Lost Weekend

Another Saturday night, another Dungeons and Dragons game.

This week, the intrepid party managed to make it deeper beneath the city of Cauldron. After making their way in a tramline above a mysterious lake o' evil, they entered a gatehouse and managed to activate a trap that brought down the roof on top of them. (They never, ever, Search.) Then they fought a room of guards on their coffee break, who lobbed bottles of alchemist's fire at them. Cassandra, our answer to Red Sonja, took a load on her chest. Someone helpfully pointed out that probaby wasn't the first time.

Read some comics.

Wolverine #50-- I only picked this up because of the beautiful artwork of Simone Bianchi, who has done some stellar work on Detective Comics covers lately. I shouldn't have bothered. The story--Wolverine confronts Sabretooth yet again--was dull and unimaginative. Yes, they fight. Yes, nothing is really settled. Yes, we're supposed to care. Next!

Robin #157--I've really liked this title over the last year. But this issue features a team-up with Klarion The Witch Boy. Oh well. I knew it couldn't last forever.

Outsiders #42--Another title that has dropped in my estimation continues its downward spiral. For some reason, someone thought that giving Katana a butch haircut and easily the Crappiest Outfit of 2007 was a good idea. Well, it wasn't. The things I used to like about this title--the snappy dialogue, the darker storylines--have all been abandoned for an approach that doesn't even make sense: the Outsiders faked their own deaths so they could work as good terrorists? And now the world knows they aren't dead? And somehow their vigilante actions will land them in jail? What, them and every other superhero? Ah, my head. Even my love of Grace Choi is starting to wear thin. Cancel please!

Birds of Prey #99-101--Fortunately this is still good, or I'd start drinking. With Black Canary leaving the BoP to spend more time with her 'daughter' (so why does she then join the JLA? Oh, that headache again), Oracle is forced to adopt a rotating team of members. The team in this storyline--Huntress, Big Barda (!), Judomaster (who looks like she swiped Katana's old costume) and Manhunter--meet with my approval. A nice villian in Spysmasher, as well. I also am fond of new artist Nicola Scott. It's interesting to note that with the arrival of a woman doing the art here, it seems the Birds have all undergone a breast reduction: for years, C and D cups were almost a requirement to be a Bird of Prey. Now, Ms. Scott has introduced a more realistic approach to this oh-so important part of female superhero comics. Even Big Barda is reduced to a B-cup. Which, to me, is oh so wrong.



Conan and the Midnight God #1--I've said it before, and I'll probably say it again: Dark Horse is doing a mighty fine job with the Conan license. Here, with a story set during Conan's reign as King of Aquilonia, they do it yet again. It's those damn Stygians again, and they've gone and killed Conan's unborn son. Now those motherfuckers are in for it. Beautiful art, a firm hand on the writing, and you know somewhere, REH is happy.

Criminal #4--Another fine issue from Ed Brubaker and Sean Philips. I've always had a soft spot for decent crime fiction, and its' nice to see a modern hardboiled story. Brubaker is easily one of my favourite writers these days, but here on his own book he really give it his all, making for the sort of book I have to read the second I'm in the door. From recovering junkies, literate barkeepers, and a thief with a moral code second only to Superman, I think we're seeing the beginning of a new comics classic.

You Know You're Playing Too Much Warcraft When...

...you walk by a bush, and the first reaction you have is to right-click it to get points in Herbalism.

Yes, I did that today.

Complete and Utter Awesomeness

Oh, but it is. This is probably the bestest thing you'll see all day. Because it doesn't get any better than this.

A grateful nod to Ghost of a Flea for reminding us that if you didn't crush on ONJ back in the Eighties, you probably didn't have a heartbeat.

Manhunters and Mazes

Had a vacation day yesterday, and on the advice of Beloved Wife, I immersed myself in gaming. She knew I needed it, and as 20 odd years have shown, she usually knows me better than I know myself. So off I went into the Wonderful World of Warcrack, kissing three hours away as I leveled up my Night Elf Hunter with another player, who wins the Biggest Balls Award of the week since he was playing from work. (He had to disappear for a bit while he wrote some emails for his boss.) Went downtown afterwards, seeing a pile up on Wharncliffe (expensive car nailed the back of a SUV--car parts flying everywhere), and ran errands down there. As much as I love downtown London, I ain't too fond of it Friday nights. It was cold, filled with semi drunk people leering and looking for fights outside the bars as they smoked their smokes. Throw in all the fresh faced out of towners and surbanites who venture downtown for the Knights games, with quick looks of horror at anyone who doesn't have short hair, a golf gut or a minivan, rushing their children quickly into the JLC, where inside more upscale drunks are dropping a fortune on their beer in the bar. It's an odd mix, and it's not something I enjoy being in the middle of.

Beloved Wife also picked me up the trade paperback of Manhunter: Trial By Fire, which is all kinds of great. I do love my female snarky heroes, be they Buffy, Catwoman, or now Kate Spencer. Sad this book has been cancelled.

Drifted across the living room to fire up Final Fantasy XII, taking Vaan into the sewers for his latest caper. Discovered I had fallen into Gamer's Slouch, and thanked the gods that I don't gain weight. After a day like this, I'd be running the spice trade on Tatooine from my couch, slurping toads and making Princess Leia dance for me. Then again, maybe gaining weight would be okay, outside of the toad slurping.

As for the rest of the weekend, Beloved Wife has decreed we're off to see Pan's Labryinth. I thought we'd forsworn seeing movies in theatres, but she will not be dissuaded. And this makes me wonder: how do geeks who marry non-geeks survive?

Fucking Jack Goes Nuclear

Episode Three: 8:00 A.M to 9:00 A.M.

Physical Injuries Jack Endures

Uhhh...nothing. Jack has it easy. For one hour. Getting soft, Bauer

Jack's Body Count

Zero. (Total: 1)

Feats of Bauer Awesomeness

--Jack carjacks a Cherokee, throwing the driver to the ground and telling him 'Don't get up." That's fucking hardcore.

--Jack does the first of many Cell Phone Magic Tricks. This time, he transfers two calls into a shared connection to a third party without the evil terrorist noticing. I suspect Jack uses nanotech. Of his own design. Which he just made. Because he's awesome.

Episode Four: 9:00 A.M. to 10:00 A.M.

Physical Injuries Jack Endures

--upset stomach from shooting his friend Curtis in the throat. Which saves him ripping it out with his teeth.

--possibly near fatal does of radiation from the A-bomb that devastated Los Angeles

Jack's Body Count

One. (Whacks Curtis, who just wanted to kill the guy who beheaded his friends.) (Total: 2)

Feats of Bauer Awesomeness

--goes for a killing shot on a friend when a shot to the hand, toe or ear would have sufficed. Because Jack knew Curtis couldn't be trusted. Or he's a crap shot.

--had common sense to throw up on grass and not on his new stolen clothes

--did not crap pants when he saw the mushroom cloud over L.A.

Fucking Jack

Okay, maybe in your house it's called 24, but in our house we call it Fucking Jack. As in 'You'll never believe what that fucking Jack did this week."

I admit that Jack Bauer is the man. I also admit I'd probably not be watching if it weren't for Dearly Beloved Wife, who carries a torch for Keefer. ( I blame incessant viewing of Lost Boys when she was a New Romantic teen.)

So last night found me watching the first two hours of the new season of Fucking Jack. In honour of the epitome of masculinity that is Bauer, let's keep score as the season goes by. Because I'll have to watch the whole 24 episodes. I have to do something while Dearly Beloved quietly lusts beside me.

Episode One: 6:00 A.M. to 7:00 A.M.

Physical Injuries Jack Endures:

--Two blows to the head
--One blow to the stomach
--Knife stuck in shoulder
--Acidic liquid poured on above wound
--Corkscrew like implement stabbed into back

Jack's Body Count

--One terrorist (throat torn out with Jack's teeth)

Feats of Bauer Awesomeness

--ripping out of unshaven throat with teeth
--memorizes navigational points while being tortured
--shaves off beard without cutting himself
--survives two years in Chinese prison and still maintains muscular body and good teeth (as evidenced by throat ripping)

Episode Two: 7:00 A.M. to 8:00 A.M.

Physical Injuries Jack Endures:

--blown across subway car by exploding suicide bomber

Jack's Body Count

O. (Total: 1) (It could be argued he killed the suicide bomber, but since he was going kaboom anyway, Jack can't add to this total. See Tabulation Rules For Fucking Awesome Heroes, Volume 4.)

Feats of Bauer Awesomeness

--hotwires a car in four seconds

--reveals a traitor in terrorist cell in three seconds

--convinces a subway ticket inspector in LA (!)that he doesn't need to check his ticket

--strangles suicide bomber with his own tie, and moves fast enough to kick him through a subway car door before the bomb explodes, even though the pin was dropped two seconds before, proving that Jack can slow Time itself because he's so fucking awesome.

I Met Geeks On Second Life. Imagine.

Imagine that there would be geeky things on Second Life. Here are a few postcards of places I found last night. I'm starting to really enjoy playing this game. Like I need another reason not to go out!

Thunderbolts, Angry Spiders and Chop Socky

I've tried to stop reading them, but they keep dragging me back in.....

Thunderbolts #110 (Marvel Comics)

I picked this up because I'm Warren Ellis' whore. This time around, the Thunderbolts are now a government strike team composed of supervillians-- real bad nasties who are being coerced in different ways to go forth and smite those who won't sign up for the Kiss Ass Super-Hero Registration Act that is the heart of the Civil War mini-series. Yes, that Civil War. The one that should have ended months ago.

This first issue is a bit of a mess, to be honest. Ellis knows most fans know who the new team is, especially if they've been reading War and/or a Marvel fan of a few years or more. (For the record, the new Thunderbolts are Speedbal--I mean, Penance, Swordsman, Songbird, Bullseye,Moonstone, Green Goblin and Venom--yeah, I'm shaking my head, too), so he doesn't blow the first issue introducing the new team. Instead, he limits the background to two characters (Bullseye and Moonstone), and instead focuses on the team organizing to take down a third rung superhero called Jack Flag. (I've never heard of him, but he reminds me of Grifter from W.I.L.D.C.A.T.S.--maybe they buy their masks at the same place or something.) As a result, not a lot happens here. Ellis does what he can, but he's spinning a lot of plates here, and it shows. The pacing is off, making it feel like the story belongs more in a trade paperback than in a monthly comic.

Another problem with this brand of story is that the reader has very few people to empathize with. Jack Flagg is the only true hero here, and it looks like he'll be pushing up daisies by the end of the next issue. The Villian As Anti-Hero is very popular these days, and can be done very well (John Ostrander's Suicide Squad is perhaps the best comic translation of this Dirty Dozen idea, and Gail Simone's Villians United wasn't shabby, either). The problem here is that it just doesn't feel like Ellis' heart is in it. To make something like this work will take a lot--you just can't rely on shock value (killing Jack, which isn't that shocking considering I suspect he was created just for this purpose)or on Marvel Zombies buying your book because they buy anything Marvel. You just can't phone it in. And this kinda felt like what Ellis was doing.

Hopefully next issue will be more enjoyable. If not, then I'll just move on like I did with Ellis and Immonen's Nextwave. Ellis can't spin gold every time.

Friendly Neighbourhood Spider-Man #16 (Marvel)

This was the end of the 'Taking Wing' storyline, where Spidey deals with being attacked by the Vulture, courtesy of everyone knowing who he is now and having pissed off Tony Stark by switching sides in that verdammt Civil War thingamabob. I can go either way with Peter David's writing style, but the man is dedicated to his books, and has a gift with dialogue and character. There is tons of this here, with a focus on Spidey's supporting cast (a surprisingly hot Betty Brant, Flash Thompson and a blast from the past, Deb Whitman, an ex-girlfriend who thought she was going batshit when she was dating Peter, what with the running off and disappearing all the time--now she knows he was Spidey, so she wrote a tell-all book. Now that's revenge!) and a look at a surprisingly dark side of Peter himself. Let's just say Pete pays a visit to the Vulture in hospital, and does something very unexpected. And no, it's not drink from the bedpan.

A solid issue. I'm starting to lose interest in Bendis' Ultimate Spider-Man, so I may drop that and pick this up a bit. Gots to have new Spidey every month, so I does.

The Immortal Iron Fist #1 (Marvel)

Wow. This was just...what is the word?....oh yeah. Awesome.

You like Ed Brubaker's gritty style? It's here. You like amazing martial arts movies? That's here, too. You like a very dark and original, nigh cinematic art style? Oh yeah. In spades.

I just adored this book. Everything--the quick summation of Iron Fist's origin, interwoven with the story, David Aja's gorgeous pencils, the exploration of other Iron Fists throughout history (!)--just reminds me why I still read superhero comics in my forties. This is fun, exciting stuff, so get thee hence and buy a copy--if you can find one. And if I haven't sold this enough, there is a picture of Luke Cage circa 1978 that will make you just spit.

Whew. Three comics. And I still have Runaways Green Lantern Corps, and Outsiders to wade through. Need more coffee....

These Thoughts Are What Make Me A Geek

1. Having managed to play Final Fantasy XII this weekend (imagine!), I do have to say that losing the random encounter aspect of the game changes it completely--and for the better. It's so nice to actually pick your fights, instead of that horrid VZZZZZZRRRrrrrr screen wobble that usually meant you had to face yet another slightly laughable monster. FF XII even looks a bit like the old Baiten Kaitos game in places, especially with the combat titles. Me like.

2. Warren Ellis' New Universal is actually not a bad read, despite my doubts about bringing back an idea that bombed the first time around. Two issues in, and I''m enjoying this new look at Justice, Nightshade (Chinanimation girl!) and Starbrand, who kills about an entire police force here. Umm...isn't he a hero?

3. Watched LoudQUIETLoud --the movie about the Pixies reunion tour. Love the Pixies, which is why this movie depressed the hell out of me.

4. Watched CLERKS II. Expected to hate it, since I haven't really liked anything Kevin Smith has done since Mallrats. But this one surprised me. Smith has learned to edit himself, and just let scenes speak without six pages of dialogue. Yeah,now and again, the script sounds written and not spontaneous, and some of the gags aren't meant to be seen outside the confines of a Friday night date movie. But I thought Smith did hit a few good points about those of us who have never left the service industry, and really have no clear fucking idea of what the future holds. And Rosario Dawson? Yes please.



5. Am counting the days until the release of World of Warcraft: Burning Crusade. I'm actually a bit excited about this. Which just screams GEEEEEEK!

Gaming Weekend!

Well, hopefully.

Tonight is our Dungeons and Dragons game, quite easily the sexiest in all of London. Two knockout babes at my table, rolling dice. I'm not above actually photographing them and making mail order calendars for lonely geek gamers in the Midwest, who have never seen anyone with a bra talk knowingly about mind flayers or the dangers of a critical fumble. There may be a new business venture here in the offing--Busty Dice Slingers Volume One may be on the shelves of a disreputable store near you soon.

Other than that, it would be nice to get back to Final Fantasy XII--but Dearest Wife will not release the PS2 from her Guitar Hero II grip. So it might just be me and World Of Warcraft yet again, enjoying the pleasures (?) of grinding towards sixty. (The chatlines in Azeroth were real Mensa level last night--players were playing knock knock jokes ('Who's there?' 'Mike Hunt." LOL!)

And the rest of you?

My WoW Alter Ego

Here's my girl from the wonderful world of Azeroth, with loyal Himself at her side.

This is why my novel isn't finished, by the way.

Some Fucker Will Pay!

I don't know who. I don't know why. But someone has crossed me in a way that an eternity of vengeance cannot appease.

Someone has given me a subscription to....Cat Fancy.

I fucking despise Cat Fancy. I have lived with cats all my life, and adore them. But I do not see them as 'cute' or 'cuddly'. I don't dress them in little sailor suits. I don't give them cutesy wutesy names. And I fucking don't subscribe to Cat Fancy.

The hunt begins.

A New London Tradition?

Came to work today to find that not only had someone broken a window, but had thrown dogshit inside as well.

Happy new year, fucker!