Tuesday, April 14, 2015

Grimly Amusing

Dead sexy. Whether anonymous bystanders or useless thugs we are grimly amused by the slaying of unimportant characters.

The Red Shirts of Star Trek are loved for falling easy prey to strange horrors. The Stormtroopers of Star Wars are revered for being the objects of heroic violence. The scream queens of horror are the sexiness thereof. We admire our heroes and respect our villains but we relish our victims.

Sexuality and violence are intrinsically linked. Easy violence is casual sex. An anonymous victim is a one-night-stand.

Killing is thrilling and fiction is rarely intense without it. The silencing the sentry is an unusual theme in that it is meant to thrill but calmly. It is a predator-prey scenario in which one character easily and impersonally subdues another. The distinct appeal is the contrast that what is unceremonious for the assailant is tragic for the victim. The ease of the kill is an inglorious fate indeed.

Monsters are masculine even if female. Victims are feminine even if male. The hapless Red Shirt, for example, is the "vagina" and what kills him is the "penis" in what is thematically the heterosexual dynamic. Such would not be the case if the Red Shirt enjoyed a fighting chance. He is "helpless" because the feminine is anatomically passive. The "penis" does not require consent to penetrate. The prey must be vulnerable by its nature. The victims must be lambs before gathered for the slaughter.

A foot soldier of villainy is an expendable agent of someone else's evil. A bystander is a faceless face in a crowd. We are amused by the deaths of the nameless because their lives are inconsequential. They cringe and scream fearing a doom that shall make no difference. Their bodies are heaped into piles to be lost in the crowds from whence they came. In a strange way they deserve their fate... because they are nonentities.





Friday, April 10, 2015

Who and What We Are

Reality is a lackluster drudgery locked in a cycle of vainglorious futility. History is embellished as legend or propaganda. Science and religion are whatever we want them to be. Stronger, smarter, faster and tougher are the worldly standard by which some are better than others.

I am not a man of the world. I am not a minion nor a mastermind. I do not live in the past, real or imagined. My life and what I make of it are my reality.

Most lives are worthless. Never bother with those who do not bother. Never give to those who only take. To be wronged does not make one righteous nor to be needy make one worthy. Bless or curse only that one may reap what one has sown.

A good does not beget evil. What seems friendly only to prove unfriendly is like poison in an otherwise good drink.

Whosoever cares shall always care and shall act accordingly. Whosoever does not care may do good but only when it suits them. People cannot change: they are only better or worse of who they truly are.

What we are is the nature we are made of. Our experiences can only shape what is already there. Who we are is the smallest part of us... but it is the part that makes all the difference. We are good or evil by who we are. We decide who we are by the actions of our own volition.


Friday, March 27, 2015

The Love Clones

The Red Shirts of Star Trek fall easy prey to strange horrors. The Imperial Stormtroopers of Star Wars are so delightfully useless against heroes. The proud Amazons of Classical Mythology are readily slaughtered or sexually enslaved. These are the inspirations for the Concubines of the Great Seen Unseen, the hapless clone women of Strange Galaxy.

It has often been suggested that my Red Shirt-Stormtrooper-Amazons would somehow be more interesting if I gave them a fighting chance. Alas, my fancies do not lend themselves to conventional wisdom. My "Red Shirts" must fall easy prey to strange horrors. My "Stormtroopers" must prove useless against heroes. My "Amazons" must be readily slaughtered or sexually enslaved.

Armed yet helpless. Dutiful yet useless. Bold but hapless. These dramatic ironies are what I love about my inspirations. They are what distinguish them from other characters.

My Concubines of the Great Seen Unseen are an order of nuns cloned from one woman and endowed with her formative memories. They are selfless, loyal and obedient. Exploited as slaves they have since supplanted their masters in the very name of the dark deity used to control them. Cheap and easy to mass-produce the women are vast in number. Equipped with the resources and technology of an empire they have become a Galactic Power in their own right.

The Concubines of the Great Seen Unseen scour the galaxy for knowledge and resources. Their expeditions to uncharted worlds typically go missing. Their armies are readily defeated and seldom victorious. Their many soldiers captured are kept pregnant with monstrous hybrids.

As a writer if I want a hero I make a character heroic. If I want a villain I make a character villainous. If I want easy victims of heroic violence I mass-produce characters and use them as cannon-fodder. If I want underlings of villainy I make characters insignificant and servile. I do not create one thing to have another. I do not appreciate by considering something else.

I like what I like. I am not the only one inspired by my inspirations. I cannot do wrong doing what is already proven. I made something out of pure love. Enjoy.

Sunday, March 22, 2015

Grim Clowns of Villainy

I love fiction's expendable antagonists. The silencing the sentry and hero versus throngs are my favorite action scenes. There is just something so appealing about anonymous baddies being slaughtered with ease and impunity.

A hero must strive if he is to outwit a mastermind or outfight a rival. Their contest is personal and its outcome decisive. Their final battle is to be savored and is expected to be melodramatic.

Lowly goons are sacrificial pawns: the cannon-fodder of villainy. They live and die for nefarious agendas hardly in their best interest. Unloved by their bosses and a nuisance to heroes they are a pathetic lot. It is righteously amusing and grimly satisfying to witness them being casually eliminated.

The foot soldiers of villainy are droll but can be threatening or even sexy. Lowly and anonymous they are as insignificant as bystanders. As the underlings of masterminds they are just as sinister. Like heroes they fight but unlike heroes they are hopelessly outmatched. When female they are damsels in distress but as victims of the heroes who would otherwise rescue them.

I love fiction's expendable antagonists. I favor them because they are characters unlike any other. They are the clowns of villainy we can take seriously... whenever it suits us.


Tuesday, March 10, 2015

The Few

Death, darkness and evil are the exact same thing: nothing. To consider nothing is to be mindless. To care about nothing is to be heartless. To do nothing is to be useless. To produce nothing is to be worthless. To be guilty of even one of these failings is to be evil.

"Equality" is a subjective nonsense. In reality some people are more important than others. A life that makes a difference is precious whereas many lives that make no difference prove cheap. One who does a small thing that is meaningful does more than the many who do much of what is meaningless. The death of a good man is a travesty whereas the slaughter of the wicked is a cleansing.

Being alive does not make you important. Wanting does not make you deserving. Suffering a wrong does not make you righteous. People are the good and evil in the world. The many who slander, take and destroy are the strife, corruption and anguish. The few who praise, contribute and create are the appreciation, integrity and joy. The few, not the many, are worthwhile.


Monday, March 2, 2015

Strange Galaxy: Sincere Foundation

My Strange Galaxy was never an attempt to create something original. It was always nothing more than an endeavor to customize science fiction to my own preferences. In so doing I have created something new.

Reality is boring but true. Fantasy is nonsense but fun. Reality and fantasy in perfect communion are the qualities of both with the shortcomings of neither. My Strange Galaxy is all about possibilities, real and imagined.

I have always loved the magic of fantasy and the speculative technology of science fiction. Swords are as interesting a weapon as guns. The futuristic and the ancient are equally mystical. Aliens and fairies really are the same thing. I brought all these supposedly disparate elements together. I refined them, cleansing them of their silliness. In their purity they merge seamlessly together.
           
People are my interest. Dead space and lifeless worlds do nothing for me. I am mindful that velocity, in any form, is entirely impractical for living things to traverse the unimaginable gulfs of the cosmos. Anyway, Strange Galaxy is a space opera without spaceships. Living worlds are visited by means of shifting one two-dimensional plane of space with another, creating a portal in which “faraway” becomes only a step away.

I am a minimalist. I prefer simple to fancy. I favor sleek over gaudy. Intimacy means more to me than anything grandiose. The magic and technology of Strange Galaxy are understated. The adventures are typically unsung quests. There is no singular event or specific cast of characters that decides the fate of the galaxy. I focus on depth rather than breadth.

My Strange Galaxy is meaningful because everything about it says something. Enjoy.



Monday, February 23, 2015

Strange Galaxy: No Disease, Language Barrier or Super Weapons

Not all things real are meaningful. Not all things true are inspiring. My imagination does not languish. It is beyond the tiring mediocrity of our real world.

Disease is a miserable drudgery. The language barrier is insincere and an affront to individuality. Weapons of mass-destruction are impersonal and spiritless. My Strange Galaxy is clean of all such realistic nonsense. In my fictional world of many worlds good and evil are the issues to be dealt with. What is meant is what is said. Courage and prowess cannot be bested from afar.

Stark reality is boring but sheer fantasy is ridiculous. Even a fairy tale has no point if it is not telling a truth. Disease is never mentioned in Strange Galaxy but it is also never disclaimed. Yes, the language barrier divides our world but it is a false barrier: true meaning was never a matter of sounds and scribble. As for weapons of mass-destruction, every war is won by warriors, regardless of the weapons.