The Ultimate Damsel in Distress

SCREAM QUEENS are popular because they are sexy. Whether the good girl who survives or the bad girl who perishes, we relish watching them cringe and scream.

The heroine is a female protagonist as a warrior. The damsel in distress is a female protagonist as a noncombatant. It is sexy when a heroine fights. It is sexy when a damsel in distress cringes and screams. The only difference between the two sexually is the one does her thing on top.

Not long ago society was uncomfortable with the idea of heroines. The damsel in distress was considered proper. Now society is uncomfortable with the damsel in distress and the heroine is deemed proper. The mainstream comfort zone proves wavering, thus, ultimately irrelevant.

Our nature never changes. We play our silly games in the vain hope that if everyone pretends together then our nonsense will become reality. I have no use for such stupidity.

Perception is not reality. If truth was in the eye of the beholder then no one would be stupid or insane.

A young woman bound and gagged is sexy. Two girls kissing is sexy. A nubile female swaying her hips is sexy. Watching her lick anything is wonderfully maddening. The scream queen of horror is the damsel in distress of adventure. She is the girl bound and gagged or kissing another girl or dancing or licking while our tongues wag.

Fiction's damsel in distress is an archetype in many forms. The scream queen is her latest and arguably her best... because horror is all about victims.

Vanity

Reality is dysfunctional. People are crippled, deformed, diseased or otherwise languishing. The confounding of language reduced individual expression to impersonal gibberish. Our wars are more grueling terror than contests of courage and prowess. We are doomed to wither and perish.

Culture is sheep. Politics is wolves in sheep's clothing. Our institutions provide few good shepherds.

The failings of God are not my failings. There is no "original sin" in the eyes of freedom and justice. There is no "right or wrong" beyond cause and effect. Good and evil are never ideological or otherwise impersonal. The many are never greater than one.

There is no "science" in reality. Application mindful of cause and effect gives us technology. Notions of themselves are nothing.

Reality and its creator are inadequate. If it were otherwise their appeal would not be born of our desperation. Alas, our quandary is their very failing.

Mighty men are dead men, no matter their wealth and power. The wise are fools no matter their understanding for they are bound to a mindless nature. The common are useless no matter their labors for all by their hands is dust and ashes.

Do or do not but do so quickly for we are mortal. Find strength in your weakness for such is the glory of being human. Celebrate your ignorance by imagining better. You are one even if lost in a crowd. Only vanity is ever in vain.

World War Two

World War 1 was a cynical bloodbath. World War 3 will be a fruitless holocaust. World War 2 is the only global war that shall ever be inspiring.

The tragedy of Pearl Harbor was avenged by the glorious Battle of Midway. The conquest of France was followed by the Battle of Britain. The Nazi march eastward ground to a halt in Stalingrad.

Sleek war machines fought on land, in the air and at and under the sea. Fields of grass or snow, forests of firs or jungle, deserts and cities were all battlegrounds. Heroes and heroines made names for themselves.

The struggle of good against evil is rare in history yet it was the struggle of World War 2. The regime of evil was ruled by an eccentric mastermind and its forces commanded by officers in stylish uniforms. Mad science and unbelievable atrocities were policy.

Reality is dysfunctional and its greatest moment is no exception. The war of good against evil gave way to a war kept cold by the threat of mutually assured destruction. The flamboyant villainy of Hitler gave way to the petty ambitions of bureaucrats and oligarchs. Battles are now police actions in lands barely worth fighting for.

World War 2 was a fictional war of good against evil as a real war. For all its death and destruction humanity thrived because of it. Sadly, its legacy and eventual successor shall be to our needless ruin.

Primal Energy

Killing is thrilling, especially when the killer and killed are human beings. A manly killer who slays in combat is manly indeed. A sexy woman murdered is sexy indeed. Wars are the prowess of tribes and nations.

Sex and violence are intrinsically linked. Both are primal and passionate. Both are driven by desire. Both are life and death.

Violence was and is glorified because it is stark clarity in our world of confusion. Yes, war and murder are chaos but an act of violence is what it is regardless of its context. Dead is dead whether the death was right or wrong.

Sex for all its bumping and grinding is reproduction. Law and order for all the sanctimony are fear of punishment. Tribes and nations are strength in numbers. The world is violence and the threat of violence perpetuated by sex.

I am a writer, artist, game designer and music maker. I enjoy my libido and aggression without defiling or otherwise hurting anyone. I relish the passions and put them to good use. I am creating from the drives so often squandered in wars and murders.

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Sentries and Throngs

Surprise or anticipation consummated by unceremonious violence and perhaps an inglorious death scene: silencing the sentry.

Armed yet helpless. Vigilant yet oblivious. What is uneventful for the assailant is horrible for the victim. It is the ironies of silencing the sentry that make it interesting.

An elaborate silencing technique is extraneous. A gruesome death is disgusting. The sentry giving the assailant a good fight is anticlimactic. A silencing the sentry moment is dramatic understatement as quick and easy violence: Anything more is something less.

One or few against waves of outmatched baddies: hero versus throngs.

An alarm is triggered or the protagonists find they were lured into a trap. The valiant must stand their ground against overwhelming odds. Regardless of the spark, the fire burns the same. The thrill is that excellence is outfighting the endless droves of mediocrity.

The hero usually “wins” by escaping the relentless throngs. The many must kill or capture the one or few but the one or few bear no such burden. The deaths of the many are inglorious whether they kill or capture the hero or not. The fate of the hero is glorious whether he escapes or not. That one or few dared defy the many is the hero’s glory.

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Strange Galaxy is Coming Soon

My Strange Galaxy is not Star Trek: humanity is celebrated but not as humanism. My Strange Galaxy is not Star Wars: providence is not an impersonal Force balanced by being divided against itself. My Strange Galaxy is not Dr. Who: it is not social commentary. My Strange Galaxy is not Mass Effect: individuality, not diversity, is the Paragon path.

The great space operas are worthy of their greatness. Star Trek inspires technology. Star Wars makes us mindful of good and evil. Dr. Who gives us a look at reality from an outside perspective. Mass Effect encourages us to come together for the common good.

Strange Galaxy is a wonderful space opera… but it is not yet great. For all its fiction, art, games and music it is an obscurity. It does not languish, mind you. There is freedom in being unknown. Strange Galaxy grows according to inspiration whereas the greats are bound to the whims of the uninspired.

I am striving to make Strange Galaxy great. Yes, I shall mourn the loss of liberty but alas, light must shine if it is to be more than darkness. I have much to say and say it in the telling of Strange Galaxy. The brilliance must glare for all to see.

Strange Galaxy is a space opera without spaceships. Magic is not in the guise of something else. Swords and guns are equals but not in the same hands. There is continuity but not as a particular story. The fate of the universe is not decided by singular adventures. The characters are not a specific cast.

Strange Galaxy is a fictional world of many worlds as a real world. The characters, human or otherwise, are personalities living their lives for better or worse. The wars are practical ventures, even if waged ineptly, for resources and influence. The struggles of good against evil are those rare moments of individual courage and gumption.

The space opera is the fantasy genre set in an interstellar fairyland. The magic is “science” and the fairies are “aliens” but despite the pretense the stories are fairy tales. I am not a pretender. Though my Strange Galaxy is fictional, it is not disingenuous. It is imagination in all sincerity. Enjoy.

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The Nurse and Pyramid Head

Silent Hill is a game that became more than a game. One of its weaker monsters became more than forgettable cannon-fodder. One of its lesser bosses became the greatest of them all.

The Nurse was introduced as little more than a living zombie but became a mainstay; as a faceless monster with shapely curves in a miniskirt. Her hunched posture was replaced with twitchy spasms. Originally envisioned as a native of our world lost to the madness of an unreality, she became indigenous to that unreality.

Pyramid Head was just a secondary boss bound to the storyline of the first sequel yet he broke loose and became the poster boy for the franchise. Originally intended to come and go in one game, he somehow became our everlasting bogeyman.

Conscientious malcontents may dismiss the Nurse as only memorable because she is sexy… though most things sexy are forgotten. The irony that she is as grotesque as she is comely and as monstrous as she is feminine is a fine balance not to be taken for granted.

Supposed experts may cite that “Pyramid Head” is not the character’s real name. They may remind us that there were three of him and he was nothing more than a figment of one character’s guilt. Alas, the fictional Otherworld of Silent Hill would be at a loss without him.

That which is excellent is that which exceeds what is expected. That the Nurse and Pyramid Head are memorable and inspiring is irrefutable whether you like them or not. They were little fish in a big pond that ate the bigger fish. They have proven their excellence.

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