The Cold Spot

If you're a fan of the novels of Richard Stark, or enjoy Dan Simmons' Joe Kurtz series, then you'll enjoy this. I have nothing else to say. I love this material more and more as I get older, and this one hits all the targets: it delivers noir, brutal action, anti-heroes, and it also teaches me something I didn't know before. Like how to rig a 1970s Chevelle to get the best performance out out of her engine. Which is something I can't believe I've lived this long and not known.

In Brightest Morning, With A Cup of Coffee...

...I watched Green Lantern: First Flight.


I'm a snob about straight to DVD material. I think this is a carry over from the early Nineties, when Disney would churn out 'sequels' to their big theatrical releases with an apparent loss of quality each time they went to the well (cheaper animation, lesser known voice talent, etc). So my prejudice has carried over to Warner Brothers' releases of DC Comics adventures. The one time I did check one out--Batman: Gotham Knights--my suspicions were confirmed, and I haven't been back since.

But it's Green Lantern.

I'm happy to say that this is very, very enjoyable. Christopher Meloni (Law and Order: SUV, Oz)is an unconventional choice to voice Hal, but he works: an older man's voice suits Jordan, since he is a character that already has a lot of life behind him. The surprisingly good voice work is consistent throughout the production: Battlestar Galactica's Tricia Helfer is a great pre-Alpha Lantern Boodikka, and London's own Victor Garber is a sinister bastard as Sinestro. The only slight problem was Michael Madsen as Kilowogg--it's pronounced poooozer, not poseur. Where was continuity here?

The film serves up Hal's origin quickly, and gets the story into space--and action--at the speed of ADD. A nice classical soundtrack, some interesting aliens, and the expected final battle manages to climb above the usual punch out by rote. The Guardians may come across a little too much as wise old dwarves, but that's balanced out by the inclusion of Arisia and Ch'ip.

All in all, a decent way to spend seventy minutes.

X-Force: Comics That Define Awesome

X-Force is my guilty pleasure. It works best when it's fast, gory and shocking, because I really feel that is it's raison d'awesome. A wetworks team of X-Men set to handle the things the more morally centric students of Xavier don't want to know about? Okay, I'm in.

Click for joy.



That page alone justified the $2.99. And of course, Wolverine would have a special X-Force suit. One that washes off easier, apparently.

After reading this, it got me thinking about how many times the Mutants Under Threat storyline can be played in the X-Men books. And I'm thinking: forever, apparently.

Of course, Mutie Hate is a way for the stories to discuss prejudice and racism, but to be honest, it was summed up best with God Loves, Man Kills. Everything since then has just been a revisit, with a few current events flavours thrown in for seasoning. Which means now the current MH storyline is centred around forced birth control for mutants and right wingers portraying all mutants as terrorists, enacting their own version of the Patriot Act--which is another excuse to pull out the Sentinels again.

This also got me thinking about who exactly is reading the X-Men books these days. When I started reading them back in the Eighties, it was mainly teenagers picking up the books, those who could identify with the 'feeling different from everyone else' vibe Chris Claremont was using to portray the mutants. But from what I've seen, the average reader age starts around the late twenties. Surely the adolescent identification must be gone by then. Surely? Hopefully by that age you've got over that, been drunk, had sex, and realized that being angsty has a best before date.

I think that the X-Men are just our shared soap opera now. The remix of old stories, the same old deaths and rebirths, the same comforting characters we've known for so long, the annual appearance of the 'Fastball Special'--this is our The Young And The Mutated.

Oh, wait, this post was just about Wolverine putting his claws into people's eyes. Sorry for rambling.

Is Tomb Raider The Perfect Late Night Dork Companion?

It's one thirty a.m. I've spent the night out with friends, enjoying discussions about Disney, Epcot, and how one of the Teenage Mutant Turtles used to paint. (Pre-Raphaelite? You mean, Splinter gave him another name?) Vulcan Ninja has defeated today's New York Times crossword, and has fallen to the sleep of the victorious. I pick up World War Z, and flick on the television to give me enough company to ignore the fact I live in a haunted house.

And I see Tomb Raider is playing. And for the gazillionth time, I sit and watch it. And I realize that, as a geek diversion, as an accoutrement to an evening of dork related pursuits, this film is nigh perfection.

Tomb Raider is not a film you need to watch with your full attention after having seen it once. But it does act as a great sort of moving wallpaper if you're reading.

Here's why:

1.There are enough action scenes to make you raise your eyes from your book, and they are well choreographed and still a joy to watch.

2. The storyline is video game ludicrous, and doesn't pretend to be anything else. And--and this is why it works--it takes itself seriously. It doesn't wink at the audience. It doesn't apologize. It accepts that bad guys can't aim. It accepts that Lara will always look wonderful, even after running, sliding through dirt, and sweating. She will always glow. Anyone else would have dislodged snot particles out of their noses, had their underwear ride up, and would have spit bubbles bursting from their mouths as they tried to catch their breath. But not Lara. Not ever.

3. The supporting cast is good, from David Southwell posing as an evil lackey (what, you mean that isn't him?) to Daniel Craig, looking pre-Bond dorky and wielding an American accent like he's trying to carry a large couch by himself.

And here's the best reason...

4. Angelina Jolie looks perfect in this film. Just perfect. Her beauty reached its apogee in Tomb Raider, and while she is still beautiful, the human race must be applauded for creating such a wonderful example of the female species at that particular time and place. A late night, two beers, and a zombie book in your hands can only achieve geek nirvana by seeing Jolie's smile while wielding a loaded .45.

And for some reason, I have yet to buy this on DVD...

I Just Don't Get It

People seem to really love this game.



Are these two shugenja? Are they casting Spells of Anime Lurv?

I've just started Chapter Three. I still remain of the dubious.

(So quit? Can't. I've sworn along with Jim Dandy to FINISH EVERY GAME I OWN.)

I Must Hate Myself. I'm Watching Big Brother

As a pop culture maven, I try not to turn up my aesthetic nose at anything people seem to enjoy until I myself have experienced it. This has led me to actually pay money to see the WWF, join Jim Dandy watching UFC, and have sat down and listened to My Chemical Romance. And so, due to pressure from friends combined with a deep seated self hatred, I went online and watched the first episode of Big Brother 11.

To say I hated most people on the show within seconds of seeing them is possibly the truest sentence you'll read all week. In terms of purity, that sentence alone could probably turn an entire army of determined undead.

Of all the contestants, only Ronnie was the only one I probably would not garrote in his sleep. (But even that assertion is flimsy, since he seemed far too excited about playing his Wii, and he did describe himself as a 'gamer'. Which is something you do not do.) The majority seem to have been pulled from a bubbling vat of noxious clone material--the Surfer Dude seems indistinguishable from the FootBall Playing Dude, the Southern Belle seems a blonde variant of the brunette Woman With Big Boobs, and the MMA Fighter guy looks like every other shaved head muscle bound moron with Celtic tattoos you see grunting and howling at the gym. Of the rest, those who shine by pale reflection with some originality just come across as douchebags.

We have the 40 year old teacher who 'spends his nights DJing, continually comments about his age, and finally damns himself by wearing a scenester hat. There is the PhD who is ashamed of her degree and pretends to be stupider than she is. The token gay person, who simply has to wear a scarf and comment on aforementioned Woman With Big Boobs...uh.. boobs. The fact that people can be gay and not act like they're about to launch into a Broadway tune is blasphemy in TVLand, apparently. And finally, we have the tae kwon do champion who is actually attractive. Attractive when she isn't lying and belittling others, which, come to think of it, cancels out her beauty with the algebra of douchery.

But I will watch all of it. So if I hate, I have the right.

Gene Hunt Will Kick Your Ass And Call You Nancy

So man up, lads! Put down those stupid computer games and grab a pint and a bird! Get in there, my son!

And Then The Place Exploded...

Here's a lesson every Dungeon Master should learn. You know those long, epic adventures you always want to run? The ones with things like character development, recurring villains, a winding and convoluted storyline that ends with a cathartic pay-off?

They don't work. The only way they can work is if you play each and every week. Which is possible only for the very young or the very socially challenged. When I noticed my players becoming confused at the last session, not remembering exactly why they were deep in the Mines of Chaos, and wondering what it is they were supposed to do, I knew that I had run my last EPIC STORY!!

So today, I gave them what they wanted. I blew up the Mines of Chaos, with them in it. Turns out someone had kept an ancient blue dragon deep within the joint, and it got pissed. Half an hour of my players racing out of the Mines, with debris falling on them, being attacked by panicking hobgoblins, the floor itself splitting beneath them. Finally, they plumetted out into a dark, midnight valley just as the aforementioned blue dragon exploded out of the mountaintop above them. As it flew over them, the wind from its wings threw them all to the ground, eating more hit points as the dragon soared away.

Then, because I felt I hadn't done enough, it started to sleet.

So now they're back on a simple adventure in a small dungeon. Simple goal: rescue the slave women. No shades of grey. No backstory. Just fight, loot, and cast spells. And they haven't seemed so happy in months.

That's the hardest lesson a DM has to learn: you make the game for your players, not yourself.

Gary would be proud.

Tad And Deb

...are in this month's Locus Magazine.

Two adorable people who have helped me in more ways than I can ever repay. I mean, outside of putting them on my world famous blog. Which sets the Internet on fire every day.