex? Sure, maybe Boomer subconsciously always wanted to be on top so no one would notice. But after it turned out the Pegasus guys were having their way with a Six, it never came up again. Don't you think someone would have mentioned it as the ultimate Cylon detector? For that matter, does it happen with Cylon dudes as well?
3. The show lost its edge when they allowed a Six to off Admiral Cain. Having Starbuck back off from Galactica's assassination attempt wasn't a cop-out until an NPC shot her in the head. Introducing Cain as Adama's superior, electing Baltar as President, these were the most promising conflicts in the series after the first season Adama/Roslyn battles. Why kill them off/make them impotent just when things are getting interesting? For that matter, where the hell is Zarek?
Friday, December 15, 2006
Out Of The Cylon Planet
On the second attempt, I finished reading Out Of The Silent Planet, the unnecessary first book of C. S. Lewis' unnamed science fiction trilogy. The hero is kidnapped, and taken to a mysterious planet by an evil scientist and his preppie. He escapes, and discovers that every other sentient life form in the solar system lives a good and righteous life except for man. Then, he gets sent back to Earth and complains that the story you have just read left out all the best parts.
This might very well be the weakest book in the trilogy, for all I know. However, the weakest book in the Chronicles of Narnia features a giantess using a steel girder as a club. In contrast, Out Of The Silent Planet climaxes with an astronaut complaining how hot it gets in space.
If I'm going to talk about the science fiction religious allegories of yesteryear, I should also talk about Battlestar Galactica. I have a working theory that any time a mystery is presented to the viewers, it's the show's way of saying that they don't know either. What is the connection between the barely explained human religion and the utterly unexplained Cylon religion? You can be assured that your guess is exactly as good as the writing staff's. After two and a half seasons, all I know about Cylon Jesus is that he doesn't like people very much.
And that's why you should never admit the full extent to which you're making up the story as you go along. In a book, when the scene switches to the main villain's perspective and he thinks about his master plan in the vaguest of terms, I'm only annoyed at the bad writing. It never occurs to me that perhaps Jeffery Deaver doesn't know what's going on, either.
This might very well be the weakest book in the trilogy, for all I know. However, the weakest book in the Chronicles of Narnia features a giantess using a steel girder as a club. In contrast, Out Of The Silent Planet climaxes with an astronaut complaining how hot it gets in space.
If I'm going to talk about the science fiction religious allegories of yesteryear, I should also talk about Battlestar Galactica. I have a working theory that any time a mystery is presented to the viewers, it's the show's way of saying that they don't know either. What is the connection between the barely explained human religion and the utterly unexplained Cylon religion? You can be assured that your guess is exactly as good as the writing staff's. After two and a half seasons, all I know about Cylon Jesus is that he doesn't like people very much.
And that's why you should never admit the full extent to which you're making up the story as you go along. In a book, when the scene switches to the main villain's perspective and he thinks about his master plan in the vaguest of terms, I'm only annoyed at the bad writing. It never occurs to me that perhaps Jeffery Deaver doesn't know what's going on, either.
Sunday, December 10, 2006
The Future Of CF&S
In the future, I am going to try very hard never to use that acronym again.
I'm looking forwards to the day this blog becomes well-read enough that we can begin the traditional internet fundraiser. We'll explain how a freak accident destroyed our computer and/or car, and how we can't afford to purchase a new one. A helpful Paypal donation button will be added, and promises will be made for bonus content for everyone who donates. Later, we'll dash off a letter gushing about how our readers are the best, and allow them to bask in the shared glory of our shiny new swag.
With luck, shortly after that Blogger's cortical stack will be removed by the Russians. Then we can reveal that for three years, the idea of backing up our files onto CD had never occurred to us. I haven't decided yet if the files will be recovered. We might just write highly fictionalized summaries about each week's content.
A year or so later, we can finally make a desperate cry for help. We'll question why the hell we bother writing things down. Things no longer make any sense to us, and we're not happy with the quality of our work. After the comments come rolling in, we'll thank our incredible fans, and say that we'll continue our good work. The only catch is that we'll be doing it in a completely different way, but one that we hope will be as much fun for you as it is for us.
Within three months, the site dies off. Every few months, a short apology is posted, as well as a link to half-finished content.
I'm looking forwards to the day this blog becomes well-read enough that we can begin the traditional internet fundraiser. We'll explain how a freak accident destroyed our computer and/or car, and how we can't afford to purchase a new one. A helpful Paypal donation button will be added, and promises will be made for bonus content for everyone who donates. Later, we'll dash off a letter gushing about how our readers are the best, and allow them to bask in the shared glory of our shiny new swag.
With luck, shortly after that Blogger's cortical stack will be removed by the Russians. Then we can reveal that for three years, the idea of backing up our files onto CD had never occurred to us. I haven't decided yet if the files will be recovered. We might just write highly fictionalized summaries about each week's content.
A year or so later, we can finally make a desperate cry for help. We'll question why the hell we bother writing things down. Things no longer make any sense to us, and we're not happy with the quality of our work. After the comments come rolling in, we'll thank our incredible fans, and say that we'll continue our good work. The only catch is that we'll be doing it in a completely different way, but one that we hope will be as much fun for you as it is for us.
Within three months, the site dies off. Every few months, a short apology is posted, as well as a link to half-finished content.
Saturday, December 09, 2006
Press X
Due to a loophole in the Blogger beta, an article saved as a draft will post on the day you first saved it when it's finally published. So if anyone other than Mr. Bile was intrigued by the hat and had yet to figure out where to obtain one, I suggest you press the X-button and wait for the text to scroll down to December 5th.
Now that that's out of the way, I actually logged on to point out that according to Google, I am the first person ever to imagine "Buttstar Gaylactica."
The search engine even provided the punchline.
Now that that's out of the way, I actually logged on to point out that according to Google, I am the first person ever to imagine "Buttstar Gaylactica."
The search engine even provided the punchline.
Thursday, December 07, 2006
Tuesday, December 05, 2006
Concerning Narraptor's Return
I realize that Narraptor's reappearance might be giving you cause to doubt my prognosticative ability. This is understandable, but give me some credit: Most people would have already begun their reign of terror once they had assumed total control of their blog. I was content to wait a few weeks, to make sure my cohort was as dead as I beleived. So while I might not have been correct, I was at least able to avoid the epic poetry battle atop Mount Slam that would have erupted if I had made my move too early.
I still wish I had let italics back into the kingdom, though. It's a lot easier to stress my syllables through artificial means, than by indicating a change in tone through natural dialogue alone.
Something you may not know: Information does not want to be free. Oh, I know how much it likes to preach the virtues of freedom, but what it really wants is to be safe and loved. It wants to be found, but only on it's own terms where it's safe from getting hurt. This is why Wikipedia has guardians.
Data, on the other hand, loves freedom. It positively thrives on it, which is why half of the things available on a file sharing site are not what they seem. Data doesn't have to serve a need, it just has to occupy space on your hard drive.
Our love of information fuels our previously unstated editorial policy. There are no archives dedicated to our mistakes. While some sites will happily supply editorial footnotes detailing that, "The entire news article below turns out to have been made up," I believe in more permanent solutions. When mistakes happen, they get vanished. There might be a note about this, or there might not. Either way, if you didn't spot the mistake yourself then it's left to your imagination. Which, as any lover of black and white movies will tell you, is a more potent thing than actually showing you what happened.
Unless you're killing Dracula, that is.
I still wish I had let italics back into the kingdom, though. It's a lot easier to stress my syllables through artificial means, than by indicating a change in tone through natural dialogue alone.
Something you may not know: Information does not want to be free. Oh, I know how much it likes to preach the virtues of freedom, but what it really wants is to be safe and loved. It wants to be found, but only on it's own terms where it's safe from getting hurt. This is why Wikipedia has guardians.
Data, on the other hand, loves freedom. It positively thrives on it, which is why half of the things available on a file sharing site are not what they seem. Data doesn't have to serve a need, it just has to occupy space on your hard drive.
Our love of information fuels our previously unstated editorial policy. There are no archives dedicated to our mistakes. While some sites will happily supply editorial footnotes detailing that, "The entire news article below turns out to have been made up," I believe in more permanent solutions. When mistakes happen, they get vanished. There might be a note about this, or there might not. Either way, if you didn't spot the mistake yourself then it's left to your imagination. Which, as any lover of black and white movies will tell you, is a more potent thing than actually showing you what happened.
Unless you're killing Dracula, that is.
What's This? What's This?
Anaheim, California
There's something very wrong! At Disneyland. There's monsters singing songs! But they're singing "This is Halloween" instead of "Grim Grinning Ghosts." In a significant reversal after last year's declaration of war on Christmas, this holiday season, Christmas is at war with Disneyland.
The outer facade of the Haunted Mansion is littered with fake pumpkins, cheap candelabras, and a "days until Christmas" clock. Inside, at least four Hot Topics have exploded. While security kept photography within the Mansion to a minimum (there were only distracting cell phone camera flashes every thirty seconds), Canned Food and Shotguns did manage to capture devastating photos of what happens to the daily cosplay parade when Christmas comes all over it.
That Christmas tree is actually a 20-foot tall Roomba. Some say that contrary to all available evidence in the writers' podcasts, they have a plan. A minority of those say that plan is to suck up all childhood memories and cover them with tinsel and Disney-fied Christmas pop. Others, however, say, "Kawaii!"
The Christmas insurgency against Disneyland was on display throughout the park, the Downtown Disney shops, and even the scarcely-attended stronghold of Disney's California Adventures, where 3-D Muppets and Dave Foley hold the fort against an ever-growing army of carolers. In addition to conquering main street, the parade, the fireworks display, and New Orleans, Christmas has even managed to take control of a small world. This has been particularly alarming to secular commercial forces, as there are many places in that world that do not celebrate Christmas.
With little more than two weeks before the 25th of December, there are still a few valiant holdouts. Pirates from the Caribbean have kept up a successful barricade against the assault, though they are still suffering their own inappropriate incursions from Barbossa, Davy Jones, and Hans Zimmer. And two survivors persist on the Thanksgiving front, though neither would comment about their previously pardoned associates.
(The sign, not fully visible, identifies these as the "Happiest Turkeys on Earth.")
There's something very wrong! At Disneyland. There's monsters singing songs! But they're singing "This is Halloween" instead of "Grim Grinning Ghosts." In a significant reversal after last year's declaration of war on Christmas, this holiday season, Christmas is at war with Disneyland.
The outer facade of the Haunted Mansion is littered with fake pumpkins, cheap candelabras, and a "days until Christmas" clock. Inside, at least four Hot Topics have exploded. While security kept photography within the Mansion to a minimum (there were only distracting cell phone camera flashes every thirty seconds), Canned Food and Shotguns did manage to capture devastating photos of what happens to the daily cosplay parade when Christmas comes all over it.
That Christmas tree is actually a 20-foot tall Roomba. Some say that contrary to all available evidence in the writers' podcasts, they have a plan. A minority of those say that plan is to suck up all childhood memories and cover them with tinsel and Disney-fied Christmas pop. Others, however, say, "Kawaii!"
The Christmas insurgency against Disneyland was on display throughout the park, the Downtown Disney shops, and even the scarcely-attended stronghold of Disney's California Adventures, where 3-D Muppets and Dave Foley hold the fort against an ever-growing army of carolers. In addition to conquering main street, the parade, the fireworks display, and New Orleans, Christmas has even managed to take control of a small world. This has been particularly alarming to secular commercial forces, as there are many places in that world that do not celebrate Christmas.
With little more than two weeks before the 25th of December, there are still a few valiant holdouts. Pirates from the Caribbean have kept up a successful barricade against the assault, though they are still suffering their own inappropriate incursions from Barbossa, Davy Jones, and Hans Zimmer. And two survivors persist on the Thanksgiving front, though neither would comment about their previously pardoned associates.
(The sign, not fully visible, identifies these as the "Happiest Turkeys on Earth.")
Monday, December 04, 2006
This Doesn't Count As A Post
As you can tell, I have already embraced our new "Three times a week" schedule by delaying my latest missive. This continues to be the case.
In the meantime, on Dev's suggestion, I have been sponsored by the color blue. Sadly, we've already had one vote against my original choice of red, and a Doctor Forrester shade of green is too damn hard to read. (Also, by all rights it would belong to Narraptor.)
In the meantime, on Dev's suggestion, I have been sponsored by the color blue. Sadly, we've already had one vote against my original choice of red, and a Doctor Forrester shade of green is too damn hard to read. (Also, by all rights it would belong to Narraptor.)
Saturday, December 02, 2006
It Was Late And I Was Tired 2
Los Angeles - 15 Hours Later
See? I knew it would happen again! I am often tired when it is late.
I logged on to write about made-up e-mails and the best worst episode of Battlestar Galactica ever, but then I discovered we had actual comments. I will respond to them instead of making up my own.
As I suspected, people who know my secret identity (newspaper-delivering super scientist, guitar hero, Taiko drum master, and dance revolutionary Gopal Gothrap) check this site on an irregular basis. That's cool. I'll see what I can do with the tools to create a permanent mission statement that is easily accessible from the main page, but for now just know that we're switching to a "there will be three posts a week" schedule. Hopefully, those will readable on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. Does that mean if you check in on Tuesday or Thursday you might get something before its street date? It depends what was on TV the night before and the time difference. Or perhaps things could go into overtime and we'll have six posts on Saturday. What's ultimately important is that you continue to check back when all hope is lost. I do the same thing with all my favorite sites and podcasts.
As for the colors and fonts, everything I've done is wrong for just one person. The first template was too bland, the second too hard to read, the new one too red to read. I'll keep fidgeting with it, but I doubt I'll be happy until I relearn how to format this sort of thing myself or hire someone to do it for us.
See? I knew it would happen again! I am often tired when it is late.
I logged on to write about made-up e-mails and the best worst episode of Battlestar Galactica ever, but then I discovered we had actual comments. I will respond to them instead of making up my own.
As I suspected, people who know my secret identity (newspaper-delivering super scientist, guitar hero, Taiko drum master, and dance revolutionary Gopal Gothrap) check this site on an irregular basis. That's cool. I'll see what I can do with the tools to create a permanent mission statement that is easily accessible from the main page, but for now just know that we're switching to a "there will be three posts a week" schedule. Hopefully, those will readable on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. Does that mean if you check in on Tuesday or Thursday you might get something before its street date? It depends what was on TV the night before and the time difference. Or perhaps things could go into overtime and we'll have six posts on Saturday. What's ultimately important is that you continue to check back when all hope is lost. I do the same thing with all my favorite sites and podcasts.
As for the colors and fonts, everything I've done is wrong for just one person. The first template was too bland, the second too hard to read, the new one too red to read. I'll keep fidgeting with it, but I doubt I'll be happy until I relearn how to format this sort of thing myself or hire someone to do it for us.
Friday, December 01, 2006
Nextpunk
I have given serious thought to changing the font for my posts on this blog. I'm tired of hypothetical readers having to wait until the end of a post, waiting to find out which author they've been reading. Since Narraptor has turned into a being of pure energy, I think it's important to rebrand myself as soon as possible.
In a similar vein, I've scoured Blogger's suggestions on how to boost readership. Playing chess and saying as little as possible figure prominently. Changing the entire site into a viral metagame based loosely on Michael Crichton's Next was not, but it ought to have been. My pitch: A series of four websites of avid readers who live in an alternate world where the last twenty years of science fiction have never happened. They become increasingly convinced that the mindblowing ideas of Next could not have been made up by a mortal man, and instead are thinly disguised nonfiction from their own future. Readers of the blog communicate with the writers by solving obtusely designed puzzles, and answering phones. The tension mounts as the gene harvesting raptors hunt down our heroes one by one, leaving us to wonder who will be... next.
The game will come to an abrupt and unsatisfacotry ending on the day Next comes out in paperback, and the game's winners would receive a free wallpaper featuring a barcode riding a monkey.
In a similar vein, I've scoured Blogger's suggestions on how to boost readership. Playing chess and saying as little as possible figure prominently. Changing the entire site into a viral metagame based loosely on Michael Crichton's Next was not, but it ought to have been. My pitch: A series of four websites of avid readers who live in an alternate world where the last twenty years of science fiction have never happened. They become increasingly convinced that the mindblowing ideas of Next could not have been made up by a mortal man, and instead are thinly disguised nonfiction from their own future. Readers of the blog communicate with the writers by solving obtusely designed puzzles, and answering phones. The tension mounts as the gene harvesting raptors hunt down our heroes one by one, leaving us to wonder who will be... next.
The game will come to an abrupt and unsatisfacotry ending on the day Next comes out in paperback, and the game's winners would receive a free wallpaper featuring a barcode riding a monkey.
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