Monday, 26 January 2009
So that's it folks. Don't change into a door that's likely to be exploded.
Top tip for the day...
Friday, 23 January 2009
Please anyone who reads this make comments on how to improve on this initial stab.
What a terrible day.
Flashes and screams in the gloom. Clouds of smoke, uplit with pretty little orange-grey flashes and thuds and screams. Shadows and tangled blurs and the desperate moans of the doomed and the dying all wrapped up in pretty little orange-grey flashes. I am crumpled, pinned, shellshocked and horrified, bleeding my life into the dirt as I look down through the half-light into hell.
And all I can think about is what a terrible birthday it’s turned out to be.
Up until a brief moment ago I might have been less certain. The year I’d had a wrathful contagion that had called for a vigorous course of bloodworms and solitary confinement had always been a strong contender for that title, and the time I’d broken a finger with Master Tunng then my favourite dormon shuffled gently on, I had made my displeasure emphatically known.
My cousin Merynka, arrogant, insular Merynka, once told me that a man re-lives his last day when he dies, every taste and itch, every action and choice, and in doing so his spirit learns from its mistakes.
What can be learned from such a rotten stinking horrible day I challenge anyone to know.
A feudal system with Napoleonic technology, but more importantly, the necessary politics. Pressure on nearby neighbours from an expanding force nearby. Similar to Peninsular campaign, but the Mark - realm of the Marquis, the homeland of the subject characters - is not a separate island, tempting as it may be, but a peninsular itself. There is a growing political pressure that leads to a dispatch of a campaign force. Need to differentiate from sharpe somehow; well for starters there's flying machines, airships and perfect plywood constructs.
needs more, then a start. The story will eventually lead off-world, and the forces of chaos will be personal and internalised in their evil, subtle in fact; and the Marquis has a small caché of lasguns and other holy relics. The relationship of Imperial creed to the world, and the relationship of the Imperium as a whole, is distant and mysterious. The Imperial monks resident at his capital will be decendants of the original missionaries, derided as crazy.
Thursday, 22 January 2009
One, reading Commando comics all day is actually quite depressing compared to jobhunting.
Two, Múm's album, Go Go Smear The Poison Ivy, is really really pretty.
Three, Another 40k story possibility - A series of adventures growing on a feudal world, with Napoleonic tech-level, where the Imperium is but a distant rumour, only having the most minimal diplomatic presence. So something similar to the 95th's Peninsular campaign, but with the occasional lasgun, and the gradual rise of something horrible in a rival empire. Perhaps an eventual Imperium arrival, maybe even a drafting of veterans? This has close links to the past ideas for the 'Spicers', which doubtless I will try and write an initial story about then post here.
Four, I have such a silly amount of music, it's actually silly.
Wednesday, 21 January 2009
I have delved, and I have investigated, and I have realised the following Science, based upon my own library:
As you can see, small books can be awesome, in fact the smallest are often considerably more awesome than a normal-sized peer.
Toward the middle of the graph, we can see a bottoming out in the awesomeness of books relative to size. This is not to say there aren't any awesome normal sized books, but rather, if a book is not awesome, it is probably normal-sized.
I have labelled the region where the dullards lie 'the Vale of Paperbacks' as you can see.
Finally, you can see a gradual increase in the awesomeness of books, through the mid-sized, to an appreciable peak.
My findings lead me to theorise that with a book large enough, we could prove that Gravity = Awesome. The only downside would be the resulting cults.
Tuesday, 20 January 2009
Obviously I'm no Guru, but from what I've seen, there is in the majority of relationships an issue of balance; the one who is more emotionally invested, the one with a stronger attachment or attraction to the other, is at a disadvantage; and that all people, male or female, when they realise they have the advantage, tend to use it. I've been on both ends, and I still regret my actions when I've had the advantage in the past.
And it sounds clinical and unemotional, but it seems to explain a lot of failed relationships; and although it's always worth giving it a try, good relationships can only really occur in equality. The equality might be in not giving a shit, or in being madly in love; but as long as each has as much power over the other it can work. Otherwise we end up with broken people. Like Dualla in BSG...
But then, surely relationships are the one realm where selfish actions are encouraged? The preserve of the individual over the many? The animal?
Saturday, 17 January 2009
Because the Internet. is Official.
In the course of the first Biggles collection of books, entitled 'The Camels are Coming', Biggles encounters a German agent flying a British aircraft, another Camel, in order to shoot down unsuspecting British pilots:
"The Camel closed up until it was flying beside him; the pilot smiling. Biggles showed his teeth in what he imagined to be an answering smile. 'You swine,' he breathed: 'you dirty, unutterable, murdering swine! I'm going to kill you if it's the last thing I do on earth.'"
Later, when his one of his best friends is shot in the back trying to beat a trap laid by an obsolescent German aircraft, and lands his Camel intact, dying in Biggles' arms, Biggles gets into his dead friend's machine, and flies it, bullet holes and blood, near-constantly for weeks in the hunt for that one aircraft in order to exact revenge.
Later, he is threatened with being taken off active duty after a deranged rant in the Mess in front of his superior officer; when questioned, two of his fellow flight-commanders and friends remark that to take him off duty would probably break him. They remark that he could drink a bottle of Scotch for breakfast and still fly sober.
On the day that the Amnesty is signed, but before news has reached the front, Biggles is shot down on an escort mission behind enemy lines, and beaten severely by German ground troops before an officer gives him the news. He doesn't cheer and say 'Jolly well done chaps, by jove'.
Would you like to know more?
My most recent concept is to take the overall premise of Went The Day Well?, that of a safe, inviting, instantly lovable place shattered by horror and that accompanying outrage, and transpose that into a 40K setting - it's not just the large, hi-tech planets that suffer from invasion, and there's not always a reasonable line of defence beyond basic Imperial civilians and their priest.
In general, I feel there are certain aspects of the Imperium that need greater exposure, as they are vital to the survival of the heroes that are so well-known and loved, and with good enough characters and story could be given a smidge of the same respect. These aspects are the Munitorum and ordinary civilians.
Important themes to be explored:-
- The contrast between the tranquility and Archers-esque timelessness of the rural settlement, and the sheer alien-ness of the (as-yet unselected) foe. Every aspect of the invaders must be jarring and unfamiliar, their acts, reasoning, movement, motives, and every sensory perception of them. There will be no sections from their perspective. Hints of 'Signs', without the wank.
- Also the physical weakness of the inhabitants against their fierce, small-world pride and indomitable will, a very British WW2 feel. Little old ladies!
Knowing my style, and my recent cinema visits, if this ever becomes a story it'll decend rapidly into Lovecraftian horror.