Friday, April 29, 2016

The Good, the Bad and the Expendable

We all want to be important. Most of us are nonentities proud of anything but ourselves. Our weaklings are "strong," our simpletons are "smart," our common are "unique" and our deficient are "special." The helpless are "empowered" and the ugly "beautiful" by sheer platitude. The few above assure the many below that all are equals.

Stronger, smarter, faster, tougher rules the world. The strong overpower, the smart outwit, the fast outmaneuver and the tough outlast the weak, stupid, slow and delicate.

What I am is a piece of meat doomed to die. Who I am is sincerity beyond the very word "sincerity" or any other sound or scribble we pretend has meaning. I am freedom and justice. I am friendship. Thoughts are fallible and feelings whimsical. I am absolute.

The significant and insignificant alike do live. They both have thoughts and feelings. People love them. They are different only in that one makes a difference.

Evil is at war with everything and good is at war with evil. Heroes live heroically. Villains live in villainy. The common are the foot soldiers.

Heroes die heroically. Villains die in irony. The cannon-fodder is slaughtered in droves.

Everyone wants to be important... but are you? Are you "strong" because you want to be... or because you are actually strong? Are you "smart" because you think you are... or because you are actually smart? Are you "unique" like everybody else? Are you "special" because you have problems?

Are you the hero, the villain or the cannon-fodder? The truth shall tell.


Sunday, April 24, 2016

Deadly Intent

Violence is the hideous reality of people willfully harming people. Accidents may be dramatic but no matter their consequences, they are spiritually irrelevant. Yes, negligence or recklessness are sins, but of omission. Apathy is not intent.

Disease, disasters and wild animals are impersonal. They kill but as dysfunctional forces of nature. Yes, a beast may stalk and kill deliberately but the thoughts of a mindless brute are mindless indeed. The feelings of a beast are primal impulses and nothing more.

Humans, gods, angels, fairies, aliens and sentient robots are “people” in their fiction. They are entities aware of their own existence. They have personal thoughts and feelings. Even if brainwashed or otherwise compelled, their personality asserts itself. Should the spark of their individuality be extinguished, they are presumed dead.

I write adventure fiction as fantasy, science fiction or horror. The action may be a chase or acrobatic but is usually violence. Characters kill each other. The masterminds, monsters and rogue warriors commit murder. The henchmen follow dastardly orders. The heroes slaughter baddies.

Killing of itself is spiritually irrelevant. The physics of death are mere cause and effect. It is the intent that is either good or evil. Masterminds sacrifice others for an agenda. Monsters and rogue warriors are predators. Henchmen may or may not be evil themselves but they serve villainy. Heroes thwart evil by eliminating its agents. They avenge the innocent.

Celebrating violence is silly at best and vulgar at worst. Shunning violence is idealistic at best and passive-aggressive at worst. Honesty sees it for what it is, for better or worse. Even as fiction it can be good or evil.


Friday, April 15, 2016

Nameless Body

Great or small, we care about ourselves if for no other reason than being the one to feel the pleasure and the pain.

A nonentity is insignificant in the grand scheme of things. Believing firmly or feeling strongly has nothing to do with it. Being loved by nonentities is as insignificant as they are.

A life is only significant if it makes a real difference, for good or for evil. George Washington and Adolf Hitler were significant, as were Karl Marx and J.R.R. Tolkien.

The insignificant have more names than everyone else... yet are nameless. Those with titles are recognized but only as their impersonal titles.

Nothing stirs human imagination like the thought of adventure. It is the vim and vigor of our legends and fiction. Its heroes are what we believe in. Its antiheroes are what we admire. Masterminds are its will to evil. Sidekicks and elite henchmen are its little people making something of themselves. The "Red Shirts" as they are in Star Trek and the useless foot soldiers of villainy are its insignificant many.

We read or watch adventure fiction and expect its heroes, masterminds, sidekicks and elite henchmen to survive or die dramatically. Our "Red Shirts" and nameless baddies are boring until something grimly amusing happens to them.

The lives of our important people, both in reality and in our fiction, are savored. Their untimely deaths are celebrated as martyrdom or irony. As for the unimportant many: they live and die lost in a crowd.

Never waste your life feeling important. Make a name for yourself... or be a nameless body to be tossed onto the pile.


Thursday, April 7, 2016

One Chance

All lives matter… to those who live them. Even the suicidal fret the quality of their lives: their yearning to die is because of it. The lowly may be expendable to the mighty but not to themselves. Even if willing to be sacrificed it is in the hope of something better.

Not all lives are precious. Not only are some more important than others but there are many the rest of us would do better without.

Who am I to judge? Who are any of us to decide what lives matter?

We are individuals living among many. The few significant decide our fate. The insignificant live and die irrelevant. The truth itself decides what lives matter.

Life is beyond all that is lifeless. Spirit is beyond all that is spiritless. Mortality is not our humanity.

Whosoever lives a spiritless life lives and dies in vain. We get one chance as one life as one person. Make it count… or be tossed onto the pile of the nameless many.


Friday, April 1, 2016

Write or Wrong

I write stories about sexy girls, adventurous boys and virile monsters. Sleek technology, spooky magic and exotic worlds are the reality of their unreality.

My daydreams even as a child were sex and violence. My favorite shows, movies and comic books were adventure and horror, especially as fantasy or science fiction.

Many people ask me why I write fiction. Well, non-fiction is useful but unless embellished or fabricated it tends to be boring. If I am to write fiction to make it all interesting then I might as well be honest about it.

I have been asked why I do not write about normal people doing normal things. I ask why I would want to.

Sex and violence may prove unsettling but when are they ever boring? When sexy and violent tell an inspiring story they do so by thrilling in a meaningful context.

Small minds are bound to their minutia. They languish in their mediocrity and fancy they are the wiser for it. I shall not stoop to lift them. I shall not look down to look them in the eye. I have work to do and it is above and beyond their shambling masses.

Friday, March 18, 2016

Spiritual Reality is Unreal

As a writer, artist, game designer and music maker I ask you: why do we need our fiction, art, games and melodies? Why do we treasure these things that do little more than entertain us?

Fiction is fantasy no matter its realism. Why do we bother make-believing when there are real things to learn and deal with? Would it not be for the better if all was nonfiction?

Art is aesthetic for its own sake even when factored into a practical design. Should we save ourselves needless effort and conserve resources by dispensing with such extraneous nonsense?

Training is enough to develop skills without playing games. A simulation can serve a sensible purpose without fantastic elements. Would our skills develop more efficiently without incorporating arbitrary requirements?

Music is sound no different than any other, really. Its medley is indistinct from the clamor of operating systems. Would our attention sharpen without the distracting stimuli?

We need our delightful silliness. Our fiction is our view of everything beyond the limitations of our knowledge and senses. Our art is how we see things inside and out as one and the same. Our games exercise our abilities in refreshing ways. Our music is what we want to hear whether we know what we want to hear or not.

We are not the offspring of sludge or monkeys. We are more than the sum of our dirt and water. We need spiritual satisfaction or else we languish. We need our fiction, art, games and music to be more than mere animals living merely to strive in vain.

Friday, March 11, 2016

Cringing Stormtrooper

A good character, no matter how big or small or whether good guy or bad, is one with personal thoughts and feelings. Such a character has a part to play in the story but from the character's perspective, there is no story. Every moment is just another in the endless stream of reality.

The foot soldier of villainy may be a nonentity antagonist in his fiction but not in his reality. For example: an Imperial Stormtrooper standing guard in a detention block. He feels himself being stared at or may hear a noise. He looks over his shoulder. He cringes as a looming monster lunges at him. The sentry is silenced violently but unceremoniously.

I relish the anticipation when my heroes find themselves behind a pesky sentry. I gleefully anticipate the quick and easy violence that shall eliminate the anonymous baddie. I am amused that the sentry is armed and supposedly vigilant but helpless. I feel grimly satisfied because the victim is trouble, thus, deserving of his inglorious fate.

What about the unfortunate Stormtrooper? I imagine him being a real person. He would have a name those who know him would know him by (even if it is a serial number). There would be a face behind the mask of his helmet. The quick and easy that kills him would be a dramatic and tragic moment that ends his life.

I do not love the nameless foot soldiers of villainy to hate them. Yes, I am amused by their uselessness against heroes. I am thrilled as they struggle feebly or wither in droves. I am excited when they cringe and scream. They are my favorite characters, always.

The useless baddies are perfect as they are. Their names need not be given or their faces shown. We need not mourn their passing. I enjoy imagining them as real people on the wrong side of adventure. The grunts and groans, cringing and screaming, death throes and sprawled bodies are more interesting when they are the quirks of believable characters.