Cold Streets is a slow burner. By that, I mean it’s taking me a while to really get set on fire over it. I’m working on it, and I like what’s happening so far, I just haven’t carved out a great deal of time lately to put more words in sequence. I have a move coming up in the near future, and that’s going to eat in to my writing time. I have books and clothes to donate, old geegaws to bequeath to others, and the current place needs some sprucing.
My mind hasn’t been idle, though. What was once going to be a multi-novel fantasy series will, I believe, get compressed into one epic volume. After reading some other stories and watching a couple old favorite films, it occurs to me that not everything needs to be a serial. Not ever story needs a sequel. So Asherian and his world of Acradea will appear in a single novel. And, based on the timbre and themes of the rewrite, and how much more of the story I will be including from the very beginning, it’s getting yet another title change. For the time being, I’m calling it Godslayer.
Somewhere between the novellas of Morgan & Seth’s escapades and this fantasy epic, I want to work on a smaller novel, or perhaps novels, with a sci-fi bent. The arrival of the new version of Netrunner on my back step combined with classics like Blade Runner remind me that the future doesn’t necessarily have to be chrome-plated and shiny, or at least if it is, it need not necessarily be that way for everybody. What I like about futures with an even slightly dystopian bent is that super-advanced technologies, be they androids so life-like they act and feel like humans or faster-than-light travel or interstellar colonization, feel matter-of-fact, an aspect of everyday life that you don’t have to spend pages upon pages describing. And I’ve already written a couple of well-received shortstories with this sort of bent, and I’m interested in seeing how I could expand the idea. Alien races, perhaps? Maybe a distant but superficially benevolent overlord whose dictates are at least partially responsible for the crapsack world our characters find themselves in? This bears further investigation.
More on these ideas to come. Also to come, more reviews of Cold Iron as well as some other surprises! Stay tuned.
There’s a part of me that longs for convention floors. I just love being a part of an inclusive, open-minded crowd gathered in one place for the common enjoyment of a hobby or interest. I’ve been writer’s conferences, anime conventions, and gaming expos, and they all give me this positive, uplifting charge that can last for weeks afterward.
And yet, I know they can be dangerous places. I know people can violate the space of others. I know lines can and do get crossed. And I know that these communities, especially when it comes to gaming, are not as inclusive as I’d like them to be.
To which I have to wonder, “Why the fuck not?”
Creeps do exist, and I don’t mean the sort of guys and girls who are enthusiastic and well-meaning but don’t always say the right thing or aren’t adept at handling meeting new people or maintaining/ending conversations. I mean the ones who think it’s perfectly okay to berate people for being different, to undercut others so they can increase their own sense of superiority, or to introduce their genitals to any situation regardless of circumstances or permission of the other people involved. I’m not sure why these people are so unaware of the fact that this behavior is not okay. It’s not okay on a basic level and it’s also not okay as a means to get attention.
So how do we approach the people we idolize? How do we behave when encountering others of our craft or hobby? What should aspiring con-goers keep in mind when entering the hall for the first time?
Listen to the Rolling Stones, kids. “Have some sympathy, have some courtesy, and some taste.”
It’s a good rule of thumb to keep in mind when entering the convention, firing up the console, or just walking through town. The people you encounter are people, nothing more or less, just like you. I doubt most people in this world are really dedicated to going out of their way to make your life miserable. Those that are probably have personal reasons for doing so, and that’s a different kettle of fish entirely. When meeting people you haven’t met before, keep in mind that it is impossible for you to know every circumstance of every aspect of their lives that lead up to them meeting you.
If you appreciate their work, tell them so. Say how happy you are to meet them. If it feels like an honor to do so, say so. If approaching someone who’s signing things, and you have something for them to sign, ask them politely to sign it. Ask them if they’re having a good time. After that, if you’ve been standing in line, chances are others have been standing in line behind you, and you should probably move on. Otherwise, let the conversation flow from there; don’t steer it constantly back to subjects centered on you so you can run off at the mouth. Good conversations don’t work that way.
I know, reading it dryly like this, these seem like common sense tips. But when meeting someone we know through work we thoroughly enjoy, it’s entirely possible for rational thought to simply stop working. When I met my first Internet celebrity, I pretty much lost my face. Thankfully, I doubt he remembers me, and as I can’t afford to go to the Escapist Expo this month, it’ll probably be some time before I see him in person again. The next time I encountered one, things went much better. I followed the advice given above, and we had a great talk about Boston, movies, PAX, and various other things. It felt good, and I never got the impression that he was uncomfortable.
Just think before you speak, people. It isn’t that difficult. Treat others the way you’d like to be treated. It’s very good to shake the hand of a stranger, introduce yourself, and get to know them and their way of life, but don’t be overbearing when you do it. If you keep talking, you can’t listen. And who wants to talk to someone who won’t listen to them?
Do these things, and not only will you not be a creep, you may find yourself overcoming that awkwardness. A little confidence goes a long way, and it’ll show. Try a little sympathy, courtesy, and taste the next time you’re in a situation with new people. You might be surprised.
Ravnica is one of my favorite blocks in Magic: the Gathering‘s history. It provided a flavorful plane with lots of versatile deck ideas and all sorts of interesting guilds based on pairings of colors. So when Return to Ravnica was announced at PAX East, I pretty much lost my face. With the spoilers we’ve been seeing of the expansion, which hits next month, my glee is pretty justified. But while the Azorius guild is in my primary colors of white and blue, and a good deal of my cards from the previous block set in that plane appear to be from the sadistic playground of Rakdos, I’ve always considered myself Izzet at heart. Why?
Izzet is the red and blue guild. Blue is a color of mind games and control, featuring counterspells, illusionary creatures, and using an opponent’s cards against them, while red’s fast-paced flavor leans towards direct damage, fast creatures, and big flashy finishes like dragons and laying an unstoppable smackdown with a single card. When combined in the Izzet guild, the result is the magical equivalent of super-science. Izzet mages experiment with electricity, flight, spell manipulation, and time shenanigans. Why? Because they can!
Ravnica features a great deal of inter-guild politics and scheming, from Dimir spies lurking in the shadows to Golgari agents stealing undesirables for use in their experiments. Izzet certainly has its share of secrets, and if any of the guilds were to be working on some sort of doomsday device, it’d probably be them. However, it’s hard to imagine them working from a truly malicious angle. Again, for Izzet, it’s all about pushing the boundaries of Magic, trying new things no matter how dangerous, and letting the mind dictate one’s limits.
I like this very much because I’ve never been one to straight up copy deck lists from other players. I may get ideas from other lists, and I of course am curious about things like Maverick or The Rock, but I won’t be throwing down cash to simply run a deck someone else is running, regardless of how much that deck wins. For me, a good portion of the fun in Magic is the theorycrafting. Rather than being confident that I’m going to win every match I play, I’ve gone into events wondering how well or how badly the deck will run in competition. As much as it sucks to lose, especially when most “top” players tend to run the same deck, i.e. whatever the best pro players are playing, the experimentation does have rewards in and of itself. You learn about your own playstyle, you figure out what works for you, and you decide what you don’t want to do.
I think that’s where Izzet’s appeal lies, for me. While no two-color combination necessarily locks a player into a particular style of deck, red and blue together can go heavily for control, lean entirely towards aggression, or rest anywhere in between. It lends itself towards the very experimentation that keeps me going back to my favorite local comic & gaming store every week.
And it’s run by a genius dragon. That’s pretty much the cherry on it.
If you play Magic, are you excited for Return to Ravnica? Have you chosen your guild? I’d love to hear about it!
Another great voice of our time has gone silent. In this case, I mean the voice part literally.
I could confidently look forward to any movie featuring Michael Clarke Duncan in the cast. Not only could he deliver Oscar-caliber performances, he could be counted on to be one of two things, if not both, in any film in which he worked. He would be a presence, and on most occasions, he’d clearly be having a great time.
I know Daredevil is not at the top of anybody’s list of Best Superhero Movies. But if you haven’t seen it, you should, if just for Michael Clarke Duncan. Watch his introductory scene. Look at the way he wears that suit. The stance, the cane, the cigar, the presence. Ebert said, and I agree, that it makes you want to back up and cover your balls. And then he smiles, and you just know he’s having a ball with this role.
He was also one of the best things in Armageddon and The Scorpion King for similar reasons. Even when he doesn’t once crack a smile, Sin City for example, he still left an indelible mark. And of course, no discussion of the man would be complete without at least a mention of The Green Mile. John Coffey was the gentle giant personified. The film would not have been so effective and moving with someone else in that role.
Michael also did a great deal of voice work, from animated TV series to video games. He returned as Kingpin for the Spider-Man TV series and also made appearances on Chuck and Bones. This was a man who clearly loved what he did, and by all accounts, was a fun and gentle man to know and work with.
Terrance Palmer wasn’t a field agent. Most of his days were spent in the office, examining the profiles of perpetrators to assist the investigations of braver men than him. However, Agent Burrows had tapped him specifically to ride along to the mental hospital. With its wrought-iron fence and gate, long drive to the main building, and security measures including several checkpoints, Palmer felt it resembled a prison more than a place of healing.
“What do we know about her?” Burrows asked the question as they waited at the second checkpoint in the building.
“She is, or was, a professor of anthropology.” Palmer kept her file and notes from one of her books under his arm. “Her main area of interest was religions and cults, and she wanted to prove that there really is no difference between the two.”
“Makes sense.” The door buzzed and the two FBI agents were shown into the south ward. “How does she go from that to… what was it?”
“Paranoid delusions.” The doctor who met them supplied the answer and offered his hand. “I’m Doctor Ahmed. Thank you both for coming.”
“Has she made any more threats?”
“No, Agent Burrows, she has not. She continues to say the world is in danger and she knows the how and why.”
Palmer looked into the common area as they were lead back towards the woman’s room. One man watched them walk by, his left eye twitching in a disturbing fashion. Palmer tried to ignore it, and stay on task.
Ahmed produced a ring of keys, unlocked the deadbolt, and opened the door. “Doctor Chamberlain? The men from the FBI are here.”
She had been facing the wall, sitting at an old desk, and turned to face her visitors. Palmer had seen photos of her before, but they hadn’t captured how piercing her blue eyes were in person. Her long brown hair, normally braided or in a bun for her promotional photos, was only loosely tied back, and strands hung in her face. She stood and smoothed out her formless gray sweatsuit.
“I apologize for my attire, gentlemen, but creature comforts like appropriate clothing are hard to come by in this gulag.”
Ahmed held up his hands. “Now, Doctor Chamberlain…”
“You be quiet. Go drug up some of the others. You know, the actually crazy ones.”
Ahmed said nothing, but retreated from the room, leaving the door open. Burrows leaned against the doorframe and crossed his arms over his red tie and FBI badge.
“You said there was going to be an attack.”
“Yes, I did.” Chamberlain’s eyes were fixed on Palmer. “You’ve read my book.”
He blinked. “How did you know?”
“You have a haunted look about you. And I see a photocopied page of Worshipers of Stars in your folder, there.”
Palmer took the folder out from under his arm, and nodded. “Yeah, that’s the one. Do you really think that ancient civilizations worshiped beings from beyond the stars?”
“Is it any more fantastical than worshiping an old man in a nightshirt living in the sky?”
“Let’s stick to the facts.” Burrows did not sound at all interested in the theological discussion. “The attack. How do you know about it? When and where will it happen?”
Chamberlain blinked. “I know about it because I pay attention. You can’t see them now, but the stars are right. It will happen soon.”
Burrows narrowed his eyes. “We were told you were making threats.”
“Not threats. Predictions.”
“Ugh. Come on, Palmer, we’re wasting our time.”
“Wait a second.” Palmer studied Chamberlain’s face for a moment. “You’re not crazy.”
Burrows’ voice was incredulous. “What?”
“I study crazy people. She isn’t crazy.” Palmer kept his eyes on the professor. “Did you mean to get incarcerated here?”
Chamberlain’s eyes went wide for a moment, and she nodded. “I knew it would be here. The layers between dimensions are thin where sanity is at its most tenuous. And the candidates are ideal. Pliable, weak in mind and body due to medication and sub-standard food…”
“Wait.” Burrows stepped forward. “Candidates for what?”
A scream came out of the common area. Something grabbed Burrows by the ankle and yanked him out of the room. His badge and sidearm clattered to the ground. Palmer rushed into the common area, and stopped short at the sight of what was happening.
The man who had watched them before now stood, his left arm replaced by some sort of rubbery, squid-like appendage that now had Burrows by the ankle. Blood and ichor seeped through his gray sweats and half of his face looked melted. His good eye, the human one, swung towards Palmer.
“Help… me…”
Palmer pulled his jacket open to grab his sidearm. At the same time, the man’s right hand split open like a banana peel and another tentacle spilled out onto the floor. It whipped towards Palmer. He ducked to his right, raising his Sig and lining up the sights. He went to the range every week as a habit, but had never fired on another human being. But is it STILL a human being? The question hung in his mind.
A gunshot went off behind Palmer. He glanced to see Chamberlain, with Burrows’ gun, her grip practiced and her expression calm. Turning back to the… thing… Palmer followed suit. A few rounds later put their target out the window. Palmer holstered his sidearm and helped Burrows to his feet.
“What is the meaning of this?” Ahmed was indignant, and terrified. Palmer turned to Professor Chamberlain and put out his hand.
“The gun, please, Professor.”
“Diana.” She put the gun in his hand. “My name’s Diana.”
“I’m Terrence. People call me Terry.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Terry. I think it’s safe to leave now.”
“I demand to know…!”
“Doctor Ahmed.” Burrows rubbed his neck. “My partner and your inmate just opened fire on something terrifying. Give me the paperwork to release Doctor Chamberlain. The Bureau needs her.”
