Trees Pretty

Trees Pretty.

I'm in the midst of nuclear geometry and polar bonds, and I can't think of anything interesting to say. So enjoy my state's prettiness.

Remember when I said "I'm back"?

Well, things happened. My employment situation needs a radical change, and I have gone back to school.

I'm taking two classes in preparation for my Medical Lab Technician Certificate. The program is offered by the Community College of Vermont.

Although CCV offers this program, they don't offer all the courses necessary to complete it. Fortunately, they have an exchange program with Bennington College, for Chemistry. And I thought, hey, I'm treading the ground where Shirley Jackson, Martha Graham, Buckminster Fuller once walked. I'll be getting the benefits of a really expensive education for a low CCV price.

What I didn't realize until the first class is that BC has a very rigorous science program. One of their students went on to work on the Manhattan Project. I am one of the two people in the class that did not take Chemistry in High School (I took Biology and Physics), which is assumed for the course. I don't mind that I'm twice as old as the rest of the students, and may be older than the professor. What I do mind is that this is an accelerated class. And while it's fascinating to get a peek into the nature of physical matter and the universe, it's bloody difficult.

Thus far, this is what I've given up in my pursuit of Chemistry:

• Half my work hours
  
• Fencing
  
• Warhammer
  
• Writing: yes, the novel is on hold.
  
• Blogging
  
• Reading for Pleasure.

So... yeah. Not a lot of time to do things. In the last couple of days, I've started to get a handle on it, I think. I'll know when the first test rolls around in a couple of weeks.

I will be taking some pictures in lab today. In case you're interested.

20 Minutes into the Present

Max Headroom is finally on DVD. And we have it.



I like to think that I remember the show because of the writing. Max was one of the first shows about the media, and how the modern life has become more and more entwined with television. The plots were fairly standard (Ace reporter Edison Carter discovers an injustice, and gets on the air at the last moment to right the wrong). But the MacGuffins that drive the stories are very perceptive and unusual.

The conflation of television and politics is particularly relevant today, when we have television personalities holding political rallies, and getting the nation whipped up over this molehill or that. While we have not reached the point of Max Headroom where it is illegal to turn the television off, there is precious little difference between someone who can't turn their television off, and someone who won't.

The plots also usually depend on there being someone moral in a chain of events that will say "no" to the murder or imprisonment of an innocent person. For every monster out there, there is a moral individual who is able to stop them. Considering that the show is remembered for being very 'cynical' Max Headroom held the positive view that someone in the chain of command can stop an atrocity.

Part of the fascination with the show, twenty years later, is how close it comes to being real. The episode "Academy" features a show trial on Network 23, which is rather creepily reminiscent of the OJ Simpson trial.

Amazingly, in the dark future, there are few guns, and no one gets shot. I wonder if this is primarily because the writes of the show were English, rather than American. None of the show's problems have yet been solved through violence. It's the tool of terrorists and fascists.

The characters spend a lot of time watching screens and watching people interacting with screens. And not just because Max, the titular character, is confined to one. It's rather disconcerting... there's about as much face time as there is someone talking to someone over a screen. And there's more tapping on keyboards than Jessica Fletcher ever did.

Max should also be remembered for the contradiction he was. A prime-time show that critiques the media it was on. An anti-media icon that shilled for Coca-Cola. Did the producers and writers of Max sell out? Or were they cleverly co-opting a media to get their message out? It's hard to tell, but it's a lot of fun to analyze.

How Do You Follow Something Like That Up?

I mean, what can I possibly say on this blog that is half, even a quarter as cool as "I had a hawk eating off my hand"?

I guess I'll have to take some time and shamelessly self-promote.

Matthew Carpenter, the man who has reviewed all my Lovecraftian work and liked it (I could say the same about Ellen Datlow, but I haven't heard her opinion of Cthulhu's Dark Cults) has once again posted good things about my work to Amazon. He likes Cthulhu's Dark Cults generally, but he once again singles out my story for discussion:

“Captains of Industry” by John Goodrich - Mr. Goodrich is just starting his career as a published author. “The Patriot” was among the many highlights of Cthulhu Unbound 1. Two impoverished immigrant factory workers, struggling to live and struggling in the battle for workers’ rights, infiltrate an industrialists’ dinner party to try to get some leverage. They run afoul of the Hermetic Order of the Silver Twilight. Once again Mr. Goodrich gives us a rousing story of superior quality. His characters come alive on the page and the action is actually heart wrenching.

I'd like to point out that I'm very proud of this. Horrifying a reader with a horror story isn't all that difficult. Getting them emotionally involved with the protagonist is more challenging. I seem to have touched Mr. Carpenter's heart. I am pleased.

I Played with Birds on My Staycation

The Santa Fe Good Taste Factory was in the area, so he decided to spend a few days with us. Which is awesome. He is always fun to be with, and when someone visits, I usually look around and find something interesting and local to do. This time, I asked if he was interested in taking a lesson at the local branch of the British School of Falconry.

And he said yes.

So there we were, 11AM, scrungy as we usually are, walking up to this nice little barn. A very nice guy (Rob, I think) told us he would be our instructor, and we both hauled out our cameras and listened very carefully.



The first thing I noticed when I had a Harris Hawk sit on my wrist is that the talons are very sharp, and so is that beak. While the plumage is beautiful, and even more attractive up close, these attributes do not command immediate attention. I found it disconcerting, at first, to be so close to those huge claws on dinosaur-like feet. Did I mention his name was Mycroft? That took a couple of minutes to sink in.



Harris Hawks are unique among raptors in that they hunt socially. This gives them a huge advantage over non-social hawks as far as falconry goes, because they won't get all pissy if two or more go after the same target. Also, they're a fairly small for a raptor--three and a half foot wingspan, between one and a half and two and a half pounds (the females are larger). But up close, Mycroft is clearly a death machine.

Attached to the bird's legs are three devices. One, some jingle bells so you know where it is. Second are the jesses, leather thongs so that you can hold onto the bird until you're ready to let him go. Think of them as bird-reigns. The bird steps onto your gloved hand, and you make a fist, clasping the jesses between your middle and ring finger. This keeps the bird in check if it decides to take off at the wrong moment. The third device is a radio transmitter with antenna, just in case the bird flies off.



I learned that you have to walk so that the bird is always facing into the wind--otherwise they get agitated. Walking backwards is a small price to pay when you're keeping the Massive Sharp Beak of Death calm.

Once we learned the basic tips, we were ready to receive the bird. Rob would cast the bird, it would go to a downwind perch. Then I raised my gloved arm, and Mycroft took off, and headed for me. Mycroft, apparently, flies lower than many of the usual birds, getting a bit of ground effect. Then he perfectly, every time, came up and landed on my arm. Stuck the landing even as he grabbed the little beefy treat the trainer put on my glove as a reward. Watching a bird land on your arm is really amazing, so much energy conserved, and yet each one is absolutely perfect (unless I screw it up).



After a couple of landings, we learned to cast. This is something like throwing a rock or a baseball. You hold the jesses for a quarter second as you throw, giving the hawk a bit of a boost. So we managed to get the hawk off my glove and back a couple of times, and each time, Mycroft got a tasty treat.



We did a little ranging after that, walking along, and the bird would make quick flying hops from, tree branch to tree branch to keep up with us. We could hear it only because of the jingle bells attached to its legs. So when you hear the jingle over your roof... it's probably not reindeer.

Our hour was over far too quickly. Falconry is hugely entertaining, because you've got this raptor doing its thing off your wrist. That last bit is incredibly strange, because we seldom get close to birds, let alone anything as magnificent as a medium-sized raptor. I got a real appreciation for the complexity of hawk flight, as well as for the difficulty in training hawks.

I don't think I'll want to participate in the hunting aspect of the sport. It's the next logical step, and the next lesson, but I'm a lot more interested in the bird for itself than it coming back with a squirrel.



Special thanks to the Queen of Science for the wonderful pictures.

Finally... I'm BACK!

It's been a difficult month, and I apologize for being remiss on this blog. But now I'm back.

One of the more notable joys of June was discovering a new favorite (non-Sondheim, but he's in his own category so other writers have a chance) musical.

Probably some of you have seen Reese Witherspoon in Legally Blonde. It's quite possible you don't approve of the trend of making musicals out of films. I know that generally speaking I don't, although said trend did bring us Spamalot, and I'm willing to forgive a lot for that.

That said, the Legally Blonde musical is fast-rising on my list of favorite musicals. Yes the songs are clever and entertaining, but the central message of the work as a whole, which is emphasized very differently from the film. The plot is the same; vapid but intelligent girl goes to Harvard law to chase boyfriend and discovers that she likes being a lawyer.

In the film, she succeeds because she is true to herself; succeeds with the tasks using her intelligence, social networking, and other feminine skills that the other law students discount. The musical, however, shifts that. Elle succeeds because she works hard. She is thrown one obstacle after another, and she learns to settle down, apply herself, and hammers each problem until it breaks. I can't think of the last time any media had that message, and it's one that really needs to come up more.

Films tend to tell us to be true to ourselves, and if we do that, we will achieve our dreams. Very seldom is there prolonged effort involved, usually just a moment of endurance, and sometimes one of inspiration. Elle Woods discovers when she pursues one goal that what she achieves in that pursuit is better than what she thought she wanted. She isn't staying "true to herself" she's finding new challenges to overcome, and discovers the joy of self-fulfillment. We need more texts like this. Especially ones with clever, catchy songs.

Comfort Reading

Every now and then, I like to blow an afternoon reading at TVtropes.org. They have an enormous collection of trite plot devices and characters that often show up in various media. I lavish a fair amount of love and attention on esoterica. In the extreme, it seems because even TVtropes doesn't have a precise fit for a trope that makes up some of my comfort reading.

I love the riddling trickster's tomb. I love tombs and crypts in which the setup and execution would have baffled NASA engineers, where the concealed 10 x 10 pit traps are still in perfect working condition after centuries, and even millennia.

There's a bit of my affection for ancient Egypt tied up in this. After all, the characters are pludering a trapped tomb, loading up on gold and other grave goods. There's a touch of archaeology, even if it is prying the gold letters out of the walls and melting them down.

The tomb of the riddler seldom appears outside of the RPG media-form. Teasing riddles have little effect on a novel reader. Readers aren't motivated to solve the riddle because it doesn't save them grief; they're just along for the ride. And if they do solve it, they're still saddled with the characters' stupid ball until the author decides its time.

At the heart of the trope lies an arrogance; that those entering the dungeon are too stupid to figure out the traps without help, and that even if the Evil Overlord gives them hints, they're still going to die to the fiendish traps.

The trope began with Gary Gygax's Tomb of Horrors. Tomb of Horrors was an enormously influential adventure, one of the first modular adventures ever released. People tend to strongly divide between loving and hating it. It was designed to test the skills of overproud D&D players, but there's a lot of personality in it. The reader gets a sense of the builder's nasty sense of humor as well as their capacity for random mayhem.

Tomb of Horrors was quite successful. And with success came imitation. The next adventure in the "S" series was Lawrence Schick's White Plume Mountain, which reinforced many of the concepts, including giving the players a riddle to help them figure out the mind-boggling traps that were laid for them.

A further exploration of the theme was Nightmare Keep. Like several vertions of the trope to come, this adventure set out to make a bigger and nastier Tomb of Horrors . Included are the strange poetic traps, the same distinctive undead horror waiting at the end. However, it's a bit overblown, the traps rather self-consciously weird rather than traps for individuals to get themselves killed by being greedy or careless.

Other imitations include third-party adventures such as F'Deck Fo's Tomb. I often champion third-party variations on a theme because individuals removed from the editorial control of a single entity (in this case TSR) often have wider mematic interpretation that brings something new and fresh to the trope. This is not the case here. With the adventure-writing in its infancy, some publishers seemed willing to publish anything. This adventure would never have gotten past the editors at TSR.

Rising RPG star Sean Reynolds wrote his own bigger, badder riddle tomb for second edition Dungeons and Dragons adventure The Crypt of Lyzandred the Mad. Like many bigger versions of the original, this feels like the creator (Lyzandred, alternately Reynolds) is trying too hard. The riddles rely heavily on logic and word puzzles, sometimes straight-out asking the riddle, giving the feel of an enormous pop quiz. the Tomb of Horrors' Acererak was trying to kill the characters. From a read-through, it feels like Lyzandred is grading them.

In the waning years of AD&D 2^nd ed, the Return to the Tomb of Horrors mega-adventure was published. Both a sequel and an enormous expansion of the original, this gave the original TOH a definite location as well as an ecology. Not only has the tomb attracted a cult of worshippers, but the builder's designs in creating such a deadly location come into very large, interdimensional view. Of course, it's up to the adventuring party to foil the mighty plot. The author, Bruce Cordell, did a good if not completely satisfying job with this expansion. It won best adventure for the year, and is certainly one of the most overarchingly grand adventures I've ever read.

Gygax went topped his own meatgrinder dungeon with Lejendary Adventures' Necropolis, later converted to D&D 3rd edition by Necromancer Games. If the Tomb of Horrors was a meat-grinder, Necropolis is astonishing. The sophistication and resourcefulness of D&D players had increased, at least in Gary's opinion. However, it also shows a a definite change in Gary's style, and the expected style of play. Where Tomb of Horrors is a location with no background, Necropolis is set in a pseudo-Egyptian location, with a large number of encounters that contribute to a broad storyline leading up to the assault on the tomb of SetRahotep.

With the advent of third edition and the Open Game Licence, third parties were allowed to publish their own adventures in the D&D system. Unlike the earlier efforts, this time some extremely talented people got into writing adventures. Some of them wrote riddling trap tombs, and again the memetic mutation carries them to different yet interesating places, adding to the richness of the trope.

KenzerCo's Lost Tomb of Kruk-Ma-Kali is one of my favorite meldings of the old meat-grinding trope with more in-depth playstyle. While the killing traps remain, the tomb is presented not only with an ecology surrounding it, it also has a political history. The end of the text also deals with the political and cultural repercussions of the players actions, allowing the adventure to become part of a larger tapestry. But this adventure made me wonder: if Kruk-Ma-Kali was basically a Hobgoblin Genghis Khan, why the blue frell did his followers dump his mortal remains into a supremely elaborate trap-tomb rather than paying for a resurrection?

Dread Crypt of Srihoz is part of Goodman Games' Dungeon Crawl Classics series. These deliberately call back to adventures of first edition D&D, right down to a cardstock cover with the dungeon map printed in blue ink. Goodman's writers clearly know and love the dungeon tropes they are playing with. The Dread Crypt is another deathtrap dungeon, but the writers have understood the need for the perception of a single guiding hand behind its construction. The tomb's locations serve a purpose, even if this will not be apparent to the adventurers, the cohesive design allows the Game Master to view it as an expression of the individual who built it. Of particular interest is the fact that it lampshades other riddling labyrinth lords by offering riddles that don't help the players at all. A very perceptive stroke.

One of the earliest Dungeon Crawl Classics was produced as a direct homage to Tomb of Horrors. Called the Dread Crypt of the Devil-Lich, it was a tournament adventure, just as the original TOH was. Imitating the older adventure, it contained many strange traps designed to test the adventurers' ability against deadly hangman's riddles. Its failing is that it does not feel like a cohesive adventure. Each trap is radically different from the other, never revealing the likes of the dislikes of the tomb's designer. Still, the adventure is very solid, and the climactic battle with the eponymous devil-lich looks both deadly and intriguing, especially after the party has waded through more than a dozen rooms of nightmare traps.

One of the best and most unusual homages to the Tomb of Horrors is Tomb of Iuchiban for the Legend of the Five Rings game. TOH tributes seldom appear outside of DUngeons and Dragons, and L5R's Oriental setting is not one I would have thought that lent itself to the trope. Rob Vaux does so magnificently, however, creating an ever-changing maze of traps that range from simple but deadly to complex, magically weird meat grinders. This adventure is a real pleasure: well written, original, and cohesive.

And yes, now there is a fourth edition version of the Tomb coming out this month. Although 4th ed hasn't thrilled me so far (I haven't actually played since 2^nd), I think that may be the impetus for my most recent return to deathtrap tombs. I'm actually more interested in the Erol Otus-illustrated Tomb of the Blind God (Goodman Games again).

This is my 'comfort' reading, imagining the D&D party trapped and besieged in a stone crypt loaded with traps and monsters. At best, they fire my imagination, wondering how characters (and players) would face the illogical hangmans' riddles they are presented with.

Gunfighter Nation

"By the terms of the Frontier Myth, once imperial war was conflated with savage war, both sides become subject to the logic of massacre. The savage enemy kills and terrorizes without limit or discrimination in order to exterminate or drive out the civilized race. The civilized race learns to respond in kind, partly from outrage at the atrocities it has suffered, partly from recognition that imitation and mastery of the savages' methods way the best way to defeat them. A cycle of massacre and revenge is thus inaugurated that drives both sides toward a war of extermination. Only an American victory can prevent actual genocide: the savage enemy would indeed exterminate all the civilized race, but the civilized carry massacre only as far as necessary to subjugate the savage. To achieve victory in such a war, Americans are entitled and indeed required to use any and all means, including massacre, terrorism, and torture."

Slotkin, Richard; Gunfighter Nation (1992) p. 112

Hide Your Women and Lock up the Fried Chicken!

Cthulhu's Dark Cults is finally out. You should totally order it.

If you want to know about my story, "Captains of Industry" then head over to editor David Conyers' blog in which he hand gives each author a little time to discuss their story (I'm at the bottom) and a little snippet from each story. The inestimable Stephen Gilberts provides the delightful cover.

I'm really fascinated by the human side of horror. Monsters are interesting, but their relationship to the people in the story is what will really pull the audience in. David was surprised when I turned in a story without any of Lovecraft's brilliantly detailed alien horrors. But with the title Cthulhu's Dark Cults I figured that the human cultists should be the focus of the stories.

HP Lovecraft and the Non-Euclidian Plot

I like a Cthulhu Mythos pastiche as much as anyone. Probably more, I've got shelves full of Chaosium anthologies, as well as four volumes of Japanese stories in honor of Lovecraft, as well as various small press books of stories in imitation of Lovecraft. Hell, I've even got a couple books of August Derleth's imitations of Lovecraft.

I do have a crap limit. Lovecraft shows up in strange and unexpected places... including children's television. The animated superhero show Justice League broadcast a two-parter "The Terror Beyond" on November 15, 2003. I Netflicked the disk, and watched it.

It's terrible.

The plot revolves around Dr. Fate and Aquaman joining forces with Solomon Grundy in order to seal a breach between out dimension and that of Icthultu, a noxious horror that has a mysterious link to Hawkwoman's homeworld of Thanageria. There's some fighting, because the Justice League aren't just going to ask Fate and Aquaman what they're doing. Once that's cleared up, they take a trip (in the second half-hour) to Icthultu's dimension to kick his ass.

Now I'm going to start with the pictures. Some of Icthultu's defenders are gray, headless creatures with screaming mouths in their hands. Ramsey Campbell, are you paying attention?

With the gray IP violations defeated, the team separates, Fate, Grundy and Hawkgirl going to face Icthultu. We are treated to a good reveal of the tentacled face of Icthultu glowering down on our heroes. Atheist Hawkgirl tells us that her Thanagarian people used to worship Icthultu, which gave them philosophy and agriculture in exchange for their souls. But the price was too high, and they stopped believing. They beat up some star-spawn (look at the right hand of the picture, that's practically Cthulhu in silhouette) , and get right up to in Icthultu's grill.

In a G-rated nod to hard-core pseudo-Lovecraftian Japanese porn, Hawkgirl is grabbed by tentacles. Golly, who saw that coming? She's held spread-eagle (haw haw!) before the burning eyes of Icthultu, and banter is exchanged.

As the great Old One is distracted, Solomon Grundy gets into its head, and runs down icky corridors fighting off weird alien antibodies. I think he's in Icthultu's brain, the landscape looks like the neurons from the episode of Futurama when Fry does the same thing. But it turns out that there's something living inside Icthultu's brain... a giant monster!
Rawr!

Fortunately, Icthultu (as voiced by Rob Zombie) is a enormous wimp. Grundy snaps off its claw, stabs it a few times, and that does the trick.
He probably stabs two feet of claw into a creature that's taller than a three-story building. But that seems to do it for Icthultu, and down it goes.

Grundy having done the mighty deed, is dying, and Hawkgirl comforts him. When Grundy asks if he is going to meet his soul, Hawkgirl chokes back the reply that she doesn't believe in them. THEN WHAT WAS THE BIG PRICE ICTHULTU EXTRACTED FROM YOUR PEOPLE, LADY? She believed in her ancestors' souls enough to build up a big mad-on at Icthultu for stealing them.

The non-Euclidian arc of this story, serving mainly to give us fights (some do feature some pretty smooth moves), drives me nuts. Superman and Wonder Woman are too hasty to ask Dr. Fate and Aquaman for explanations, and barrel right into a ritual that's keeping the Icthultu out of our dimension. But if they'd asked, the episode would have been over in fifteen minutes. Hawkgirl's comforting of Solomon is touching, but the moment is ruined because she's reversed her stance on souls in the last ten minutes.

Not all Lovecraft references are interesting, and not all are worth dissecting.