New Doctor Who!

Starting tomorrow on BBC Radio 7, Paul McGann will resume his role as the Eighth Doctor in a brand spanking new Doctor Who adventure--The Blood of The Daleks. It's written by Steve Lyons, who has written some very good Who novels, and seems to be doing quite nicely for himself with Warhammer books these days.

As for Paul, I didn't mind his one and only televisual performance as the Doctor in the fairly execrable TV Movie of ten years ago. I really fell in love with his Doctor when he resumed his role in the Big Finish audio CD plays--without taking anything away from current Doctor David Tennant's performance, it's not difficult to see where writers are taking their inspiration from for the Tenth Doctor. McGann's Eighth Doctor is by turns childish, gleeful, and filled with fury. Much like the Ninth and Tenth Doctor's semi-sexual attraction to Rose, the Eighth was also deeply in love with his companion, the feisty Charley (short for Charlotte.)

When I was in London, I was lucky enough to spend a few hours with the producer of the Big Finish audios, Gary Russell (who is now an associate producer on the TV show), and it was apparent that the Big Finish line was a labour of love by all involved. So I'm happy to have the Eighth Doctor back, this time with a brand new companion.

I'm not sure if I have the time right, but it should air around 1:00 pm EST. If you love the good Doctor, do yourself a treat.

Two Milestones

First: my mother--bless her heart--bought me Final Fantasy XII for Christmas. What with Cheryl hogging the PS2 to play Guitar Hero II, I haven't had a lot of time to lose myself in it. But tonight I passed the two hour mark, and I have this to say: after staring at Vaan's face for two years courtesy of the giant, wall sized poster hanging in my bedroom (which speaks volumes), it's nice to know a bit more about him. The graphics are stunning in the cutscenes I've seen so far. But as with any Final Fantasy game, I'm in a constant state of terror that I've missed something that will bite me in the ass twenty hours later. Did I do the little sub-mission that will grant me the doo-hickey that will allow me to beat the mini-boss that will then open up the mission tree that will allow me to beat the final boss and gain enlightenment in all things in my life? Final Fantasy: the game that spawned a thousand panic attacks.

Second: tomorrow I buy a hockey stick. Chad has been browbeating me to come join his street hockey team, which apparently plays every Sunday morning at 10:00 am in the playground at Lorne Avenue Public School. Chad has been playing for fifteen years there (!), and it looks like I may be joining up. Cher has been on me to do this, since she's seen that I've slowly been adopting the Dissolute Writer look (no sleep, too much wine and gaming, sarcastic comments abounding) and has decreed that I must do something physical or she will separate my clavicle from my shoulder. So tomorrow Dearest Wife and I will pass the gates of Crappy Tire to find this artifice called a 'hockey stick'. Then--miracles abounding--I will be awake and on the tarmac by ten a.m. Sunday morning. I have my doubts, but Cher seems convinced this will happen. Perhaps 'determined' is a more appropriate word.

Wish me well, dear readers. And David? You really should come as well. I need companions in my misery, both hockey wise and Final Fantasy-wise.

But I Have My Reasons

I found myself in complete agreement when reading this article at The Escapist. Like the writer, I too tend to always play female characters in MMOs--or in any other game. My reasons are not as devious as the writer's were, but were more succinctly summed up by his friend's reason for choosing the fairer sex in a virtual world:

"If I have to stare at an ass in game for hours and hours every day, it might as well be a female ass."

Unrefined, but true.

And I've also found that playing a female character does have it's advantages. In World of Warcraft, I find I tend to get healed a fair amount by passing paladins. When I was playing EVE Online, another player gave me a ship and 100,000 ISK (the ingame currency)--for free.

So I'm currently running three female characters in WoW, and am reaping the benefits quite substantially. Be it my night elf, my undead warrior, or my dwarven paladin, having the curves does seem to help. Funny how some truths translate into virtual worlds as well.

Twist: Rock God

There's nothing as exciting as a new addiction. Santa did indeed bring Guitar Hero II to the Twist household, and Wife Dearest and I have been--as the kids say--kickin' the fuckin jams.

I have learned a few things about myself from this game. First, I look like an idiot when I play, rocking the plastic red guitar, activating Star Power (!) by lifting the guitar neck like Eddie Van Halen after his fifth bottle of Jack. But when you play, you do feel like a RAWK GOD. My arrogance level was pretty high after totally owning Motley Crue's Shout At The Devil, but after hitting Heart Shaped Box, I realize I still have a long way to go. Damn game is hard.

Still, I have made virtual rock history with my rendition of Cheap Trick's Surrender. Until you've seen me in my housecoat and mismatched socks playing that song on my plastic guitar, you just haven't seen the glory that is rock and roll.

Doctor Who Christmas Story

The London Times have posted a Doctor Who story in today's edition. It's by Paul Cornell, the man who created the best Who companion ever, Benny Summerfield, several very good Who novels as well as last season's television episode, Father's Day.

For a story that only had four pages to work with and had to appeal to more non-Who fans than not, Paul did himself proud.

Enjoy with a holiday beverage of various alcoholic content.

I Suck At Civilization Three. Just So You Know

So I've spending time with Civilization III. Picked it up--of all places--at the Loblaw's Superstore on Wonderland for a whopping ten dollars. I've heard nothing but praise for Sid Meier games, and have always wanted to try one, be it Pirates! to Railroad Tycoon, so when I saw this game lying in a veritable pile of other similarly older and price reduced games, I thought I'd give it a go.

With my usual ADD, I gave up on the tutorial after a few hours and blasted straight into a game. I tried to build my own Japanese empire, but within an hour was being invaded by the bloody Chinese who had the bloody gall to build cities right in my backyard. I sent in warriors to smack their shit up, and they killed them all. Then the Greeks arrived, Kyoto was raided, and I was toppled. The game then said history would remember me as 'Tokugawa The Worthless'. So I stomped off, leaving the world to rot for all I care. Bastards. I tried to give them a more mystic approach to life, but my Japanese people couldn't stop an invasion of kittens.

I do not have a RTS mind. While my friend Chad is a master of all things Starcraft and Civ III, I have only been collecting disaster after disaster. Yet what is it in a gamer that makes us keep coming back to smack our heads against the programming again and again and again? Perhaps when a game is good, you don't really mind failing at it. Or it's just that indomitable spirit thing. Or Homer Simpson levels of stupidity. Yeah, I think that's it.

So now I have a week's holidays to rewire my brain to a more RTS way of thinking. And level up more characters in World of Warcraft. Oh, and finish off X-Men Legends, another damn fine game I found on the cheap. And there's a rumour that Santa bought us Guitar Hero II for Christmas.

For the gamers out there (David, Crazylegs) I expect gaming reports as the week goes on. If one of us doesn't finish at least one game, can we really call ourselves men?

Rob Halford: Philosopher King

Fucking aye!

Judas Priest singing my personal credo. Got me where I am today.

Thursday's Special Geek Corner

Okay, now I can talk about it.

This Thursday, Geek Corner will run for one whole hour on CJBK. I'm going in studio with Mike Stubbs and Rick from 4 until 5. The theme of the show will be The Best of 2006. We're opening up the phone lines for callers to call in and tell us what comic, video game, fantasy/SF novel, or anything geek-related rocked your world in 2006. I'm inviting--or is that begging?--all of you to listen and please oh please call in so that the sounds of crickets chirping don't completely drown us out.

There will be prizes as well. No Wiis, I'm afraid, but some slightly cool stuff for your inner geek.

But here's the deal breaker. We'll also have award winning fantasy novelist--and future Aquaman writer--TAD WILLIAMS on the show.

Tad's books have been some my favourite of the last fifteen years. From Memory, Sorrow and Thorn, his Otherland series, War of the Flowers and now his current Shadowmarch all have place of pride in my home. I've been fortunate to get to know Tad as well, and can honestly say he is a great guy. I'm very happy he agreed to this, because an author of his stature really doesn't need to, y'know? It just shows what a good friend he is.

So tune in. Call in. Win prizes. Hear Tad. If it all works out, it should kinda maybe rock.

Jack Knows

"I would rather be ashes than dust, a spark burnt out in a brilliant blaze, than be stifled in a dry rot... For a man's purpose is to live, not to exist; I shall not waste my days trying to prolong them; I shall use my time."
- Jack London (1876-1916)

Laid Low By The Ooga-Booga

Ah, the joys of getting old. I've caught my second flu bug in four months. Yes, I could have the flu shot, but everyone knows the shot is full of cybernetic nanites that make you buy minivans--so I say thee nay! I shall die being mini-van-less. Someone be sure to spraypaint that on my headstone--or if present finances continue--my plastic bag out by the curb.

Spent Snow Day messing around with World of Warcraft and watching Slither.Nathan Fillion pretty much just plays Captain Mal fighting wormy aliens. I really enjoyed it, but then I adored director James Gunn's Dawn of The Dead remake, and for more than just Sarah Polley in a tank top. Nice mix of humour, grossness, and the constant need not to take itself too seriously.

Also--on David's word--watched a bit of the UFC on Spike. I was embarassingly big into wrestling back in the day when the wrestling highlight of the week was RAW, but jumped ship when SMACKDOWN came on. Still, I could find myself really getting into the UFC. The first obstacle was met--Cher was fascinated by it, so when your martial arts wielding wife likes UFC, you know it will be on. If I try to turn the channel, there'll be an armbar around me so fast there will be a sonic boom.

In my flu illness, I also watched the less than stellar Hammer horror The Brides of Dracula. Peter Cushing was great, as usual, but the damn thing didn't even star Dracula! It was some prissy carrot top vampire that was so lame he died by being caught in the shadow reflection of a windmill--which kinda sorta looked like a cross. Asshole.

After that, Flu Boy watched Run Lola Run twice. I think that makes six times I've seen it. I could watch Franka Potente run all day.

These are the joys of getting old: failing immune system and adoration of red haired German actresses. You've been warned.

Educamation About H.P.

You only have a few days left to listen to this--a nice overview and discussion of one of my favourite writers of all time.

Clock's ticking! Go! Go now!

It's A Cold Monday...

...and this somehow helps. Thanks to Ghost of a Flea for pointing it out.

I Really Should Be More Constructive With My Time

This is my Fan Life column for the Doctor Who fanzine, Enlightenment, which will probably not be used by the magazine--and for good reason. The editor wasn't keen on the idea, but I had to write the damned thing anyway. For those who don't watch NCIS, it'll be meaningless. But for those who do, well, it's probably still meaningless.

****************************

(It’s 2:00 a.m. Slumped in his chair, a bottle of absinthe clutched in one hand, a stained copy of Tom Baker haikus in the other, a Fan Life columnist is illuminated only by the sodium glare of a television set. The theme from NCIS begins to play.)

[Onscreen, the intrepid members of the Naval Criminal Investigative Service are standing in a cluttered apartment. DVDs and VHS tapes are piled in wavering towers throughout, standing vigil over the body lying on the carpet. The body is dead. Thus the NCIS.]

GIBBS: All right people, talk to me here. What do we have?
DiNOZZO: A body, boss. Looks dead.
GIBBS: Thank you, DiNozzo. Now, from anyone who isn’t afraid of embarrassing themselves?
McGEE: (consults his notebook. An Everquest sticker is partly peeled off the front.) Uh, okay, the name is Sean Twist. Age somewhere in the late thirties, early forties. Works as a freelance writer. I mean, worked. He’s met his last...uh...deadline.
DiNOZZO: Look at Probie with the ironic line. Been saving that one, have you, Probie?
ZIVA: (looks around). This apartment looks like the sort of place where you would find cats peeing in the corner.
DiNOZZO: All freelance writing apartments look like this, Ziva.
ZIVA: And you know how?
DiNOZZO: I used to go out with an English major. Okay, ‘went out’ is a generous term, I really just..
GIBBS: (Smacks DiNozzo in back of the head.) As fascinating as your social life isn’t to me, DiNozzo, maybe you could tell me how this man died?
DiNOZZO: Nothing’s leaping out right now, boss. I’ve called Ducky, and he should be–oh, here he is now.
[Illya Kurakin enters the apartment. Only now he’s called Ducky and looks to be fifty years older than when he was with U.N.C.L.E.]
DUCKY: Hello, Jethro. What have we here....dear me, has a cat been relieving itself in here?
ZIVA: See? It is not just me.
DiNOZZO: Maybe it’s Probie’s aftershave.
GIBBS: I’m still waiting for some information here.
ZIVA: (picks up one of the DVDs with her rubber gloved hand.) Maybe this writer worked for the medical community. This cassette is labeled ‘DOCTOR WHO AND THE INVASION OF TIM’. I don’t understand what that means. Who is Tim? And why is this Doctor invading him?
McGEE: No, Ziva, he just ran out of space on the label. He meant to write ‘Time’. This guy must have been a Doctor Who fan.
DiNOZZO: (coughs) Loser! (coughs). Friend of yours, Probie?
ZIVA: A ‘fan’? Who does this Doctor fan? Why is he fanning anyone? And Tony? You will stop laughing at me or you will be picking up your fingers with your teeth.
McGEE: No, Ziva. Calling someone a ‘fan’ means that they really enjoyed something.
DiNOZZO: Short for ‘fanatic’, Ziva. As in ‘Looney Tunes’?
McGEE: Anyway, this poor guy really enjoyed the show Doctor Who. A British science fiction show about a time traveler. I’ve seen...uh...a few episodes.
DUCKY: And it used to be good, too, before Pat Troughton came along. Now, how did you die, my poor little anorak?
GIBBS: Doctor Who fan? You mean like science fiction? He was a science fiction fan?
DiNOZZO: Well, we can wrap this case up, boss. He died of terminal loserdom. Next!
McGEE: Well, even though he was a science fiction fan, that’s a rather blanket statement. There are degrees and types of fandom. A Who fan is different from a Stargate fan, for instance, inasmuch as....why is everyone staring at me?
DiNOZZO: Because you’re too big to put on a microscope slide?
(A goth woman in black pigtails and striped knee high socks bounces into the room.)
ABBY: Hey, guys! Oh, look! A remote control Dalek! Keepsies!
GIBBS: Abby, why are you here?
ABBY: I needed to collect samples from the crime scene, Gibbs. Like this Cyberman plushie. And oh! Is that a piggy bank TARDIS? Cool beans! You have one just like it in your bedroom, McGee!
ZIVA: And you know how?
ABBY: Sleepover Fridays.
GIBBS: So he’s a Who fan, which is somehow different from a Starmate fan. And this tells me how he died how, McGee?
McGEE: It can tell us how he lived, which may let us know how he died.
DiNOZZO: Alone, and full of regrets?
GIBBS: Seeing into your own future again, DiNozzo? You were saying, McGee?
McGEE: Well, from my own experience, I’ve found Who fans to be more independent than, say, a Star Trek fan. More curious. More brave in their thinking.
ZIVA: There is pile of New Scientist magazines here. Dating back two years, and...oh. That is not New Scientist. Tony, is this something that you read? (Holds up magazine.)
DiNOZZO: Do I look like the kind of guy who would need to read that?
ZIVA: No, you look like the type who would have a subscription.
ABBY: Tony, you should be ashamed. Can I see that, Ziva?
DUCKY: There is no sign of outside trauma on the body. There is a note in his left hand, though.
GIBBS: Good detective work there, DiNozzo.
DiNOZZO: Sorry, boss. McGee’s aftershave is throwing me off.
DUCKY: It’s a note about someone called Rose. He seems to miss her. A girlfriend, perhaps?
DiNOZZO: I’m sorry. I thought you said ‘girlfriend’.
McGEE: Who fans are also a little stronger, personality-wise. They’ve had to keep adapting as their show changed over the last thirty years. Different actors playing the Doctor, varying degrees of quality, the show being cancelled, having to subsist on wildly variant novels, then the failed TV movie, and now the success of the new show, which just brings on new pressures....I’ll stop now.
ABBY: No, keep going. I love it when you geek out.
ZIVA: Geek? Out? Is this something that you do on Sleepover Fridays?
DUCKY: Jethro! The body! It’s starting to glow!
ZIVA: Does cat pee do that to a body, or is this a geek thing?
GIBBS: (draws his gun) Everyone, get back. Abby, don’t touch it!
ABBY: But Gibbs, I know what’s happening! This guy isn’t dead! He’s.....regenera-something or other.
DiNOZZO: Can we shoot glowing dead bodies? I mean, we can, can’t we?
McGEE: Wow. He’s starting to look like you, Tony. The poor guy.
DiNOZZO: Can we shoot McGEE? I mean, we can, can’t we?

[Screen crackles, and the TV blinks off. The Fan Life columnist wakes with a start, dropping his absinthe bottle to the floor. Clutching the Tom Baker haikus to his chest, he drops off to sleep again.]

Lovecraft Warning!

I know I'll forget it, since I have two deadlines to hit tomorrow, so I'll post it now:

Do NOT miss Doctor Who tomorrow night on CBC. If you are as big a fan of H.P. Lovecraft as I am, The Impossible Planet and The Satan Pit will be a joy to you. This isn't the first time the good Doctor has come up against Lovecraftian monsters (see The Pit and several other Virgin Doctor Who novels, one of them even written by the current producer of the show--I've always said the latest TV version of the Doctor owes more to the Virgin novel line than the original TV series, and this kinda proves my point), but it is the first time we've seen it on TV.

It's creepy. It's dark. And it's damn good television.

Enjoy.