And In We Dive....

After swearing I wouldn't, after saying I would wait until it fell from the top dollar heavens to the bargain basement price point, I was swayed by David to throw caution and fiscal/temporal responsibility to the wind. He was mad enough to buy this time singularity at midnight, staying up late--on a school night!--to take his first initial dip.

So how could I not follow suit? I've been wandering in David's wake for nearly twenty five years. So after striking a bargain with Vulcan Ninja, I picked up my copy of Grand Theft Auto IV.

Excitement first as I went to the store. A bit of pissed offed-ness as the store employee asked me if I was buying it for someone under 16. "Do I look like I am, fucker?" I wanted to ask, but wisely realized I should keep that aspect of my GTA persona in-game.

Home. Do house chores, excited again about the anti-social behaviour to come. Finally, after pouring a coffee, I slid the disc into the Magic White Machine of Dreams. And then sat through one of the most cinematic openings I've ever seen.

As the game started (oooh! The driving's better!), the worries began. What upcoming mission will give me ulcers, will make me feel that I'm a failure, I've always been a failure, and it took GTA to finally show it to the world? How long before I feel hopelessly lost? How long before I simply drive around, listening to the radio. (Ah, Vice City. )

How long before I call David to ask for help?

Only time-- and imminent sleep deprivation-- will tell.

What He Said

Michael Chabon has a very good piece here, a piece I think most people here will agree with. I think we should all carry copies of this around and staple gun them to the foreheads of those who think we 'waste' our time with the things we love.

Geek Weekend

Even for me, this was a dorky weekend.

Here's the rundown:

1. Watched The Tomb of the Cybermen. Classic Troughton era Doctor Who. Poor Tobermen. And the Doctor is a murderous bastard, so he is.

2. Read the latest issue of Nova. The return of Warlock from The New Mutants! If that doesn't send a thrill down your spine, you've obviously had sex with women in the last ten years.

3. Played Crackdown. They got the 'crack' part right.

4. Dusted off Neverwinter Nights again. Needed a D and D fix, and this is my provider. Half Elf fighter with an attitude this time.

5. Watched Sky Captain and The World of Tomorrow. God, I love that film. Damn this planet for not sharing the love. I think if you could transport this film back to the Thirties, there would be riots of geekery in the streets. Today? We like fart jokes and no big words.

6. Read more of About Time Volume 2, a deep analysis of the Troughton era of Doctor Who. Yep. I sure did.

7. Watched Planet of the Ood. Yeah, I know I'm a week behind, but I have to wait to see it with Vulcan Ninja. She has a life, so it's difficult to find time when she's not out kicking ass and/or networking with corporate types.

8. Am currently listening to Micecast, a podcast David introduced me to, since he knows I'm already ready to capsize with non-productive geekery as it is.

Let this be a warning to you. If you don't watch it, you can be just this sadly dorkish.

Your Morning Puzzler

Like A Warm Bath of Iron Memories

Truth to tell, I'm tired of Iron Man. You can't open a Marvel comic these days without seeing Tony Frickin Stark marching around, being all angsty because he's the Head of S.H.I.E.L.D. and no-one understands the Pain he's in, or the Decisions he has to make. Poor whiny Tin Man! Go to hell! I know it was you who canceled The Order. Just when I was really starting to like it! It's because Pepper Potts went all Oracle, isn't it? Admit it, shellhead. But oh! We can't call you Shell-head anymore, can we?

Noooooo. Because you're Mister Stark, Mister Director of S.H.I.E.L.D.

Jerkwad.

Which is why I loved the Iron Man: Legacy of Doom. Iron Man before he downloaded the Douchebag Virus, Iron Man in the only armour that matters, and a whacked out plan by Doctor Doom for ultimate REVENGE. Iron Man as only David Michelenie and Bob Layton and the Old School vibe can bring it.

Awesome. Best read whilst listening to Rush's Moving Pictures, for the full Eighties feel.

Katie and The Zombies

Katie Guild is a friend of mine, and after you watch this, you'll understand why.

I Should Know Better..

...but this still gets me excited. Even in Polish.

I've signed up for another tour writing for EVE ONLINE, so I may disappear from all my varied social functions and ballroom dances while I meet the deadline. I'm trying to finish MASS EFFECT before the contracts arrive, but it's looking doubtful. I've hit the Benziata chokepoint, of which I shall say no more, but even with the ever lovely Marina Sirtis doing the voicework, it is quickly becoming the nadir of my gaming experience. I just hate it when button mashing doesn't work.

Sunday Morning Always Comes

I hate getting old. It's not the daily shock of seeing yet more grey in my beard and hair, or those lines around the eyes that are refusing to leave. It's not the general feeling of still being 17 inside my skull, while outside the body is slipping and sliding like a harp seal down a Jello slide into my mid forties. No, it's none of that.

It's having one glass of wine and still having a fucking hangover.

Since David was hooting about finding Crackdown on the cheap for the 360, I went out to find meself a similar deal. Sadly, the best I could find was Killer 7.



So I hied myself home, put the horses and coach into the stables, and fired up the steam necessary to run my PS2. And lo! Was I not met with something that can only be described as weird. As in very. As in fucking.

Here, you doth play an assassin with seven different personalities--thus, the 'Killer 7'. You access your personalities by changing channels on an old TV set. You level up by converting the blood of your enemies, who are these green, giggling monsters called 'Heaven Smiles'. You receive hints from a guy in a red bondage suit who drops out of the ceiling. And there's a guy who walks around holding a mask who talks about his toilet.

Of course, it's Japanese. And it's glorious, like some fevered dream shared by Burroughs and Tarantino after a dinner of peyote and Diet Coke.

After that, I stumbled onto the couch with that accursed Evil Glass Of Imminent Hangover. And still happy in my ignorance of what the dawn would bring, I did read this:



It's been pointed out that with the current Doctor Who fiction being aimed at a much younger set, there is a void for the more adult tone seen in the BBC paperback and Virgin line. That void is being filled with the Torchwood novels. This one--by the ever dependable Dan Abnett--is what some people may call a 'cracking' tale. It also shows that Gwen Cooper is a big old slag, but one I'd still not throw out of bed for being such.

If you enjoy Torchwood, then chances are you'll enjoy this. Abnett captures the characters very well (but even he doesn't seem to know what to do with Toshiko and Ianto, but then who does?). And if you're a pop culture junkie, there are about six and a half pounds of cool references here. You may need a trowel.

Just like a I need an aspirin...

The Doctor Versus Hitler!

As I return to my life's work of re-reading every single Doctor Who book/comic/short story on my shelves, we now come to the second book in Virgin's New Adventures line: Timewyrm: Exodus.

Yeah, this is the one with Hitler in it. The Doctor has messed with Nazis before (in 1989's The Curse of Fenric, but this was the first time the Doctor came face to face with you-know-who.) But that isn't the most interesting thing here. That distinction belongs to this being written by a totally unleashed Terrance Dicks, who seems to relish not being trapped by the confines of the countless Target novelizations he's written before. There is some interesting alt-history going on here, some undeniable nastiness, and some good old British anger at how easily people would turn to lick the boots of their new masters.

The story has the Seventh Doctor and Ace tracking the Timewyrm to 1950's England, but this isn't the England that they know. Here, Germany won the Second World War, and now England is under Nazi rule. Hitler didn't delay at Dunkirk, for one thing, and that seems to have made all the difference. That, and something else.

In short order, the Doctor and Ace are captured by the British Frei Korps. They meet Lt. Hemmings, a real bastard among bastards. Determined to find out where things went wrong, the Doctor manages to get to his TARDIS and returns to 1923 Berlin, where he meets a younger Hitler as he leads a doomed demonstration at the War Office. Becoming Hitler's friend, the Doctor then travels ahead to 1939, during the Nuremberg Rallies. Here, Hitler greets the Doctor as an old friend, and there are some disturbing scenes with the Doctor and Der Fuhrer getting along like old chums. But the Doctor realizes that this is where things are going wrong...

We learn that the Timewyrm moved into Hitler's brain, giving him more power than he had in the previous reality. But he's still powerful enough to trap the Timewyrm in his head, so that really pisses her off as well. Still, it's her influence that allows the Nazis to win, and it's up to the Doctor to set things right.

Exodus is a joy, a true, pulpy joy. While I thought I knew a fair amount about World War II, Dicks shows me how little I truly do know as he moves the Doctor and Ace past all the vile celebrities of the time (Goering, Himmler). The only thing that I felt was out of place was Dicks' need to tie this story into 1969's The War Games. I thought the story was fine without additional Who continuity, but I'm alone in that, it seems.

So what else do we have? Again, the Virgin books dabble in more sexuality than we'd seen in the series, with the Nazis assuming that Ace is the Doctor's little piece on the side. (The Doctor quickly says that he prefers his women bigger.) Ace now has a new explosive--Nitro Nine A--which I include because I still think the idea of a companion who enjoys making explosives is something that would not fly at all today. And we have a story that manages to make the rather idiotic concept of the Timewyrm actually work. Unlike, sadly, the next book in the line.

Exodus is Terrance Dicks at his best, and is easily one of the great classic stories of the genre. I'm surprised RTD hasn't turned this into an episode yet, to be honest.

Because It Fits For Today

Been in my head all day. Absolutely gorgeous song, and it's nice to see someone felt the same way. You know you're getting old when you find things like this (ahem)sweet.

Saturday Morning Coffee Theatre

Crashed on the couch this morning with Marmalade--who is fast becoming the cat I watch all movies with--and watched Eagle Vs. Shark. Geeks who are more geeky than me, a script that nails a certain element of dorkery perfectly, and a beautiful use of a Stone Roses song? Yeah, I was sold. Even Marmalade didn't mind it--his comments on the editing were especially spot on.

As for the Stone Roses, I still feel their first album was gorgeous. The second, sadly, was shit. I remember when it came out thinking that British music was on the road to something wonderful, that the new Britpop would continue forever, with bands like Elastica, the newly Kinks inspired Blur, and even Oasis seemed fresh and new.

Heh. I used to be so optimistic.

Is It Safe To Love R.E.M Again?

I am deeply in love with this song. May even try for first base next time.

'I'm Not Mating With You, Sunshine!'

Woo-hoo! Season 4 of Doctor Who is here! I have another reason to brave the dawn!

Right. New season. New--kinda--companion in Catherine Tate, reprising her role from The Runaway Bride of two Christmas Specials ago. (Or the last Christmas Special the CBC chose to show. At midnight.) A new villain, some cute monsters (living blobs of smiling fat) and a revamped opening score. And we get to see a new sonic device.

And best of all...and I really mean this...best of all....

But that would be telling.

Yay again! The Doctor's back!

(blogger runs screaming around house in glee, cats running for cover, while wife shakes her head and checks the Personals...)

The Ruins--Or Why I'll Never Go To Mexico

Stayed up waaaay too late last night to finish reading The Ruins. After I read the last page, I wasn't sure if I should go shoot myself or simply walk out into the night, never to return. What a horrific, depressing, but so wonderfully constructed book.

Besides making me want to read a Terry Pratchett right away--to read anything light and fun to purge the horror I'd just experienced--it reminded me of why I love horror fiction. So much of horror these days focuses on gore, to the extent that it isn't scary as much as it is disgusting. While The Ruins has much of that--there are some scenes here that I know I'll never forget--so much of true horror lies with situation. Of being trapped. Of being reduced to nothing more than meat. The loss of individuality. The loss of self. The removal of all the lies and half baked truths that are needed to make society work. That's where true horror works best--when the rules are taken away, reducing us to the one that remains constant in this universe: Stay The Fuck Alive.

Now that I think about it, for all it's gore, author Scott Smith has really written a modern update of H.P. Lovecraft. All of the master's touches are there, once you look for them. Although I think even he would have blanched at some of the more violent scenes. Or smiled, since there was no way an editor back then, even in the most lurid pulp, would have allowed The Amputation Scene.

Good God, that was horrible.

Now We Are Old

Talking with a friend today of the female persuasion. Yes, don't be shocked. I do have friends who are women, and who are not bound to talk to me because of Ye Olde Artikles of Marryage.

So this friend and I are talking movies. She'd asked if I'd seen anything good lately, and I thought about telling her about No Country For Old Men, but since I'm not really sure how much I liked it, I didn't. I offered up King of Kong, and even though she's not a gamer, she said she might like it.

Fine. Then she tells me what movies she's enjoyed of late. I Heart Huckabees. Eagle Vs. Shark. " I like dry humour," she says as point of clarification. So like a good dork, I start running through movies in my head she might like. Because I suppose I should point out that she's younger than me, but it's not something I really think about. I'm aware I've been on the planet longer than her, but it's not something I sit down and work out on a calculator.

Then a movie I'd seen recently--one I've seen many, many times--popped into my head. And now I remember our age difference, and I wonder if perhaps she missed this when it first came out.

"How about Dazed and Confused?" I asked her.

She smiled, like I was an idiot. "Of course," she said. "I watched that tons of times when I was in high school."

Oh, the pain. The utter pain.

And yes, I did do the math after that. I am easily old enough to be her father. In fact, I've had cats born the same year she was.

Now, where's my sweater? I feel a draft.