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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Scream Queens and Nameless Baddies

Heroes, masterminds, elite henchmen/henchwomen and sidekicks are the players in adventure fiction. The damsels in distress endure among them but have since become marginalized. There are also the ubiquitous foot soldiers of villainy.

A conscientious effort has been made to replace the damsel in distress with the heroine. It is assumed that any female protagonist incapable of thrashing baddies in her own right is a misogynistic stereotype. Men who want to be spanked endorse this effort but for their own reasons.

The Scream Queen is the damsel in distress in horror movies. She is beautiful and virtuous and in peril. For all her helplessness and screaming we are hopeful that she shall survive. That said: we do enjoy all the cringing and screaming.

The foot soldiers of villainy are hopelessly outmatched nonentities. Pathetic by design they are disinteresting by default. They are unworthy of notice unless there is something about them worth noticing. Mind you, it is simpleminded to divorce them from their niche.

The foot soldiers of villainy are not unlike the teenagers in horror movies. They are hopelessly witless and easily caught unawares for our grim amusement. They scream, grunt and groan and we are thrilled by the violence.

Sexy girls are the favorite teenagers in horror movies. For the foot soldiers of villainy to be comely females is just as appealing. No, nameless baddies need not be sexy girls to garner attention… but why not? The Amazons of Classical Mythology lost every battle and were slaughtered in droves. They were baddies, lest we forget.

The damsels in distress and foot soldiers of villainy are the hardest characters in adventure fiction to get right. Heroines are heroes. Turning a damsel in distress into a heroine is to bastardize both archetypes. The foot soldiers of villainy should never prove formidable against heroes. To be heroic in the classical sense is to be a warrior beyond mortal prowess.

A damsel need not fawn over a hero to love him. She need not be a warrior to have more than youth and beauty to offer. She can be a character without being a caricature.

The foot soldiers of villainy are what they are but can be so much more without even changing. They can have a name and remain anonymous. They can have a sleek or sexy look without being elite. They can be slaughtered in droves and still taken seriously. So long as they are a character in their own right they can be loved even as nonentities.

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Really Fiction

Fiction, unlike reality, is whatever we want it to be. Ironically, much of our supposed reality is embellished and twisted to the point of being fiction. Alas, history and politics must become legend and propaganda to be interesting.

I do not and shall not bastardize history. I do not and shall not spout propaganda. I write fiction. My stories are the thrills of legend as they truly are. The meanings are the truth propaganda purports to tell. My fiction is all the fun without the pretense.

Reality is what it is regardless. Fiction is only ever what we regard. Good and evil. Sex and violence. Drama. Reality need not be fun but fiction must be.

Our legends, propaganda and fiction are the unreality we live in. Should we lose ourselves in them we become delusional. Should we find ourselves in them we are enlightened. For better or worse our reality is decided by our fantasies. Fiction may prove real after all.

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Sexy

Sexy is a good thing. Seriously: how is anything better for not being sexy? Until disinteresting is a virtue, sexiness shall be good.

Prudish is boring. Vulgar is disgusting. Being bored or disgusted does nothing for me. I want sexy.

Looks are not the only thing sexy. A voice can be as alluring as a form. A nuance can be as suggestive as a tease. Context can make even unassuming sexy.

Lest we forget, sex and violence are the thrills of our art and fiction. When has tame ever thrilled us? Sex and violence intensify each other exponentially. Their communion is the perfect storm.

Sexy is sexy does whether consummated or not. It is the arousal, not the act that is the sensuality. To savor the yearning is to be thrilled whereas to be spent is to be exhausted.

Sexy is a good thing. It is interesting. It is thrilling. It is beautiful whether lovely or hideous. It is aspect at its best.

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Game of Souls

Few lives are precious. Many lives are worthless. You choose your value, not by pride but by action.

An evil man on a mission is better than the many who do nothing. A good man busy doing good is best of all. Take heed: neither sinister nor good are ever idle. Only the sheep are content to graze.

The mindless are too simple to give thought to their deeds. They delight in petty things and wanton mischief. Masterminds tell them what to think and how to feel and the mindless obey, believing the thoughts and feelings to be their own.

The good are never mindless. They hear and see but are too thoughtful for their thoughts and feelings to be other than their own. They do good because they care to do so, never in lust, fear or obedience.

The struggle of good against evil is the few who care for the sake of caring against the many who do not and their sinister masters. The struggle is neither political nor philosophical. It is not decided by authority nor consensus. Souls are the warriors, the battleground and the prize. Choosing who you are, personally and individually, is the struggle. All else follows.

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