#(joe is mostly fashionable in the way that he generally has good taste and knows what works for him; booker tries for a Look but that Look | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

luninosity · 3 years

Text

Catching up on @evanstanweek ficlets again! Here’s Day 3, prompt: on set.

Read at AO3 here - 2,336 words of on-set love confessions, set during The First Avenger - or read on tumblr below!

Sebastian’s watching Chris. He often is, can’t seem to help the track of his gaze—can’t pull away from the magnet-tug that’s Chris Evans’ loud laugh and gesturing hands and philosopher’s eyes, and if he’s honest he doesn’t want to. Right now the low hazy grey lighting of the broken bar sits on Chris’s shoulders and turns him into a grieving supersoldier: a man hollowed out by loss, left with a gaping hole right through his chest.

Chris is so good. So brilliant at emotion, at getting character. So thoughtful and so generous with his feelings, the kind of bravery that holds nothing back. He is Steve Rogers, through and through: a hero, shining blue and gold.

Sebastian’s not that brave. Not that brilliant. Good at angst and pain, or dry humor, or intensity, maybe; but he’s in character for it. He does love people and stories, and he thinks he’s funny, sometimes, and he thinks he might want to be a writer, sometimes, and he can shove an entire pizza slice in his mouth when he’s comfortable around friends, but.

It takes him a while. Exhaling. Stepping out. Speaking up. He wouldn’t say he’s shy, because he isn’t, not once he knows people. He’s just…not Chris Evans, who wears joys and vulnerabilities openly, with pride, unafraid.

Sebastian looks at Chris, and aches with emotion, and says nothing, every day and every minute on this film so far.

He’s technically done for the day, though he’s not at all done on this film; he’s spent the morning running around with Howling Commandos and being a young and terrified sergeant thrown into war. They’d filmed Bucky’s fall from the train the day before; Sebastian had honestly loved it. The emotion’d been easy: love and loyalty, throwing himself in to fight alongside the other half of his heart, the moment of sheer shock, a small but gloriously physical drop onto thick mats. They’d let him do that one, because it wasn’t a long fall and they needed to see his face. He hoped it’d been good; everyone seemed pleased, at least.

He shifts weight, wishes he had a pillar or a wall to lean on. He watches Chris some more.

They’d caught the stunned disbelief on Chris’s—Steve’s—face at the fall, yesterday. Chris is so incredible at nuance, at blazing emotions, even in a few-seconds-long shot. Sebastian had said, after, “That felt really good, that last take?” and had meant, I think you’re a genius, I think I want to work right next to you forever, I think I love you.

Chris had gotten kind of pink-cheeked because Chris is too damn self-deprecating, and had said, “Oh—um, thanks, man, you too, I mean it felt good to me too, I mean we’re fuckin’ awesome, obviously,” and had nudged Sebastian’s shoulder, somewhere between a punch and a quick resting of a hand. “Craft services? They got blueberry bagels, someone said.”

Chris, bagel-focused, clearly had not heard Sebastian’s internal monologue. And if he had, wouldn’t reciprocate.

Which is fine, of course. Chris never needs to know, and Sebastian’s ridiculous emotions will calm the hell down and go away. Any day now. Sometime. Soon.

But he’s watching Chris, and Chris is pretending to try to get drunk, pain visibly shredding him inside; Chris is Steve and Steve can’t believe it and has to believe it and wants to scream, to shout, to punch a hole through the world—

The scene’s fantastic, of course.

They get it in maybe three takes, rapid-fire, Chris laying out his heart for the watchers. His voice cracks; it’s getting rougher, the third time.

They do it a couple times more for different close-ups. Sebastian takes a step closer, between takes. His boots—he’s changed; they’re his own boots—are louder than he’d recalled that morning; Chris looks over at the sound.

And maybe Chris looks surprised, or relieved, or grateful, for a split second; maybe it’s all in Sebastian’s head, though, because the next second they’re right back into it, capturing Steve’s heartbreak.

It’s a wrap for the scene, eventually. And Chris is done for a few hours too, though he’ll need to stick around; he’s got some close-ups to do inside a mock airplane, being bounced around, for what’ll be the big final self-sacrifice. Sebastian loves the heroism and pain of it; he’s always loved good writing, and he’s got a good feeling about this script and about this universe, which he’s a tiny part of now.

Chris doesn’t get up right away. Just scrubs both hands over his face, shoulders slumped. Hayley Atwell’s gone off to talk to the director; Joe’s nodding, listening to her. Nobody’s checking on Chris.

And that’s wrong, that’s wrong and not good and not right—Chris has just been hurting, the way that Chris hurts for the world, and Chris should never be hurting, not while Sebastian’s alive—

Sebastian’s legs move before his brain makes a conscious decision. He’s picking his way across artistic rubble and taking a few running steps and putting a hand on Chris’s shoulder. “Hey.”

Chris actually jumps a little, which isn’t the best start. “Oh! Uh, hey, hi, did you, um…have a question? About Steve and Bucky, or somethin’?” The Boston comes out extra-strong; it does that when Chris is feeling a lot, or tipsy, or simply exaggerating to make someone laugh.

“No,” Sebastian says. “Or, well, yeah, we might want to talk about some of those flashback sequences, so we’re on the same page with emotion and all, but.” He licks his lips, realizes he’s doing it—a nervous habit, one he’s had for years—and stops. He can taste chapstick on his tongue. “I just. Wanted to. I don’t know. Are you…I mean, that looked like a lot.”

“You…” Chris trails off. He’s looking at Sebastian’s face with astonishing intent; Sebastian would say even desperation, but that’d be ludicrous. Chris doesn’t have any reason to feel desperate about him.

He tries, “I know you, um, like tea? Not coffee? We could go grab, um, tea. If you want.”

“Tea,” Chris says, a little blankly. “But you like coffee.”

Sebastian’s starting to get kind of worried, here. “I do, but you gave it up? We could maybe head back to your trailer, and you can, um, relax for a minute, and I can…try to make tea?”

Chris stares at him some more.

“Or not,” Sebastian throws in helplessly.

“Yes,” Chris says. “Yes, yeah, yes—you—fuck. Okay. Jesus, Chris, get it together,” and he even shakes his head like a puppy flinging off water, and Sebastian kind of wants to grin and also scratch his tummy.

Well. Maybe not scratch. He can think of better things to do with Chris’s stomach. Mostly involving his tongue.

And he should absolutely not be thinking of that when Chris needs his help. He sticks out a hand. “To the end of the line? Or at least your trailer.”

Chris looks at the hand, and then takes it, hauling himself up out of the chair. His fingers are large and strong and a little cold, and they squeeze Sebastian’s for just a little too long, as if wanting to hold on.

No. Must be Sebastian’s heart thinking that. Wanting what he can’t have.

He walks with Chris through behind-the-scenes set-ups and teardowns, props and people rushing to and fro, the corners of trailers and the shouts of movie-making going on. The sun’s warm, if light; the ground’s hard beneath his boots. He keeps stealing glances at Chris, who doesn’t seem too talkative. Sebastian’s poor overworked heart wants to take each sensation, each sight and taste and scent of this backstage moment, and fold them up safe deep inside.

Chris is letting him help. That feels like sunshine.

Chris’s trailer’s simple, unpretentious, unfussy; script copies and notes lie scattered around, and he’s got some weights, and some Disney-movie DVDs. Sebastian smiles, because that’s so very Chris: delight in the magic, always.

Chris, still in costume, sits down on his sofa. He breathes out, and looks up. “Thanks.”

“For what? How do I make tea with this?” He’s poking Chris’s electric kettle. He does sort of know how it works, in theory. His mother has an old-fashioned kettle; he’s got fancy coffee-making machinery; he should be able to combine all this knowledge. “Where is your tea?”

“Seb,” Chris says. “I—hang on, does anyone actually call you Seb?”

“Um. Not really? You can. I don’t mind.” He doesn’t. Chris uses last names often, an affectionate Boston-bro shorthand for friendship; Sebastian’s somehow always been Sebastian or Seb, in Chris’s voice. He’s wondered why, though he’s thought maybe Chris just doesn’t feel that close to him. Not deserving of the bro-status.

“You don’t mind, or you don’t like it, and you’re being nice about it?”

“I don’t mind,” Sebastian says, too quickly. “I like it.”

“Sebastian,” Chris says.

“Really,” Sebastian says. “Either. Whatever.”

“Jesus,” Chris says, face back in his hands. “I’m sorry. I just…just tell me if I’m sayin’ something stupid, okay? Please.”

“But you’re not!” Sebastian comes back over to the couch. That damn magnet again. Tugging his bones. “You’re not, it’s fine, we’re good, Chris. I swear. Really.”

Chris doesn’t look up, so Sebastian drops to both knees, right there at Chris’s feet, and tries not to think of all the times he’s wanted to do exactly that. It’s easier not to think of it, right now, because he’s genuinely concerned.

He peeks up at Chris’s face. “Hey. Kinda worried here. Not about you, I mean, about your kettle, it’s got all these buttons, it’s like a rocket ship, I’m afraid if I touch the wrong thing it’ll explode.”

Chris snorts, almost a laugh, and then does look up. His eyes go right to Sebastian’s, so close and so blue; and then all at once he’s moving, leaning forward, one hand reaching out and cradling Sebastian’s head, and then—

They’re kissing. Oh, god, they’re kissing, Sebastian on his knees in front of Chris and Chris bending down to claim him, hand in Sebastian’s hair—

Chris kisses like reprieve, like the release of storms, like the dive into a heated pool on a chilly day: wholehearted, devoted, anxious to lick and taste and plunge into every part of Sebastian’s mouth. Sebastian, who’s been kissed before, has in fact never been kissed before, because no other kiss has ever been a kiss, compared to this.

His knees dimly register the hardness of the trailer floor, and his neck’s at kind of an awkward angle, and Chris is still mostly in the Captain America suit. None of that matters. Nothing else matters at all, because Chris wants him and Sebastian’s whole self yearns for Chris, and Chris’s tongue and taste and tug at Sebastian’s hair are all white-hot gloriously perfect.

Chris pulls back almost as abruptly. They’re both breathless; Chris whispers, “Oh, fuck…” and takes his hand out of Sebastian’s hair, but then touches Sebastian’s cheek, cups his face, as if unable to stop touching. “I…fuck…I didn’t…I’m so fucking sorry, I just…”

“Why?”

“What?”

“Why’re you sorry?” Sebastian tips his head into Chris’s hand. “I’m not.”

“You’re…not.”

“Chris,” Sebastian says, and then runs out of words. He hopes Chris can see it, can read it, in his eyes. On his face. “Yes.”

“Yeah?” Chris reaches out with the other hand too: framing Sebastian’s face now, tender and awestruck. “You mean that.”

“I mean it,” Sebastian says. “But—”

“Oh god,” Chris says, “I’ve fucked this up, haven’t I—”

“No! No, just…are you okay? I mean, from earlier.” Somewhere amid the kissing his hands’ve ended up on Chris’s thighs; apparently they just want to be there, and now rub along Chris’s legs, soothing and caressing and learning all at once. “I mean, I wanted to—”

“To help,” Chris groans. “You came over to help—because you’re the sweetest fucking person I know, god, you’re perfect, Seb, the nicest and the warmest and the best—and I fucking, Jesus, practically mauled you—”

Sebastian cuts that anguished recrimination off by diving forward and getting his mouth back on Chris’s. After some in-depth affirmation, he breathes against Chris’s lips, “Don’t think you’re doing any mauling I don’t like.”

Chris’s eyebrows go up.

“Really,” Sebastian tells him.

“Huh,” Chris says. “Huh. Okay. You—okay.”

“No,” Sebastian says patiently. “Are you okay?”

Chris stares at him, and then bursts out laughing. Mid-laughter, scoops Sebastian off the floor. Flops them both down across the sofa, holding on. “God, you’re incredible.”

“The best, you said.”

“And I mean it. You just make it all…feel better, kind of?” Chris strokes a hand down Sebastian’s back, over his t-shirt. “That’s what it was, earlier. Like…being Steve, losing Bucky, but that’s you, and all at once I was thinking about losing you, and I just felt like…like someone’d dropped me off a train, y’know? Like I’d never get up again.”

“I’m here.” Sebastian wriggles against him. They fit together: bodies pressed close, every piece of them learning each other. He’s half atop Chris, but with one of Chris’s legs tangled through his. “I’m here.”

“I know.” Chris rubs his back again. “And you were there, too. You were right there and I could look up and find you, and it was like I could remember how to breathe. And then you were here, asking about tea and looking at me like—and I just had to kiss you. I want to kiss you. Seb. Sebastian. God, I fuckin’ want—everything. I know it might get complicated, I know we’re in the middle of making a movie, but I can’t not want everything. Together. With you.”

“Well,” Sebastian says, “good to know,” and stretches to kiss Chris again. It’s that simple, if not easy: the future’ll change, but it does that anyway, sprawling out in all sorts of directions. And he thinks it’ll be a good direction, with Chris at his side. “Because I want everything with you too.”

#evanstan #evanstan week #evanstan week 2021 #my fic #chris evans #sebastian stan #such fluff #love confessions

43 notes · View notes

inheritorofmemories-archive · 3 years

Text

TOG immortals and vices

Been thinking about the way half the guards smoke like chimneys in the comics, the consumption of alcohol shown in the movie, and what bad habits they would have picked up and never let go of throughout their lives.

So here, my little headcanons about which vices each of the immortals have:

(vices used loosely, more like bad habits or things they like that they cannot help or do without)

Andy and food. And sweet stuff.

She has known hunger and plain, out of necessity, food for so long she’ll indulge gods help her she will ingest as much sugar as she can get her hands on. Absolutely demolished Yusuf’s stash of sweets when they met her. She doesn’t like cooking, or baking, because it takes too much time and investment and feeding herself was a chore for most of her life but she loves to go out to eat. She absolutely hates the snobby michelin type restaurants with no food on the plate and stupidly long name and she’ll take a good meal from the corner food truck or that family held recipe over that pretentious crap any time of the day. Can only feel alive when eating food with enough spice in it to burn off anyone’s tongue but she also likes the greasy and filling stuff that sticks to your throat for hours. Food as a bonding experience for friends and family, she believes in the power of bread, good wine, sweet dessert and a full stomach. But mostly the desert to satisfy her huge sweet tooth.

Quynh and fashion.

That woman wouldn’t be caught dead in clothes that don’t fit or look ridiculous, you and I both know that. She’s reasonable most time and keeps their money in check but more than once she gave too many coins for a dress/tunic/shirt or a fabric that caught her eyes. In general she loves to take care of appearance, clean and combed hair styled nicely, clean and good clothes, makeup and jewelry that doesn’t look too bling but bring just enough class and bring attention. She likes beautiful things in general (aka her wife Andy but also that collection of knives she has that is centuries old, there’s some Damascus steel in there Joe found for her). Was definitely the one to dress the team and the one who took to new trends the fastest, even when she had Opinions on said trends. Would also be the type that would rather be overdressed than underdressed at an event, as opposed to Andy which makes for the funniest couple ever.

Nile and physical activity (not just sport, anything physical).

I see her as the kind of person who cannot relax and needs to be doing something at all times. She’s the eldest daughter in her family and in comics canon she had like 5 jobs before going into the army, tell me this isn’t the behavior of someone who hates to be idle because it makes her feel useless. She’s working out to process her emotions in the military base, and when Andy leaves to fight in the church she’s walking in circles trying to find something to do, go help Andy or pack or anything really. She’s absolutely the type to go for a run because she has nothing else planned and it clears her head, or the one to stress bake in the middle of the night to keep her hand busy, or who would learn to knit because reading isn’t enough to keep her brain in track she has to do something concrete with her hands. People telling her to calm down, stop jerking her legs or just take a day off awake strong murder urges in her. It’s not like she can help it so let her tear this piece of paper into smaller pieces of paper because she hasn’t been on run in days and she’s going crazy with pent up energy. Patience is vertue that never bothered to visit her.

Joe and arguing.

He loves to pick arguments. He’s the cerebral guy in the team and he will get into heated debates even if it pisses off him, the other person talking, everyone else around the table and the neighbors on the other side of the room. He can’t help it, that’s just in his genes to argue and share his opinions and confront the way other people’s brain work. The best kind of arguments are about the most pointless and petty things like how to drink your coffee, the best time to nap, which citrus is the best or the correct way to store books. The haggling falls under that category too, Yusuf “son of a merchant” al-Kaysani was raised right by his baba and he knows a scam when he sees one, no he will not calm down that price is twice it’s value, you thief.

Nicky and gambling.

He just likes it. Knows he shouldn’t but he enjoys the excitation of a bet and the risk involved and the thrill of winning too much to stop. As soon as an opportunity to bet arise it’s like a switch in his brain cut off all common sense coursing through him. He can hold back if the situation is dire but with enough teasing and ribbing he will take part even into the most stupid and useless bets, yeah, 20 bucks that chicken gets to the barn before the goat does. I have to thank @polarcell for this one, wouldn’t have thought of it without her posting about it and the image of calm and collected Nicky going feral over bets and just running headfirst into them is an incredibly humanizing quality that I appreciate.

Booker and alcohol.

Goes into the unhealthy side in the movie but I truly believe he’s the kind of man who would sell his kidney to get that bottle of good liquor he’s been eyeing all week, if not dying in the process, simply because he likes the taste of this one. The kind of man to be a snobby asshole over wine and good whiskey from time to time but mostly he wants to share it with his friends (ie. the small family that gets all the best alcohol he can find to drink with them). A bit of a social drinker I think too, like Andy with food: it’s best when it’s shared.

+ Bonus:

Lykon and adrenaline.

Have you seen the way that man smiled at Andy when he was almost gutted by a spear in a fight? You can’t tell me Lykon wasn’t the og Jackass back in BCE time. He can be calm and collected but present him with the opportunity to ride a wild beast or jump off a cliff/waterfall/ravine and he will do it. A bit of a thrill-seeker, often getting himself, and then Andy and Quynh too, into trouble because he just couldn’t help it, it seemed too fun. He’s here for a good time not a long one and a long one too. If he was still alive he would 100% be the kind to discover motorcycle, promptly dies about 10 times riding it too fast, and then enroll in a circus just to jump through on fire hoops every night. He would have been so thrilled when humanity started to invent stuff to fly too, just imagine him grinning as he jumps off a plane with the first-ever parachute strapped on his back.

#me over analyzing fictional characters for fun #the old guard #the old guard headcanon #tog headcanons #the old guard meta #tog meta #andromache the scythian #quynh #andromaquynh #nile freeman #yusuf al kaysani #nicolo di genova #kaysanova #sebastien le livre #lykon #tog #em speaks #tog hcs

59 notes · View notes

tootyfrootycasbooty · 4 years

Note

how do u think u are inspired by punk subculture and others like ska and alternatives... like i find it very cool and see u talk in ur blog, wanted to know more... do u have any recomendations? like films, books... anyway thanks have a nice day u r lovely!!

WOW big question with a big answer under the cut. lovely lovely elizabeth just did an interview w me for Berlin Art Link and i discuss punk & subculture & fandom in the context of my art practice and dissertation there!

my dad brought me up on the music very young, little babby me in the car singing along to the clash and the specials....it’s always just been a part of how i see myself, and i struggled w it a lot more when i was younger, it didn’t exactly mesh with being a black preteen/teen in one of the Whitest parts of the country. i think it will always be an influence i carry with me thru fashion and music tastes, and it’s been really nice in the last 2 years to kind of rediscover that part of myself bc i stopped acknowledging it for a big long time.

i am the most annoying defender of ska because The Internet has reduced this entire genre down to like...shitty third and fourth wave american ska which is ???? not even something i’ve ever really associated as ska, it’s so far removed. ska is a jamaican genre and it’s the precursor to rocksteady and reggae, and there’s a really interesting relationship between different subcultures in postwar britain who kind of transcend anti-black racism of the time to find common ground in black-british culture. a lot of that comes from ska - punk and skinhead culture have both been hugely whitewashed or misremembered by their more commercialised/infamous versions in the media, despite there being so much variance & nuance at the time, and when both were early in their incarnations they centred around ska and reggae. read: don letts, beautiful dreadhead brother/dj to the punks. my white dad introduced me to reggae bc he was punk, while my jamaican mum could not give a shit about it!! anyway i know more about 2-tone/second wave ska than the first bc i was obsessed w Ghost Town by the specials as a kid, and while writing my dissertation i realised how fantastic it is that was i was drawn to a genre that specifically marries black and white culture in britain through music, very audibly and visually too, and it’s just....overtly political while being outrageously fun....it’s very honest and timeless and now more than ever, it feels relevant. imo, ska was often hopeful/joyful (even if the lyrics weren’t necessarily) while punk was nihilistic. i think it’s also worth saying that british and american punk have very different histories and offshoots, even tho they happened at the same time and had many crossovers.

my recommendations, whew ok!

books: black by design - pauline black (AMAZING biography by singer of the selector, mixed race and adopted, i gasped so many times bc so many parts of this book reflected my exact feelings of discovering my own blackness, even tho our child & adolescent years were like...4-5 decades apart); lipstick kisses - greil marcus (very dense but mostly very interesting, altho it does go wildly off topic sometimes. comparing 20th century social history to medieval religious history etc. it’s wild. if u want an academic read about this is IT, the way he links the letterist & situationist international to punk is just *chefs kiss*....also in general v good commentary on how mass homogenous culture combined w a loss of true freedom via capitalism, eventually creates civil unrest like may 68 and punk.) and england’s dreaming - jon savage (the go-to history of punk, basically starting with malcolm mcclaren’s childhood and how his art school background combined w may 68 led to him & vivienne very consciously creating a stylised movement, but it rly covers a lot more than that)

more academic texts on punk: subculture, the meaning of style - dick hebdige (aka the very same bastard of I Love Dick); punk rock, so what - ed. roger sabin (this is a fantastic collection of essays on dif topics that u may not ever consider in relation to punk, but the ones on race, women, and commodity are fab...so good for solidifying the concept that punk existed beyond the sex pistols and was much more interesting than them too); i havent actually read any ska specific academic texts but i wld be interested to! also dayglo! the poly styrene story for my fave black punk leading lady

films & tv: this is england (of course...how i could i not...i implore u to watch the film and then each series bc the journey is spectacular & effortlessly shows how transient and changeable these subcultures could be as music and fashion and social circumstances change); farming by adewale akinnuoye-agbaje (big trigger warning for violent racism & internalised racism, so harrowing & worthwhile tho, i dont think it deserved the shoddy reviews it got...it rly undid me); dance craze by joe massot (2-tone documentary); sex & drugs & rock n roll (ian dury is great is often left out of punk conversations but he’s a big part of my childhood and stiff records was v influential to punk & post-punk)

just general good films abt subculture: northern soul (ive been going to northern soul nights since moving to london and the history is so interesting and i wish i could go back in time and BOOGIE my god it seems incredible....also see fiorucci made me hardcore, a video art piece by mark leckey); 24 hour party people; quadrophenia; the football factory (fun fact, my dad became a punk bc he didnt like football & was tired of being beaten up by footie fans lmao); velvet goldmine.

#i went ham on this sorry #u can ask a dweeb about their diss topic and expect a short answer #my art #kinda sorta not really but u know!!!!#Anonymous #ask and you shall receive

6 notes · View notes

ciathyzareposts · 5 years

Text

Missed Classic 67: Ballyhoo (1986) – Introduction

Written by Joe Pranevich

Infocom careened into 1986 on the backs of two contradictory pieces of information. Sales had been up in 1985 for an all-time high of $11.5 million, and yet the company was falling apart. The Cornerstone flop was a distant memory, but the winter layoffs that followed were not. Marc Blank, founder and co-developer of the Zork series, Deadline, and Enchanter was out. So was Al Vezza, the CEO. Mike Berlyn had left even before Fooblitzky had been released with the graphics team as one of the layoff casualties. Infocom was in active negotiations with Activision for a buyout, although how much of this was known during the development of Ballyhoo is unclear. What is clear is that the announcement of Activision’s intent to merge came out within days of Ballyhoo’s release. This would be the last game ever released by an independent Infocom.

Into this maelstrom entered Jeff O’Neill, a first time Implementor. Originally from California, he came to Infocom with a background in journalism and a smidge of computer science. He put those skills to use doing QA on Wishbringer, Hitchhiker’s Guide, and likely other games. He also subbed in as a writer for the The New Zork Times, the company newsletter. Unlike many of the other Imps, Jeff has kept his privacy post-Infocom and so we know less about him than other team members. We’ll see his touch here and in Nord and Bert (1987), plus he was one of the contributors to Bureaucracy (also 1987). I look forward to getting to know him through his games.

($11.18 in today’s dollars.)

Prior to this marathon, I knew very little about Ballyhoo. Like many of the games in the first Lost Treasures set, I dipped a toe in twenty-five or more years ago, but I recall not “getting it” and ending a few turns in. My confusion may have been because Ballyhoo is listed as a “mystery” game, the successor to the Sergeant Duffy series of games (Deadline, The Witness, and Suspect) but without (as far as I know) continuing that series directly. I don’t recall even what the mystery was. The 1995 re-release recategorized the game as a “comedy”. Is it a comedy mystery? Or a mystery comedy? To make things even more confusing, it was initially developed as the third “junior” game (after Seastalker and Wishbringer), but that was abandoned before release. So how does this game play and feel? I’ll find out soon enough.

The manual opens with a souvenir program for “The Traveling Circus that Time Forgot”, an old-fashioned circus that my character has recently attended. We also have a balloon, a copy of our ticket, and an ad for an old cure-all in the box. I attended a Barnum and Bailey circus once as a kid in the 1980s. Even then they were old-fashioned; I remember pushing past protestors handing out anti-animal act fliers before we were in the door. That may have soured my opinion of the circus and I never went to another one. Thirty-odd years later, touring “three ring” circuses like that are gone, replaced in part by the upscale Cirque du Soleil and similar acts.

The program is mostly concerned with the story of Thomas Munrab (“Barnum” spelled backwards) and his players. He was a graduate of Harvard Business School, but invested in the circus even when everyone else thought it was stupid. The program says “backwards vision and superlative genius” but it is not difficult to read between the lines:

Sounds so simple yet it is hard to imagine the tremendous quantum of resistance and awesome challenge that would confront this would-be modern day P. T. Barnum. Immediately you would hear the voice of the naysayers. their prickly criticism intended to burst your balloon deriding such “pipe dreams” as low tech and low brow, logistically impossible, financially unfeasible. And imagine the embarrassment of getting laughed out of the Harvard Club!

As Infocom was a MIT shop, I expect there is more than a hint of cross-town Harvard/MIT rivalry in this description. Beyond their “stable genius”-level founder, the circus consists of:

Glorious Gloria, a trapeze artist

The Amazing Genatossio Brothers (Carlo, Giuseppe, Antonio, and Stefano), a hire-wire act

Gottfried Wilhelm van Katzenjammer, an animal tamer

Comrade Thumb, a 28-inch tall clown

Chuckles, Mystic Malcom, and other clowns

Rimshaw the Incomparable, a fortune-teller

Tina, the fat lady

Andrew Jenny, a “strange union of a man and a woman in one body”

I have no idea how much of this will matter, but I take notes anyway. As I look at this, I am particularly struck– and worried– by how Tina and “Andrew Jenny” will be portrayed in the game. Both are included as examples of “circus freaks”, but obesity isn’t quite as funny as it used to be. I am also worried about transgender stereotypes and the possibility that Andrew / Jenny will be depicted in poor taste. Then again, the program says that he/she is split right down the middle with an Andrew-half and a Jenny-half which is not the way any real kind of transgenderism works. I’m going to accept this as a period piece rather than worry too much immediately on the game as a commentary on non-binary genders or gender dysphoria.

Music to soothe the savage beast, eh?

The rest of the program includes a brief history of traveling circuses, connecting them to events going all the way back to Roman arenas. It also introduces circus slang which may come up in the game. Filling out the rest of the manual is a standard Infocom text including sample commands and recommendations for new players. The only new material there is that we will be solving a kidnapping plot. Sounds like fun!

Before I begin, I was already clued in to a major problem in my version of the game: the Lost Treasures set is missing a page (above) from the program which is required for copy protection. I found the page online, but it means I already have a good clue to one of the puzzles if the answer is there.

There doesn’t seem to be too much more to say about the game. Let’s play!

The circus came to town!

As the game begins, we are a disgruntled circus-goer that just finished watching a lackluster performance. And yet… we also have an “irrational desire to steal the spotlight, defy death, and bask in the thunder of applause”. Do we take over the circus when we win? Or is this just to suggest why we might help a circus to solve a mystery?

There’s not much to do except look around. I double-back into the Big Top as other spectators are just about all gone. It wasn’t a “three ring” circus, but rather a two-ringed one. A ring to the west that I cannot access is for animal acts, while this one is for the acrobats. The hire-wire is still set up with a safety net below. I can even climb up to try to cross it! This appears to be a puzzle as I have to cross slowly and “lean” to the north and south to keep my balance, but I quickly fall into the net below. I may have a reason to do this later. For now, I’m just impressed that none of the guards or ushers or clowns or anyone else didn’t stop some idiot (me!) from climbing up there and nearly getting himself killed.

I file out with the crowd and make it outside. In the main “connection” between the circus events and the Midway to the east, I find a small person wearing a general’s outfit. That must be Comrade Thumb, the world’s smallest man. Quick searching suggests that he is based on Francis Joseph Flynn, aka “General Mite”, a diminutive 19th century circus performer. He’s struggling to drink from a water fountain, but it’s too high for him. I help him up and he thanks with a salute before walking away. I cannot head east as I need to have a special ticket to access the Midway through a set of turnstiles, so I follow Thumb to the south instead.

Just to the south, Thumb is joined by Chuckles, another clown. They arrive at a second set of turnstiles. They say something to a guard and they are allowed to pass through. The guard does not let me through so I cannot follow them. I wander west instead and find myself in the prop tent where I hear voices approaching from outside. I do what any sensible person would do: hide. Munrab and a Detective arrive and speak to each other in whispers. The detective actually asks why they are whispering and Munrab breaks the fourth wall by reminding him that they are in a mystery. Munrab explains that his daughter Chelsea has been kidnapped, but he neither suspects anyone in the circus nor trusts the local police. He hands over a photo to the detective. After a brief exchange, they both leave the tent and I can come out of hiding. The game has begun for real! I don’t think the detective is supposed to be Duffy, both because he doesn’t seem to be competent and because he is a PI rather than police. I’ll see if we can get a better look later.

Our 27th President. He was the last President to appoint a non-lawyer to the Supreme Court.

My first step is to map out the circus grounds as best as I can to look for clues. Rather than a blow-by-blow, this is what I found:

The prop tent contains a stand-up figure of President Taft and a gorilla suit. I grab them.

West of the Big Top entrance is a discarded clown mask and a caged-in passage for animals. My gut says that we’ll have to traverse that at some point.

Off to the east is a white wagon, the circus’s main office. The door is locked, but there is a discarded fiberglass pole out front. I grab that too.

There are signs throughout leading to the “egress”, a famous Barnum gag. An egress is, of course, an exit and not a female egret.

Returning to the main tent, I find that the grandstands have been moved and there is now a gap I can walk through to get under the seats. I discover a ticket in the refuse below. I’m not sure why I don’t have one already since I did just watch the performance.

While in the Big Top, I try the tightrope walk again. Why? I have no idea. But this time, I drop everything except the fiberglass pole and start to climb. That’s when I notice: the safety net has been removed by the workers. I neglected to pay attention before, but quickly restoring shows that it was just removed by a “roustabout”, a laborer. Crossing it with the pole is easier than I expect and I do not have to use the “lean” command at all. At the top of the far-side platform, I find a child’s helium balloon. I grab that for another ten points.

Leaving the tent, I use my ticket to enter the Midway but it doesn’t work. I check out the ticket from the packaging and discover that I had to poke out one of the holes to specify whether I am male or female. Will that come up later? Does this game have a gendered sequence? I punch out the blue dot and put the ticket in the turnstile and this time it lets me through. Once on the Midway, I spot the detective getting drunk on the job. He’s been binging on that “cure-all” that the feelies advertise, an 18% alcohol concoction. I don’t think Duffy would do that!

My map at the end of this post. Not a ton of rooms.

That gives me access to a few more places:

A menagerie where an elephant blocks my way east, plus a locked cage to the west. I can also scoot around the elephant’s tent to find another locked cage. I can hear that the elephant is chained up and unhappy.

“Jennifer’s Boudoir” which is Andrew Jenny’s trailer. Andrew and Jenny are there, two halves of one person. They must have an interesting tailor! There is a spiral staircase leading upstairs but they will not let me through.

Rimshaw’s tent is north. He looms and looks mysterious at us.

The Fat Lady is at the eastern end. I grab a stool from her room. I should say “rooms” since she spans two of them. It’s funny, right? She’s also listening to the radio.

With that, I have explored everywhere I can explore. I need to start solving puzzles to proceed. My ticket says that it comes with three free sessions with Rimshaw. I will try there next.

All in all, this is a fun little game but I’m not sure that I “get” it yet. It’s not a time-boxed mystery like the three previous games, but I am not sure exactly what it is. There is the passage of time, but I expect that it is tied to my score. I hope that is the only similarity this game has with Cruise to a Corpse! (My god, I hated that game.) I can’t help but think that a game about the end of magic (Spellbreaker) followed by a game about the sad decline of an art form (Ballyhoo), all while Infocom was preparing for their own end… isn’t a coincidence. Let’s see how this plays out.

Time played: 1 hr 10 min Inventory: stool, clown mask, pole, ticket, gorilla suit, balloon, President Taft, $12.81 Score: 20 of 200 (10%)

Since this is an Introduction post, it’s time to guess the score! The current average score for an Infocom game is 39 points. Since we have never seen O’Neill work before, there’s not much guidance that I can give. Good luck!

Note Regarding Spoilers and Companion Assist Points: There’s a set of rules regarding spoilers and companion assist points. Please read it here before making any comments that could be considered a spoiler in any way. The short of it is that no CAPs will be given for hints or spoilers given in advance of me requiring one. As this is an introduction post, it’s an opportunity for readers to bet 10 CAPs (only if they already have them) that I won’t be able to solve a puzzle without putting in an official Request for Assistance: remember to use ROT13 for betting. If you get it right, you will be rewarded with 50 CAPs in return. It’s also your chance to predict what the final rating will be for the game. Voters can predict whatever score they want, regardless of whether someone else has already chosen it. All correct (or nearest) votes will go into a draw.

source http://reposts.ciathyza.com/missed-classic-67-ballyhoo-1986-introduction/

#retro games #dos games #retro #crpg #adventure #amiga #oldcomputers #8bit #16bit #blog #repost

1 note · View note

imsobrooklyn-archived-sameurl · 5 years

Text

TAGGED BY: found & stolen. TAGGING: @saturnrang, @falsedking, @valinta + whoever come across this.

► GENERAL.

HEIGHT: 5′8 — previously 5′6. After being bitten by the genetically-altered “42″ Spider, his stature is elongated by two inches. WEIGHT: 160 lbs — Miles is an ectomorph; it’s mostly maintained because of his obligatory participations in gym classes, playing basketball with the neighborhood every now and again after school, and the rare times he can sneak off for urban exploration or play around with his uncle’s punching bag. He doesn’t exactly have the greastest diet plan. ETHNICITY: African-American && Afro-Puerto Rican. OCCUPATION: Freelance photographer, explorer, artist, F.E.A.S.T. (Food, Emergency, Aid, Shelter, and Training) volunteer, Brooklyn Vision student, convenience store cashier, Dream Defender, and vigilante. GENDER: Cis-male. He/him. ROMANTIC AND SEXUAL ORIENTATION: Heterosexual & Demiromantic. MBTI: ENFP- the champion. Miles know how to relax, and he is perfectly capable of switching from a passionate, driven idealist in the workplace to that imaginative and enthusiastic free spirit on the dance floor, often with a suddenness that can surprise even his closest friends. Being in the mix also gives him a chance to connect emotionally with others, giving him cherished insight into what motivates his friends and colleagues. He believe that everyone should take the time to recognize and express their feelings, and their empathy and sociability make that a natural conversation topic.

Few personality types are as creative and charismatic as ENFPs. Their enthusiasm and vivid imagination allow ENFPs to overcome many challenging obstacles, more often than not brightening the lives of those around them. ENFPs’ creativity is invaluable in many areas, including their own personal growth.

► SPECIFICS.

FAVOURITE FOOD: Pasteles, Empanada, Chicharon de pollo, Pop-Tarts, Platanos, Chopped Cheese, Nathan’s Famous’ hotdogs, Aunt Butchie’s Desserts (chocolate mousse preferably), Chinese food, and Ray’s Pizza. FAVOURITE DRINK: He enjoys his uncle’s Whey protein drinks, but you’ll mostly see him drinking sodas, Gatorade, O.J., and water. FAVOURITE HOBBY: Vandal by nature, Miles loves snagging Priority Mail and Hello, My Name Is stickers to practice his art and toss his mark up wherever and whenever he can. Other than that, he plays mental gymnastics for fun when it comes to math problems. If he’s not doing that, then he’s fooling around with programs like Audacity, Sony Vegas, or FL Studio.

But the activity he feels most at peace at is when he’s isolated in his room or hanging around a building as Spiderman, writing in his journal. FAVOURITE SCENT: Vanilla, Sandalwood, Shea Moisture Manuka and Yogurt. FAVOURITE PERSON: Ganke. Miles never had a brother (a reality he yearned his parents make happen), but Ganke gives him an idea as to how it would be if he did have a biological brother.

► TEN FACTS.

Miles is an only child. “Born” on December 14th, 2003.

He’s Catholic.

Adaptability comes as second nature to Miles. In two days, he managed to survive his near-death experiences as he tangled with some of the best of the original Spiderman’s villains.

Miles use to cry Martin Luther King Day because the television and radio would play clips of his speeches, and he thought sounded like a ghost.

Until he reached the age of ten, Miles had irritable bowel syndrome and would crap his pants every so often.

He owns an Atari, Sega, and Nintendo console passed down to him from his father.

One of his favorite shows is American Ninja Warrior.

Calculus is one of his favorite subjects. Numbers, symbols, and alphabets is a challenge that he can never tire from.

There’s an unshakable habit he has and that’s speaking his thoughts out loud, much to his chagrin.

His facial features mostly resemble his father and his uncle, which is can be considered a blessing and a curse, depending on the environment he’s in. Because the Davis brothers dark past had them as hustlers, stick-up kids, and graffiti artists, and their lives would take a drastic turn in where one becomes a cop and the other went on to become a boxer, the name Davis is enough to put a sour taste on the tongues of certain circles. It’s a fleeting love-hate thing he has for it.

► FIVE THINGS HE LIKES.

VIDEO GAMES — Jefferson was never comfortable with sharing his questionable deeds on the streets with his son, but he was more than excited to share his childhood glory with him. He couldn’t wait until Miles was old enough to have a controller in his hand. Miles is “heir” to a collection of dated collection. He likes modern consoles too, as he does own both a XBOX ONE and PLAYSTATION 4, but he prides in being a ‘young old soul’. GRAFFITI — It just kind of happened? He wasn’t messing with actual spraypaint because he’s too young to cop them from Home Depot, so he stuck to just stacking up on stickers and using that until he’s legally able to buy his own. HIP-HOP — That’s New York. Hip-Hop was born there. Miles passionately embraces the main four elements that represents its culture: Emceeing, DJING, Graffiti Art, Breakdancing and integrates the other five in how he moves. Street fashion, language, entrepanuership, knowldge, beatboxing, Hip-Hop is something he lives. BOXING — We can thank Aaron for his interest in that. Aside from the man’s criminal resume, Aaron graduated from neighborhood bruiser to professional boxer. His had a impeccable record before he hung up his gloves, but the passion he had for the sport stayed with him and any chance he got with his newphew, it would show when he would spit game on the greats like Mohammad Ali, Joe Fraizer, Dixie Kid, Jack Dempsey, Tyson, and others and teach him a few of his old moves. CLEANING SNEAKERS — It’s nothing deep. You watch Paid in Full a couple of times and add your love for that movie to your natural love of keeping your gear fresh and you get a sneakerhead that’s addicted to keeping his kicks mean and pristine.

► FIVE THINGS HE DISLIKES.

PEER PRESSURE — His hood didn’t have too many stars. There were plenty of potential there, but due to unfortunate circumstances, they make it out, but Miles—everybody regards him as the gold representation. Because of his upbringings, Miles is sort of hood royalty in a positive sense. On one hand, he enjoys it appreciation, but on the other hand, he hates it because his father doesn’t make it easy on him at all. He doesn’t judge his father for doing what he had to do in the streets to survive, but he hates his father for shoving his demons down his throat. Becoming Spiderman was nothing to leap for him to leap excitedly over either. Being stressed with being the “good son”, the “golden boy” of his neighborhood, and acing studies was enough as is. Since Peter Parker and his uncle’s murder, he felt tremendous guilt over not being able to help, and with his abilities, he feels strong on his moral obligation to do what he can to be New York’s protector. It’s not the easiest weight for a teenager to carry. E X P E C T A T I O N S! eff dem! UNDERESTIMATED — In school, he dealt with a teacher that regarded him and kids like him as trash that would never be able to amount to anything. The Spider-gang didn’t think he had what it takes, making him feel as if he was a burden and incapable of being strong enough to keep his promise to his universe’s Peter Parker. He doesn’t do well with people acting like he can’t do anything. TALES FROM THE HOOD — Doesn’t particularly care to hear about criminal exploits, especially the ones his family participated in. Some kids would love to hear about how hard their peers went in the street—Miles isn’t one of them. If anything, he wishes he was oblivious to it and didn’t have to hear one related word to it. That’s one thing he’s thankful for when it comes to his dad and Aaron. They never bragged or felt inclined to share gorey details and for good reason. Miles know they and everyone else want better for him. LYING — His mama raised him to be a honest boy. His pops raised him to be a man of principle. His uncle instilled street honor in him. Other than that? Miles naturally hates lying. It doesn’t make him feel good and can actually make him a serious nervous wreck if it gets to be too much for him. FIGHTING — Even though he was taught self-defense and enjoyed his boxing lessons, Miles avoided conflict as much as he could. He preferred to just be that cool guy that can make friends with the whole world and keep it pushing. He accepts that it’s unavoidable as a superhero, but that doesn’t stop him from trying to come to a peaceful resolve before the situation gets nasty.

► WORDS / PHRASES THAT ANNOY HIM.

CLASSISM — I know it’s not a word/phrase, so I’ll just say toxic braggadocio statements. When it comes to skin color, religion, abilities (supernatural or mortal), lienage, whatever—Miles views them all as people that share the same oxygen and should treat each other like they’re aware of that. Being made to feel like a sub-human aggravates him more than he cares to admit (he once broke his classroom desk because of his teacher constant poking at the african diaspora).

► PERSONALITY TYPES HE PREFERS.

FREE SPIRITS — Chilled souls; people that are down to do whatever they please (in a healthy, non-violent way), and exudes positive energy. It’s nice to be around individuals that understands what it means to have fun without restrictions and not people that live by some book like his father. You can miss him with those that feels like they have to be tight asses all the time.

► PERSONALITY TYPES HE AVOIDS.

GOD COMPLEX — Kingpins/drug lords/gang leaders/criminal upstarts, just people that play God in the streets, dictating who lives and dies, just because they have a gun and have a little bit of power. There’s not a doubt in his mind that there will be elements in the underworld that’s going to try to seduce him to the life. It’s a mission of his to not fall into the same darkness that stained the Davis name. You will never see Miles becoming close friends with a thug or a wannabee. He’ll try to steer them clear of it and be a moral compass of course, but having that as a part of his inner circle is a big no.

#GENUINE DIME—I OPENED MY MIND / HEADCANONS #(I may come back and edit this in the future)#queue

3 notes · View notes

boarix · 5 years

Text

Wraith in the Ruins: A Fallout 4 Story Part VII

Well, I Guess We’re Blood Brothers Now…

Trigger warnings: canon violence/language/gun, alcohol & drug use. Drug overdose. Suggestive/mature content.

Game spoilers!

Bloody Mess warning!

Please enjoy!

After spending weeks supervising the transport of reconstruction resources between Minutemen settlements, Diamond City and Goodneighbor, Wraith had finally come home to Sanctuary. She had sent MacCready back well ahead of her, in part so his students would actually have him as an instructor.

The derelict warehouses that had previously been home to the Triggermen, were now apartments and offices. The Minutemen and the Railroad (although the latter in secret) were both allotted space and Wraith was happy to have a pad of her own in Goodneighbor.

Hancock had dropped hints that he wanted her to stay with him but she had felt guilty, what with MacCready there. She had the sneaking suspicion that Hancock would have liked both of them to share his temporary home at the Rexford, but Wraith wasn’t ready for that yet. She had an especially rough time controlling “certain feelings” when a shirtless, sweaty and slightly dirty MacCready had helped Hancock carry lumber right past her. The two were grunting with exertion…

Whew! I need to be anyplace else right now! Where is an ice-bucket when you need one!

She didn’t even lie to herself about sending MacCready back to Sanctuary and herself to “anyplace other than Goodneighbor”; the reconstruction of Goodneighbor was her priority and not love triangles.

After taking a few meetings and a shower, an exhausted Wraith finally flopped onto her bed. Sleep was forever elusive however, and made even more difficult by unsatisfied desires. Masturbation wasn’t something that Wraith even considered normally as she found herself wholly unappealing and couldn’t bring herself to arousal by her own touch. She made an attempt to recall the sensations she felt when MacCready had her pinned to the wall: the way his body, warm and firm, had felt under her hands. His breathless moans… Or the feeling of Hancock’s body pressed against her own… his mouth on hers… the way he tasted and smelled like mint and gun oil and….

“Hey Boss Lady, you in there?” MacCready’s knock made her jump guiltily off of the bed and without thinking she opened her door.

Her attire consisted of a towel draped around her shoulders and underwear.

MacCready’s eyes grew wide and he blushed, “Uh… um… I was… I want…”

Thankful that the towel covered her breasts, Wraith decided to pretend she was perfectly fine with her predicament, “Yeah? What’s up Mac? Something you needed?”

“I um… Is that men’s underwear?”

“What’s the difference?”

“I guess nothing but um… OKAY!” Shaking his head to gather his thoughts MacCready did his best to continue, “Would you like to come and eat with me? With clothes on?”

“This one of those ‘no shirt, no shoes, no service’ kinda deals?”

“Wha…”

Wraith didn’t realize how hungry she had been and MacCready laughed at the way she tore into her food, “Jeez! Are you even chewing? You’re going to choke!”

“Bobby Joe I swear…”

“GAAHHHAAAA! DO NOT CALL ME THAT!”

“No? How ‘bout Big Mac? Mac N’ Cheese? Mac A Roni? Mighty Mac? Mac A Roon? Mac N’ Tosh?”

MacCready was laughing and he flipped mashed carrots at her, “Stop it! You’re ridiculous!”

“I’ll just start calling you ‘The Creedster’.”

“Mungo!”

“You are!” It had been a while since the two of them played like this and Wraith was thoroughly enjoying herself.

“Ugh, I know!”

After their meal they went and sat on a bench down by the mill. The sun had set and the air was warm and full of the sounds of water cascading to the mill’s wheel. It was a nice moment of rare peace and Wraith sighed in contentment.

“Yeah, you’re right that is the single most impressive mill ever built anywhere.”

Chuckling, Wraith inched closer to him and leaned into his shoulder. To her surprise he stiffened and then abruptly stood up.

“Well, I have an early start tomorrow and so I’m going to go to bed. Goodnight!”

Running after him would be stupid. What would I even say? “Oh, Mac it’s cool; stuff your feelings for me in a bag and toss em in the river so we can pretend to just be friends.” Or “I’m in the need for some cuddling so let me introduce you to my good friend Mr. Blue-Balls.” I need to have some sort of conversation with both of them… that’s somehow not awkward… UGH!

She sat on the bench, spinning monolog in her head to well past midnight. At some point Dogmeat had joined her and was sprawled across her lap. Although the temperature had become quite cool, his warm presence had enabled her to remain trapped in her mind, endlessly creating and dismissing conversations between she and the two men.

She was so lost in thought she didn’t feel Danse’s approach and jumped a little as the big man came into her peripheral, “Jeez Danse, you startled me!”

“You must be losing your edge if I’m able to sneak up you.”

Wraith chuckled at his gentle ribbing and it turned into a full laugh when she realized that he had Panther draped across his shoulders like a fur stole, “Is that new? It’s very fashionable.”

As Danse dragged his knuckles gently across the top of its head, Panther flexed its great front paws and kneaded the air, chuffing happily. “This is definitely new. He asked to be picked up and it just sort of happened.” Danse had rarely looked happier.

“Well it suits you and I hear black is all the rage these days.” Wraith yawned and she could see the look of concern that crossed his face.

“Have you been out here all night?” As she shrugged noncommittally his tone changed to scolding, “General, your health is important. Whatever is bothering you… I’m not the best at that sort of thing… Maybe Curie…”

“I can’t believe you are back already. Time flies huh? Why aren’t you sleeping?” Wraith was more than happy to flip his argument back at him.

“We got back a couple of hours ago and I had to shower. Curie told me I smelled like the inside of a rotten yao guai. I shudder to think why she would know how that smells.” Danse looked insecure and he shifted his weight, “I tried to go to sleep after but, she…. I…”

“Hmmm. Thinking about Curie thinking about you?”

Danse gave her a panicked look, “Is it that obvious?!”

Wraith patted the bench next to her. It groaned when he sat down and she wondered at how over encumbered it must have been with the four of them, “Okay Capn’ Danse, tell me everything.”

In the end Wraith admitted that she had no real advice to give him in matters of love but hearing ones thoughts out loud and having another person as a sounding-board couldn’t hurt. “I know that she likes you…”

“I know that she likes me but she likes most everyone. She even likes MacCready!”

“Ha! Perish the thought!”

“I understand his skill but I honestly don’t know how you put up with him.”

“We can’t help who we fall in love with.” And there it was. Just like that.

Shit! I am in love with both of them! How am I supposed to…? Am I allowed to…? I don’t think I’m tall enough for this ride!

Danse’s look of shock quickly turned into amusement, as if her admittance made all the difference, “Well, there’s probably something good about him then. But I thought that you and Hancock were…”

“Yep, him too.”

“Oh wow! That sounds complicated and frustrating! And here I am fretting about the one person I’m in love with.”

“And she’s right behind you!”

Danse leaped to his feet dislodging Panther and sending the bench toppling over. Wraith laughed from the ground under the pile of animals, “I was joking!”

Danse and Curie’s return to Sanctuary had been planned to coincide with the beginning of Harvest. Everyone hit pause on whatever their normal tasks were and Wraith was more than happy to throw herself into mind numbing physical labor. Combined with distribution management of crops and continued relief efforts for Goodneighbor, going to sleep actually became much easier for her now that she had obtained peak exhaustion. The bad dreams still woke her up however and with no one to hold her, she often remained that way.

As Wraith’s fatigue had become increasingly noticeable Curie once again had pushed for use of a sleep aid. “It’s too much Baby Bird; I can’t be knocked out if something were to happen.”

“Madame surely can have a leave of absence, oui?” She and Danse were helping Wraith pick tatos, “I’m sure generals would do this.”

“Well not to sound narcissistic but I’m The General and it’s a bad idea for me to be off work during war time.”

Danse frowned at her from his row, “You don’t mean the Gunners do you? We have that well in hand. You dealt the Triggermen a serious enough blow that I doubt they’ll recover any time soon. Other than raiders, who are we at war with?”

“Factions of the Children of Atom, the Forged, Rust Devils, the L&L Gang, super mutants and not to mention the Commonwealth herself: rad storms, monsters and don’t get me started on the Nor’easters!”

“Like I said, mostly raiders,” Danse laughed, “and you can’t wage war on the weather General!”

“I’m pretty sure she’s tenacious enough to bring Ma Nature to her knees, you feel me?” Hancock was leaning against the wall of a nearby shed, looking smug at their surprised faces.

Curie immediately went to hug him, “Bonjour mon ami! Avez-vous suivi vos estudes?”

“Oui, prof j’ai. Tu es magnifique comme toujours.”

“Et vous etes un flirt sans vergogne!”

Wraith found the variety of emotion that colored Danse’s face as he tried to understand what they were saying perfectly hilarious and when he looked to her for help she shrugged her shoulders, “Ne me regarde pas.”

“Where’s MacCready? I expected him to see me from the tower and he’d come say ‘hi’.” As Hancock pumped water so Wraith could wash her hands, he looked around, clearly disappointed.

“Mac has a massive headache from his latest round of implant surgery. He’s up in his room, but I’m sure a visit from you will liven up his day.” Wraith cast a worried look toward the second story of her house, “I can’t imagine being allergic to Med-X.”

MacCready’s class was on break for Harvest and so he had the remainder of his unsalvageable teeth pulled. With powerful Institute technology, Curie had set the metal posts for his new teeth in just a few days. The customary waiting period to set the actual teeth was also unnecessary due to her equipment but without the aid of the powerful pain-killer, he was left with one hell of a migraine.

Hancock frowned as he thought of MacCready in pain, “No wonder he drinks too much.” He motioned to his own left cheek, “You have dirt still.”

Wraith playfully punched his arm while absentmindedly wiping her cheek and completely missing the dirt, ”He drinks too much? You’re one to talk.”

Hancock caught her arm and pulled her to him to seductively lick the smudge from her face, “Mmm… you taste as good as you look.”

“Did you just lick something off of my face?! Hancock! What if it was oil or… or worse?”

“You do know what Jet is made from, right? ‘Sides, I’m pretty sure ghoul drool is a universal solvent.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s water.” She did her best to ignore his look of disappointment as she disentangled herself from his embrace, “Come on, let’s go take Mac some ice.”

Wraith had hung black-out curtains in MacCready’s apartment in preparation for his surgery. As they opened his bedroom door a beam of light passed over his face and he sat up in his bed. He looked rough: hair mussed, face swollen and eyes filled with pain.

“Oh damn, Little Brother…”

Attempting to smile was a mistake and he winced, which also looked like it hurt, “Hey man… ow…”

Wraith passed him the towel-wrapped bag of ice and his relief was echoed on her face as well, “Don’t try to talk Mac.”

“Can I see?” Hancock groaned sympathetically as MacCready opened his mouth, “Well damn! After this you’re all done then, right?”

“Shesh shaid a couple of dash, and… all shmilesh.” Groaning, he lay back down using his ice-towel as a pillow.

Hancock gave his hand a squeeze and kissed his forehead and then he and Wraith made their way back downstairs, “Damn… How did you talk him into that one?”

Wraith strategically avoided her bedroom door and instead made her way to her office. “He asked me a while back if there was something we could do. Timing was hard but we did a round this summer…” Wraith trailed off remembering why Hancock wouldn’t have known. “I’m surprised to see you here,“ when he frowned she attempted to soften her words, “what with all that’s going on I mean.”

“Well, KL-E-O has a hot tip on some ballistic fiber. She’s grateful to you so figures this one’s free. Fahrenheit told me I was under-foot and suggested I come see if I could be of use to you; if the three of us would want to go collect it. Since MacCready is out of commission for a bit and it’s been a while since you and me got into some trouble, just the two of us… What do ya think?”

Wraith’s eyes lit up, “Yes. Definitely yes. Danse and Curie were just busting my chops about going on leave and I feel that this should count! Besides, we really need that ballistic fiber.”

“I don’t know… ‘snot exactly a vacation. It still seems like you’re working...”

The duo moved through the lower levels of the building as quietly as possible. From all accounts it had been empty of both raiders and monsters for quite some time but things could change quickly in the Commonwealth. KL-E-O had recommended they proceed with caution regardless of occupants, due to the copious amount of traps.

Most of the basement and first floor was submerged and Hancock had been making little noises of disgust every few steps, “I sure hope this is water…”

They avoided the elevator (that still had power somehow) after only briefly considering it. Standing in front of the doors listening to the button “pling” they had said, in perfect unison, “Booby trapped!”

Wraith held her hand out to him, “Jinx! You owe me some Jet.” Hancock had seemed a little confused but still reached into his coat and passed her the requested chem.

“Do you always put the same stuff in the same pockets?”

Hancock’s face suggested she should have known better than to ask, “Course! You can’t waste time being unorganized. Chem breaks are important!”

The second floor was dryer and after picking their way past various piles of rubble they found what must have been The Grand Stair, back in the building’s heyday.

“Is it me, or does this place remind you of Faneuil?”

Wraith was looking dejectedly at the staircase, which was lousy with wire traps, “Yeah, but times ten.” As she walked to the foot of the stair a bolt of lightning flashed outside, followed immediately by a ferocious crack of thunder.

The two made eye contact and said, once again in perfect unison, “Ominous!”

This time Hancock called jinx but his request (and his smile) was more suggestive, “You owe me a ‘conversation’ I believe.”

Wraith felt herself get hot, “Oh no! Not here. We start that business we’ll likely blow ourselves up.”

“I don’t mind it a little rough…”

As if to answer him the whole building settled loudly with reverberating creaks and groans that were rather alarming, “Well, that answers that! The wind must have picked up outside. We’d best make this quick.” She removed her pack to pick out the items she would need and became keenly aware of how close Hancock was standing to her. “Um… not to be rude…”

“Oh right! Probably don’t want me looming over you… unless you want some help?”

“Why don’t you go check out the ballroom? If everyone has been avoiding this place there might still be some good stuff around.”

As she busied herself with disarming the explosives, Hancock moved through the rest of the rooms on the second floor checking containers and looking for safes. He found a promising safe/terminal combo and ignoring the computer, deftly picked the lock. The contents were rather disappointing however: $13.00 and a personalized coffee cup that read “World’s Greatest Grandma” that had obviously been painted by a child. “Why the hell would they keep thirteen bucks in a safe? Guns and Bullets cost thirty three and it was just a damn magazine!”

Already bored, he made his way back to the stair to check Wraith’s progress. She was almost to the first landing and was completely focused. After watching her for a minute he suddenly got a bad feeling and almost called out to her but didn’t want to startle her into making an error. “Watching her is making me paranoid, that’s all.”

Moving away he briefly amused himself by cutting the mouth and eyes out of a painting of George Washington (at least he thought it was) that he found in the restroom. Holding it up to his face, he recited his favorite Washington quote to a mirror, “The foolish and wicked practice of profane cursing and swearing is a vice so mean and low that every person of sense and character detests and despises it.” Laughing at the irony of it he turned the painting back around, “I don’t think this was even ol’ Georgie after all.” He tossed the painting aside and wandered into the ballroom, “I wonder if MacCready would find that one funny.”

Pretending to have been announced to a grand masquerade, he elegantly spun round with arms out to either side, ending in a bow to both the east and west wings. The room held no great, obvious treasure however, so he walked along the wall looking at paintings. Making sure Wraith couldn’t hear him from the next room, he proceeded to rehearse a potential conversation much in the same way that she had days before, “Hey sister, I happened to noticed that you didn’t say ‘I love you too’. I know it’s been rough for you and maybe if you’re saying it out-loud you’ll feel like you’re betraying Nate… Naw I don’t think that’s it.”

He noticed the remains of a small private loge and with amazing agility, used the narrow lip of the wainscoting to leap to a tattered banner and swing himself to the railing.

Partially obscured by broken seats was a small safe, “What are you hiding?” It would have most likely been behind a now fallen painting and after picking the lock, Hancock was happy to find a more lucrative return, “Well now, six lighters and a nice .44 plus ammo!”

Packing his pockets with his treasures, imagining the smile on Wraith’s face made him happy. His expression quickly sobered however and righting a chair he flopped down and continued his ruminations, “It’s MacCready isn’t it? That fella… I’d happily jump his bones if I knew that’s what he wanted from me! He’s given me some signs… I can’t tell if that’s what he wants or if that’s what he thinks I want and I know he wants to give me what I want… mmmuUUGGHHRR!” Growling in frustration he crossed his legs and set them up on the railing, “Maybe she loves him too. That’s stupid. I know she loves him too. Maybe that’s it; she thinks she has to choose. Does she? Can I share her? Can I share him?”

He put his arms behind his head and closed his eyes, listening to the storm outside, “Would explain why she won’t let me touch her for more than five seconds.” He spent a few blissful moments imagining all the different ways he could touch (and be touched by) both of them.

Then the whole world exploded.

Moments before, Wraith had finally made it to the first landing. She stretched and went through her pack, looking for a Nuka Cola. She saw the Jet that Hancock had given her first and picked it up, wondering to herself how much faster her task would be if she combined the inhaler with Mentats. As it happened, having the chem half way to her lips may have saved her life.

The forceful winds outside caused the entire building to shift and as the pressure on the support beams changed, it set off a chain reaction of disastrous proportions. She had just enough time to inhale the Jet and grab her pack as the elevator exploded, triggering the rest of the trip-wire traps. She leaped from the landing just as the shockwave hit and she and household shrapnel were flung to the third floor. Spun about in midair, the back of her head slammed into a wall just as she felt something pierce her shoulder. Pain and darkness closed in around her and she knew no more.

Stunned, Hancock lay immobile under fallen debris. Gaining his senses after a moment, he pushed the rubble away while coughing and calling for Wraith.

There would be no answer.

The ballroom ceiling was mostly gone and what remained was chard and smoking. Exposed to the elements, the fire had guttered and gone out leaving behind the acrid smell of burnt treated lumber and plastic.

“Wraith!” Hancock ignored his own small hurts and ran to the ruin of the Grand Stair, “WRAITH!”

He heard only the sound of the storm and the sizzle of spent flame.

“Please honey… PLEASE ANSWER ME!” He felt hot tears running down his cheeks and he stood motionless, not even knowing where to look, “Please… I just got you back… I just…”

He saw her pack. It was hanging from a pipe above and to his left.

Using all of his strength and agility, he swung and leaped his way to the remains of the third floor. With a mop handle, he hooked her pack off of the pipe and hugged it to his chest, “Please Wraith…”

And then Hancock found her.

His sob of relief quickly turned to one of anguish: she was a mess of blood and her eyes were partially open. Trapped in a small triangular space made from partially collapsed ceiling and the floor, she had been run through by a piece of wood. She looked very dead.

“God no… NOOOOO!” Hancock had to crawl on his hands and knees to get to her. Once there he went to reach for her but was afraid to touch her and so left his hands hovering midway between them.

Then she blinked.

Wraith coughed and a thin line of blood ran from her mouth to drip down her chin, “Hancock… I… have a splinter…”

“You sure do sunshine.”

She strained to lift her head but her eyes widened in pain and she relaxed, “Could you check… my head… make sure my brains are in my head, please.”

He dutifully checked her skull, “I don’t think it’s broken but you’re gonna have one hell of a goose egg.” After injecting her with a stimpak and Med-X, he crawled around to her left side to see how badly she was pinned. Her left arm hung as if it was no longer attached and blood flowed down to drip from her fingers to the floor, “You’re going to bleed out if we can’t get you free.”

“Can you push…?”

“Sister, there ain’t enough Buffout in the world…”

“You’ll have to cut me free.”

Hancock looked at her in horror, “I’m not cutting your arm off!”

“Then cut the splinter. I don’t… have a saw. You use… knife…” Her chin dropped to her chest as she lost consciousness.

“God please don’t let her wake up while I’m doing this.” After taking some Buffout he set his knife to the wooden spike, took a deep breath and began sawing. About midway through, the pain woke her in spite of the Med-X and she gapped wordlessly, her right hand curling and clenching the air. She soon passed out which both worried and relived Hancock.

Normally it would be best to leave the impaling object in to avoid more rapid blood loss. In this case, Hancock’s sawing had expanded the wound and he needed to pull it out and staunch the flow of blood.

He pulled her to a relatively sheltered corner and removed her torso armor. He noticed the dent in her chest plate where the stake first made impact and was surprised that it even penetrated her armored Army fatigues, “The weave should have stopped it…” A terrible thought crossed his mind and instead of attempting to pull her arm free by disrobing her, he brought his knife to bear and simply cut the fabric away from her wound. There was no ballistic weave.

He was suddenly very angry with her, “WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT?! WHY THE FUCK DON’T YOU HAVE BALLISTIC WEAVE?!” Using moonshine as a disinfectant he hastily stitched her up as he cussed her out, “FUCK, WRAITH! WHAT ARE YOU THINKING?!”

He wrapped her in his coat and using the remains of a fire hose, lowered her to the second floor as carefully as possible. Popping some Buffjet, he cradled her in his arms and ran through the remains of the building and out into the storm.

As Hancock ran, his mind reveled a new horror to him: this was actually all his fault. He remembered the fight he had staged in Dr. Amari’s clinic, especially the part where he accused her of not caring about any of them.

Fahr told me Wraith gave her and Michael ballistic fiber. Wraith has been desperate for that stuff. She… removed her own weave? Yes of course she did! Of course, she cares about everyone! Why, why did I SAY THAT! MacCready’s hat, Nick’s hat, Preston’s hat… oh god… MY HAT!

Stopping briefly, he took more chems then continued running at a brutal pace. The storm began to wane just as the storm in Hancock’s mind reached a crescendo.

ALL YOUR FAULT! ALL YOUR FAULT! ALL YOURS!

At a certain point he became aware that someone was pacing him. In the process of trying to figure out how to fight and save Wraith, he was shocked to see it was Deacon.

“I’ll run interference! Don’t slow down whatever you hear!”

The rest of the race back to Sanctuary was a nightmare for Hancock. His feet were run raw in his boots and his chest burned from lack of air. He could hear occasional sounds of fighting and he knew that he was pushing it too hard with the chems but he could not stop, “I’m saving her even if it kills me!”

The tower guard radioed ahead to Sofie and Curie that they had incoming and so when Hancock crossed through Big Bridge Gate, they were there to run along aside him.

“We need monsieur Garvey! Madam’s blood type is very rare. Send out Cait and Gracie! If Strong is back send him as well.” As Curie worked she called out to Wraith, trying to bring her back to consciousness. “Return to us Madame!”

When MacCready got to the clinic he saw Hancock standing in the doorway, chest heaving, “What happened?” When he didn’t immediately answer, MacCready tore his eyes from Wraith to look at him.

Something was wrong.

Hancock’s eyes were completely glassed and he was drooling. He turned his head to MacCready and reached for him, “Robert…” His eyes rolled to back of his head and he began to violently shake. As he seized he hit MacCready across the face, sending him reeling. Danse had been right behind them and so caught Hancock in his arms to prevent the ghoul from hurting himself.

Complete chaos ensued as everyone was shouting at once and MacCready’s broken nose was streaming blood. “I WILL HAVE QUIET!” Curie’s shout cut through the bedlam like a hot knife. She gave orders to her nurse as well as her extra helpers with a voice full of calm authority, “Now, Williams, you will put the mattress from that gurney there on the floor. Danse you will set Hancock on his side and do not hold his head! No addictol! MacCready there are towels there for your nose and grab charcoal and stimpaks.”

Deacon was the last to arrive, with his face bruised and clothes torn, “I just saw Cait riding Gracie out…”

“Oui. They have gone to The Castle to bring the Colonel; we need his blood.”

“They’ll never make it… Check mine!”

“Monsieur Deacon it is highly unlikely…”

“DAMN IT, CHECK MINE!” He thrust his wrists at her as if begging to be put in handcuffs, “We can’t wait for them, please!”

It was warm.

Philippa, you can’t stay here.

It was warm and soft and dark.

Philippa… you have to go back now.

As Wraith swam upward through the dark toward consciousness, she became aware of pain. Her chest and left shoulder hurt but it was the familiar discomfort of the nasal cannula that irritated her the most. The supply tubing chafed her ears and she hated having something in her nose. She would have removed it but her right arm had been strapped to the hospital bed and her left arm was wrapped and held immobile against her torso. Frowning at the various IV lines in her leg and right arm, she was trying to piece together what had happened. Her mind was a fog from pain killers and focusing was hard so she closed her eyes and listened to the sounds of Hancock and MacCready as they breathed in their sleep.

Her eyes snapped open when she realized what the sounds meant and she smiled when she saw them. The gurney had been wheeled as close as possible to her bed and both men were lying together. MacCready was flat on his back with one arm extended toward her and the other wrapped around Hancock. The latter was lying completely over the top of MacCready and had his head tucked under his chin.

It was just about the sweetest thing she had seen them do.

MacCready felt her looking at him and woke to return her smile, “Hey Boss Lady. You decided to stay with us after all.”

She cleared her throat before speaking but her voice still came out gravely and raw, “Look at you with your pretty smile! Yeah. I love it here, you know?” She popped her chin at Hancock, “He alright? What happened to your face?”

“Well… he… kinda broke my nose.” Seeing her eyes widen in alarmed confusion he rushed to explain, “He overdosed to get you here and had a seizure. It wasn’t on purpose. Wrong place, wrong time kinda thing.”

“A seizure?! Is he oaky?!”

“Well he’s still pretty out of it and he kept trying to get to you. Curie wouldn’t let him cause of the tubes and stuff so he…” MacCready’s voice cracked with emotion and he cleared his throat, “He started to cry.” He sniffled a little and swallowed a couple of times, “He uh… he stays calm as long as I hold on to him though.” The tender look he cast toward Hancock made Wraith’s heart hurt and she started to cry. “Oh hey, oh no…” He stretched as far as he could reach without dislodging his ghoul burden and touched her hand, “It’s okay! Jeez you guys! What am I supposed to do with you?”

Hancock made a small, annoyed grunt at being jostled, “You guys mind keeping it down? Some of us are hung-over.”

“And some of us are just hung.” MacCready maneuvered himself out from under the ghoul, “Speaking of bones; you are just about the boniest blanket I’ve ever had!”

“Where you going?”

“I’ve had to pee for forever. I’ll be back in a sec. Don’t unstrap her hand. Curie says the nose thingy has to stay in!” He pointed a stern finger at the both of them as he left the room.

Hancock immediately stood up (rather wobbly) and undid the strap, “…tell ME what to do…” Giving Wraith a kiss after she removed the cannula, he held her hand and gazed at her adoringly, “How high are you right now?”

Wraith giggled as her head swam, “I think I’ll probably pass out in a sec. I kinda need that oxygen. Probably.”

“Probably. You and I are going to have a talk when you’re better.”

“Are you threatening me, John Hancock?”

“Never, sunshine. I’ll put the oxygen back in after you pass out.”

She heard arguing then vague flashes of Deacon, Preston and Codsworth.

Pain. Pain all over.

Deacon was humming show tunes.

Opening her eyes she could see that her usable hand was once again strapped to the bed, “Deacon would you free me up? I have to get this thing out of my nose or I’m going to scream!”

“I don’t know… Curie is actually pretty scary when she’s mad!” Despite what he said he still undid the strap. “How do you feel?”

“Lousy. When did you get here?” She pulled the tubing off of her ears and tossed the whole apparatus to the floor. “No offence, but you look kinda rough yourself. Are you alright?”

“Welp, half my blood is now swimming through your reckless veins, so yeah… I’m clinic bound till I grow some more.”

“Ha ha ha! Blood cells don’t swim!” Realizing what he meant she became as serious as her drugged mind would let her, “Well, I guess we’re blood brothers now.” Suddenly sad, her eyes filled with tears, “I put everyone in danger again, didn’t I? Are they mad at me?” Her lip quivered, “Are you mad at me?”

Deacon stood up and took his glasses off. With an internal struggle clear on his face, some part of him lost a battle and he stooped to kiss her forehead. Resting his cheek against hers and putting his arms around her as best he could, he whispered, “Everyone loves you.”

Thank you for reading! Like what you read? Looking for more? Please see my Wraith in the Ruins master-link in my bio. Any questions/concerns/comments? My ask is open. Anons too! =^..^=

#wraith in the ruins #fallout fanfic #fallout 4 fanfic #hancock #john hancock #fallout hancock romance fanfic #fallout hancock fanfic #maccready #rj maccready #maccready romance fanfic #danse #fallout danse #deacon #fallout deacon fanfic #fallout curie #fallout fan fiction #fo4 hancock #fo4 companions #fo4 fanfic

2 notes · View notes

chelsrps · 5 years

Photo

face our fears & the man in the mask

Let me first begin by saying that I loved this show growing up and I love this group and honestly I hope y'all love them as much as I do. Anyway, Miles here is heavily based on Shaggy Rogers from Scooby-Doo and he needs the rest of the gang in order to, like, survive.

The group has sort of assembled over the years, but Miles' very first friend in the group was The Daphne. They met somewhere shortly after Miles' family moved back to Marblehead, when he was six. I've made mention of her in his app, if you'd like to take a look. Miles worships the ground that The Daphne walks on and would probably do just about anything she asks of him.

Between middle and high school, The Daphne became friends with The Fred. They shared an interest in sneaking around and "Investigating" abandoned houses, conspiracy theories about bigfoot and swamp monsters, and just generally goofing off. It didn't take long for Miles to latch onto The Fred's friendship. And for a long time (ok like two or three years), it was the three amigos.

The Velma showed up right around junior or senior year, after a long-time online friendship with The Fred turned real-life friendship when they realized they both lived in Marblehead (like, how did they not even know?!) They probably met in some conspiracy theory chat room tbh and the rest is history. She fell right into the group with ease, as if she'd always belonged. They've been an inseparable bunch ever since.

I imagine the rest of the group is either in university or have jobs by this point. Below, I'm mostly going to list some fast facts about them, but by no means do these have to be set in stone. Please lemme know what face you have in mind or if you need suggestions and I can help. It would amuse me to no end if everyone was taller than Miles, btw. Just because it would be opposite of the real mystery gang lol.

I'm thinking the gang runs a paranormal/private investigator vlog out of The Fred's apartment. Kind of like the actual mystery gang tbh. Except current and probably a lot more trespassing and a lot less real business. And way more talk about murderers and conspiracies lol.

Also wanna note that if you have questions or anything, you can hit me up on discord @ chels#6523

FRED JONES. 20-22ISH. SELF-TITLED LEADER. ANSEL ELGORT.

Fancies himself a detective of all things including, but not limited to, the bigfoot living in the the woods behind his house. Will help you solve the mystery of your stolen bike while at the same time questioning if it was the mole men again.

Half the reason the gang even has a criminal record. Tends to act before thinking. Also the only reason none of them have actually been convicted thanks to his cop daddy.

Worst at making plans, despite boasting. But he is exceptionally good at packing supplies and keeping notes.

Charming. Polite. Wants to find the truth™.

Definitely has a side-blog dedicated to any and all conspiracy theories, paranormal phenomenon, and aliens. Probably has a cork-board in his living room with red string to leads on "cases" etc etc.

Has a flaming crush on The Velma, but is too chickenshit to ask her out.

Has amazing hair and will crush anyone who thinks otherwise.

I'd be fine with someone like Ansel Elgort, Joe Keery, or someone equally tall and handsome. *shrug* Bonus points for someone POC.

DAPHNE BLAKE. 20-22ISH. BADASS BABE. ZENDAYA.

Not your fucking damsel. In fact, she could probably crush you with her thighs if she wanted to.

Has several belts in different fighting styles. Knows how to dismantle a gun. Basically a badass. Don't fuq wit her.

Fiesty and fashionable. Like. She has hella good taste in clothes and isn't afraid to wear a 6 inch heel. But also don't fuq wit her unless you want to end up on your ass.

Momma bear mode if anybody tries to mess with her friends. Super protective of them. Especially Miles.

Probably has a lot of disposable income. Will still give receipts to The Fred during their adventures/work. #noshame

Incredibly smart and sassy. Probably going to college for something unique.

Goes along with The Fred's stupid ideas without much question bc she loves adventure almost as much as she loves danger. Caution: will scale a fence before you can say "No, stop".

Some suggested faces might be: Zendaya, I'm awful at this... but bonus points if she's a POC.

VELMA DINKLEY. 20-22ISH. BRAINY BABE. BARBIE FERREIRA.

Has probably hacked into the FBI database and may or may not be on some CIA watchlists. She's not sorry.

Certified genius who graduated hella early and went off to uni as a preteen.

Spends entirely too much time on The Dark Web.

Often a voice of reason to The Fred's stupid plans to go hunt bigfoot in the woods at midnight. Infinite eyerolls when nobody actually listens to her. Muttered insults when she tries to scale the fence after them.

Incredibly shy and probably full of sarcasm and possibly a little prickly. Like a hedgehog. Smol & angry. But mostly harmless.

A total thicc babe. Will smite you if you call her one tho.

Very much the Garcia to The Fred's Morgan. It's fire. Except she hasn't admitted it, yet.

I'm totally pining for Barbie Ferreria with little negotiations unless you've got a thicc POC recommendation.

#group: meddlin' kids #frkypplrp

1 note · View note

zachwritesstuff · 6 years

Text

Digimon Adventure Tri: The Good, The Bad and the Ugly

I’ve been a fan of Digimon ever since I was 11, back in 2001. Though I’ve had a rocky relationship with it, I’ve always admitted myself as a fan of those weird little monsters and their wacky adventures.

It’s why I was so excited by the announcement of Digimon Adventure Tri. One of my favorite seasons was, of course, the first, and I was excited to see what they could do with these characters in a more modern setting, with them a bit older and tastes and themes in anime having changed since the heyday of the monster partner genre. Heck, I was even excited by the rumors (that ended up being true) that the season 2 characters would have very little involvement in the plot. I had long stated that Season 2 was my least favorite season, so that felt like the icing on the cake for a great show.

Having recently finished the last movie, and hearing the news of more on the way, I have to say that my view on this revitalization experiment is not as shiny and bright. While I will say it was an interesting thing to watch, especially after such a long time, it was hard to say if it was good or not. So I’m going to go over some positive and negative aspects I found over the several years it took for this entire series to come out.

By the way, as this will be talking about this series as a whole, there will be spoilers

The Good

1. It was good to see them again

Let’s get that out of the way real quick. Despite overall problems I had with this series, I will admit that the fanboy in me did really like seeing new material with these characters I loved as a kid. Hell, I even kind of enjoyed their appearances in Digimon Xros Wars, even if that was the most pure pandering of all time.

I also liked their updated look, even though it was a bit controversial that they moved away from the classic big head/hands/feet look from the old shows. It helped deliver the message that they were maturing and would be presenting a different kind of story from the original. But with the original voice actors of the Digimon returning to join a brand new cast, it at also said that it wasn’t going to stray too far from the original. Different but not too different. It could work… Right?

But while we’re talking about the characters, let’s talk about…

2. Character Growth

With the maturing characters, they couldn’t really be the same precocious children anymore. It would seem weird to have this people in their teens acting like 10-12 year olds still. So they had to grow up in some way, and to the credit of the writer’s, much of it felt very sensible.

I think the strongest among them is probably Tai. It makes the most sense, as he is the main character. Whereas he was formerly headstrong and first to enter action before, by Tri, he had become more level headed and questioned his motivation a lot more. This made the series a bit more interesting, as it helped give depth to his decisions and not make it as cliche and repetitive that Digimon tended to be sometimes.

Along with Tai, characters like Izzy, Joe, Mimi and Sora also expanded emotionally, though theirs is a little less obvious. Izzy and Joe are shown to be studying and working in their fields a lot more heavily, while Sora is opening up more and Mimi is becoming more of a headstrong leading type. Unfortunately, since Digimon has always had problems with letting specific characters shines, their character advancement didn’t get much notice, and they weren’t given much room to stretch. Because of this, we only got bits and pieces of who they had become after a few years of development.

The ones that came off the worst of the original crew were probably Matt, TK and Kari. Not to say that they didn’t also advance a bit, but they probably had the least of all. Matt still was cool, and was just now older and cooler. TK seemed like he was supposed to be an auxiliary leader of the group, but with Tai and Matt taking most of the leadership positions, he was left with nothing much to do. And Kari, well… I think she said maybe 20 words in the first couple of movies, and mostly stood around and smiled. For a long time, it seemed like she would get no development, but she did finally get some storylines after what felt like forever. Which leads me to my next point…

3. Kari’s Importance

Kari has always been my favorite character of the Digimon series. She came during my favorite arc of the original season, and her character felt a bit different from the other known female characters, who were the archetype Girly Girl and Tomboy. She had weaknesses in her often recurring sickness (always unnamed), but it was soon revealed that she had a deeper connection to the plot, and possibly even revealing a much more perplexing story behind the Digital World and what it might hide.

Then… Nothing happened after season 1. They hinted at her connection to the Digital World during Season 2, including the introduction of the Dark Ocean involving her, but through the rest of the series, she just ends up being fodder for Davis’ crush and generally just being Another Character.

That’s why I was glad to see them actually touch on it. They didn’t go too deeply, but they showed that not only did she have a much stronger tie with the Digital World and Digimon, but she also might be able to go beyond, to communicate with Digmon in limbo and help those that might need help. I really do hope that they continue to dive into it and bring her whole deal to a head in future material. And speaking of future…

The Bad

1. Season 2’s Epilogue

This is honestly a little hard for me to think about, and it won’t be the only time in this article I talk about it. So let’s get it out of the way: I, like pretty much every fan in the Digimon fandom, hate the final Epilogue scene to season 2. It made no sense, it gave random jobs to people that didn’t fit their personality, and basically threw an active grenade into the whole shipping side of the show, making that a basically banned subject if you talk to any fan of the series. So when, at first, it seemed like it was going to retcon all of the epilogue, I was over the moon.

But just like epilogue itself, they give hints to it at the very, very end of the last movie. They talk about Matt’s desire for space, TK is now writing journals of his adventures and Tai’s change in career focus. Despite everything fans have said about it, they are going to stick to their guns, and justify the dumb as hell ending they made.

And you know what? I can respect that. They introduced that bit of canon, and for better or worse, they’re going to stick to it. They’re going to try as hard as they can to try and make sense of what was set forth for these kids future, even if it does seem like an impossible task. A really impossible task, to be perfectly honest…

Okay but seriously, they really wanted to try to justify this? It’s basically like badly written fanfiction. Everyone in the world has a Digimon, Matt is an astronaut, Davis has a ramen stand, Mimi has a cooking show, it feels like a madlib. Even the little hints they put in at the end of Digimon Tri felt like more like a mandate than an actual attempt to be inclusive to the original canon.

And if we are going to talk about the consistency, than you have to really wonder about the things they now have to retcon INTO the epilogue. Namely, Mei, and this whole Digimon shadow government organization. Where do they factor into this idealistic future? Sorry, I’m ranting a bit, but it felt like a big misstep that they could have easily written out with little argument, and yet they felt the need to include it. Hell, they didn’t even physically show the characters of Season 2, and yet they still feel the need to bring back the worst part of that season? It’s just dumb, though to be completely fair, that might just be my own disdain coloring my thoughts.

To be fair, it can work, and I would even be okay with them going in the middle almost, keeping some of the general ideas from the epilogue, but coloring them in a more realistic fashion. I think the big problem myself and many people had with it was how it was presented. It was basically bullet points that were presented without any context. If they do decide to delve deeper, I’m hoping that at the very least, they try to connect it to their characters and modernize it a little bit (I.E. making Mimi more of a media mogul than just a Cooking Show host, make Davis more of an entrepreneur than just a guy with a Ramen Cart). I don’t like it, but if it must be there, at least make it sensible, right?

2. Season 2 characters

So as you can probably infer from above, I don’t hold the second season of Digimon Adventure in the highest regard. The characters are no exception. But Jesus Christ, not even I would have treated them as piss poor as Digimon Tri did. Not only did they not even appear as actual characters, they didn’t even bother to update their appearances! I went and looked back at the scene, and as noted in the appearance section of their wiki entries, their silhouettes are basically just wearing clothes they wore in the past (It’s even noted that Davis is wearing his square goggles from the pilot of Digimon 02). They are then barely mentioned until the last two movies, where they are simply props to fuel how evil and twisted the villain is. Never once are they seen as more than shadowy figures, and the fact that they even lived at the end is a couple of lines in the last five minutes.

Now while I don’t love these guys, I do think that this series of movies was their chance to do SOMETHING with them. Either delve into their characters deeper and separate them from the carbon copies of S1 characters, like they were, or turn into the skid and really have fun with people’s perception of them,much like how Dragon Ball Kai and Super did with Yamcha. They could have really done some cool things with this group, but instead, they basically act like they don’t exist until they’re needed as objects to further the plot

Hell, from here, they could even introduce an interesting plot, on how they were literally gone for weeks, maybe months, yet none of the main 8 characters seemed to care that they were near death somewhere in the Digital World. That could make for an interesting dynamic between them, and even play into a meta competition between Season 1 and Season 2. But, deep down, I know that all of those ideas are just fever dreams, and most likely, any further material will continue to leave them in the background.

3. Some Adult Situations May Apply

When I was told that the Director of these films also directed School Days and one of the Persona 3 films, it was one of the least surprising thing I had ever heard. For a series who’s whole deal is being a “kids with monster friends” show, it does not feel like it was made for that demographic at all!

I can understand wanting to gear it towards an older audience. It makes perfect sense, actually. The people who grew up with the original Digimon Adventure were now adults, so wanting to make something for their sensibilities seems like the most obvious decision. No problem at all!

But it really is only good on paper. Looking at the history of kid focused shows being transitioned to older focused shows paints a rather different, and more ugly, picture. You get the likes of Ren & Stimpy’s Adult Party Cartoon, or more recently, the absolutely atrocious showing of DC’s Titans, based on the popular Teen Titans series (note: as of this writing, only the first preview has come out, so there is still time to save it, even if it looks unlikely). True, there have been some good shows made from kids properties, like Space Ghost Coast 2 Coast and Harvey Birdman: Attorney At Law, but it comes with the caveat of those shows having nothing to do with what they were originally based on.

On the subject of Digimon, it seemed like they were less interested in making a Digimon movie and more interested in making a Persona movie, even down to the final monster being a giant nude angel beast who’s butt is prominently featured on most of it’s shots. Add in the scenes of Tai heavily injured and covered in blood, and multiple characters either dying or going mad with grief, and you basically have the David Lynch student film that is Digimon Tri.

I think the biggest question is… Why? There was absolutely no need to get this grimdark with it. The people who grew up with Digimon enjoyed it for it’s values in friendship and teamwork, in the world building of this fascinating patchwork world, and in these characters growing up and learning. And especially in an age where streaming services allow for modern audiences to go back and watch the original whenever they want, it seems weirdly outdated to think that they would need to make it more “cool and mature” for the original fans.

I could go on and on about this, but really, I’m just hoping they learn that changing the tone of the story is not necessary. We love the characters, and we want to see them grow and prosper, not suffer needlessly.

The Ugly

1. The Grown Ups

Boy oh boy, was I not a fan of these two. Two government agents at the Incorporate Administrative Industry (I had to look it up because it’s barely mentioned by name), Maki and Daigo are the two exposition machines of this series of films. They try very, very hard to make these two likeable, but it just comes out completely flat and uninspired. Worse, their misguided development takes away screen time from more deserving characters, like Joe, Izzy, TK and Kari.

Their motivations seemed to just be “We’re the government and we gotta stop Digimon”, and they hint at a deeper motive for them. But the hints are extremely vague, to the point where it seems like they didn’t actually know what they were going to do with them in the first few movies. It wasn’t even until the second to last where we learned that, surprise, they’re two of the original Digidestined! And they’re trying to find their old Digimon! Or Something! I’m actually not sure at all…

Then you get to the last movie, and they’re just… removed. Maki is seen wandering off into the Dark Ocean, and Daigo makes a Heroic Sacrifice to save Tai and everyone else. It feels like it should be very deep and moving, but I found myself not caring much because there was never anything to really draw me into either of them. There were fun moments here and there, but never anything an audience could connect or relate to beyond “These two knew each other growing up and dated a little bit.” Though you can’t blame that all on just the general story....

2. The Movie Format, Animation, and the Big Bad(s?)

Pretty much every review of Digimon Adventure Tri has touched on this, so I won’t get too deep into it. Needless to say, releasing this story as 6 movies hurt it immensely. It caused the story, the character development, the tones, to all feel disjointed and hard to follow, especially with the long wait times between each of them. They were released over 4 damn years, and even as a diehard fan, I found myself struggling to even remember what happened in past installments.

Of course, part of their plan with having the big gaps was to continually renew interest, causing people to want to go back and rewatch the past movies, or purchase them when they came out on dvd/blu-ray. And this would have worked, if it weren’t for the fact that these movies aren’t, well… Really well made.

The animation wasn’t awful, let’s get that out of the way. But it was very inconsistent, and you can tell where corners were cut to save money. It’s no more obvious than in the opening, where half of it had fantastic animation, while the other half looked like a fan film made in Flash.

All the disjointedness and inconsistent flow didn’t help the antagonists of the films either. It became extremely hard to tell who was good and who was bad at times. Was it Meicoomon, who had this deadly virus in her that was going to destroy both worlds? Was it Homeostasis, who wants to reset the Digital World, effectively wiping everything out? Was it Dark Gennai and the who King Drasil group, who want to just cause chaos? I’m pretty sure ends up really being them, but it’s not really mentioned until after everything’s taken care of. And if King Drasil is really the Big Bad person he’s supposed to be, than why was he defeated off school, during a time skip? It’s hard to really figure out who the baddie is when most of the final movie is taken up by Ms. Big Butt Angel Demon.

Which brings me to my final, and biggest, problem with Digimon Adventure Tri.

3. Mei and Meicoomon

These two are a waste of space, and the perfect definition of a Whipping Boy type character. She is not introduced to be particularly strong or special. Her entire purpose seems to be to fulfill two things: To suffer in place of the main characters, and to be a love interest to Tai since Sora marries Matt in the future. She is shown to be meek and unassuming, not talking much and acting shy around other people. At first, things aren’t so bad. Her interactions with Mimi helping her come out of her shell starts to establish a good character arc for her, and it seems like she is organically going to become a part of the group. But then Meicoomon ruins the fun.

Meicoomon is her cat Digimon, based off the Maine Coon. 70% of Meicoomon’s dialogue is her yelling “Mei!” I would tell your more about Meicoomon’s character, but that is it. She exists, then she becomes evil and has to be defeated, while Mei cries for four movies over the fact that Meicoomon is evil. That’s basically the long and short of it. By the end of the second movie, Mei is catatonic, and Meicoomon is a glitch monster who is destroying everything. The end.

What makes it even worse is the fact that, even by Digimon’s standards, her story isn’t that original! It’s basically just a reworked version of Wallace/Willis and Kokomon from the Digimon Hurricane Touchdown movie (third section of Digimon: The Movie in America), of a kid who’s Digimon friend becomes corrupted, and they are forced to destroy them to stop them. The only difference being that Wallace had two Digimon, and his story was over in 1 movie, while Mei’s dragged on for six of them.

All in all, I think that there is still potential for some good Digimon productions, both for Adventure and other continuities. The films seemed to do alright in the limited box office run in Japan, and they were popular enough to warrant another movie being made (which was announced in the middle of writing this). I’m hoping that does better, but I also hope that it’s the final send off for these characters. Two seasons and a handful of movies is enough for them, let’s give another cast a shot!

Also I still hold out hope for a Digimon Tamers continuation. One can dream~

#digimon #digimon adventure tri #article #digimon tamers #tamers #tri

1 note · View note

altajackuniverse · 4 years

Text

You See How to Develop a Unique Selling Proposition in 5 Steps

Why You Need to Develop a Unique Selling Proposition

A unique selling proposition is a part of embracing your pricing power and becoming a business that your customers genuinely love. A strong unique selling proposition allows you to stand apart from your competitors. A strong selling proposition focuses your energy on creating what caters to your ideal customers. A unique selling point provides a competitive advantage that allows you to avoid the trap of trying to please everyone. Why You Need a Unique Selling Proposition It’s likely that many of your prospective customers can't decide which option in your industry is the one that deserves their investment in time, money and trust. It is sometimes difficult to navigate a large selection offered and then make a buying decision. Often buyers are unable to separate you from your competitors. If this is true you have not taught them about the benefits that you offer that your competitor doesn't. Your unique selling proposition tells your story and sets you apart from your competitors. It's your job to help them by making your unique selling proposition obvious, different and memorable. These differences help them see exactly what your business has to offer that the other guys don't. Theodore Levitt said that: "Differentiation is one of the most important strategic and tactical activities in which companies must constantly engage.” In a crowded marketplace, it's important for your business to be remembered. It helps if your business has a unique trait that’s worth remembering. We all understand that a superior product and outstanding service are required to grow your company. But there is also an opportunity to use differentiation as a competitive advantage.

Create Your Unique Selling Proposition

There is no one-size-fits-all advice for creating your own unique point of difference for your business. There are some practices which work in different industries. Any business owner can apply them to develop their unique selling proposition. Below we will take a look at some of my favorite methods and examples of how companies put them into practice. Use Your Unique Selling Proposition to Appeal to Your Ideal Customer Finding your ideal customer often takes quite a bit of legwork. When you’ve finally identified the perfect person to sell to, it makes sense to appeal to them through every aspect of your business. Would you consider ostracizing non-customers to spur on brand loyalty? One famous retail chain has adopted this practice in an extreme fashion. Abercrombie & Fitch’s CEO Mike Jeffries identifies their ideal customers as “cool, good-looking people.” He has publicly said the brand refuses to market to anyone outside of that subgroup. Is this crazy or tactical? In a recent article on A&F’s “perverse brilliance,” author Roger Dooley argues that the backlash from Jeffries’ comments on the brand’s practices may not be as financially detrimental as one would think. While there’s no argument that Jeffries’ comments were insensitive. The wave of negative responses that followed came mostly from older consumers. Those negative responses didn’t appear to affect the purchasing patterns of A&F’s younger customers. In fact, retail analyst Gabriella Santaniello points out that this long-term exclusionary strategy has generally worked out for A&F: "Their brand image has been the same from the beginning and they’ve been quite successful with it… And you can’t be everything to everyone—otherwise, you set yourself up to more risk.” Would I recommend that you be as callous, rude and insensitive as Jeffries? No, I wouldn't. Your business should find a far less reprehensible approach for identifying and exclusively selling to your ideal customer. My point is that this narrow focus can be an effective strategy. Even outrageous comments from a disillusioned CEO weren’t able to decrease its impact. Your Unique Selling Proposition Should Leverage Your Personality It may seem strange to assess an industry on the basis of personality. However, certain industries carry an undeserved reputation that distorts how outsiders view them. This assessment is often for the worse. The search engine optimization (SEO) industry struggles with a lingering reputation. Many people view them as nothing more than a group of spammers who pollute the web and ruin the search experience for others in favor of profits. Rand Fishkin, the founder of Moz, knows that this perception is a disservice to the many technically skilled, hardworking and honest search engine marketers who don’t partake in these practices. Fishkin always branded Moz as a business that offers software and community for professional and aspiring SEOs. He’s put a great deal of effort into creating an open, accepting and transparent brand. The use of Roger, Moz’s lovable robot mascot, is a great example of how the business is working to recreate a positive perception of the SEO industry. Using Roger at the helm, the Moz team has become the welcoming entry point for those interested in the SEO community. Many of those attracted were skeptical of the “personality defect” characterizing it as a shady industry to get involved in. Your Unique Selling Proposition Must Avoid the “Superstar Effect” Author and Georgetown professor Cal Newport has written about the “Superstar Effect” that pigeonholes many top applicants to prestigious colleges. Instead of trying to stand out, most simply try to be the “best.” However when you’re competing with the best, this approach puts you among the status quo, giving you no opportunity to stand out. Entrepreneur and marketer Corbett Barr discussed how this way of thinking seeps into business. Companies often strive to be the best, perhaps he first thing they should do is just be different than their competition. Think about how a restaurant owner might look at this goal of being the "best." With the varied tastes of an entire city of people, being the “Best Restaurant” in town would be a far less fruitful and require far more effort than becoming the place you must go for ______. Your Marketing Has to Embrace Being Different. The truth is that the competition won’t be as much of a concern if you change the rules of the game. You should first seek to do something better by doing it uniquely. Vehicles for hire via your smartphone—who would’ve thought?! Instead of trying to simply be the best in a vague, crowded category. Focus on and embrace being DIFFERENT! Customer loyalty advice is available on the Internet, however it’s almost always anecdotal. What if instead the advice given was supported by consumer studies, academic research and specific examples? Instead of trying to be the best in a sea of other customer service blogs, why not try to be different by offering up content that you won’t find elsewhere? Embrace Being Personal in Your Unique Selling Proposition Can a strong personality be incorporated into a company’s unique selling proposition? Yes, it can, but proceed cautiously.Look at George Zimmer, founder of Men’s Wearhouse. When the company’s board fired Zimmer, many were quick to say that no matter what the dispute was, removing Zimmer from the company was a bad move. Zimmer had become a recognizable personality. He was loved by many of his customers and company employees. You may wonder how a single employee can cause so many publications to proclaim that a brand will lose its soul when he is ousted? In the Zimmer's case, it’s because his deep, gravelly voice and down-to-earth personality were so often identified with the everyman that he positioned the business around. Zimmer built a brand that sought to help Average Joes look great in a suit without feeling uncomfortable and without breaking the bank. Zimmer's marketing success was his embodiment of the person he was selling to. In Zimmer’s over 500 hours of Men’s Warehouse commercials, he made a promise that men young and old believed in: “You’re going to like the way you look. I guarantee it.” Zimmer's personality, which so perfectly aligned with what was being sold, is difficult if not impossible to buy. Zimmer himself showcased everything Men’s Warehouse purported to care about, making him an integral part of their unique selling proposition. Visit Our Web Accessibility Blog Visit Our Business Sustainability Blog

Your Unique Selling Proposition is Still about Selling

Relationship marketing is as much about marketing as is it about the relationships. The same applies to creating a unique selling proposition. It’s the differentiation that needs to be built around selling more products and services.It's not about making your business into a quirky brand that stands out but doesn't have any traction in the marketplace. In the book Reality in Advertising, advertising executive Rosser Reeves lays down three rules that unique selling propositions should follow if they wish to be more than just creative branding:Each advertisement must make a proposition to the consumer not just words, product puffery, or show-window advertising. Each advertisement must say to each reader: “Buy this product, for this specific benefit.”The proposition must be one the competition cannot or does not offer. It must be unique, either in the brand or in a claim the rest of that particular advertising area does not make.The proposition must be strong enough to move the masses, by attracting new customers. Ensure that you stand out for the right reasons. Your brand’s positioning is intended to sell, not just to stand out. Tell Me About Your Unique Selling Proposition My curiosity has gotten the best of me. I would like to hear what your business does differently! Share your story in the comments below. Or, tell us about a business you love that stands out among the competition. Facebook Twitter LinkedIn Read the full article

#BetterBusinessAlliance #brand #contentmarketing #customerengagement #customerexperience #digitalmarketing #Digitalmarketingstrategy #reputation #searchengineoptimization #socialmedia #socialmediamarketing #userexperience

0 notes

63824peace · 4 years

Text

Wednesday, 30th of november 2005

I noticed a boy in front of the train station this morning. He looked like a junior high school student. He only wore a short-sleeve shirt on his torso, and he had a sports bag slung over his right shoulder. He walked with a brisk gait.

The temperature drops below 10 celsius in mornings and evenings, even though winter has just begun. The cold didn't feel fresh and pleasant this morning... the chill wormed into our skin, straight through our jackets.

That could pass for a good conversation-starter since everyone feels the cold. "This morning I saw an energetic student striding spiritedly, even in this weather!" I couldn't honestly predicate conversation with that observation however. It's simply untrue.

The student hugged his bag as though trying to squeeze warmth from it. I couldn't see his face, but his hunched back told me that his whole body was stiff and shaking. His posture proclaimed, "I'm freezing!" I don't know whether he had a blazer or a stand-up collar style school uniform... either way, he must have forgotten his jacket at school.

I wondered... did he have a reason for missing his jacket? Had he quarreled with his parents? Did he even have parents?

Had he been too poor for a jacket?

I decided that he probably hadn't been too poor. Mostly wealthy families live in that area. Nonetheless, why only a short-sleeve shirt?

I continued to observe him. I moved closer to him, wanting an answer. The boy walked without changing his posture.

The affair wasn't my business, of course. Still, he clearly had a definite reason. I couldn't help but speculate on it.

Did the cold only frost his skin? Or had winter's ice hardened his mind?

"Winter weakens everyone. The cold wind blanks our faces, and courage dies in weather's violence."

Can that young man survive winter?

I absorbed myself in these thoughts-and he disappeared around a corner. I might sound cruel writing this, but I felt as though the temperature had risen a bit once he had disappeared from my sight. I felt oddly relieved.

KojiPro's offices feel hot. We have many computers and other work apparati that give off heat. No one here wears more than a single layer to work, even in winter. Some staff members only wear T-shirts.

The programming staff feels the most intense heat. Even in winter, almost twenty percent of them wear T-shirts because the largest number of heat-emitting devices surrounds them.

I take the heat in a T-shirt too. I used to wear a light sweater all the time when I had my office in Tokyo's Ebisu district. I almost always wear a long-sleeve T-Shirt since I've moved to the Hills. We might have larger offices now, or we might simply have more heated machines.

I have started to wear light garments underneath a thick jacket or coat since I started working at the Hills. I can't deal with the office heat otherwise.

We never feel cold in here. KojiPro stays tropical even during winter. The boy who I saw this morning probably arrived at school, and then he became freed from the cold and loneliness. I am likewise freed here. Warm places exist even during winter. We can resist the cold as long as we have these places.

We spent the morning in a meeting. War buddies don't exist in the meeting room. It's a battle between a lot of different officers. Some continue fighting when they don't realize that they have been shot.

Why was it so cold in there? The temperature in there had dropped remarkably from the development studio's temperature.

We have to remember some things during a meeting. We must recognize that we make cold, objective decisions in our platoon headquarters. Soldiers don't bring their emotions onto the battlefield under any circumstances. I still haven't adjusted myself to those rules, so perhaps I'm not very mature.

The meeting lasted longer than scheduled, and it prevented me from going to the bookstore. I had wanted to breathe fresh air during lunch time, but I couldn't get my wish today.

I never handle mail during a meeting. I handle the bulk afterward. Today I took care of it while I ate sushi bento. The more popular bento had already sold out, so I took the one that the shop had left.

I hardly tasted my food... I didn't feel very stable after that meeting. I swallowed each bite whole to calm the pain in my gut. The room's temperature felt high, but I felt winter bristle in my mind.

I decided to take HIDEOBLOG's readers' comments as a side dish to my bento. I ate hungrily. Many of the comments were delectable, and sometimes tears welled in my eyes because I had hit upon a comment flushed with wasabi.

My war buddies across the internet compensated for the dearth inside the office. I'll keep my chin up.

At 3 P.M. I had an interview with Mono Magazine. They will print a special feature article on video games in their end-of-the-year issue.

They asked me, "Have you wanted anything particular lately?"

I answered, "I'd like to have time more than 'anything particular'."

The vinyl figurine for Ex-Kamen Rider 1 (Ex-1) was released. Yoshiteru, the king of hobbies, bought it for me. I added the figurine to my special shelf reserved for Ex-1.

I'm a fan of Kamen Rider generally, but I love Ex-1 most of all. I have mentioned this in my serial article Interview with the Inspired Naked for this month's Hyper PlayStation 2 magazine. I have titled the article The Movies That Created Hideo Kojima.

I harbor a special passion for Ex-1, though that's probably only a matter of my generation. My heroes are Tiger Mask, Kamen Rider, and Ashita no Joe.

Many more problems cropped up at KojiPro besides the meeting. I felt more and more depressed. I always enjoy problems that arise while creating a game of course, but today's problems weren't related to creation. I needed to resolve them nonetheless. That's part of my job too... these things don't just go away.

I missed the days when I simply created games. I asked myself how long this frigid, stiff life would continue.

And suddenly I remembered the morning's boy. I hadn't realized it, but there's a sense in which I didn't have a jacket either.

Had he been my doppelganger? A luminous shadow? Had I seen a premonitory vision?

KojiPro sweltered like a greenhouse, but I shivered with toothy chills.

I was too busy to update HIDEOBLOG before the end of the day. I had written until 2 A.M. last night, but none of it was readable since I had been drinking. I tried to make corrections to HIDEOBLOG while I ate a sandwich bento in the evening too.

Everything seems meaningless.

I hardly had time to eat today.

All of the participants for OOOO Training had gathered on the fourteenth floor to watch a certain pre-training film. Mr. Mori had given it to us. He gave instructions to watch it before training, no excuses.

I have actually seen it in the theaters, but Mr. Mori advised me to rewatch it. I didn't have time for that of course, but all the other main members went to the fourteenth floor. KojiPro had a holiday's silence.

I received the final copy for Subsistence's and MGA2's commercials. Sony Computer Entertainment will broadcast them by the end of the year.

I really want those games to become hits.

I felt as though I saw myself at that moment, while I watched the MGA2 commercial. I felt only one difference between the commercial and myself: things in the commercial exploded with heat, and I felt exploded with coldness.

Mr. Senju reported our progress with the provisional schedule for Subsistence's release events.

"Will you have enough stamina for this, Director?" He looked at me pretty hard. "I still have my doubts about this. I can't say that it looks fun so far. Do you really think we ought to push ourselves to a twenty-four hour marathon's pace?"

"A twenty-four hour marathon pace... could we do something like that?"

I knew that Mr. Senju didn't need to answer when I saw his expression. The truth was written on his face.

"As I see it, we need to push this thing hard. We need to make it outrageous to the point that everyone will see what's going on and say, 'What the hell?!' Don't you agree?"

"Yeah. I think you're right." Mr. Senju assented.

I had traveled around Tokyo, Osaka, Kobe, and Kyoto for various events during last year's release tour. We had a tough schedule, but I really enjoyed it. The events happened all over the place and at all times... morning in Kyoto, the afternoon in Osaka, then over to Kobe, and back again to Osaka.

That schedule had really seemed impossible. We were so crunched for time that we actually traveled from the Shin-Osaka train station to Kobe via an old railroad line.

We had all worn khaki windbreakers with "MGS3" printed on the backs, and we wound up on a train packed with passengers. Complete strangers went out of their way to cheer us up on the JR Tokaido Line. Folks on the train platform often called for us to stop so they could shake our hands. I felt like I had reached my limit physically, but I made sure to spend as much energy for those fans as I had at TGS.

This year's schedule looks tougher than last year's. I wonder if I can make it. No, I'll have to do it. I'll just pay close attention to my physical well-being until the release date.

Ms. Sato and Ucchi entered my booth in the evening. "We found this, Director. Isn't it your iPod? You must have forgotten it."

I looked and saw that they held a silver iPod-Mini with white headphones attached. I showed them my green iPod-Mini on the desk. "No, this is mine."

They looked at my iPod. Their faces grew troubled. "So whose is this?"

"Do you mind if I check it out?"

"You think you'll be able to tell?"

"I'm certain that I can infer the owner from his music."

I took the iPod-Mini, turned it on, and selected the Artist Category from the menu. All of the items in the window were Japanese. Furthermore, I saw mostly very recent singers, with a few old-fashioned bands here and there.

"So what's the verdict?"

"Hmm...."

I suspected who owned the iPod-Mini, but I wasn't absolutely sure yet. It was still only a hunch.

I next selected the Album Category and read the titles as I turned the touchpad. The names ran by... Anzenchitai 1, Anzenchitai 2, Anzenchitai 3, Anzenchitai 4, Anzenchitai 5, and so on.

"I see...."

They reacted as soon as I had spoken. "Did you figure it out?"

"I did."

"So whose is it?" They leaned forward as though scrutinizing a card trick.

"Wait a second... I'm going to put the final nail in the coffin."

I turned the touchpad again. "Aha! Here it is!" The exact title that I had expected appeared in the window.

"Whose is it then?"

"It's Murashu's."

"Oh? How do you know? It doesn't show a name on it."

"An iPod is a kind of personal ID. We can learn the owner's musical tastes according to its contents." I explained everything as though I was Kosuke Kindaichi, the famous Japanese sleuth.

"Okay. So what's the clincher?"

"Look here… this! No one except Murashu would put this on an iPod."

I showed the player to them. Track titles from the Tokimeki Memorial Drama CD appeared all in a row.

"Oh... so Murashu-san listens to this?"

"I'll just return this to him."

Murashu had produced radio dramas for the Konami Media Entertainment division before he came to Konami-JPN. He had produced the MGS Drama CD.

He devoted most of his work toward a radio drama for the Tokimeki series. It had been a big hit at the time, broadcasted by Nippon Cultural Broadcasting, Inc. The program was later released as a Drama CD.

Murashu had put all of his radio productions on his iPod! He likes to listen to dramas that he produced himself. No one else is such a narcissist. That was the clincher.

Now that I think about it, an iPod's contents amount to quite personal information. From this alone we can learn a person's tastes, preferences, behavioral tendencies, and lifestyle. Junk mail companies would kill to get their hands on that data, as they do past video rentals.

It would be interesting if we swapped iPods whenever we first met someone. We'd probably understand each other more quickly. It seems like a good idea for arranged marriages and parties where two unfamiliar social groups hang out.

I heard that such exchanges are actually quite popular in America. Maybe I'll try swapping iPods the next time I meet someone new.

But what would happen if I dropped mine somewhere? It would expose my world. No one would get hurt in the process, but it still makes me uncomfortable. I think we could look at Murashu as a demonstration of that circumstance. We might see future identity theft crimes arise because of misused iPods.

I have heard that some shops in Akibahara sell old cell phones. Why would someone buy an unusable cell phone? To read the former owner's undeleted text messages… that's kind of disturbing.

Come to think of it, web browser bookmarks would be awkward too. They don't convey a person's identification data, but a stack of one's tastes and interests amounts to the same thing.

Actually, the most embarrassing thing is showing other people your diary, like HIDEOBLOG, for example.

My good buddy Piston Uehara from Power Professional Baseball visited my booth in the evening, just as I updated HIDEOBLOG. He had come to Tokyo to assist the conference that will start tomorrow.

"You ready for a little of this?" He made a glass-tipping gesture with his wrist near his mouth.

I had planned to swim, but I changed my mind and went for a drink instead. Quite a lot of Friendly Fire had hit me during the day. I knew that alcohol wouldn't heal my wounds, but I accepted Piston's invitation anyway. He's a good friend who knows how much it sometimes helps to be bad.

We went to the Nishi Azabu bar Sankyu, where I had gone with Murashu two months before. We ordered some snacks, and I got one beer with three glasses of wine.

Our conversation really livened up toward the end, as we recounted stories from our work during MSX development.

November's last day... the month seemed really short. The year has only one month left.

0 notes

biofunmy · 5 years

Text

Two Eggs With a Side of Avocado Toast and Instagram Fodder

Like the town’s general store from 1919 and schoolhouse from 1850, the Oakhurst Diner in Millerton, N.Y., is a living time capsule.

Housed in the original 1950s Silk City dining car, it screams classic diner: crimped stainless-steel facade, Formica counter with stools, pink-and-blue neon sign, specials scrawled on chalkboards. But the nods to midcentury nostalgia mostly end there.

Sure, you can get two eggs and a cup of Joe here. But you could also order a bahn mi sandwich, Bulletproof coffee, CBD-infused Kombucha, artisanal hot sauce, a macrobiotic bowl with seaweed and brown rice, kimchi and a $16 burger made from “grass-fed and grass-finished” beef sourced from Herondale Farm, about 14 miles up the road.

Day trippers and residents in this quaint village, about two hours north of New York City in the Hudson Valley, can’t seem to get enough. At lunchtime on a recent Friday, every booth was filled with 40-something guys in bicycle Lycra, young friends from Brooklyn, local business owners in polo shirts and khakis, and families renting nearby Airbnbs. And despite the brutal heat, the line at the door was six deep.

“It’s the centerpiece of the town,” said Paul Harney, one of Oakhurst’s owners. “You see people in here from overseas. It’s a daily event that someone takes a picture.”

Welcome to the hipsterfied diner. Same look and vibe as the classic steel original, but the food has been upgraded to reflect current tastes.

The chef slinging hash may have cooked with Noma alumni in Copenhagen. The woman in a booth snapping photos of the food on her table may be a social media influencer. The owner may be a marketing executive from Manhattan fulfilling a childhood dream.

Examples of these fashionable hash houses dot the Northeast, the epicenter of diner culture. In addition to the Oakhurst, there is the one-month-old Silver Lining Diner in East Hampton, N.Y.; the Rosebud in Somerville, Mass.; the West Taghkanic Diner in West Taghkanic, N.Y., and Grazin’ Hudson in Hudson, N.Y.

Perhaps the most chronicled of the new-old-school variety is the Phoenicia Diner in the Catskills, which serves a seasonal menu sourced from local farms and attracts a cosmopolitan clientele who have flooded Instagram with photos of its retro interior. It’s the sort of place where you may see a local police officer eating at the counter, or the model Helena Christensen downing a milkshake.

One reason these revamped diners have prospered in upstate New York may be the existence of what Robert Sietsema, a food writer for the website Eater, called the “hickster” — that is, “hipsters who move upstate” or visit from the city on weekends.

“Like hipsters, hicksters require restaurants, but mostly what they found up there were diners, pizzerias, and roadside taverns,” Mr. Sietsema wrote.

And so was born the greasy spoon serving avocado toast and deconstructed chicken potpie.

Same Space, Different Menu

This revival could not have come at a better time for the American roadside diner. Many have closed in recent decades, the victim of national chains, changing food tastes, rising real estate prices and the general decline in mom-and-pop restaurants.

The ones that remain are rarely known for good food or cool crowds. The menu may offer 14 pages of turkey clubs, omelets and burger toppings, but the ingredients usually arrived on freezer trucks.

Still, there is something super-American about diners, and the nostalgia for them is palpable in popular culture. Think of all the movies and TV shows that feature stainless-steel diners as meet-up spots, including “Baby Driver,” “Gilmore Girls,” “Pulp Fiction” and, of course, “Diner.”

Richard J.S. Gutman, the author of “American Diner Then and Now,” which charts the history of diners, said that seeing a diner in a movie, even in a quick establishing shot, triggers all sorts of feelings and associations.

“You feel at home in the diner whether you’ve been there dozens of times or it’s your first time,” Mr. Gutman said. “There’s a buzz inside. There’s a kind of energy when you’re sitting stool to stool, cheek by jowl, asking for the ketchup.”

That sense of home is what drove M.T. Carney, 49, a founder of Plan A, an advertising holding company in New York, to open the Silver Lining Diner in Southhampton, N.Y., this summer with her husband, Richard Silver.

“That feeling, that place you’d go with your grandpa or your auntie, where is that anymore?” said Ms. Carney, who grew up in Scotland. “There’s something so democratic about diners. They’re part of the community. I think that’s what people are craving.”

Formerly the Princess Diner, the large Art Deco white-and-chrome diner dates back to 1965 and sits near the start of Montauk Highway, the main artery of the Hamptons. In more recent years, the diner was neglected and in disrepair, and in 2018, the former owner was sentenced to six months in jail for failing to pay his employees and the restaurant closed.

Ms. Carney took over the space, brightened the interior and installed cheery yellow booths. For the menu, she teamed up with Eric Miller, the chef at another Hamptons restaurant she owned, Bay Kitchen Bar, to offer elevated diner fare.

The burger, for example, is made with organic beef from Snake River Farms in Idaho, the bun comes from the Blue Duck Bakery down the road, and the cheese and greens are all from local farms. Instead of prepackaged jelly, Mr. Miller whipped up strawberry-rhubarb jam when those crops were in season.

“We wanted this place to feel retro a little bit, but not like Epcot Center,” Ms. Carney said. “Like retro in the emotional sense of the word, you know, that it feels like coming home, it feels comfortable.”

Likewise, the West Taghkanic Diner was a homecoming for Kristopher Schram, who spent a decade cooking in Copenhagen, including at Relae, a Michelin-starred restaurant opened by Christian Puglisi, a former chef at Noma. Mr. Schram then returned to the Hudson Valley, where he grew up, and opened the diner four months ago.

“These days, you’re fighting with everyone to make your restaurant stand out,” Mr. Schram, 36, said. “People walk through the door of this diner and they’re already snapping pictures, or their mood has changed because they’re in a space where they feel so comfortable.”

Built in 1953, the West Taghkanic Diner was still open when Mr. Schram bought it, but the dining room needed a deep clean, the original pie refrigerators were on the fritz, the urinal was broken, and the kitchen was caked in grease, he said.

While Mr. Schram kept the diner’s name and interior intact, the menu got overhauled. He sources the brisket for his Reuben sandwich from Northwind Farms in nearby Tivoli, N.Y., and brines the meat for nine days before cooking it for 12 hours in a smoker he set up outside the diner, which is along Route 82, just off the Hudson/Ancram exit of the Taconic Parkway.

The tricky thing, he said, is balancing people’s expectations of what a diner is with the revamped version, and appealing to all crowds.

“I wanted to keep prices as low as I could so I didn’t draw a divide between locals and people outside,” Mr. Schram said, noting that his Reuben is $16 instead of, say, $10. “I make sure sandwiches are big, the sides are big, and you will feel satisfied.”

Indeed, it’s possible to tweak the conventions of a diner so drastically that you’re no longer a diner.

Justin Panzer, 46, an owner of the Oakhurst, was formerly a line cook at Lutèce, the onetime grande dame of French cuisine in New York (it closed in 2004). At first, he said, his aspirations for the diner were “way too ambitious.”

He insisted the fries be hand-cut, and hired someone to sit in the basement all day slicing potatoes. An early chef was a Nepalese man who introduced chicken biryani and curries to Millerton, an agricultural village of 900.

But as Mr. Panzer and the restaurant’s manager, Clare Caramanica, quickly discovered, the locals weren’t having it.

“Our toast was a rosemary toast,” Ms. Caramanica said. “Some people loved it and some people were, like, ‘Can I just have toast?’”

They have since switched to Eli Zabar bread, a more widely appealing brand. “We found the balance,” she said.

Sahred From Source link Fashion and Style

from WordPress http://bit.ly/325zfOX via IFTTT

#IFTTT #WordPress

0 notes

spynotebook · 6 years

Link

Dynamite has sent us a new writer’s commentary for their brand new Barbarella series. Mike Carey goes page by page through the first issue. Here we also see covers by Kenneth Rocafort, Joe Jusko, and Joseph Michael Linsner with interior art by Kenan Yarar.

Page 1:

We had a lot of ground to cover in this first issue in terms of world-building – giving the sense of a society that’s both familiar and alien, getting Barbarella into prison and out of it again, introducing her and the supporting cast and laying the groundwork for the wider conflict. So it seemed to make sense to hit the ground running, with a space battle in progress and Barbarella flung into the middle of it.

Some of the first sketches I saw from Kenan [Yarar, artist] were of the crew of the Parosian flagship as we see them in this scene – and I knew at once that he was a great fit for the book. He embraced the weirdness of this alien theocracy and brought his own craziness to the party. The stained glass window is a particularly nice touch.

Page 2:

If you want to sing We Labour in the Vineyards of the Seven, like a good son or daughter of the church, it fits in a rough and ready way to the tune of Oh, What a Friend We Have in Jesus.

It was my editor Matt’s [Idelson] suggestion that we make the Parosians polytheists, so as to minimise the sense that we were getting at any specific religion. Any of our readers who are believers are more likely to believe in a single god than a whole pantheon (all due apologies to the comic fans who are Hindus, Buddhists or Shintoists).

In the original outline I had the Parosians worshipping a mother goddess, but matriarchal religions are usually much more laid back when it comes to matters of sex. The Parosians are fairly uptight, and their sexual hang-ups are very much a plot point.

Pages 3-4:

I thought long and hard about how to bring Barbarella on stage for the first time. Jean-Marc L’Officier, who is a creative consultant on the book, said at one point that he saw the original Barbarella stories as a kind of adult Alice in Wonderland. Like Alice, Barbarella wanders into outrageous situations and takes them in her stride. She accepts the insane logic of the universe she lives in, but she never allows it to compromise her own sense of how things should be. I really like that definition of the character.

So here Barbarella finds herself in the middle of a war, but she’s not intimidated by the Parosian military. She knows her rights. She also knows her ships, and she’s already reading a lot into this military encounter. We get to hear some of the clues she picked up here, and more later when she meets Jury Quire.

Incidentally, I didn’t originally have any sound effects for the scene in which Barbarella’s ship is snared. I added them when I saw how beautifully and playfully Kenan had interpreted that scene.

Re: Barbarella’s outfit: she lives in outer space, mostly on ship-board, so as in the original series she wears a serviceable space suit that covers most of her body – not a spandex bikini or a costume with strategically placed holes in it. She gets naked when she feels like it: the rest of the time she dresses for serious sh*t because it’s generally not far away.

Apart from the boots, of course. She wears high-heeled boots with fold-down tops because her fashion sense was forged in the ’60s.

Page 5:

We weren’t being coy in avoiding the word “vagina” here. Barbarella uses it herself a little later in the story. I just wanted to generate a little curiosity about what Barbarella is supposed to be smuggling.

We did try to make sure the scan as un-erotic as possible, though – by blurring the line between Barbarella’s naked body and her sub-dermal muscle and tissue. At the back of my mind here were the millimeter-wave scanners now in common use at airports, which produce a photographically real image of a passenger’s entire body. I know there are measures in place to make that less intrusive – including blurring faces and introducing a “double blind” system where the scanner’s operator doesn’t see the passenger. It still freaks me out a little that there is now a working version of the X-ray specs that used to be advertised in the back of DC comics in the 70s. What happens to Barbarella here is possible with technology we have today.

Page 6:

Alert readers will see some odd details in this cityscape. They’re meant to be there, and they’re indications that there is more for Barbarella to discover about Parosian society. That’s for issue 2, though. For now I just wanted to give Kenan enough space to draw a panorama. He didn’t disappoint me. He did point out that if I let him have a double-page spread he could have done even more. Soon, Mr. Yarar, soon.

The billboards look like a homage to Futurama, but I was actually remembering those wayside pulpits with their terrible clever-clever messages that are meant to make you think but generally just make you wince. There was one in my neighbourhood that (for many months) read: SOUL-AR POWERED BY THE SON OF GOD.

“She has demonic powers to tempt men’s souls.” Woman as the devil’s gateway into the human soul is a fun feature of many orthodox religions. The Parosians didn’t invent it. In orthodox Christianity, Eve was the one who listened to the serpent and was responsible for original sin, something that medieval clerics never got tired of bitching about. You eat one lousy apple and your entire gender has its cards marked for the rest of time.

Page 7:

I’m not sure where I got the idea of a rifle that fires sermons. I needed to insert some exposition, and I wanted to do it in a way that didn’t seem forced. After all, the defendant in a criminal trial has a right to know what she’s being accused of: the judge in this case chooses the most direct means.

I use a lot of different words to describe the ranks of the Parosian religious hierarchy. Deacons, prebends and lictors are all present. We also meet a number of people like the ship’s captain in the opening scene and the judge here, whose military and civil roles seem to overlap with a religious one. The state religion is the axle tree on which the whole of Parosian society turns – like the Communist party in Stalinist Russia, say; or in the UK, talking about the weather.

Page 8:

“My body is my own concern!” Of course it is. But that has never stopped religious authorities from trying to control what you do with it. Or civil authorities either, to be fair. If this position can still be read as controversial in the 21st century, I don’t hold out much hope that the sort of idiocy embodied in the judge’s reply will go out of fashion by Barbarella’s time.

I like trial scenes. I seem to have written a ton of them in recent years. I would not, though, want to contest a speeding ticket in a Parosian court.

Page 9:

And now we come to the body loom. It’s not entirely clear what sort of physical reconfiguration Barbarella undergoes. The conceptual rifle in the earlier scene talks about “the organs that embody and channel desire.” At the very least, this would seem to imply a clitoridectomy.

There’s a real-world analogue for this, of course, in the female genital mutilation practised by both Christian and Muslim groups in Africa and Asia. I don’t want to get heavy, but this is not a historical curiosity. It’s a hugely serious issue NOW. If you want to learn more about it, there’s a WHO fact sheet here.

Barbarella gets to meet this technician again in #3. When she says she’ll be back, as with Arnold Schwarzenegger, you can take her at her word.

Pages 10-11:

“Whatever you were bringing in, I’d like a taste.” I make no apology whatsoever for this smutty joke.

Quire is a character we’ll see again later on in the series. I wanted a foil for Barbarella who is as strong-willed and resourceful as her but follows a different agenda. Quire’s role as an agent of Earth calls for a lot of moral compromises, and throws Barbarella’s sense of right and wrong into sharp relief. By the way, although we don’t see it Quire’s prison greys reveal that she’s in jail for heresy.

There are other differences between them, too. When Rho prays, Quire dismisses her as being wholly enslaved to her Parosian beliefs. Barbarella is less willing to write someone off on such scant evidence, as her later rebuke of Quire shows. Overall, Quire is an ally – and will shortly become more than that – but she may not always be a reliable friend.

Page 12:

I didn’t have a whole lot of time to draw in the prison regime, so I just hit the highlights. Unremitting hard labour, terrible food and endless hectoring from the prison officers. And the officers are all robots, which just makes the whole thing that bit more alienating.

Someone smart said something quotable about judging a society by the way it treats its enemies. I think we should be judged by the way we treat our prison population.

Pages 13-15:

Sex as political subversion was a big part of the original story idea. I love the idea of Mills & Boon-style romance novels being illegal contraband – and it’s a theme we return to later.

But the true revolutionary act is the orgy, initiated by Barbarella when she kisses and embraces Quire. The salient fact here is not that these are women making love with other women, although the Parosian church would presumably not approve of that. What’s crucial, in my mind, is that they’re prisoners giving each other pleasure in defiance of the state’s attempt to confiscate that pleasure via invasive surgery.

I had to re-read George Orwell’s 1984 recently for a panel I was on at Norcon in Oslo. There’s a scene in that book where Winston Smith describes Julia as “a revolutionary from the waist down”. She doesn’t reply “don’t knock it until you’ve tried it”, but mainly that’s because she lets her actions speak for her. And later in the same book there’s a speech where O’Brien talks to Winston about the Party’s quest to “abolish the orgasm”. Sex is subversive because it’s yours, not theirs. They hate that. [Fill in a “they” of your own choice here.]

Page 16:

We don’t know whether Quire’s body modifications were elective or not. The original script had her wearing a more conventional prosthetic. In my imagination Quire had birth defects affecting one arm and one leg, and turned those physical disabilities into assets in her chosen work. That’s absolutely compatible with what Kenan has done here, but his surreal scrolling flesh makes for a much more powerful visual – and makes it more plausible that the Parosians’ search regime missed the incredible amount of gadgetry Quire smuggled into jail with her.

We also see here how much Barbarella can pick up from minimal cues. It’s easy to forget this in the general whirl of events, but she’s crazy smart and she doesn’t miss a thing.

We want the nudity in the book to feel natural and casual, not titillating. It used to gripe me sometimes when I was writing superhero books and the artist would sneak in a butt shot or a ridiculously cheese-cakey pose. After sex, you sprawl around companionably, or if it’s cold you get back under the covers and huddle, and that’s what’s going on here. Jean-Claude Forest, in the original books, similarly included a lot of after-sex moments, and I had those in mind when I wrote this sequence.

Pages 17-18:

Barbarella thinking outside the box again, and also laying down the rules for the jailbreak. Of course, she regards robots as fully sentient. She has had more than one robot as a lover (in the original books), so she knows what she’s talking about.

Pages 19-22:

The prison break was fun to write. Again, the contrast between the two women is very much to the fore. Quire sticks to the letter of Barbarella’s “no killing” rule, by not firing directly at the lictors and vaporising them. But bringing a wall down on their heads is a fairly liberal interpretation of non-lethal damage.

It would have been cool to see the gorgeous baroque structure of the cathedral in all its glory as Barbarella whangs the top off one of its spires, but visibility was low over Parosia’s capital city that day. “Was that your first act of blasphemy?” I’m guessing not, but Barbarella’s moral compass is a strictly personal thing. She doesn’t define herself against anyone else’s codes. Hence: “I don’t keep count.”

At one stage Kenan wanted the razor-doves to look like modern military drones, but in the end we went with a design that was more in keeping with the Parosians’ weird tech as seen elsewhere in the issue.

I love the coloring on that final panel, and the way the NEXT teaser sits in one of the pieces of falling debris.

Okay, now I’d better think of a way to get them out of this…

The post Writer’s Commentary: Mike Carey on the Important Messages in Barbarella #1 appeared first on Bleeding Cool News And Rumors.

#IFTTT #Feedly

0 notes

superchiefmentalitycollecto-blog · 7 years

Text

Colombians have for many years developed incredible coffee. Lastly, they are drinking it.

Bogota, Colombia — Not so extended in the past, Cesar Parra’s world altered with a cup of coffee — a freshly brewed, richly fragrant ambrosia served at a single of this nation’s quick-multiplying top quality cafes. “It arrived as a shock, having a good cup,” said Parra, forty seven, a late-to-the-recreation coffee lover who spoke on the sidelines of a master class for baristas. “I was born and raised in Colombia. And all my existence, I’d been drinking undesirable coffee.” For a long time, this South American country harbored a filthy tiny key. In the land of Juan Valdez and his mule, Conchita — the fictional figures from adverts who have hooked the planet on rich mugs of Colombian coffee since the 1950s — it was practically not possible to get a good cup of Joe. The factors are effectively recognized. The very best arabica beans from Colombia’s emerald hills have been mostly exported, leaving domestic espresso consumers to consume the proverbial dregs. Some of the coffee eaten domestically actually arrived from low-cost imports from as far absent as Vietnam. Then there is the way filtered espresso is geared up below. The most popular style is tinto — a weak and watery concoction with a shelf lifestyle rivaling Spam. “Even at five-star accommodations in Bogota, you’d have a challenging time,” mentioned Roberto Velez, chief govt of the Colombian Espresso Growers Federation. “ whysoviral grew the greatest. But Colombians just weren’t utilised to drinking quality espresso.” Globalization is modifying that — specifically a wave of effectively-traveled Colombian business owners who, along with a variety of foreign investors, are upping the high quality of domestic espresso roasting and brewing. Collectively, they are fomenting a revolution in Colombia’s espresso-consuming tradition. In Latin The us, the far better-coffee craze is percolating effectively over and above Colombia’s borders. Supermarkets in Brazil had been long known for peddling a handful of inexpensive, decrease-high quality brand names. But as consumers there clamor for a greater brew, grocery shops are stocking domestically created gourmand beans. Panama, meanwhile, is planet-popular for cultivating Geisha — a prized espresso selection recognized for its delicate, virtually tea-like favor. Nevertheless for several years, Panama was as infamous as Colombia for serving up undesirable brews at residence. That has altered, nevertheless, with a new crop of “third wave” coffee residences — reflecting a movement to generate and serve artisanal espresso. In Colombia, domestic use of coffee — which lagged worldwide trends for years — is skyrocketing, with professionals citing the wider availability of much better-top quality espresso as a key aspect. Hundreds of new cafes have opened in modern years, with a lot of that expansion coming from just one chain, Tostao. Considering that opening in December 2015, the organization has democratized excellent espresso, providing costs so reduced that even maids and development staff can find the money for a high quality cup. Nevertheless the most elaborate new brew residences are elevating coffee to an art kind, replicating the nearly laboratory-like cafes pioneered by hardcore java hipsters in this sort of areas as New York, Berlin, Seattle and Tokyo. The great coffee has excited the senses of Colombians like Parra, who really feel as if they are exploring their nation’s most famous (legal) export for the very first time. An aspiring cafe proprietor, Parra said he turned influenced following sampling the brews at a single of the capital’s new high-fashion cafes. His obsession drove him a single modern afternoon to downtown Bogota, in which he joined 14 students for classes at Varietale. A single of the capital’s hippest espresso retailers, it serves, amid other issues, blends developed via vacuum and heat in glass siphons. For the attendees — from simple aficionados to baristas — the classes offer you the kind of minutiae about espresso traits normally reserved for agribusiness educational institutions. In 1 exercising, pupils put twelve grams of grounds from distinct batches into cups before dousing them with scorching water. They smelled the bouquet, then slurped and spit, as if at a wine tasting. “As drinkers, I think Colombians only now are really comprehension what good coffee tastes like,” Parra said. Colombians commenced to get a taste of high quality espresso at least as considerably again as the early 2000s, when Juan Valdez — the now-worldwide chain recognized by the nationwide coffee federation — started opening cafes. The top quality of Colombian coffee beans was previously on the rise. In the early 1990s, when coffee charges collapsed on the commodities markets, Colombia responded by encouraging its farmers to much better contend globally by generating finer kinds of beans. The federal government has in addition deployed experts to support teach farmers to much better choose nicely-balanced flavor and acidity ranges. But professionals say the spurt in quality coffee retailers commenced much more lately. The idea arrived in large part from Colombian entrepreneurs who experienced traveled to Europe and the United States and knowledgeable coffee-ingesting epiphanies. Abel Calderon, co-proprietor of Varietale, for occasion, opened his initial department in 2015 soon after sampling what Colombian coffee could flavor like at cafes such as Storyville in Seattle. “We experienced to style our espresso outside of Colombia to recognize what it could be like listed here,” he stated. Pedro Gasca, a former government with the Colombian airline Avianca, co-founded Tostao following going to international chains like Pret a Manger. The idea was tweaked for Colombia. Realizing that the greater part of the higher-stop coffee shops listed here have been priced out of reach for most Colombians, Tostao as an alternative went for volume — marketing espresso that has earned approving nods from professionals for as low cost as 40 cents a cup. Espresso drinking for each capita in Colombia even now lags places this sort of as the United States, France and Brazil. But amongst 2009 and 2014, the most latest data obtainable, espresso consumption soared 33 p.c in Colombia, compared with fifteen per cent globally. That hurry to java is obvious in Tostao’s quick growth. In just twenty months, it has leapt to 200 places — becoming as ubiquitous in Bogota as Starbucks is in the United States. “We uncovered that Colombians — I mean all Colombians, such as the doing work course — actually desired a good cup of coffee,” Gasca mentioned. At the identical time, international business owners have noticed the odd hole for far better-quality coffee in Colombia’s market. Starbucks arrived in 2014. Tyler Youngblood, a native Californian, introduced a coffee-roasting procedure in Colombia in 2010. His business, Azahar Espresso Co., opened its initial Bogota coffee shop in a makeshift metallic container in 2013. This month, it opened a considerably more substantial cafe. The agency utilizes some of the greatest-top quality beans offered — the type almost constantly exported in the earlier. “I feel the stage is that Colombians have a proper to drink their possess greatest espresso,” Youngblood mentioned. One more boost for espresso lifestyle, local business people say, came from peace. The official conclude very last yr of Colombia’s 50 percent-century-lengthy war with the remaining-wing FARC guerrillas, as nicely as an easing of paramilitary violence in some coffee-growing locations, has opened up swaths of the country to local farm-to-desk restaurateurs and coffee shop homeowners, some of whom are placing discounts directly with farmers. Alejandro Gutierrez, chef at Salvo Patria — a Bogota cafe that commenced as a espresso store six a long time ago — just lately tasted espresso grown and roasted in the battled-scarred Meta area. Meta is not one of the country’s greater-acknowledged espresso regions, and Gutierrez was shocked by the beans’ top quality. He ended up buying batches for his cafe, which lists espresso-expanding areas for blends on its menu in the very same way it does for wines. “That total point out was FARC territory, and you would not have believed about it just before as an choice for very good espresso,” he stated. “But right here you have this wonderful coffee coming from there, and who knew? Well, now we know.”

0 notes